#bruce plays nice with clark far earlier

[ellana-ravenwood]

The day he understood what Death means - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : The youngest Wayne makes a shocking discovery...And will need his parents, siblings, and the one and only Alfred, to recover from it. /Drabble.

I don’t know. I was thinking about this. How when you’re a kid, realizing that one day you’ll die, but worst, that the people you love will die, is sort of traumatic...And wanted to write about it. So. Here we are, with little Thomas eh. I hope you will like it :) :

My masterlists blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

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If you have no idea who Thomas is, he appears in those stories (long story short he’s the youngest kiddo, biological of Batmom and Bruce) : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Wild Child 2, “We want them back”, How do you make babies ?“ and Mom got lost again”

                                                   ******

Realizing your loved ones are not immortal for the first time can be traumatic. 

Especially if they’re amazing, if they’re your heroes, if you admire them beyond all measure, if they love you unconditionally just like you love them so damn much, and if you can’t even imagine your life without seeing them every day.

If you can’t even fathom the fact that maybe, one day, they won’t be there when you wake up and go look for them. And that they will never be there again. 

And so it was particularly quite the shocking discovery for little Thomas Clark Wayne, 5 and a half years old, to find out about that certain thing called...”Death”. 

It happened on a moody, rainy Summer day. The weather outside was awful, even for Gotham City. And it meant that Thomas was calmly playing inside, rather than getting up to some shenanigans in the garden. 

His parents were home, it was one of those rare day they both had off. 

Which always filled little Tommy with joy. It wasn’t often he could get them both with him !! In the end, the fact it was rainy outside was good. It meant they’d probably all snuggle up later in the day, and watch a film, a mug of hot cocoa in their hands. 

You would probably throw a blanket over him, and keep him close, sandwiched between you and his dad. His father would fall asleep half-way through the film, which would annoy you and Damian. 

Damian would join for sure. Sitting next to you. Yes. He would. Maybe Tim too, if he wasn’t too busy with college ? Oh he would surely make the time to come. And Cass ? Yes. Yes Cass would be there, sitting in her usual spot, on the floor right in front of you (or maybe Tommy). Because she knew you’d gently run your hand through her hair, and your youngest son slowly took the habit to do the same. Which was so soothing to Cass...Duke would certainly be there, he never said no to a good movie. 

Maybe, because it was a rainy day, Dick and Jason would come too ? Unlikely, but Thomas could hope. He loved having his entire family in one spot. 

They’d ask him to do his “puppy eyes” and convince Alfred to join them too, and not work. 

Alfred had an armchair reserved just for him. Right next to the couch where Bruce would sit, leaving enough space for Ace to lay down (Damian’s dog, Titus, always preferred to be near his master, who would more often than not be sitting next to you, laying his head on your shoulder, even as he was not a child anymore...Yes, Titus sat next to Cass, at Damian’s feet, letting his head fall down in Cass’ laps). 

Ace...Ace didn’t feel well yesterday, and this morning, the “dog doctor” came. 

Thomas heard him say they needed to give him a...an “indection” or something ? (An injection, really) So he’d probably get better. Shots were supposed to get you better or to avoid you getting sick, that’s what you told him. 

His dad looked upset, but it didn’t alarm Thomas much. Because his dad was always upset when him or his siblings would get a shot, he hated going, so it was probably the same thing. 

Come to think of it, Thomas hadn’t seen Ace since the “vekerinarianan” (or whatever it was pronounced) came earlier in the day. 

He suddenly wanted some “doggle” (dog cuddles), and so he put down the toys he was playing with, and went to look for him. 

Maybe, he could also round up the rest of his family so they’d start movie time earlier ? 

Hyped to have some family time, as he considered his dogs family for sure, he went on the hunt to find Ace, and gather everyone else. 

If only. If only he had known...

************

“Aaaace !! Aaace ? Ace boy, where are you ?” 

This was odd. Usually, Ace would come running if he heard the little one’s voice. That dog loved children, and he made it his mission to protect all of them (bonus point if he had some snuggle, and a few treats, while doing it). 

Bruce told him long ago to protect his kids...So Ace was always there. 

Maybe he wanted to play hide and seek ? Thomas would play that game with Titus and Damian, Ace never seemed very interested, but maybe he changed his mind ? 

“Ace ? Aaaacceeee ?” 

The boy roamed the manor, but every room Ace would usually hang in were empty. 

Finally, he decided he’d ask his parents, who would usually hang out in...oh, they weren’t in their usual spot either. In their bedroom, maybe ? 

Thomas ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, sure that he would find Ace, and his parents, asleep in the master’s bedroom. When they had their day off, his mama and daddy would often take long naps together.  

Thomas immediately knew something was wrong when the door to the room was wide open. Slowly, he approached the place and...surely his parents were there. 

But something was off. 

His dad was laying in the bed, back to the door, his head laid in your lap. One of your hand was caressing his head soothingly, while the other was drawing calming circles on his back. 

Definitely something was not normal. You’d do that to your kids when they were sad, or sick...Was daddy sick ?! This gave Thomas a little fright. 

You whisper something into Bruce’s ears, and he doesn’t answer, just shaking his head to say “yes”. And so you stand up, after giving him a kiss on the cheek, and...You spot your youngest son. 

You smiled at him reassuringly, and go to him. 

“Hey little buddy. You should give a big hug to Daddy, he’s very sad today.” 

You say, walking past him and ruffling his hair. 

From the direction you were taking, you were going to the kitchen, and Thomas just instantly assumed you were going to brew some tea for his dad. When Bruce was sad, you’d always brew some tea for him, from his mother’s garden (which was kept up nice and clean by you and Alfred, now). 

Worried about his dad, Thomas slowly walked to him and climbed on the big bed. Bruce turned around to see what this new weight was, as he knew you had just left and...He smiled. 

Of this wide pure genuine smile he gave his family only. 

But there was a hint of sadness behind his eyes, and Thomas didn’t like that one bit. So the little boy crawled to his dad, and nestled next to him, wrapping his little arms around his dad’s neck and holding tightly. 

Bruce engulfed his son in his own arms, holding onto the little one, burrying his face in his hair. There was always something comforting, in the smell his kiddo had. It was a mix of your smell, which was always soothing to him, but also something more...Something soft and sweet. 

Just like his son. 

Little Thomas was the epitome of a sweet child. It was a miracle, a man like him made a child this cute and happy. Ah, but he wasn’t raising him alone of course. There was you, and his siblings, and Alfred... 

After a pause of the little boy holding his dad, he whispered slowly : 

“Daddy, why are you sad Daddy ? Please don’t be sad, it makes me sad too.”

Thomas unwrapped his arms from around his dad’s neck, and squished his little hands on Bruce’s cheeks. Which made Bruce sigh fondly, chuckling a little as he said, honestly (he shouldn’t hide this sort of things) : 

“Because Ace is gone.”  

There’s another silence, during which Thomas tries to understand why is the fact Ace went somewhere so sad. He cannot figure it out, so he asks : 

“But, he’ll come back daddy. Like always. Yes ? Ace is a good boy.” 

“Was.”

Bruce is clumsy in his grief. He always been. He’s not sure how to broach the subject to his son, how to explain to him their dog was just too old and sick to make it...He doesn’t know how to explain death to him. 

“Was ?” 

“Ace is gone for good.” 

“What do you mean Daddy ? Where did he go ? Why couldn’t we see him again ? Did he move out, like Dick ?” 

Oh. Oh the sweet innocence of a child that is maybe a little too sheltered by his family (he’s the youngest, the one they’re trying to keep away from the horror they see every day as much as they can...Although he’s still trained, all of them hope he will never become a Robin, or worst, a Batman). 

“Did he move out, like Dick ?” 

Sweet, sweet Thomas. Not able to even fathom that Ace is never coming back...and why would he ? How could he know what his father meant ? 

“No, no he didn't move out. He left us, to a place we can’t follow him to.” 

Another short pause. And you could see the gears in little Thomas’ head turning. After a little bit, he asks :

“...The toilets ?”

This makes his father chuckle, even in this sad times. But he continues : 

“No. Not the toilets. He...He went really far away, where we can’t ever see him again.” 

This idea is so foreign to your son, that he raises himself on one of his elbow and exclaims : 

“Why would he do that ? Does he not love us anymore ?” 

Obviously, the thought is distressing to the little bird. So Bruce says : 

“No no no, of course he still loves us...loved, us. But he had to go.”

“But why ?” 

“Because he was getting very old, and sick.”

“But we don't mind daddy, right ? We don’t mind ? He doesn't have to go away for that, I don’t care if he doesn’t play like he used to, I want him to stay ! Tell him daddy, call him on the phone to tell him to come back.” 

Bruce is lost. How ? How can he explains what death means ? He thought about this moment coming many times, but never told him anything as he thought that he had time to know what it meant. He had time...

How do you tell a child that one of his favorite “person” in the world is dead ?

“Unfortunately buddy, we have some sad news.”

His savior. You, as usual. With two cups of tea, and a cup of hot cocoa on a tray. As you went downstairs to get some “pick me up” for Bruce, you knew your son was gonna need it too. 

“What news mama ?” 

“Ace. He died today.” 

You actually thought about it as you were preparing everything for them. How to talk about this ? You decided to go with “honesty”. Not brutal honesty though. You weren’t about to traumatize your son. 

But you thought it was important he knew what happened to Ace. As a child, you hated how your brothers tried to make you think your ferret ran away to Las Vegas or something of the like. 

You understood this sentiment, of course. But you also remembered how betrayed you felt when you finally understood “death” and realized your beloved Mister Will Ferret was NOT in Sin City having fun, but just died...

The truth was important. 

Especially about such subjects. 

Children weren’t dumb. And they had every right to know certain truth.

Did you wish your son could stay innocent for longer ? Of course. But he still had a right to know what happened to his dog. To be treated like a person and be explained things. 

People, too often, treats children as some kind of idiots who wouldn’t comprehend complex things anyway, and who have to be protected at all cost from anything...

Kids were clever. You had a bunch of them to prove it so. But above that, although you agreed kids had to be protected...You weren't one of those person who thought you should lie to your children in order to do so. 

 Because one day, he’ll know what death is. He’ll know what happened to Ace. And what if the fact you lied that day, settles a slight distrust in him towards anything you’ll ever tell him ? Just like it did with you and your brothers ? 

No. You thought at first it was a good idea to delay such a conversation. But why ? Because it would make you more comfortable ? That didn’t sound very fair in regard of your boy.

Everyone always talked about “the birds and the bees” talk, but never about something that was even more inescapable than that...

Death. 

You give him a few seconds to take in your words. “Ace died today.” You wait for his reaction. He seems to think about it, having vaguely heard of “death” before...finally he asks : 

“What does it mean ?” 

He’s sitting up in the bed now. Bruce did the same, encircling his arms around his boy protectively (old habits die hard). But he’s determined to explain things to him too. You and Bruce were always rather in sync, about how you should raise your children. 

“It means he will no longer be with us. He passed away to something else.” 

“To what ?” 

“No one really knows.” 

“Will we see him again ?” 

“No.” 

“Why ?”

“Because he’s dead.” 

“And being dead means you can’t see anyone anymore ?”

“Being dead means you are not living on this Earth anymore, so yes, you cannot see them anymore.” 

“It means we can’t see him ? And what do you mean not on Earth ? Is he in Space ? Can we see him if we go to the watchtower ?” 

“I mean in our life, we will not see Ace again. He won’t be with us ever again. He’s not in space, he’s just gone.” 

“Because he’s dead ?” 

“Because he’s dead.” 

“So, being dead means we don’t get to see someone ever again ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ever ever ?” 

You decide to leave any conversations about a possible after-life aside, as it’s clear this, he’s not quite old enough to comprehend. So you keep on talking about the truth, with the support of Bruce. 

“Yes. Ever ever.” 

It takes Thomas a few minutes to take in all those new informations. Bruce is sitting on the bed, legs crossed, behind the boy. And your son is clearly lost in deep thoughts...Up until finally, finally tears are starting to well up in his eyes. 

“But I didn’t even say goodbye !”

“Unfortunately, we don’t always get to say goodbye...” 

“But mama, how will he know I loved him so much if I didn’t even say goodbye before he left ? How could you let him go before I did ?”

“I’m sorry, if I could chose I would’ve-...He knew you loved him and-”

“Are you going to die too ?!”

The dreaded question. Dreadest of them all, really. But you can’t lie to him. Not now that you started to explain things. 

“Yes. Everyone dies one day.” 

“But but but...but I don’t want you to die ! And Daddy ?” 

Bruce nods, and...and that’s when it finally happens. 

The awful moments your sweet innocent boy realizes what death sort-of means. That one day, none of his parents will be in his life anymore. Than one day, he’ll lose his siblings, and Alfred. 

Just like he lost Ace. Because he was “old and sick”. But...Thomas knew a lot of sick people ! And a lot of old people ! Were they going to die too, without him being able to say goodbye ?!

And so the tears started to fall. And oh, oh did they fall. 

Bruce held his son against his heart, drawing soothing circles on his back, just like you usually do. And you came to sit next to them, encircling them in your arms as well. 

Thomas was trying to talk, but nothing came out very clearly as he cried, cried, cried and cried some more. 

When he finally calmed down, he was slowly falling asleep, crying drained him of all his energy. That night, there was no “movie time”, but comforting snuggles with his parents... 

Thomas had finally discover what “Death” meant.

************

“Oh my God Thomas !”

Bruce’s heart drops.

The entire scene goes in slow motion, and the fearless Batman can see his entire life flash in front of his eyes, as his tiny son is running towards him, while a few thugs were about to shoot automatic weapons at him...

“There’s a kid ! There’s a kid !”

“Who cares, we have the bat right at our mercy, just shoot !”

“I can’t shoot a kid...”

“Should we shoot ?”

The few seconds of surprise after Thomas bursted in allow Damian to swoop down, and to get rid of everyone. Slowly, a serious face on, your son walks to his dad and, solemnly, he says :

“This was too close, father. And...Thomas...”

“I know Damian, I know.”

Your little boy was inconsolable, clinging to his dad.

They didn’t even have to ask him how he got there. It was obvious he somehow snuck into the Batmobile (which wasn’t that much of a surprise, although it was already quite a feat...Thomas was small, but also very stealthy, as he was taught to be).

He was only five, and it wasn’t really clear to him yet his dad was that “Batman” everyone talked about, that his siblings were also vigilantes...But he knew that when they went out at night, they were often in danger.

And that night. That night right after the one Thomas learned what Death was...He snuck in the car, so he would make sure “she” would not take her dad away ! Or her brothers and sister !

Only Damian and Bruce were in the car, on patrol together. The rest of the kids were scattered across the city, and you were taking care of the bat computer (nowadays you were the one doing so to give some relief to Alfred).

Thomas took the habit to fall asleep in the cave, in a bed there just for him...and he must’ve snuck into the car. 

It was nobody’s fault. It was very unlike the boy, to do such a thing.

He got into the car. When Damian and his father got out of it to apprehend a few of Two-Face’s thug, he stayed behind, looking at what they did...but when he saw those men about to shoot his dad (a proper ambush), he jumped out, punching every buttons (which was quite dangerous itself) to find which one opened the door, and then he ran to his dad...

The surprised probably saved Bruce. But it also almost killed him with a heart attack. 

What if those men didn’t hesitate long enough for Damian to take care of them ? What if they shot anyway, ignoring the surprising appearance of a small child ? What if they had recognize who that kid was, too ? (Unlikely, this was a time where Thomas was still quite sheltered from media, as you tried to give him a childhood as normal as you all possibly could). 

What if they shot anyway...

Bruce doesn’t think he would’ve survived the death of his youngest son. He was sure, actually, that he would’ve killed those men. 

That is, if Damian didn’t do it first. 

But it didn’t happen. It didn’t happen, but it was so close. So close. 

Later, when everything calmed down, Thomas would explain he jumped in the car to “keep death away”, to protect his daddy and brother. To make sure Death wouldn’t take them. 

And that's when you all understood Ace’s death, and the discovery that everyone dies one day, one way or another, truly was “traumatic” for your baby. 

From that point on, you made sure that Thomas would be in the cave...but this event. This event really unfolded a problem you knew you’d have to tackle truly one day. 

You just had no idea yet how to help your son. 

************

Damian had told Jason the debacle that was yesterday. About his parents explaining to their little brother what it meant to be dead. And about how it lead to Thomas sneaking into the Batmobile and running in front of danger to “protect” his dad. 

Because of where he grew up, Damian always knew what death meant. And he never cared much (or convinced himself he never cared much). He understood from a very young age what all this shenanigans was...

Jason did too. He found his mother, dead, when he was three years old. He grew up surrounded by death, in the gutter of Gotham. He knew. He did. 

But Thomas. 

Thomas was a “normal” 5 years old boy, as normal you can be in such a family. He trained a little, and sort of knew about his dad being “Batman” (but it seemed he didn’t understand he was ACTUALLY the Batman people talked about in the city). 

He spend most of his nights in a little area made just for him, with a bed and such, in the batcave (he hated sleeping upstairs alone, so he would sleep in the batcave and you’d pick him up to bring him in  his bed once you’d go to bed, and/or once the rest of your family would get home). 

So for a little one like Thomas, who was pure and sweet and nice...It was a shock, to know one day he’d lose the people he loved. 

He was inconsolable, at Ace’s funerals (thrown at the back of the Manor).  

He couldn’t get over the fact he didn’t get to say goodbye, and that he would never play with his dog anymore. 

It made it worst, that Ace’s death made everyone else sad. That dog truly was a member of the family... 

“I know you're feeling very sad. I'm sad, too. We all loved Ace so much, and he oved us, too.”

You told him a few times, tryin to put words on his emotions and helping him understand...God, to Damian, you truly were the most amazing mother. Always knew what to say, how to say it, when to say it.  

But Thomas was still blue, and it was so unlike his usual bubbly personality. 

And so, both Damian and Jason made it their mission to distract their little brother, and...it worked. For the most part. It really worked. 

Amongst all his siblings, Damian and Jason were the ones that loved having a little brother the most. Not that the others didn’t, of course ! They just were a little less willing to play for hours on end with a little kid. 

They were rather busy. Jason and Damian always found ways...They were an unlikely pairs at first glance. Most people would think Damian was the closest to Dick, and Jason too. But no. They were equally as close to all their siblings, in different ways. 

But Damian and Jason, they had an extra connection. Jason was there, when Damian was a baby. He didn’t remember his own name, and was used by the Al’Ghuls after they resurrected him...But he was still one of the only person in Damian’s life that truly valued him. 

Fate, right ? A funny thing. After all, how small did the world have to be for two of Bruce’s sons to meet in such a way ? A hidden son, and one he thought dead, at that ?! 

In any case. They were closer than most would think. And they also were linked not only by the Al’Ghuls, but by how they were both ripped off of an actual childhood, and therefor wanted to make sure their little brother had one too (Cass was the same, but more subtle, and discreet). 

And so...

They played, made art pieces, jigsaw puzzles, watched his favorite movies, cooked...Anything to take his mind off of “Death”. 

That little boy would overthink too much, for such a young age. 

But overall, Damian and Jason did a good job distracting him from the pain. 

They did an amazing job. 

You were so proud of how they took care of their baby brother (and it would give yourself more time to go cheer up the “Oldest Wayne”, your dear husband, who definitely had a hard time getting over his dog’s death...). 

Only, there was one problem...And that problem was that neither Damian nor Jason, just like everyone else, were immortal. 

And this, this, Thomas would realize very soon. 

************

“More compresses, Master Tim !” 

“On it Al !” 

The loud noises woke Thomas up. You knew. You knew you should’ve gone up to bed earlier. Tuck him in, and wait for your family to come back. 

Ah. But when they all arrived in the cave, ALL of them, including Dick who did not live at the manor anymore...You knew there was a problem. 

And indeed. Jason had been badly hurt. Not something that couldn’t be fixed, but ah, once again, too damn close. 

Everyone was on the tail of a high profile serial killer, the newcomer called “Dr Pyg”, and...Collateral damage. It happened, in this line of work. 

It wasn’t easy. Especially when it was one of your baby. But you had to keep a leveled head, as you helped Alfred fix your boy. 

You had taken medical trainings early in in your relationship with Bruce. For obvious reasons. And there was rarely a day it didn’t come in handy. 

In any case, all the noises around woke Thomas up. 

Before. Before he knew what death truly meant, he would’ve been worried. He would've cried. He would’ve been distressed. Of course. 

And one of his siblings would’ve taken care of him, reassure him, soothe and console him, and little Thomas would be ok again. 

Before he knew what death truly meant. 

He was so small anyway, most of the time he’d forget things, or just not understand them...but he was five now. Close to the age of reason. And definitely aware of his surroundings enough now to pay attention, and remember things. 

And he knew what death truly meant. 

He clung to Jason for dear life, even as everyone reassured him he was actually ok. Jason himself was conscious, he had been badly hurt but nothing he hadn’t seen before. 

He needed some rest for sure, but it was fine, really. 

It wasn’t fine for Thomas. He yelled, threw the biggest tantrum he ever threw, yelled some more that they should stop. That he didn’t want them to die. That whatever they were doing...He begged them to stop. 

Never before in your life, had any of you witness Thomas being in such a state. He was inconsolable. You couldn’t calm him down, no matter what...

And once more, it’s only because of exhaustion that he finally relaxed. But yet, still in his sleep, he clung to Jason’s sleeve, as if afraid his brother would be gone when he’d wake up. 

It tore yours and Bruce’s heart apart, to see your baby like this. But to be honest...neither of you knew what to do...

************

“Where’s Damian mama ? Where is he ?” 

Thomas was truly panicked. 

The first day, he thought maybe his brother was busy with school and such. The second day, he started to worry. But now ? Three days in a row with Damian not at the dinner table ? Or in his room ? Or in the batcave ?! 

It made Thomas anxious. What happened to his brother ? Was he...was he...DID DEATH TAKE HIM AWAY ? 

“Where’s Dami mama ? Where is he ?!”  Thomas kept asking, crying. And it took you moment to finally realize what your son must’ve thought. When you did, you picked him up and calmed him down, explaining Damian was simply over at Jon’s for a few days... 

And from that day on, you’d make sure to tell him why anyone would be gone for any amount of time. 

That night, Bruce and you talked about what you could do to help Thomas get over his consuming fear of losing one of you. 

But nothing really came to your minds. 

And it was awful, to feel like a failure like that. 

Later on, your Damian would tell you you were NOT failing at parents because you were a little lost about this. After all, none of your other kids got into quite a crisis like this one. He said maybe considering a therapist could do ? But oh, oh Thomas was so little. 

And if words were out that Thomas Wayne, barely five years old, was seeing a therapist ? The scandals would be unending, and would it really help your son ? 

Damian joined in in the search for a way to soothe his baby brother. He never said “no” to cuddles from him, but lately...Lately, Thomas almost became overbearing, as he made sure he’d always sort of have his eyes on everyone. 

And it wasn’t healthy, for such a little boy to worry so much. 

Damian missed his carefree baby brother. He knew he had to eventually grow up, of course, and that he’d have some hardships but...he was just five and a half ! He wasn’t suppose to be so scared of death ! 

And so he thought, nights and days, of a way to soothe him. But just like you and Bruce, this matter was quite delicate...

************

It seemed like Cass was the only one able to truly console him, and make him relax. She would sing him songs, just like you did to her when she felt sad. 

She would tell him tales of Death as a good thing, inspiring herself from many legends from around the world. 

She would try to put perspective on everything, in a way you truly admired. 

She never spoke too much, your Cass...But when she did, every words were carefully chosen and crafted into truly beautiful things. 

And it would soothe your boy. 

But only as long as he was with Cass. And he couldn’t always be with her. 

You didn’t have her talent to tell those tales, and your singing was working only for a few moments to put him to sleep but...you couldn’t always have him sleep. You had to think of more viable options. 

Nonetheless, when Thomas was really too anxious, Cass would be there. 

Relieving everyone of their worry, as she could calm her baby brother in matter of seconds. In those  moments, you wished time could stop. You truly did...

************

Thomas would cling to you and his dad the most. His siblings were often out and about, but you two ? Well you took some time off to be with your youngest son, to be there for him in this odd times...

And you weren’t sure it was such a good idea, in the end. 

He would often just snuggle up to you or Bruce, listening to your heartbeats, which would calm him...You’d normally never say no to hugs from your children. But this was all starting to become so unhealthy for the little one. 

What could you do ? What could you do ?!

************

Duke was panicking. 

Thomas was doing fine today, and Duke felt like he royally fucked up. 

Thomas was worried about Duke, telling him to be careful and that his heart would break if Duke ever died...Which melted Duke’s heart. 

It made him feel so loved and accepted. And he wanted to help little Thomas so much...

That’s when he made a rookie mistake. 

After all, he was still quite new at this “big brother” thing. 

“There are things worst than death.” 

Is what he told him. What was he thinking ? Reflecting on things, Duke realized he didn't think it through. To him, it was a soothing way to say death wasn’t that bad. But...Ah, ah it made Thomas cry. 

“What ? What is worst than not seeing you guys ever again ?!”  

At that moment, Duke hadn’t realized quite yet how much he fucked up. So he said : “Well, my parents can't remember me, can’t remember who they are...They’re not dead, but they’re not here anymore. They’re physically here, but they don’t know me, they don’t know how to hug me, they can’t be my parents anymore...Yet they’re still alive.” 

The horrified look on Thomas’ face is what gave him a hint that this really wasn’t a good thing to say...

“No no no wait Thomas, don’t cry please, I was trying to tell you...Wait Thomas, please, no. Oooh buddy, buddy I’m so sorry.” 

It almost made Duke cry too, to witness the one he considered his little brother in such distress. He wasn’t trained for this ! He wasn’t trained for this !!!

This was the first time Duke truly felt like an older brother, truly felt like he understood this important role. He had to think before saying something. He had to protect his baby brother. He had to find ways to soothe him...

“Ok here we are, here we are everything is a-okay, you’re ok, things will be ok...” 

Duke picked Thomas up, and started to rock him back and forth slowly, just like his own mom did to him...He mixed the way his mom used to put him to sleep, with your soothing singing. With words he borrowed from you. 

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t worry I’m here, I won’t go anywhere. Things will be ok baby boy, things will be ok. You’re gonna be ok. I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t mean any of it...” 

Duke had been living with you for a while now. He came to see all of you as his second family, even as his parents were still alive, and a constant chain holding him back at times...a chain that broke right at this moment. 

Thomas was his little brother. He truly was. 

And Duke was determined to be there for him. Especially after he made him cry. 

“It’s ok Tommy, cry all you want. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to cry.” 

You always told him that. It was ok to cry. To be angry. To want to break everything. To want his mom...

But you were his mom too now. You were. And you had such a way with words. Such a soothing touch. Even as he was grown up now, you always knew what to say. You always did. 

“You’re ok, right ? Yeaaaah you’re ok. See, things are fine, we chill, we chill.” 

Duke was slowly swaying from left to right, Thomas in his arm, slowly lulling him to sleep, calming him down. His voice seemed to have the same effect than yours...Because he was calm. And because he meant it.

The love. 

The love he had for this little boy. 

It poured out of him, easily, naturally. 

He loved that kid so much. And he wanted him to be ok. And it seemed like Thomas ? Thomas felt it. He felt the love. Just like Duke felt the love of all of you...

That little bean put himself in such a state at the mere thought of Duke dying, of one of his brother leaving...And Duke. Duke realized he felt the same. 

Couldn’t imagine any of them dying. 

And so he poured love in his every word, and swayed from side to side, calming Thomas, and making sure he knew...He knew that, he was right there. 

Right there. 

************

“You’re getting old, Alfred.” 

You said jokingly, as you beat him at chess. And oh. Oh what a mistake you just did. 

“Old ? I don’t want you to die Alfred, I don’t !” 

Thomas was playing next to you. You hadn’t thought about his “trauma” for a little while as he seemed to feel a little better lately...But oh, he plunged right back into it there. 

Because of you. You felt absolutely awful...

“I’ll fight Death for you Alfred ! I will ! I won’t let her take you !!” 

It took a while, as it became usual now, to calm him down. He was ready to throw hands with Death. Fierce that no one would take his “grandpa”. But he was still very scared and sad...

“I’m a terrible mother...”

You told Bruce that night. And he held you against him, consoling you, saying it wasn’t your fault and that it was just friendly banter with Alfred as usual...

“You are the literal opposite of a terrible mother, my love.”

“But Broosh, I made him- I-” 

You sniff, unable to control your sobs as you remember your poor little boy holding Alfred and yelling at Death she can’t take him. The poor butler himself didn’t even know how he could do anything to calm him down...

“We’ll find a solution my love, we’ll find a solution...” 

This entire night, Bruce stayed up although he was exhausted, so he could soothe you and take care of you. Skipping patrol (knowing though the city was safe with his children out). 

At some point during the night, Thomas came to your room. 

It was often, lately, that after a nightmare he’d come running to you. His nightmares would often be about losing you...

You had finally fallen asleep, in your husband’s arms, and Bruce gestured to your boy to not make too much noice. 

Sweet little Thomas acquiesced, and slowly came to the bed, taking the hand his father gave him. 

Bruce was about to fall asleep too, knowing you had finally found sleep...But now, he wasn’t going to. Not until he made sure his son was asleep as well. 

All he could do for now, was being there for you two. Try to soothe you as best her could. As best he could...

Sleep was restless and full of nightmares. 

************

Dick would try to often visit his parents and siblings. As much as he could, which wasn’t always easy, with his work in Bludhäven. But nothing is more sacred than family...He realized that over the years.

During those moments, it would be rather normal for Thomas to go settle in his oldest brother’s laps. He would make the most of seeing him.

So today, as Dick was in the kitchen trying to make himself a cup of coffee, it was no surprise when little Tommy came to see him.

You had bought a new espresso machine, and Dick had no idea how it worked...Slowly, his littlest brother came in, dragged a chair next to him, and used it to climb on the counter.

He then started to make Dick’s cup of coffee, without much of a word being exchanged. Dick smiled widely, his little bro was so cute and clever. In no time, he had make a great cup of coffee for him.

But...Something seemed to bother him. Tommy was an exuberant child when around his family, but he had been quiet right there. He didn’t jump in his brother’s arms like he usually does, and he wasn’t telling him all about what he missed since last time he came in !

Was it still this all thing about being worried about death ? 

“Are you ok little wing ?”

Ever since Jason, “Little Wing” or “Bird” became the common denomination for his younger siblings. A term of endearment that they all (secretly or not) loved.

Tommy seemed to think a little, while raising his arms, signifying he wanted Dick to pick him up.

Dick did, of course, and they went to sit at the kitchen counter, and as usual, Tommy settled down on Dick’s laps. He turned around and, after another short pause (Dick always knew when to stay silent, and wait for the other person to speak first) said :

“Dickie, are mom and dad not your mom and dad ?” 

“Mm ?” 

“Your real mom and dad, they died ? You can’t see them no more now ?”

There was a lump in Dick’s throat. Not because he thought about his parents no. He actually came to peace with their death long ago now. And though he missed them every day, it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. 

He was lucky to find another loving family...From which that little worried kiddo in front of him was an important part of. 

“Yes, I can’t see them anymore.”

“It hurts ?” 

“It used to. Now less. I miss them, but I wasn’t alone.”

“Because you have our mom and dad ?”

“Yes.” 

Dick ruffles his hair fondly. 

“Do you wish you’d still have your real mom and dad ?”

“Mom and dad ARE my real parents too. I was lucky enough to find new ones. Not everyone is as lucky, like dad. He was alone for a long time” 

“What about Alfred ?” 

“It took dad a while to realize that Alfred was a second father to him” 

“So...Will you be my second dad if dad goes ?” 

Dick feels another lump in his throat. Bigger this time. 

He couldn’t even imagine the day he’ll lose this “second dad”, this one he had now called “dad” for longer even than his own biological father...Dick was 8, when he came into yours and Bruce’s life. 

He spend more  years with you two than with his “real” parents. You never replaced them, no. You just..became his parents too. 

He would never forget his biological parents. But he would never diminish the impact his adoptive one had. The love you and Bruce gave him. 

Would he be good enough to be Thomas “second dad” ? After all, he currently had about the age Bruce had when he adopted him...

But Dick couldn’t imagine losing Bruce too. Losing another father. No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

Thomas was already moving on, asking more questions : 

“Will I find another mom and dad too if mom and dad die ? Or will I be alone like dad ? Will I have Alfred forever ?”

“I-I don’t know buddy.”

“What if I lose all of you at the same time ? I will be all alone then.” 

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do ?” 

“I’ll always be there.” 

“You can’t know that, can you ?” 

“Maybe, but this will never happen. You will never be alone.” 

“You really think so ?”

“I Do. And I promise little wing, I promise...You won’t lose all of us. You won’t.” 

Dick held his brother even tighter against him, and missed the unconvinced expression on Thomas’ face. 

************

Your youngest son was still utterly terrified of losing any of you. But his terrible fit would pass now, he would calm down more easily, and wouldn’t cry until exhaustion...But it didn’t mean he wasn't afraid anymore. 

Unfortunately. 

“Death” was still a constant on his mind. One of the biggest question. Without much answers. 

His mother and father said no one knew what happened after “death”, but Thomas wasn’t convinced. So he went to the only one he knew would tell him the truth, and was most likely to know...Tim.

His older brother was currently in the garden, studying for his finals. But oh he’d take a break for his little brother, of course. 

Especially lately, as said little brother was overly worried and needed constant reassurance. 

“Hi Timmy.” 

“Hey little one.” 

“Bothering you ?”

“You are not bothering me, never.” 

“Can I ask you a question then ?”

“Of course.” 

“What happens when we die ?” 

Oof. 

OOOOF. 

Not something Tim could say he expected to be asked. Even as he knew Thomas was sort of obsessed with this lately. And ah...Ah he started to get lost into physiological effects of death, into science, into things Thomas could definitely not understand...

And into things he didn’t care about. 

Thomas had no interest in knowing what happens to the corporeal side of things. To our bodies. He wanted to know where “we” went. Where the being went. The conscience. 

Of course he wouldn’t word it that way, but it was easy to understand that it was what he meant when he said : “where do we go when we die ?”. 

After a long time of Tim getting lost in many complex explanations about decomposition (what the Hell Tim ?), he finally stopped as he saw that Thomas was most definitely lost.  

“Where do we go after we die ?” 

“Yes. What happens ? You must know, you know everything !” 

The faith his littlest brother put in him made him feel warm inside but...unfortunately on this subject he had to disappoint him. 

“I..I don’t know about this, actually.” 

Thomas looked crestfallen. Was nothing sacred anymore ?? Death existed, and the one he thought would always have a solution to everything didn’t know something that important !! 

“There’s many theories.” 

“What’s a theories ?”

“One theory, multiple theories. A theory is...an idea of how things might work.” 

“What are the theory ?” 

“Theories, plural.” 

“What are the theories ?” 

“Well. Some people think that you go into some kind of afterlife. It depends the culture, and the religion, and...many other factors. But there’s usually a few places we can end up.” 

“And we’ll see the people who died there ? We’ll see them again ?” 

“Supposedly so.” 

“Is it sure ?”

“No, it’s just a theory.” 

“You said a theory is an idea of how things might work.” 

“An idea that might not be proven.” 

“What’s the point then ?” 

“Theorizing.” 

“I don’t understand...”

Of course he didn’t, he was a smart little boy...But still just five. Tim sat down to his level, and looked at him in the eyes : 

“Well. You have to understand that um...No one knows what happens after death. So we have to make theories, things that might or might not be. You understand ?” 

“No.” 

“Well, since we don’t know, we make things up. But maybe those things are right. Maybe they aren’t.” 

“So the answer is we don't know ?” 

“Yes. But there are theories ?” 

“Ok. So aside from the place we see others again, what are the theories ?” 

“Well (...)” 

Tim was a patient boy. For hours and hours, he tried to explain every single “theory” people might’ve had about what happens after Death. And Thomas listened carefully. 

Finally, Tim was done, and his brother said : 

“So...No one really knows, and there’s a lot of theory...ies. Theories.” 

“Basically.” 

Thomas looked so discouraged. Tim was very well aware that none of what he told him really helped his brother, or reassured him...But ah. Tim was known to not lie. Which was a good thing. And he couldn’t possibly have a free conscience if he had told his brother just one theory of the after life, the nicest one, just to reassure him. 

Of course, he wanted to reassure him. To distract him. But he would do so another way. Lying to him was not it. 

Still, it was so disheartening to see this sweet little boy so crestfallen. 

“Um, Well...I guess some people know.”

Thomas looked up at his brother, hopeful, waiting for him to continue. 

“Like Constantine. But um, he’s sort of crazy. And dad doesn't want him around the house for...reasons you’ll understand when you’ll grow up. And-”

Ah but Thomas wasn’t listening to Tim anymore, and his monologue as to why maybe John Constantine wasn’t such a reliable source.   

“Constantine” huh ? Interesting. Ah. Sometimes, Tim forgot how smart his little brother truly was...for a five years old. And how he took after his father, when it came to memory and attention to details. 

************

This constant worry went on for quite just a few days. A few very eventful days, that were so...exhausting. Thomas was constantly scared for your lives, and would cry if anyone got hurt too much. 

He would follow you around, and be way too stressed for such a little bean. 

Everyone came to hide their injuries from him, tried to distract him from what they were doing when out as the Bats...But it was becoming a real problem. 

How ? How could they make a little five years old understand that he couldn’t forever be afraid of death ? It was impossible. None of you, not even you, had the right words. There were no right words anyway. 

You could tell him whatever you wanted, it’d never make him stop thinking about Death taking one of you with her, taking one of you far away from him. 

“A place he cannot follow you to.” 

How ? How could you help ?!

But the change had to come from within him, you would soon realize. 

About a week after Ace’s death, and a truly painful few days of everyone being lost and unable to help the baby of the family... he suddenly spoke up, at dinner time : 

“Mama, mama, if one day you die, I will bring you back. I promise. Same for daddy, and Dick, and Jason, and Cass, and Tim, and Duke, and Damian, and Alfred. I don’t know if we can bring dogs back, but humans yes ? And worst case scenario, I’ll conjure your spirit so I can say goodbye, and then I’ll know we’ll see each others again !”

“Wh-What ?” 

“Stunned” doesn’t quite cover how you felt at your son’s sudden tirade, at dinner that night. Everyone was here, a rare occasion. Your one dinner a months that was mandatory for all your kids ! To make sure you’d all have moments together. 

And boom. Came this monologue out of nowhere, from your small little five and a half years old son. 

Stunned. Not a strong word enough to describe you, or your other children. 

But Bruce. Oh Bruce. Bruce was frowning. Narrowing his eyes in a way you knew perfectly well...It meant he was angry at someone. 

“Who told you all this, son ?” 

“Mister Constantine.”

A growl. A scary growl. From deep within your husband’s throat. You would NOT want to be John next time he’d see 

“How did you talk to him ?” 

“I used your phone.” 

“I don’t have his number on my...Wait, the bat phone ?!” 

“Yes. The one you call uncle Clark on !”

“What the-...how did you-ugh ?!” 

There were so many questions. So many. 

“I copied what you do, on the phone. And I asked it if it could call the Constantine.” 

“The Constantine”, this better not be a stupid way he called himself in front of his son, Bruce thought. Ah, and curse the fact he kept having kids that were too damn smart for their own good ! 

Kids this days. Growing up with technology. Able to work a batphobe at age 5 and a half !! 

“Hope I helped little man - John Constantine”, said the note that came to the manor a few days later. Which made Bruce fume with rage, but Thomas beam happily. 

Bruce was already planning to go after John, and force him to say what he told his son. But...But...

To be honest. Whatever he said. You didn’t care. You knew, more than anyone else, that “Death” wasn’t as definitive as it sounded at times. And you knew for certain there was something after you died. What ? You couldn’t be sure. But something. Another place. Or maybe reincarnation ? Who knew. 

Deep in your heart though, you knew that no matter what, if you ever were to die...You’d see your family again. You weren’t sure how or where. It was just a certainty in your heart. A gut feeling. 

Yes. You didn’t care what John told your son. If it could help him accept that everyone will die one day. Didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of losing you anymore. Oh no. But at least...At least he knew worrying about it lead nowhere. And to truly enjoy the moments of the present. 

Whatever John said, it helped your son. That’s all that mattered. And as Thomas would grow up, you knew he’d understand things more and more. 

He already knew he was luckier than many people. He had a loving family. They were all there with him for now (minus Ace, whom he missed every day). A lot of people couldn’t say the same thing. 

Death was an odd thing. Especially in the World you lived in. 

It wasn’t as definitive as some would say.

Your family knew that more than anyone else.  

Death was an odd thing, that wasn’t always the ultimate end...

This, one day, Thomas would truly understand. 

The end 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). Just a quick thing again, my bigger story (fake boyfriend trope with Bruce hehe) is coming soon. But in the mean time, felt compelled to write about this. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and liked it ? Not my best work :/, another quick drabble written very late at night eh. But nonetheless, fun to write ? Hope it’s not a disappointment, it’s just a thing to make ya wait for a more elaborate thing that I took a lot of care writing. Anyway it’s 4 am, time for bed :).

If you did, don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback or/and to reblog :). If you didn’t as well really, it’s always good to know what’s not good so I can improve (just stay civil please). 

PS : Bonus point if you get where I’m trying to arrive at with those last few words about how definitive death is :p. 

[spinecutter]

battinson for the character asks !

hello ...!!

do i like them - i think battinson is the best live action bruce wayne so far i wuv him so much

5 good - hmm.. im gonna do reasons i like him. i love how theyre pushing the recluse aspect of bruces character, i think its fitting for the tone theyre going for too. the eyemakeup/grease is very nice and adds some realism idk. his little teeth. for actual character stuff i loved his realization that he shouldnt be a vigilante because of revenge for his parents death but instead to do what he can to help ppl. its very nice. these arent 5 but i am tired.

3 bad - i feel like hes kind of a dummy, not in a silly goofy way but actually, greatest detective in the world? he just solved a couple easy riddles and used, like, cameras. but i love him a whole lot anyways, and i think it made sense to have him constantly ask questions if the audience is supposed to absorb the movie thru his perspective. another thing... hmm... not really battinson specific but i think bruces and selinas romance felt kinda pushed in this movie. usually i can see it, and i actually like batcat a lot, but in 2022 it felt really forced. but it was also kinda reliant on sexual tension so i cant complain much. this is a lot of text sorry

fav etc: im gonna decide this is fav scene. i love when he approached falcone about his father, finds the info he needs, then visits alfred in the hospital and immediately is like, "You lied to me". peak autism.

ok i dont care much about shipping with bruce wayne in general but i like riddlebat but ONLY in unrequited form where ed is a deranged freak about bruce. ot3 is riddlebatcat i think theres a lot of potential there. ofc if they play with the rest of the dc universe with these movies then ill prolly change my opinion overtime, especially if clark kent is introduced

notp: um. n/a

best quote: when he said (without emotion): thumb drive. or earlier mentioned "you lied to me."

headcanon: well obviously i think he is autistic but other than that ... hmm.... im gonna come up with one from a metaphorical hat. i think he pours milk before cereal.

[supermanshield]

Finding this is hard

~~~

Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

Bruce has accepted that Clark will never be interested in him. Until finally, Clark takes a chance.

~~~ 

Words: 5,242

A/N: This only started because I was thinking about the layout of Wayne Manor, and for some reason considered Tim’s room next to Bruce’s. It grew into something much bigger from there, became much too serious and I completely lost track of the humorous angle I wanted to go for at first. Yay angst.

Also, another one in Bruce’s POV, which I always considered harder than Clark’s POV, but I am also working on two+ things with POV Clark.

Read on AO3

 ______________________________________________

“Quiet night?” Soft thud of Clark’s boots on the rooftop behind him and footsteps walking over to where Bruce sits crouched at the edge. An affirmative grunt is all he gives Clark in return, eyes trained on the building across the street and listening to shards of conversation being fed to him by the cowl from the bugs he has planted earlier.

“Stakeout.”  

Minute flicker, Clark shifting in and out of focus, and he sits down next to Batman. “Turned the security camera on the corner over to the building with your guys in it.”

“Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Don’t use your superspeed though. Don’t need suspects scrambling because they see red and blue.”

He chances a look over at Clark. Squatting down on a grimy rooftop in Gotham, back against the half wall running around the perimeter – good, anyone on the street can only maybe see his black hair and Batman’s cowl blends into the dark of the night anyway –, and hair and cape wet from the rain is not a good look on Superman. He stands out like a sore thumb next to Batman, doesn’t belong here. Yet, it has been a long time since Bruce has sent him out of his city because of all that, his presence now a comfort that has crept up on Bruce. And Clark has learnt, too. Hiding in the shadows just like him and helpful to a level that used to be annoying. It’s not that Bruce is dependent on him for this kind of stuff, he really isn’t. He can just… welcome the company sometime. That’s okay.

“Did you have something to discuss?”

Clark shrugs, one corner of his mouth goes up. “Just thought I’d check up on you.”

“You can use the communicator for that.”

“Right.”

After a while of sitting like this, Clark’s hearing clearly focused on the same conversation as Bruce, they both perk up at the same time. Silently following the suspects is a job for Batman. He sends Superman away, tells him through his comm to go back to Metropolis and silently thanks him for the company.

Much later, after a meet-up with Robin at the docks and on their drive to the Cave, Red Robin behind them on his bike, Bruce considers his relationship with Clark. Damian stays silent in the seat beside him – lets him brood - , and when they get back to the cave, he and Tim (even Tim), both tired, disappear up to the house for a snack and sleep.

Maybe he has let Clark get too close. Got too comfortable around him and let down those meticulously crafted walls. Yet being around Clark isn’t painful anymore, feelings born out of curiosity evaporated a long time ago. A mere physical attraction shoved into the depths of his being when reciprocation turned out impossible. He’s accepted that, Clark is a friend, and Bruce is content with his family, as far as that is possible with two teenagers and an aggressive prepubescent son in the house, and more scattered across the city and the east-coast (he is). It was a necessity to keep Clark at arm’s length, before. Protect them, put yourself last, don’t be selfish, don’t let yourself fall (don’t pull Clark down).

He has even chased Selina for a bit in an attempt to settle down as expected of a man his age and his status, his name, but it ultimately wasn’t worth it. Selina obviously not the right person for settling down and his interest faked, a game of cat and mouse (bat).

So yes, he can be close to Clark. They are friends, after all.

----------

Clark’s brain is a super-computer and more human than Bruce’s at that. It comes in handy when filtering through recordings or data and Bruce can’t think of a better reason to invite him over for dinner and a joint case-study in the cave.

He doesn’t remember the last time Clark has been up in the house and not just in the cave. It’s ridiculous really, they’ve been friends for years, only Bruce hasn’t been acting like one while Clark has put in 100% effort (and only sporadically to the point of annoyance).

Friendship leads to bad things and more, like with Harvey. But Clark is not Harvey.

“Thanks for inviting me for dinner,” Clark says when they walk back down into the cave. “You didn’t have to, I mean. But it’s nice to talk about non-cape stuff for once and see you interact with your kids.”

“I didn’t invite you because I had to, Clark. We’re friends.” Fact, not question and (obviously) obvious to Clark.

“Of course.” But a dazzling smile in his direction (he finds he wants that, more, and that’s exactly why he can’t) and Bruce decides that now is as good a time as any to go on patrol and leave Clark with the brunt of the work that they started on earlier. A few quick commands and suits up, utility-belts packed, and Robin, Red Robin, Batgirl, and Batman speed out of the cave to go on patrol.

----------

A steaming cup of coffee appears on the desk in front of him and Clark sits down in the other chair and swivels towards him. It always goes like this; Bruce will come up early, ready for monitor duty whatever time of the day it is. Clark walks in almost a clockwork five minutes later, coffee or tea in both hands, a quick silent rush of his cape and he reappears with snacks, sometimes dinner (leftovers from Martha’s cooking, and Bruce hears his stomach growl in betrayal at the first waft of chicken, cooked vegetables, goulash). They often get paired up, being in the same time-zone and no one else wants to spend time with Batman much. Except maybe Diana, or J’onn. (But Diana pries too much, seeking out the truth. J’onn doesn’t pry at all, even though he could. With him it is hyper-focus and silence for most of 6 hours.)  

So, it’s fine with Clark, nothing’s expected and there is familiarity in their conversation. The time passes faster and he gladly chooses this over any board meeting where nothing ever gets done anyway. But today monitor duty is during his patrol, and Tim and Damian are out on their own. Together. Dick in Blüdhaven and Cassandra out of commission in bed. One of Bruce’s screens is continuously focused on Gotham, two small figures in capes and chasing bad guys and each other. They do their job and Bruce watches his other screens, listens to Clark and nods appropriately, goes over some new schematics for a suit improvement.

Corner of his eye, peripheral vision is dedicated to the two small figures in Gotham. The screen shows the top of Wayne Tower and Red Robin pacing up and down, clearly talking, unhappy, Robin has crossed his arms. Bruce can interrupt them over the comms, give them a good scare, but they’d never learn. The need for them to work together more poignant as Bruce becomes older and Damian almost ready to join the Teen Titans if it wasn’t for Tim. His heart skips a beat when Damian’s hand goes for his katana, but Tim holds up his in surrender, holding him off and it is fine, they’re okay.

Bruce turns back to his other screens only to find Clark looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Clark takes another bite of his Mars bar, feigning oblivion.

“Listen.”

“It’s my hearing, B. I can’t just turn it off.”

“Then focus on something else.” Clark turns back to his side of the monitor bank and Bruce goes back to his work, but he’s lost his focus. Gotham not just in his peripheral vision anymore and of course, Clark notices.

“Want me to go down there? I’ll keep an eye on them. Or you go and I’ll stay here.”

“No, we have a job to do. So do they.”

Clark doesn’t look convinced and something in the back of Bruce’s mind screams of Superman’s disapproving scowl at a brightly coloured child next to Batman’s black cape. But that is a long time ago and Clark looks at him now with a crease between his raised eyebrows and a hand on his shoulder. Worry, a question.

“No,” he says again. “They need to do this together. I trained them. I trust them.”

That hand lingers on his shoulder a moment longer, and Bruce doesn’t shake it off, doesn’t want to. The weight behind Clark’s touch and his gaze ground him, get him out of his thoughts and back to focus on work.

----------

It’s a couple weeks later and they’re all in the cave, Tim and Cass on the matts, sparring, Damian off by the workbench quietly cleaning his gear. Bruce has a video feed open to the Fortress of Solitude, where Superman and Supergirl are looking into the Kryptonian database for the origins of an abandoned alien ship found on Mars. Or at least, Superman is. Kara is playing with newly acquired Krypto, two streaks of red and a blur in the background from time to time. Clark’s family is expanding, too.

Their conversation is all business, small talk quickly waved off by Bruce and he keeps them on track. He has other stuff to do and if Clark can’t find anything about the ship in the Kryptonian data, he’ll contact Oa and let the Lanterns handle it. Yet despite his best efforts tonight, Clark smiles at him, and even through the screen and slightly distorted feed he feels the warmth. Tingling suppressed because it’s nothing like the real deal. The one he’s seen directed at Lois, or when Clark talks about Lana.

“I could uhh… come over?” The uncertainty in Clark’s voice surprises Bruce, but Clark quickly picks up again. “Got everything we need here. I’ll send it to you and we can come up with a plan.”

“The Lanterns can handle it from here,” Bruce says resolutely, pauses. “OK, come over. Bring Kara. I want to have Tim teach her some things about tracking and deduction.” At the mention of her name, Kara appears, now fully visible and Krypto at her side, looking up expectantly at the ball in her hand.

“Hi, guys,” she waves, and Bruce finds Tim and Cass behind him, and even Damian has come much closer. She pretends to hold a magnifier in front of her face. “Detective Kara on the case.” Cass smiles and waves. Tim greets back and says something about listening to detective Tim, smug voice and all smiles. Bruce looks back at Clark to find him still staring at him, holds onto that and Clark’s blue eyes, until Kara speaks again. “Sooo, sleepover at the manor tonight? It’s getting a little boring up here. No offence, Kal.”

Clark holds up his hands. “None taken.”

Bruce cuts in quickly. “No. Tonight’s training and then back home. Damian and I will go on patrol. Clark can stay here with you guys.”

Clark chuckles. “Bruce, it’s fine. You’ve got room enough and I’ll just go back to Metropolis tonight.”

Bruce’s stare turns into a scowl, and Clark folds his arms. Tim lets out an uncharacteristic groan, Cass rolls her eyes. Clark breaks first, unfolds his arms but it’s not without a smug smile when he says, “We’ll be right there.”

 -

They all have supper together, it’s an odd sight at the table with Clark and Kara in their super suits, capes left folded on one of the benches in the cave. Damian is already in the under-suit of his Robin costume, the rest of them still in training sweats, but Alfred only scoffs mildly as he joins them at the table, impeccable as ever. Bruce gets lost in conversation with Clark while the children have their own thing going on. So lost, in fact, that he forgets about patrol time until Damian gives an incessant tug on his sleeve and tells him to ‘get ready, father. I cannot believe you let the alien distract you like that.’

On top of that, in the cave Clark somehow convinces him to let Cass, Tim, and Kara have their sleepover. It’s good for Kara, he says, she needs to spend more time with people her age. Of course Tim then asks if Kon can come too, and Clark happily says yes, at which point Bruce has to remind him that it’s his home, his room is right next to Tim’s and everyone needs their sleep, and thinks it’s a good thing they’re not raising these kids together. They’re opposites, he would be the strict parent, and everyone would go to Clark to ask things (evidently, they already do, or at least Tim does, and Bruce wonders again if he’s let Clark let too close).

That night on patrol though, he can’t shake the feeling that something about tonight felt absolutely right. He chalks it up to the manor, it’s large, it’s supposed to be that full, and his age. He’s not weak, he’s just becoming a sentimental old sap.

----------

On Tuesday afternoon he runs into Tim in the hallway adjoining both their bedrooms where Tim tells him about a recent board meeting at WE, some adjustments he wants to make to their financing plans, coffee cup in hand and stack of papers in the other. Mature, he looks mature.

“How old are you again?” He asks after Tim finishes talking.

Exasperated sigh and waving the stack of papers. “Did you even hear anything I said?”

Bruce just glares at him in answer, raises an eyebrow.

“Right,” Tim says. He hums. Tim is going to fly out soon and Bruce is not quite ready to acknowledge how that makes him feel, but he’ll do his damn best to make sure it’s a good experience for him. To not push him away. To not lose him. “You know I’ll be out of here as soon as soon as I’m eighteen.”

“And finish school.”

“Fine, and finish school. Then I’ll get my own apartment. Might get quiet here.”

Bruce shrugs. “It won’t be quiet with Damian around. I could always call Clark to come over if it gets boring.”

“Clark?”

“Or-”

“No, no, invite Clark. Good for you.” He elbows Bruce and steps into his room. Tim’s grin is just a little unsettling, worth a second thought, but the only possible answer is simple enough. Clark slips into his conversations and his thoughts like he’s supposed to be there (he is). Being around him is more than comfortable, it’s normal. Much better than back in the day when he was always with Lois and Bruce is completely over his feelings.

---------

A mild injury (twisted ankle, he landed wrong and feels it up in his knee), and Clark insists on going back to the cave with Bruce after patrol. He sends Damian to the showers and to bed, slides into the chair in front of the computer and takes off his cowl. Clark hovers around, it’s annoying, he offers to get an ice pack, but that’s Alfred’s job and he’s there as soon as Bruce sinks down. Tim’s at the other end of the large bank of monitors, tracking shipments of something. Bruce should really be more interested and know what Tim is up to, but he’s tired, sore all over, just wants a nice warm shower and sleep. Work first.

Maybe it’ll go faster with Clark around. At least, if he would just stop worrying about Bruce and actually help him. They’re looking into some recovered DNA when Bruce reaches up, rubs at his neck subconsciously.

“You okay?” Clark’s question startles him, both their eyes still trained on the screen. Listening again.

“I’m fine, just sore.”

“Go to bed. I’ll do this.”

“No, I still need to write tonight’s report.” Rubs at his shoulder and rolls.

“Ok. Then here, let me.” Clark walks closer to him, behind the chair, makes a motion with his hands. It takes just a bit too long for Bruce to catch on, but he leans forward slightly. Clark deftly removes the cape and cowl - and it should really worry Bruce that he knows how to, but he forgoes an angry comment as soon as Clark’s hands touch his shoulder. They’re warm along his shoulders and neck, large, gentle despite their incredible strength. Of course, Clark easily finds all the knots and twists and kneads in just the right places. Bruce tries to refocus on his work, tries to be annoyed with Clark for knowing exactly what to do, but the smooth slide of Clark’s thumbs on his trapezius muscles makes it hard. Friends can do this.

It’s somehow much too soon when all the tension is gone and Clark pulls back his hands, but he pushes the thought away. Clears his throat. “Hnn. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hasn’t noticed Tim leave, but his spot is empty now, hears him rumbling around in a different part of the cave and the rest of their work gets done quickly in silence.

“I think we should wrap things up here,” Bruce says after finishing his report. He pushes himself up out of the chair, has to hold onto the backrest for support. Clark, automatically, reaches out to him to help.

“Report all done?”

Bruce nods.

“Ok, then. Need any help getting upstairs?”

“No.”

Clark hasn’t let go. In fact, he’s come closer, every colour blue visible in his eyes and his breath ghosting over Bruce’s face.

“Bruce, I-“

“Yes.” The grip on his arm becomes tighter, slow tug. Lips on his, impossibly soft and a hand gently supporting his back. But his own hand stings and the next second Clark stands in front of him, shocked and appropriate distance between them again. Bruce swears in pain. His hand throbs.

“What the fuck, Clark.”

“Crap! Sorry, Bruce, I…” Bruce clenches his jaw, there’s a sigh, then only a gust of wind, Clark’s speed too high for Bruce to even see the streak of red flying out of the cave.

“Bruce.” He whirls around at the sound of his name, heart racing. Tim’s stopped on his way to the stairs, towel around his neck and Bruce ignores the pain in his ankle as he makes his way over. “Fuck, why did you try to hit him?”

“Bed, now.”

Tim groans overdramatically and walks past him into the house. Slowly, Bruce makes it up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he collapses into bed and a restless sleep.

---------

The next day it’s glowers from Tim, no hugs or any words from Cass, and Damian isn’t much better off. Alfred gives him more than a few pointed looks, no sassy raised eyebrow and all scowls. Bruce ignores them as much as they ignore him and the house is quieter than it’s been in a long time. He needs to deal with this himself, he just doesn’t know how to yet. It all lasts until evening, when everyone is in the cave quietly getting ready, where Tim finally speaks to him.

“You lead him on.”

“What?”

“Clark. You lead him on.”

“I heard you, Tim. I did not.”

“You get too close to the alien, father.”

“Clark is a friend. I am close to him.”

“No, you let him get close. You lower your defences, and your body language is all… open.” The last word sounds like a reach within Damian’s vocabulary, chosen carefully.

“Exactly,” Tim joins in. “You lean into him; he moves towards you. You make googly eyes at him; he makes googly eyes at you. When you’re not looking of course.”

“I don’t make googly eyes.”

Tim sighs. “You get the point. Hell, I’ve seen you having coffee with him in the kitchen after patrol more than a few times. I thought that-”

“Tim.”

One of his trademark teenage sighs again, all frustration and no patience. “For a so-called billionaire playboy, you’re really bad at telling when someone is actually interested in you.”

“I’m done talking about this. Suit up. All of you.”

“Had me believe you were in love with him…” A mumble and it dies down as Tim puts on his helmet. The roar of his bike engine drowns out Bruce’s words. “Clark isn’t… that’s just me.”

By the time the cave is quiet again, Damian is waiting for him in the batmobile, arms crossed over his fastened seatbelt. Bruce pulls the cowl over his head and doesn’t notice Cass behind him until she tugs on his cape, puts a hand on his shoulder. “You… love.” She touches his chest. “Clark. Loves you… too.”

 -

On patrol that night, Bruce’s mind wanders. If Damian notices he doesn’t comment on it. They intercept a weapons shipment by the docks, take down the thugs. Standard night in Gotham.

Clark isn’t gay. Straight? Bruce has never outright asked him, always assumed. Lana and Lois all he has to go on and he simply came to a logical conclusion. Though it’s a flawed one, and contradicted by himself on top of that. CEO of a billion-dollar company and he has women hanging of his arms at every society event he goes to because it’s expected. To be straight. He can’t imagine Clark having to do that – maybe it was his rural upbringing, though the Kents are not like that.

And of course, Clark brings Bruce’s whole world, the lies he tells himself, down with one simple kiss. After eleven goddamn years, and all he can feel is loss, lost time, frustration and anger as his fists connect with ribs, jaws, elbows on the street. He needs Clark to explain. He needs himself to understand.

---------

“Bruce.” Clark opens the door, still dressed in a blue button-up and off-the-rack slacks. It’s clear he hasn’t been expecting him; a single plate with a half-finished dinner sits on the table, next to a laptop.

“Why now.”

“What?” Clark clears his throat, swallows a remnant of his dinner. “I’m sorry for what happened.” He steps aside to let Bruce into the apartment, follows him towards the small living room. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought- “

“That’s just it. You didn’t think, you just-” Bruce stops himself, groans. He isn’t here to fight with Clark, but it is just so goddamn easy. Toe to toe and head to head despite half the room separating them. Clark’s jaw sets in that all too familiar way and his expression drops from astonishment and curiosity to calm and collected.

“Are you just here to yell at me? Because I’m really not in the mood. I’m sorry. I thought you were interested in… that. Clearly, I misread the signs, so it won’t happen again. Can we just forget about this whole thing… and move on or something?”

“No.” To Bruce, moving on is impossible.

“Right. Why are you even mad at me? If anything, I should be the one being angry with you. And it doesn’t sound like you came here to apologize for hitting me.”

“No, I didn’t. I’m here so you can explain one thing to me, Clark. Why did you kiss me?”

An eternity packed into the second it took Clark to find his reply, and his answer anything but satisfying. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ve just been spending too much time together.”

“We’re friends. Friends spend time together.”

“Yes. Ok,” Clark sighs, averts his eyes. “I’m attracted to you… and I thought it was mutual. I mean, you let me give you a massage. You’ve never let me done that! So really, I’m sorry if I misread the situation.” Clark holds up his hands, palms up in explanation, excuse. All of it seems much too easy for him, something to brush off.  

“I didn’t think my behaviour would cause such a complication.”

“A complication.”

“I didn’t know, or I would have done things differently. Ergo, a complication.”

Clark breaths in and out, pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Ok, do you have a problem with me being the way I am? Because that’s what it sounds like. It was just a kiss. Get over it.”

“You jump to conclusions, Clark. As always.”

“Cryptic and you leave me two steps behind, Bruce. As always.”

He looks around Clark’s apartment. The couch is small, but he sits down anyway, motions for Clark to sit on the armchair. Ikea. It puts him across from Bruce and level. “I didn’t know you were…” he has to strain for the right word. “Not straight. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Clark runs a hand through his hair, closes his eyes and takes of his glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people. I thought you knew.”

“All evidence pointed to the contrary.”

“Bisexuality is a thing you know. And I don’t have to tell you everything about my love interests.”

“Right. Feels like you do, though.”

“So then,” Clark tries. “You’re just here to confirm my sexuality.”

“Not just that.”

“Oh. So, you are… You’re not out, are you?”

“Neither are you, apparently.”

“It’s complicated. And it’s not like I actively hide it,” he says accusingly. Evidently, conditioned bias can really be a bitch sometimes. There’s a whole other conversation to be uncovered behind Clark’s complicated. One they should have. Maybe later. Bruce swallows.

“Why I hit you. I overreacted. I taught myself to… not want that, and-”

“Rao, Bruce, stop. You don’t have to deny who you are. Not around me.” There’s that comforting hand on his again. So much of Clark's communication is rooted in touch. He's held back, Bruce realises now, and finds he desperately wants a lot more of it. Hand on the armrest of the couch, he doesn’t pull away.

“Will you let me apologise. I didn’t mean to hit you and I’m sorry. You know I would never, and it’s stupid.” He looks at where Clark’s thumb touches his bruised knuckles. “Clearly,” Clark agrees.

“The thing is. I was finally content. Happy with what I could have. My family. You as a friend. And then you go and ruin it all with a stupid little kiss.” He has to avert his eyes, look up at the ceiling to consider the absurdity of it all. Biggest miscalculation of his life. The feeling of loss washes over him again like a tidal wave of his own making, and he can’t help but wonder if it feels the same for Clark. “Eleven goddamn years, Clark. Took you long enough.”

Clark’s chuckle does things to his stomach that he hasn’t allowed himself to experience in a long time. He joins Bruce on the couch. “Hey. At least I had the courage to do something.”

“Okay. So you suck a little bit less at this than me.”  Some of the tension finally leaves his body, and Clark visibly relaxes next to him. He turns towards Bruce, like on the watchtower, like at dinner. Bruce thinks of what Tim had said, how they lean towards each other, always, and it feels right, fits. Opposites attract, or something.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes. Didn’t really get the full experience last time.”

“Wonder whose fault that was.” Clark’s face has come much too close for Bruce to see his smile, but he can hear it, feel it in the way there is just a little bit of teeth when their lips meet. This time, the kiss is much better. The feel of Clark’s lips under his own, his hands on Bruce’s thigh, his chest, so warm. Clark’s curls and incredibly strong pulse. He commits it all to memory. Just in case.

“And he says I jump to conclusions,” Clark states to the room, and Bruce has to close his eyes to keep from laughing.

------------

Epilogue

------------

It’s been over a month since the incident with Bruce and Clark in the cave, and honestly, Tim thinks he would be seeing more of Clark. He felt a little disappointed at first, didn’t talk much to Bruce. Because of course, leave it to him to just shut everyone out again and pretend nothing had happened. Damian – annoyingly so – takes after his dad, works hard and just a tad too victorious.

Tim considers himself a pretty good detective.

However. It takes him a couple days to notice, too long, Bruce would say, that Bruce is calm. More relaxed. If that’s even possible for Batman. Well, not out on patrol of course, but at home. Tim’s doing homework in the ground floor study one day when Bruce walks in, looking at his phone. Smiling. Distracted and he hasn’t noticed Tim on time, clearly, when he quickly pockets his phone and asks Tim what he’s working on. The smile lingers.

There’s a league meeting but when batman returns to the zeta platform in the cave, the usually present proverbial protruding vein is not there, and Bruce doesn’t stomp to his computer right away. Instead, he takes a whole five minutes to remove the constricting parts of his uniform, eat one of Alfred’s sandwiches, and comfortably installs himself in front of the large monitor. It’s as un-Bruce and healthy as Batman can get and it doesn’t go unnoticed. No one comments.

And then. Bruce comes home late one night – on time for patrol – from the office. Or so he claims. But his tie is loosened, shirt not perfectly pressed anymore, and he smells like Pakistani curry. He could have got the food delivered of course, but it’s the windswept hair that betrays exactly who brought him back to Gotham after a dinner in Metropolis.

All of it culminates, there’s more little things and it’s the kind of behaviour that stands out when you spend a lifetime practicing every possible degree of a scowl and a faked interest in small-time fun.

Tim’s suspicions are finally confirmed in a much too unsubtle way when he’s in his room late one night – or maybe early morning –, under the covers and ready to go to sleep. There’s stumbling, bumping into the wall outside his room. His first thought is a threat, but then he hears Bruce’s voice. And another. Creak of the master bedroom door and footsteps shuffling on carpet.

“Take that off.” Straightforward as ever, Bruce.

“This too?” And yep, that’s Clark. Where are his noise cancelling headphones?

Constrained. “Yes.”

Tim clicks on his bedside light, stumbles around his room extra loud, hoping Clark will hear him. Notice he’s awake. At the very least, Superman should be considerate.

“I thought you had superspeed.”

“Patience, B.”

“Waited for you all week.” The rest was muffled, a creaking sound.

Under the safety of his covers and the protection of his headphones, Tim thinks about texting Stephanie. Or Kon. Or Dick. He groans and decides to put on some music instead. Why couldn’t Bruce just come out to them like a normal person? Why didn’t he spend an all-nighter in the cave tonight? Why did he ever choose the bedroom next to Bruce? At least Damian won’t be able to hear them. Right? He makes the mistake of lifting up one side of his headphones to check, only to hear a rhythmic thump, thump, thump, and drops it right back down. Okay. He can probably do some more work on the Two-face case down in the cave. It’s not like he needs sleep, anyway.

He just needs to have a very stern talk with Batman and Superman come morning. And move to a different bedroom.

[ethelphantom]

white gold ring

Hey look it’s the second (and last) part of my Dickinette Valentine’s series as it’s day 14, White Day. It seems y’all are also getting more proposals. Have fun! 

Ao3 | First part

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; Don’t read

____________________________________

“Do you think she’s going to say yes? No, scratch that, do you think she’s gonna break up with me after this because I’m doing something she isn’t ready for yet?” Dick asked, fiddling with the small box in his hands. He didn’t really know what to do with his hands, so this had to do.

Kori groaned and shook her head, feeling the slightest disappointment in his friend. “Dick. Try to be real. She would literally never break up with you unless you deeply hurt her — which I'm sure won't happen — if she has any say in the matter, and if she’s not ready, then she’ll tell you and you’ll keep your relationship as ‘dating’ until she is ready,” she sighed and patted Dick’s head. “Now go out there and do it already — you don’t have all day if you want the rest of us to do what you asked us to.”

Dick smiled sheepishly and shrugged as she pushed him closer to where Marinette was animatedly talking with Kagami. Kagami had a soft smile on her face as she watched Marinette excitedly talk about something. It was rather adorable. Dick wiped his hands on his pants (Alfred would be so disappointed and took a deep breath. As he exhaled again, he lifted his gaze back from the floor to his girlfriend and walked towards her with determination in his demeanour. He did look back once but continued on when Kori glared at him and pointed sharply at Marinette.

God.

Why did this have to be so difficult?

Why did Dick have to be so difficult?

Once he was out of hearing range and they were sure he wouldn’t look back anymore, Adrien and Roy appeared beside Kori. Roy laughed, clearly aware of the irony of the situation.

“It feels like I’ve done this exact thing before too, just with Marinette when she confessed. Seriously. How is neither of them able to just do the things when they’re both so confident otherwise? They know the other would never hate them or do anything to hurt them, this doesn’t need to be so difficult,” she said grumbling and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I love them both but this is just ridiculous.”

Adrien snorted. “I’m not really surprised about Marinette. She’s confident as long as it’s not about her relationships with other people. Considering what happened with Alya, it’s actually rather understandable.”

“You’re, unfortunately, right about that. If I ever get Alya or Lila in my hands…”

“Yeah, we get it, Kori. You want to get Mari justice.”

Kori just deadpanned. “Would you stop me?”

“Nope, never. I would help.”

“He had some kind of a brilliant plan and reason why today, though, right?” Roy asked, arching a brow.

“Yeah, he does. He refused to elaborate on it though.”

“Do you think he’s going to—”

“Yeah, he is. Would you please make sure he—”

“On it, Kori.”

Adrien snickered. “Consider it done.”

With a sigh and a smile, Kori watched Roy and Adrien going after Dick, Roy turning around for a second to give her a thumbs up and a wink while Adrien made a beeline for Kagami.

________________

“Hiya Teacup! And Miss Riposte, could I steal my girlfriend for a second?” Dick asked when he reached the two young women, giving them a quick salute. Marinette turned to look at him and gave him a bright smile as she fell into his opened arms for a hug. Dick squeezed her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Her hair smelled like cherries and vanilla. The warmth of her body in the slightly cold breeze was a good reminder of just how lucky he was to have her, to have her have chosen him.

“It seems to me you already stole her away, Boy Wonder. For longer than a second, too,” Kagami said, only the faintest smile visible on her face anymore. Dick gulped, knowing she knew what he was planning, afraid that she thought it was a bad idea or anything like that. He wouldn’t back away though, he’d spent far too long trying to convince himself to do it.

Marinette detached herself from Dick and booped Kagami on the nose. “Hah, as though you mind, Yù Jiě,” she said with a laugh, making the corners of Kagami’s lips quirk upwards.

Dick was happy Marinette had such great friends but the chilling steel of Kagami’s eyes when she had looked at him was, well, it had him shiver — Clark was nothing compared to Kagami even if he was sometimes called the man of steel. Nope. It was enough to make him reconsider all of his plans for today and his life choices, consider just ignoring the burn of the small box in his pocket, knowing it would take him an irritatingly long while to muster the willpower to do this again.

Yeah, how about no, Kori and Roy would kill him after having spent so long trying to hype him up.

And then, thank all things holy and sacred, his saviour arrived at the spot, spitting off some bullshit about needing Kagami’s help with fencing techniques like, right now, and definitely not later because later would be too late. Adrien made a little chit chat with Marinette too and told her he wanted to test the new men’s wear line she’d designed a little earlier as soon as she was finished with them, which let Roy sneak up on them from behind and give Dick a light punch on the arm. While Marinette was distracted, he listed off some of the reasons Dick himself had mentioned when talking about why he should do this and then told him to ‘just get his shit together and do it already’, and ‘no, Kagami doesn't disapprove, she’s just worried for the both of you’.

It helped.

As soon as Marinette or Kagami looked like they were ready to turn their attention back to him, Roy slipped away and gave him one last thumbs up and a look that seemed to say “you’re gonna do fine if you just fucking do it.”

Typical.

Yeah, he was totally thankful for his friends, even if they were assholes sometimes.

Kagami agreed to leave with Adrien, walking to the opposite direction from Roy, and once Marinette’s back was turned to them, she made the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Dick. He was certain she was being serious about it, too.

“Mind if we take a short walk?” he asked Marinette, trying to ignore the burn of all the eyes on them that Marinette wasn’t even aware of. Marinette smiled and grabbed the arm he was offering for her. They walked for a while, talking about any and all things trivial. Slowly, they approached the place he’d decided was the perfect place, and his nerves were all suddenly telling him to just stop and run away as fast as he could. Suppressing that thought, he led Marinette to the centre of the square.

There, on the right, he could see a flow of long, bright red hair that faded to orange behind a corner and both Roy and Jason trying to be very subtle and nonchalant about following them. Both Kagami and Adrien were just leaning against a tree and having a conversation, though it was obvious to him that both were sneaking glances at them every now and then. A mob of blue and black hair walked past them, smiling. He was the only one of them with any actual idea of what subtle meant, it seemed, as he lifted the camera in his hands a little bit before simply walking away.

So while he was glad all of them were there and he’d literally told them to get their butts over to make sure he’d have pictures of this and his friends as support, it was still nerve-wracking.

What had he gotten himself in to?

When he stopped walking, Marinette let go of his arm and turned to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips even as it was clear she was trying to hide her own confusion and nervousness from him. It was appreciated, even if he could easily see it from her. Over the years, he’d grown fluent in speaking Marinette and her body language, and they both knew it. She knew how to read him (sometimes uncomfortably) well. It was nice to know that someone would understand him beyond his actions even if his words failed him sometimes and he ended up putting up a show.

“Uh. I.” Such an eloquent start, Dick. Congratulations. “So, you remember how two years back you confessed to me on Valentine’s Day in this place and gave me chocolate cereal? It was very sweet and thoughtful of you, by the way.”

Mari nodded slowly at him, clearly confused about what was going on. She gave him a small smile nonetheless, most likely as a response to the latter half of his words.

Once he got the confirmation, he continued speaking. “Well. So, I forgot White Day back then, didn’t even think about getting you a gift in return like I feel like I should have, but I’ve got you one now. A gift of higher value times eternity, or so I hope, because you deserve that much and even more,” he said, pulled out the box from his pocket and made a show of doing a flip that ended with him on one knee on the ground. He opened the box to show her what it contained, biting his lip.

He was almost sure he could hear Kori groan because of the flip he’d done.

Marinette gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. There were tears swelling in her eyes, but the crinkles around the eyes told him she was smiling. She breathed heavily as the tears started falling down before she threw herself in his arms. Dick caught her effortlessly, stood back up and twirled around with Marinette in his tight embrace. Then he settled her back on the ground and slipped the ring around her finger. He’d tried his best at choosing one she would love — there were two jewels on the white gold ring, a ruby and an aquamarine, both with double halos decorated with small diamonds. It wasn’t the best quality ring as he refused to let Bruce pay for it, but Bruce had managed to convince him to take a part of his birthday gift (a couple of hundreds of bucks) early as it was in 6 days anyway.

After that, he just held her in his arms, pressing his face in her hair and inhaling her smell. It was nice and comfortable. Both of them were ecstatic about things going so well, both of them enjoyed physical contact, especially when it came from one another. It was like they were the only two people in the world. It was perfect — the moment couldn’t have been better.

No, except their nosy friends were suddenly interrupting it right then and there, breaking the spell. The irritated hiss from Kori, most likely, directed at Roy who lying on the ground and wasn’t this situation a little too familiar? had them both sigh and they turned around to look at their friends, all of them there. Wally had come this time, nearly looking more excited than Dick felt. Even Barbara was there with a camera in her hands now, shaking her head, along with Tim who was… wait, was he seriously standing on the rooftop with no safety measures just to get pictures of them?

God. This was not what he asked them to do. His little brothers were totally going to be the reason he went grey early. As if it wasn’t enough that Jason went skydiving with Roy and Kori a little too often and Damian loved big and dangerous animals, as well as poisonous flowers. Like, the botanical garden he’d insisted on having at the manor consisted of only poisonous flowers. He also seemed to enjoy creating antivenoms against his snakes and then tested them on himself. Well, at least Tim was only photographing them right now instead of trying to do pyrotechnics and give them a whole fireworks show. That would not even have been too surprising, just plain worrying, because where did he get them this time?

Kagami had her head buried in Adrien’s shoulder, looking like she was simply done with all of them. Jason, well. They weren’t too sure what Jason was doing, and Dick wasn’t too sure he wanted to know what the Little Wing was on about. He was glad they were there though, all except for Luka. Why wasn't he present, though?

Yeah, that ‘why’ they would figure out later on.

“Well, good to see you managed to actually propose properly, and that you actually said yes instead of panicking and telling him the opposite. Nette-chan, Adrien, Luka and I booked you two a cruise of three nights, starting the day after tomorrow. Yes, we made sure to clear both your schedules. Have fun. I think the rest of us are going now,” she stated with a deadpan voice and looked at Kori before motioning at Roy. “I said, we’re going now. Do you have hearing problems?”

The last bit was clearly aimed at Roy who had, contrary to popular belief, better hearing than an average human. All of them knew it. Roy literally hurried and almost tripped over his own legs trying to get up, which was understandable because Kagami was on par with Marinette, Kori and Babs being scary when they wanted to and when they were determined or decided about something.

Marinette let out an amused laugh. “God, hasn’t like, nearly all of this happened already? On the day I confessed if I recall correctly. Either we’re too excellent at repeating history or you had all of this planned to a T to go the same way, and I’m not sure which option is more amusing.”

Dick laughed along with her, agreeing wholeheartedly. Indeed, they were far too excellent at repeating history.

Later, when Marinette and Dick entered the home they had shared for a while now, they noticed a small, white envelope with a blue rose seal taped on their door. Marinette took it in her hands and opened it as Dick let them inside and closed the door behind them. Her face heated up and went crimson which had Dick concerned. He took the envelope and what it contained out of her hands and understood immediately what that had been about. The envelope was full of polaroids, of the moment Dick proposed, the moment Marinette said yes, the moment he spun them around… And of course, there was one with the moment captured when they turned their attention to their friends with the winking and the grinning face of Luka in the lower right corner. Behind the picture, there was a short message from him.

Thanks for not noticing me when I was taking the pictures, it made them a lot more genuine. Have fun at the cruise with your fiancé(e). Don’t forget protection! Be glad he asked me to get the pictures because this way they’re probably going the closest reminder of what the moments felt like to you later on aside from your rings and your beloved.

Love, Luka

P.S. you both need to figure out how to notice me when I’m around, especially since you both are otherwise good at noticing all the small things happening near.

The polaroids, both these and the ones Luka had taken years ago, weere showed at their wedding reception half a year later along with those Tim and Barbara had taken, and then they decorated their walls for the next few decades.

_______________

@kris-pines04  @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip @emo-elaine13

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 12)

Damian kept his eyes on Marinette. 

She had been off all day, and their talk that morning had only proven his suspicions. Something was bothering her, and it was all Adrien Agreste’s fault. His fists clenched as the woman in front of him began working on him. Thinking about that blonde tom cat made his blood boil. Whatever he did, Damian would kill him for it. His cousin was sweet and naive despite her vast genius. She wanted to trust people, and when she did, she did it with her whole heart. And that blonde buffoon had broken it in to a million pieces. 

It wasn’t just the boy though, no. It was also that stupid video, it had to be. He hadn’t enjoyed it when it was sent to his phone. It was messy and loud, and while he had misjudged the small blonde girl, he still thought the spectacle was stupid. Anyone who poked a cadged animal was stupid, and that was obviously what that Italian girl was.  

At least he was finally able to put a face to the name of Lila Rossi.

It was a tactical failure for sure. His cousin had mentioned that she had everything involving the girl under control, but this was not what she could have planned. Marinette looked like she was on the verge of puking all morning, Damian recognized regret easily enough. That had been why he’d tried to talk to her, only to find out that it was the mistake of the morning and something that awful model had done that was upsetting her. 

Now his phone was being blown up with messages from the small blonde french girl who was, for some reason, still in his phone as ‘Sweetness.’ She wouldn’t stop texting him, hadn’t since the video had arrived. She apparently got the wrong idea from their earlier correspondence and was now under the impression that they were friends. And she kept asking for pictures of him and Colin.

Said boy was currently the one in possession of his phone. His boyfriend was switching between gleefully rewarching the video with a wickedly satisfied grin and texting with the blonde girl. Damian found the whole thing ridiculous, seeing how Colin didn’t know any French. Yet somehow he and the girl were holding some sort of conversation and he was, apparently, taking immense joy from the video that he couldn’t even understand. 

Suddenly a brush was in his face, painting foundation onto his skin. Damian could make a list fifty feet long detailing how much he hated makeup. He would growl at the woman currently caking his face in the disgusting stuff, but Colin was sitting in front of him on the edge of the platform, and the last thing he needed was for the redhead to be mad at him.

Marinette was currently in a changing room, trying on the brand new outfit Edna’s people had slapped together in just under an hour and a half. Chloé was, strangely, also in the changing room his cousin was in. The two girls had been inseparable from one another’s sides since coming back from lunch. 

It was strange. 

Damian didn’t like it. 

The blonde bitch was surely just trying to get his cousin to stop being upset with her precious model, which would not fly while Damian was here. He wouldn’t let Marinette be manipulated like that. Honestly, she was far too trusting. And here he thought she knew better than to trust that bitch. He’d have to talk to her later about Bourgeois. Even if Jon liked her, something was off about the girl, a feeling he couldn’t rip from his gut despite trying for the half Kryptonian’s sake. 

Damian’s eyes scanned the room, his mind suddenly being alerted to an absence. Something was missing. Someone was missing. The person’s absence had been nagging at him all morning, but then the empty space was filled during lunch. But it was gone now once again. 

“Colin.” he nudge the boy’s back with his foot. “Where did Jon go?” 

“Dunno, he got a call from his dad and wandered off to take it in private.” Colin looked up, neck twisted to stare at his boyfriend. “It’s actually weird, because he was on the phone with his mom all morning.” 

“Why did Lois call him?”

“I don’t know.” The redhead shrugged. “But it seemed like it really messed with him. I tried to ask him about it but then Mr. Kent called and he disappeared.” Colin’s eyes went back to Damian’s phone, texting out a few more messages before looking back at his boyfriend. “Actually, I haven’t seen Mr. Wayne around either. Do you know where he is?” 

“He informed me last night that their was some business he had to attend to, something to do with Diana Prince’s exhibit at The Gotham Museum of Antiquities.” Damian leaned back in his seat, the look Colin gave him making it clear he understood the code. A Justice League Emergency.  “He said he should be back before the festivities at the end of the week.” 

“Do you know what happened?” Colin asked, turning his whole body to face the boy, scooting over a tad so that the makeup artist wasn’t blocking his view. “At the museum, I mean.” 

Damian shook his head, his chin quickly being grabbed by the woman working on him, forcing him to stay still. He bit back a growl before responding. “Wouldn’t tell me a word. Maybe Kent’s filling Jon in on it. If my father’s involved I would assume his father is as well.” 

Colin tried not to laugh at his boyfriend’s obvious discomfort. “Guess we’ll just have to wait for him then.” Colin turned back around, eyes going back to the phone. “God she is so nice,” He whispered. 

“How are you even holding a conversation with her?” Damian asked. 

“Rose is fluent in four languages, English being one of them.” Colin smiled back at him. “I think I’ve made a new best friend.” he teased. Damian just sighed. Between his cousin and his boyfriend, he was never going to get his phone back. 

Suddenly Colin’s head whipped back around. “Wait, what would Mrs. Lane have to do with the museum?” 

Damian thought for a moment. Lois wasn’t overly involved in Justice League affairs. She was a deputized civilian, meaning she was technically a League member. It was a complicated system that was hard to explain and sometimes difficult even for Damian to decipher. But he did know that Lois handled the bulk of the League's publicity. Thanks to how she handled Superman, and a handful of other heroes, before she even knew their identities. 

But what kind of disruption could need Lois, Clark, Bruce, and Diana?

“I don’t know.” Damian resisted the urge to rub his chin. The only thing involving the League and Lois at the current moment was Lex Luthor Senior. The man had been in jail for several months now and his trial was quickly approaching. They’d tried to get that man arrested on several charges including tax fraud, terrorism, and other things, for many year, but nothing ever stuck. But now, now they had him on attempted murder, attempted murder of Lois Lane. Usually this wouldn’t fly, with the public knowing Lois’s loyalties to Superman and the League it would be assumed anything she said to reflect negatively on Luthor would be for the heroes, but they had a witness now. 

“The case maybe?” He whispered, hoping to god nothing bad had happened. If that man got out so many things would go up in flames. He would have to get in touch with Tim, ask him to ask Conner. He hated Conor being so involved with his half brother, put if Lex Jr. really was so great, maybe he would have some useful information. 

“Case?” Colin asked.

“Look up Lois Lane and Lex Luthor, see what pops up.” Damian turned his attention back to the woman currently painting his lips an ice blue. He didn’t want to discuss such sensitive things carelessly out in public. He also didn’t want Jon to magically appear while they were discussing it. He knew the whole situation was bothering him. But, no one took the attempted murder of their parent well. At least, that’s what Damian’s experience told him. 

… 

Marinette was living for this redesign. 

The tube top had been changed to black, the shall had disappeared, a silver collar, like Chloé’s golden one, now adorned her neck. Instead of the skirt she now wore a pair of high waisted black short shorts, a thick silver belt wrapped around her abdomen. Silk straps in silver, lavender, dark blue, and a lighter black made up the overskirt that hid most of the shorts, only exposing them from the front few. She was also now given shoes, heeled gladiator boots in silver, matching all of her jewelry. The diadem, earrings and bracelets from earlier had also stayed apart of the outfit. 

Was it less revealing? No. 

If anything it was more so. 

But it was a million times more fashionable, and by Edna’s smile said that she knew it too. 

Marinette still felt awful, and if anything was a million times more confused after her talk with Chloé, which was still on going. Every time they had a break, the blonde girl would start whispering more of her story, basically retelling the past three years from her perspective. 

Chloé was in her outfit from earlier that morning, the two girls were on a platform filled with fake pink, orange, blue, and whtie clouds. Currently Marinette’s back was leaned against the blonde’s, repositioning her head as the photographer dictated. 

“I’m a little pissed.” Chloé whispered. “The boy’s get to-” The flash of the camera went off, several photos being taken. “Get to do their photoshoot with bows and arrows. Like that’s so unfair.” 

“Bows and arrows?” Her cousin? Angry at Adrien? With a bow and arrow in his proximity? That would not be good. 

“Totally unfair, I want to play with weapons too.” Chloé’s pout only lasted a moment before the photographer was ordering them to pose in different positions. The group shots the other day hadn’t been awful, mainly because she was only taking pictures with Damian. It was beyond strange to be all over Chloé, especially with how sensitive her thoughts towards the girl currently were. 

She had known.

She had known for years.

She’d been akumatized multiple times with knowledge of both her and her partner’s identities in her head and Hawkmoth never found out. She didn’t even know how that was possible. Just how much control did Hawkmoth really have? 

But possibly what had taken her by surprise the most, what she still couldn’t quite believe, was that her sweet, idiotic, adorable partner, outed himself with Physics. 

“Physics?” Marinette was in disbelief at the blonde’s words, her sandwich barely half eaten.

Chloé simply nodded. “Yup.” She leaned forward, having laid down on the bed, she propped her chin on her hands. “See, back before Adri started school, I would go over to his house and try and get him to do some of my homework for me, cause he’s crazy smart ya know?” 

“I think only Max can surpass him in book smarts.” Marinette nodded. 

“Well, he would never actually do anything for me. But he’d explain everything.” Chloé rolled her eyes. “Adrien has a very specific way he explains things, especially physics.” She leaned forward a little further. “So, when Ladybug instructed Chat Noir to watch over me after Nathaniel got akumatized I tried to get him to do my homework.” 

“Oh my god.” Marinette mumbled through a mouth full of sandwich. 

“And he started explaining in that special Adrien way. He even said, ‘You go this Chlo’ which is what he always said whenever I would get frustrated while he was helping me.” 

“Physics.” The bluenette mumbled, after swallowing. “I always thought he’d out himself with a pun.” 

“You okay?” Chloé’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, Marinette blinked a few times, smiling at the woman touching up her lipstick. The woman smiled back before leaving the platform. 

“Fine.” Marinette huffed. “Just lost in thought.

“I know everything we talked about was a lot, sorry to dump it on you so suddenly.” Chloé looked down, eyes on her clasped hands. 

“Honestly, it was probably for the best. If you hadn’t told me when you did I would have just been worrying about it all day long.” Marinette’s hand raised, landing on Chloé’s shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. “But you do know that I’ve got to tell Adrien, or if you want to-” 

“I think I’d prefer it if you did.” Marinette nodded. 

“Alright girls!” The photographer clapped. “I want Artemis laying on that cloud, and Apollo on her stomach on that one!” He pointed as he spoke, both girls going where told, adjusting their bodies at the man’s command. 

Marinette’s eyes ran over the room before focusing back on the camera. Damian still wasn’t in his outfit. It still hadn’t been fetched from Italy. Edna had mentioned Violet’s younger brother. The bluenette’s mind was filled with memories from her last visit to the Mode Building, when she’d first met Violet and a very eager eleven year old who would not stop aggressively hitting on her. 

If who she thought was really going to collect this garment, she could only hope that he wouldn’t be let up onto the floor where the shoot was happening. Violet probably wouldn’t allow it. She’d collect it from him in the lobby or something and bring it up herself. 

She’d just been dealing with so much today, she didn’t know if she could handle-

‘ ding ’

She really did have the most fantastic luck.

The elevator door slid open, a short muscular fourteen year old sauntering out with a black garment bag slung over his shoulder. A self satisfied smirk plastered across his chiseled jaw. His cheekbones hard and square, the bridge of his sloped nose splashed with light brown freckles. His blonde hair was swept back, resembling someone who’d just gone for a joy ride in a ferrari. He swaggered across the room, a free hand stuck deep into his khaki slacks. His clothing suggesting he’d just come from a private school of sorts.

“Have no fear!” He announced, holding up his free hand. “Your hero is here!” He pressed it to his chest, mumbling something along the lines of “hold the applause please.” 

Violet came into the room from behind him, smacking him across the back of the head and snatching the bag out of his hand. “You’re late.”

“Ow!” He said very pointedly at her, so pointedly that Marinette doubted it actually hurt. “You said asap, well, I had a test.” 

“Like you actually try in any math class.” She walked past him, taking the garment straight to the changing rooms, several other assistants flocked to her, checking the outfit for possible damages from transit. 

The boy shot his sister a dirty look before turning his attention to Edna, the woman was standing in the middle of the room. “Dashiell!” She called, arms open wide. 

“Edna!” He opened his own arms, but instead of hugging they high fived, resulting in a complicated handshake that reminded Marinette of her and her cousin’s own. “So good to see you!” 

“I trust you had no trouble?” The woman asked. 

“Not an ounce.” He smiled wide. “I assure you, I took this job as seriously as possible, I even went a longer root so that I would be on the water for the shortest time possible.” Marinette didn’t know Dash well, but she did know he was god awful at keeping his secret identity underwraps. She had never been more thankful for the fact that a specific person didn’t know she was a superhero. 

“Who is that?” Chloé whispered harshly to her. 

“Dash Parr.” Marinette said dryly, watching as Edna handed Dash a thick stack of American dollars. “Violet’s little brother.” 

“So, we don’t like him?” The blonde asked. 

“As promised, double the normal fee, in assorted bills.” Edna said, patting Dash’s hand once the money was in his grip. 

“Happy I could be of assistance.” 

“And if your parents ask?” The short woman’s eyebrow quirked up. 

“As far as mom knows, I just wanted to see my lovely sister.” The boy’s grin turned into a smirk. “And as far as dad’s concerned, I ran across an ocean today in under three minutes.” Dash winked, the two girls, and several other workers, watched as Edna pulled a fifty dollar bill from her coat, placing it on top of Dash’s stack. 

“Always a pleasure Dashiell.” She patted the boy’s cheek before turning back to the photographer. 

Marinette was hopeful for a moment, finally responding to Chloé’s question. “It’s not necessarily that we don’t like him.” The boy turned, most likely to leave, but for a moment he faced Marinette and Chloé’s platform. His eyes locked on her. And suddenly he was walking towards them. 

All hope was lost. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheg!” he called. 

“Cheg?” Chloé whispered. 

Marinette held back her grimace. “Hi Dash.” She bit out through clenched teeth. 

“Well,” His eyes ran up and down her body and Marinette had never felt more icky in her entire life. “Don’t you just look awesome.” 

Chloé’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you?” She whispered, watching as Dash hopped up on the platform. He was a few inches shorter than Marinette, meaning he was several inches shorter than Chloé. 

“Fourteen gorgeous,” Dash winked at her and Chloé’s face twisted immediately. 

“Oh god no.” She spat. 

“How’ve you been Mar-Mar?” He asked, leaning against one of the clouds, he immediately began to flex. 

“Mar-Mar?” Chloé asked, eyes narrowing. “What is happening?” She began looking around, trying to find someone to explain. Damian had been shoved into a changing room now that his garment was here, and Adrien was getting his makeup touched up for his and Damian’s shoot. 

Chloé was curious as to what would happen when the boy noticed, but seeing as Gabriel was in attendance today, she thought it best not to draw his attention. When she turned her attention back to Marinette, the girl’s face had grown extremely pensive. The short blonde boy was bragging about how much he could bench press. 

Chloé took a step closer to the girl, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “No, seriously,” She hissed. “Who is this kid?” 

Marinette only shook her head. Both girls turning back to face Dash as he launched into a story about how the entire cheerleading team was currently arguing over who he’d be taking to prom. “Course I haven’t said yes to anyone yet.” He winked at Marinette again, this time Chloé was close enough to feel the girl shiver. “Incase a special little lady shows up intime.” 

Chloé grabbed Marinette’s hand, unsure what else to do in the moment. 

“DASH!” All three of them jumped at the noramly calm Violet’s angry shout. “Oh my god! Get off of there! We are in the middle of a shoot.” Violet reached up and grabbed Dash’s ear. She yanked him off the platform that surprised Chloé but didn’t seem to phase Marinette. 

“Ow! Ow! OW! Violet!” The boy cried. 

“No!” Violet began to march toward the elevators. “No! No! No! You need to leave now! You are disrupting the shoot! Demarcus!” a large black man suddenly appeared, he was dressed in a nice suit and was very obviously security. “Please escort Dash here out of the building, in fact, make sure he leaves the city.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Demarcus took Dash’s arm. “If you’d come with me please sir.” 

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Vi!” 

“What?” Violet crossed her arms, face set in a glare.

“There are a bunch of robot pigeons that keep showing up at the house, and Mom is starting to get really frustrated cause JackJack keeps fighting them and-”  

“Oh my god.” Violet slapped her forehead. “Okay, just please leave. I’ll talk to Hiro.” Violet turned away as the door closed on Dash and Damarcus. “Jesus christ I hate all of them.”

Chloé slowly turned to Marinette, releasing the girl’s hand. “No seriously,” She said. “What-who was that? What just happened?” 

Marientte sighed, slumping against one of the clouds. “That was Dashiell Robert Parr.” 

“I hated that.” Chloé said. “I never want to experience that again in my entire life.” 

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” The bluenette crossed her arms. “He’s a lot.”

“He called you Mar-Mar Dupain-Cheg.” Chloé pointed out. “Like, what the hell? Cheg? Mar-Mar?” Chloé looked around, almost like she was trying to find proof of what she just experienced. “Did I dream that?” 

“More like nightmared it.” Marinette commented. 

Chloé stared at her wide eyed. “Mar-Mar.” Chloé said monotone. “And I thought Bugaboo was a stupid nickname.” 

… 

Adrien rolled his shoulders, trying to regain some sense of comfort now that he was strapped into the white silk tank top. Thick leather straps in brass and gold had been draped tastefully around his abdomen, then wrapped tightly  around his bare arms, constricting his muscles to the point where it was hard to move. But he didn’t want to make the jobs of the two men working on sorting his outfit any more difficult than it had to be, so he stayed as still as possible. 

“God she’s a genius.” He had heard something along those lines so many times in the past two days, he’d lost count. He had greatly underestimated just how much Edna Mode was worshiped by her followers. Not that he disagreed, or not a lot, but he definitely thought that for some of the designs he’d seen so far, Marinette could easily make a better version. His point only being proved by Marinette’s amazing redesign of her own outfit that very morning. 

And she did that while not even functioning at a hundred percent. 

It was pretty obvious to Adrien that his partner had been off all morning. Heck, he had been off all morning. He was hoping to talk to her over lunch, see if he couldn’t help her and maybe discuss some things that had been distressing him as well. But Chloé had dragged her off before Adrien could even get to her. 

Now that was distressing. 

The two girls showed back up to the shoot together an hour and a half later, looking thick as thieves. While the thought of his oldest friend and his best friend (best female friend as Nino was his best male friend and that was the only way he could sort them in good conscience because they both meant so much to him) finally getting along made him so happy, he would be lying if he said their time alone didn’t worry him. 

One of the men wrapped a gaudy golden belt around his middle, it was thick and rested heavily against his hips, but he didn’t complain. “You really do look like an everyday adonis.” The other man commented. 

“Thank you.” Adrien gave a polite smile as one of the men started adjusting the straps that fell over the belt. Soon four sets of hands were at work on the straps hanging off the slim dark brown pants he wore. A woman came over, fixing his quiffed hair to be a bit more messy. Edna had referred to the style as ‘sex hair’ but he preferred to think of it as a windswept look. Once the woman was done with his hair she moved on to his neck, placing a heavy golden collar around his throat, letting it rest against his shoulders. It reminded him of a cat collar. 

Next to him stood Damian. The boy wore a black vest with silver accents, his arms wrapped in similar leather straps to Adrien’s, but his were colored silver and ice blue. He wore loose black slacks, silver leather straps hanging off the sides of his hips in hooped fashion, the straps having similar black details to the vest. 

In terms of jewelry, Damian had a silver collar like Adiren’s gold one, but he did not have a belt like Adrien. Instead Damian’s wrists were clad in long gauntlet like silver bracelets. He also had a silver diadem placed on his forehead. A brilliant blue stone set in its center, it matched Marinette’s eyes well, and also matched the matte color Damian’s lips had been painted. 

“You know, when Edna referred to these as strappy ensembles, I was kind of hoping she was kidding.” Adrien said, eyes moving back to focus on his reflection.

“Edna doesn’t kid, especially when it comes to her work.” Damian’s voice was monotone, his hands raised to push back the curls of his bangs.

“Seems like that runs in the family.” Adrien whispered, hoping Damian hadn’t heard him once the words left his mouth. “So…” God, this silence hurt. 

“We don’t need to talk while this happens.” Damian said, eyes firm on his reflection, it looked like he was glaring at himself.  

“Oh-o-okay.” Adrien looked down, as the woman who put the collar on him placed a golden diadem on his forehead. His stone was a much darker blue, possibly Lapis Lazuli but he wasn’t sure. All the knowledge he had in regards to gemstones came from Steven Universe. 

“Couple of Princes the two of you.” The woman said, smiling at the boys. “No wonder Edna fought so hard for you.” 

“She fought for him, I agreed rather seamlessly.” Damian corrected. “Am I done?” He looked over at her, eyes cold. 

“Oh, um yes.” 

“Good.” Damian walked away from the two, going to sit down on one of Edna’s platforms that’s only purpose, Adrien was roughly seventy-percent certain, was to make the woman taller. His boyfriend greeted him cheerfully, but seemed to be mainly preoccupied with Damian’s phone.

“Well isn’t he a ray of sunshine.” The woman commented, resting her hand on her hip as she cocked it out. 

“No kidding.” Adrien whispered, eyes downcast. It didn’t necessarily bother him when people didn’t like him, he’d had fans and haters since day one of his career. But it was bothering him that someone so important to Marinette disliked him, or at least it seemed like Damian didn’t like him. Adrien could see Damian in the mirror, he was glaring at him. 

It also didn’t help that he’d had a knot in his stomach since he found out Marinette’s plan that morning. Nino’s video only amplifying his pains. While he didn’t like Lila, and knew she needed to be stopped, he couldn’t help but think there was a better way to do it then publicly humiliate her in front of the whole school. She wasn’t a good person but she wasn’t down right evil, she deserved a little sympathy. 

Or maybe Adrien was just too nice. Which was something Chloé had insisted that morning when he complained about not liking what was happening. Plagg had agreed with her when Adrien relayed the story to him. Saying that Adrien was far too forgiving for his own good, and insisting once again, that it was okay to be angry with someone. He knew that. He wasn’t a child. Nor was he as innocent and helpless as people around him seemed to think. He just didn’t like conflict. 

He wished, once again, that he could have discussed these feelings with Marinette at lunch. He knew he would feel better once he talked things out with her, he always did. That is why he originally started visiting her as Chat Noir. Marinette, as herself or as his lady, she always made things better, made people feel better, made him feel better. He just needed a few minutes with her, to discuss what happened, explain why it caused him such unrest. He needed to hear her side. Needed to talk to her, or maybe just be in her close proximity again, after she dodge him all morning long. 

Just a few minutes. 

She was like a battery, super charging him whenever she was near. 

Suddenly a large ornate golden bow was handed to the blonde boy. It was heavy in his hands, and he had to wonder amidst his marveling at the details, if this was a real weapon. Had someone just handed him, a sixteen year old boy, a real weapon? 

He looked around, sure this must be a mistake, but instead of someone taking the thing away, he was taken by the arm. One of the men from earlier leading him to the platform, a forest scene. His stage for the next photoshoot. A photoshoot that involved weapons? 

He saw someone handing Damian a silver bow identical to his golden one. Adrien couldn’t put his finger on why, but it made his stomach drop. Now Damian had a weapon, a real weapon. That couldn’t be a good idea. This couldn’t be right. There had to be a mistake of some kind, right? 

Suddenly he was on the platform. Damian facing him across the fake grass. His eyes still set in a galre. Adrien gulped. He had an awful feeling. 

“Okay!” The photographer shouted. “So I want these photos to have a bit more aggression to them. You boys think you can give me that aggressive vibe?” 

“Yes.” 

“Maybe.” 

Damian’s quick answer only made the blonde boy even more nervous. 

“Good!” The bald man clapped his hands. “Someone give them their arrows.” 

Arrows!?

… 

Damian couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across his features as he placed his arrow against the bow’s string. It felt good, natural. You never forget, it’s like riding a bike. Weapons always made him feel so comfortable. He knew how to deal with weapons, unlike people. 

His cousin was in distress, and now she was avoiding him. She was upset because of Adrien Agreste. He upset her and she was still worried about him, it was obvious. She was worried Damian would do something, which he wouldn’t of course. But he wanted to. He wanted to do something to make her feel better. 

“Wouldn’t piercing that pretty face with an arrow make her feel better?” Something wicked whispered in his ear. The voice was icky and made his skin crawl, evil. It sounded like his grandfather, but at the same time like his mother. 

Hurting Adrien wouldn’t make her feel better, just Damian. 

He pulled the drawstring back, stopping when it grazed the corner of his lips. The photographer told them to do it, but Adrien wasn’t doing it quite right. Someone had to get up on the platform and help him, show him how to position it correctly. 

He reminded Damian of a baby deer, fumbling on new legs.

“Easy Pray.” The voice whispered. 

It was like riding a bike. His senses were always on fire, acutely aware of how to take down everyone around him. Even with all the training, all the philosophies his father had spent years shoveling into his head, his inner assassin never slept. His beast was always awake, waiting for a week spot in Damian’s defenses, waiting to break out and cause havoc. 

Damian barely registered the flashes of the camera. 

He was so angry, the longer he stared at Adrien’s face. The blonde’s glare was fake, he knew that. The boy didn’t seem like he had it in him to hate. Damian had too much capacity for hate, or so people told him. 

Damian’s glare was real. 

He had a large capacity for hate, currently that hate was mostly directed towards Adrien. Marinette trusted too easily, she trusted her heart to people too easily. Why would she pick someone to love who could hurt her so easily? 

More flashes, he registered these even less. 

They were told to walk forward a few paces, they both did. Adrien had to have that same assistant come and help him reposition his bow. How was he a hero? How was Paris not destroyed? How was his cousin still alive with a partner who was so useless, with a partner who so carelessly hurt her. 

“He hurt her.” 

Did he care that he hurt her? Damian hadn’t seen the two of them speak since Adrien left them that morning. Adrien was avoiding Marinette, that was the only explanation. Of course, he was hurting her and he knew it. 

“He wants her to hurt.”

Damian was so angry. 

... 

“Now some without the bows!” Edna had clapped, clapping while giving orders, it was something she had always done. But Damian had lost focus on the world around him, he was just so angry. He’d lost focus. The noise startled him. 

He hadn’t meant to. 

He didn’t mean to. 

His eyes widened as a scream filled the room. It was his cousin, he knew that. She screamed. Marinette screamed and then his arrow sunk deep into the fake bark of a prop tree. He’d missed Adrien by a millimeter, he was sure there was a cut on the blonde’s cheek. It wouldn’t be more than a hair's breadth. But it would be there. 

Edna would know it. 

Marinette would know it. 

Damian knew it. 

He wasn’t trained to miss. He always hit his target. Not always lethally, but he always hit them. He had just been so angry. He was startled. He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t. It was an accident, he was startled. 

“Damian!” 

“Oh my god!” 

“Adrien!” 

Suddenly Marinette and Chloé were on the platform. The girls flanking the blonde’s sides. For his worth, Adrien hadn’t moved. It was like the arrow hadn’t even phased him. All he had done was lower his weapon. 

Enda was at Damian’s side. He hadn’t lowered the bow yet. She ripped it from his hands. She was yelling at him but he wasn’t quite registering it yet. He had been startled and his hand slipped. 

Marinette’s eyes hurt. 

His eyes had the power to cut people, cut them down, crush their strength, strike fear. Her eyes had the power to hurt, to cause hearts to break. He felt that hurt, felt his chest ache as she stared at him, eyes narrowed, frown set. 

Adrien had hurt her. 

Damian had hurt him. 

Had Damian hurt her?

“Damian what the hell was that!” He was hit by the bow, his head ached now along with his heart. Edna was still at his side, she was fuming. 

“I-” He didn’t know what to say, honestly. He hadn't meant to. His fingers slipped, he was startled and it made him release. It was an accident. “I don’t know.” He whispered. 

“You don’t know?!” Edna shouted. “You shot at him!” 

“I’m fine Ms. Mod-Enda. Really, I am.” Adrien raised his hands, why was he trying to help? Damian had just shot at him. 

“Adrien you’re hurt.” Marinette’s fingers traced the cut, the boy flinched barely. Tender flesh. Damian knew she’d be able to see it. 

“It’s just a cut.” The blonde whispered. 

“Edna that psychopath just shot an arrow at my son!” Gabriel Agreste’s voice cut through the crowd. Now the asshole cared? Damian couldn’t help the thought. 

“Why are these real arrows?” Chloé asked, getting Marinette’s attention. “Shouldn’t they just be props?”

“Did you seriously give him a real weapon?” Marinette’s words were quieter, but Damian caught them. He was dangerous with weapons, everyone in his family knew that. They feared him when he was armed. 

“Edna.” Gabriel pulled the woman a way. 

Damian had to wonder if he would be getting sent home. They were only two days into the shoot. His father wasn’t here to defend him. Would Father defend him? Edna could easily replace him, eat into a few safety days to reshoot. Maybe it was for the best? If a Justice League emergency was brewing they might need him. 

They wouldn’t ask him to leave, he would ask to be dismissed. It was only right after all. He caused such an incident. He should leave. They would want him to. 

Damian stepped down from the platform. He felt an odd sort of emptiness, not even necessarily regret. Just nothingness. He was used to that feeling, it was much safer than anything remotely close to an emotion. 

Suddenly he was grabbed by the arm and pulled off to a secluded corner. He hadn’t even registered the person until they were yelling at him in harsh whispers. 

“Damian what the fuck was that?!” Oh, it was his boyfriend. 

The dark skinned boy blinked a few times, probably more times than necessary, but he still wasn’t quite back yet. Still wasn’t quite sure what had happened. His eyes focused on Colin. He was angry, it was obvious, he was disappointed. 

With focus came his emotions, back and at full force. 

They hurt like a bitch. 

Marientte was upset with him, he hurt her. Edna was upset with him, she was angry with him. Colin was disappointed with him. Colin was disappointed in him. “I-I’m I don’t-” Damian tried to figure out his words but everything wasn’t quite back yet, not back in focus. 

“Damian you just shot that kid with a freaking arrow!” The redhead growled. “Why? Why did you do that? What the hell was that!” 

“I-don’t know.” He finally managed. God, now he was the baby deer wasn’t he? 

“You don’t know?” Colin hissed. “Damian you almost killed him!” 

“It was just a scratch.” Defensive. He was defending himself, his actions, that’s right. Because he’d messed up, he’d slipped up. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“You didn’t mean to?” Colin asked, eyes scrutinizing. “Damian you aimed, you shot, you hit him.” His jaw was set. “Why? Why did you do that? What the hell Damian!” 

He’d only used his full name this whole time. No nicknames, no shortening it, no pet names. It was strange, but that hurt more than Marinette’s eyes. 

“I don’t know.” Damian choked. “I don’t-I didn’t mean to. Enda startled me and I just let go-my finger slipped I didn’t mean to.” He was drowning, that’s what it felt like. Colin was so angry at him. He had never seen Colin angry at him quite like this. Though, typically, when Damian hurt people, far past the point that he should have, it was a very bad man. Sometimes Colin even helped him. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Damian whispered, eyes falling to the floor. 

He should apologize, shouldn’t he? Yes, say he was sorry for hurting the model. He should apologize to Colin and Marinette and Enda. So they wouldn’t be hurt or angry or disappointed any more. But the problem with him wanting to apologize was that he could never get the words out. 

Colin sighed, turning away from Damian. His head shook as he began walking away. He was still angry and hurt and disappointed. And Damian still couldn’t breath or focus right. He was in trouble, his father would be upset. Everyone was upset. 

He headed for the changing rooms as quickly as possible. He needed to be out of this environment. He needed to be somewhere else. 

He needed to breath. 

… 

Well, today was just going swimmingly. 

First Damian got woken up and torn away from his warm and cuddly boyfriend. Then that distressing video. Then his cousin, who was obviously upset, wouldn’t talk to him. Then Colin stole his phone and got a brand new best friend in the form of some random french girl. Then he tried to defend his cousin’s honor, but instead got yelled at by his boyfriend and aunt and by Gabriel Agreste. And his cousin, his cousin looked so upset with him. Colin wasn’t talk to him either. He was being ignored and possibly suffered a panic attack in the changing room, but wasn’t quite sure. He’d never been good at diagnosing his own symptoms, just the symptoms of others. 

And now Damian was alone, going back to his room to take Titus for a walk. He needed to blow off steam. Today had been awful. He needed to move around, be angry and sad and mostly alone, but walking Titus would help, it had to help. 

The elevator opened and he began walking down the hall, but stopped when he noticed a figure in the small lobby area. The tall muscular boy leaning against the window, all his focus directed towards something outside. Damian recognized him immediately as Jon Kent.

That was the other thing. 

What the hell was going on with the Justice League and the two boys’ fathers.

“You okay Kent?” The boy didn’t turn around at his name. He didn’t even respond. That wasn’t good. 

Damian took several steps forward, slowly. He reached out and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder, the boy didn’t move a muscle. “Jon?” Damian asked, voice a little softer. “Are you alright?” 

“Trisha Bailey was killed last night.” His voice was emotionless, and Damian took note that the boy wasn’t wearing his glasses. “It was a hit and run.”

“Trisha Bailey?” The name sounded very familiar but it took Damian a moment to place it, when he did, his stomach dropped. “No.”  

“Lex Luthor was released from prison this morning.” Jon’s face grew angrier. “No witness, no crime. Or whatever.” He spat. “Forget the fact that man had mercenaries hired to kill my mother. Forget that he planted bombs to killer. Snipers following her. Hitmen. All so she wouldn’t write a damn article.” His fists clenched against the glass window. 

“Jon calm down.” Damian increased the pressure of his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Lex-” The boy’s Jaw clenched. “Lex Jr. stopped returning Conor’s calls. He also left the country late last night.” Jon’s eyes narrowed. “They can’t figure out where he went but they’re trying to track him, unsuccessfully I might add.” Jon turned away from the window and Damian. “God we were so stupid! Conor trusted him!” He banged his fist against the wall, a small dent forming.

“Jon.” Damian’s voice was a tad sterner. “You need to calm down before you break something you can’t fix.” 

“What if he comes after my mom again Damian?” The boy turned around, tears in his eyes. “What if he comes after me or Conor or my dad? Kara? Grandma! He could come after any of us!” 

“We won’t let him hurt any of you!” Damian tried to assure. 

“What about Lena Luthor!?” 

Lena Luthor? Damian didn’t know a hefty amount about her, just what was outlined in her file. She was the younger sister of Lex Luthor Senior. Slightly less evil, known for having a conscience, and eventually turned against him. She was in JLA witness protection, had been for eighteen years now.

“What about Lena?” Damian asked. 

“They can’t find her Damian.” Jon let out an angry breath, resting his back against the window. “Mr. Queen went to Rome yesterday, that’s where she’s supposed to be. But he can’t find her. People are searching the whole continent of Europe. No one can find her.” 

“Okay,” Damian looked to the ground trying to think. “That’s not great but her brother may not know where she is either.”

“Be real Damian.” Jon looked up at him. “I may not be smart, but I’m not dumb. And you aren’t stupid enough to believe that Jr. isn’t cozying up to his aunt right now.” His fist clenched again, Damian could see it smashing into the glass, but thankfully Jon seemed to still have some semblance of control. 

“Damian the Luthors have enough kryptonite stock piled away to fuel two nuclear bombs.” The boy’s eyes suddenly looked so empty. “Lena Luthor was the only thing we had on him, along with Trisha. Now we don’t have either, and my family is his number one target.” 

“Yeah well, I hate to break this to you but Batman had double that amount of kryptonite.” It was meant as a joke, but as anyone who knew him knew, Damian was bad at those. “Luthor, Luthor isn’t going to be able to pull shit. I’m sure the whole League is working on this as we speak.” 

Damian walked in front of his friend, he wasn’t a hugger. Typically he wasn’t one for prolonged contact at all, save for a handful of very specific circumstances, like a warm cuddly sleeping boyfriend. But this was his friend, his perky, never not happy friend who, no matter what, was always there for him. 

It was easier than he was expecting to pull the half-kryptonian into a tight hug. “We will figure this out.” Damian whispered. “I swear Jon, I won’t let him hurt you or your family. If there’s one thing that scares the shit out of Luthors, it’s Waynes.” Jon was fully crying now, but Damian could swear he heard something along the lines of a small chuckle escape the boy’s mouth. 

“I just don’t know what to do Damian.” Jon’s arms were suddenly around him, tightly hugging him back. “M-my mom, she’s staying with Dinah while Mr. Queen is in Europe. Damian I’m scared.” 

“I know.” Damian wasn’t good at this, comforting wasn’t what he was good at. He was good at getting even, at defending people he cared about, at pissing people off and arguing his point. “Do you remember that ridiculous thing you always tell me?” 

“N-no.” He sniffled. 

“Good always triumphs over evil, right?” 

The Kansan let out a stronger laugh. “Right.” He was still crying, but he was still laughing too. “Good always wins.”

“Well we’re good. And they’re evil.” Damian hugged his friend a little tighter. “So that means that everything is going to be fine. Jon I promise.” Even as Damian said the words he couldn’t help the thought that crossed his mind. “Everything will be fine.” Famous last words. 

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5)  (part 3)  (part 4)  (part 5)  (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)  (part 9)  (part 10)  (part 11) (part 12) - Here  (part 13)

Photoshoot Part 4! Y'all I don't know what happened. I sat down to study for finals last night and instead turned on Hamilton and cranked this mess out. Anyway, Dash is finally here and I love him. But he’s also the worst, hence why he isn’t a prominent Character in this fic, but who knows, maybe he’ll show back up at some point. So a lot of what I was excited for at the end of part 11 actually isn't’ in this. It started getting really long so I had to chop it in half. Hopefully part 13 will come just as quickly as this part did. And hopefully I can actually get some studying done before my test tomorrow. I hope you all enjoyed this part as much as I did writing it! Please leave comments! I love reading everyone's thoughts on the chapters, they always make me smile. Like comments, I have discovered, can change my whole outlook on a day. And I could seriously use some positivity heading into my finals! As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got (even if it’s not about this AU)! And if you want to be tagged let me know! 

Also for future reference in this fic, the version of Lena Luthor that I am using for my writing is the character Tess Mercer from Smallville. 

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue​ @violatiger8​ @bamagirl513​ @vixen-uchiha​ @beaversuenightly​ @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff​ @todaylillypads​ @laurakinneylance​ @vgirl-10123​ @wellcrud-blog-blog​ @silvergold-swirl​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @an-ahez​ @queencommonsense​ @ladybug-182​ @meganemily231​ @driftingmoonlitpetals​ @kand-roo​ @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry​ @theatreandcomicfreak​ @paradoxal-occurance​ @miraculousl4dybug @thanks-captain-obvious​ @sassydepression​ @multishipper1needshalp @wegan97​ @surprisebishhhhhhhhh  @redscarlet95 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @synnesstra @fandomkitty8 @tired-yeetling @saluteswifties @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dast218 @naclychilli @royalchaoticfangirl @panda3506 @nataladriana9 @shreky-boi @my-name-is-michell @dawnwave16  @thethirdwheelfriend @quiet-oracle @heaven428 @dabub167 @kris-pines04 @severelyenchantedwonderland @urbanpineapplefarmer @goblinwhoships

[zombiesbecrazy]

Onion Rings

Summary: Damian stopped abruptly and lifted in his head to a gathering of people across the room. Clark zoned in and realised what was happening very quickly.“He’s drunk?”

for @audreycritter‘s birthday!

AO3

*****

“Mr. Kent?”

Clark’s eyes widened at the words before he turned. It was an address that he was used to, but not from this particular voice. It wasn’t at all like Damian to address him, or almost any adult as Mister, but this was a museum opening and he must be on his best Wayne heir behaviour for the formal event. Alfred would be proud.

“Yes?”

“My father is in need of assistance getting back to the hotel.”

“He drove here himself, right?”

“Yes, but he seems to find himself indisposed and needs extraction.”

“Lead the way.” It was a weird request from Damian. Clark and Bruce did have a public relationship, but it was mostly professional, only meeting up at events or pre-arranged meetings. In those instances they did come across as friendly, but at an event like this, Damian wouldn’t normally seek out Clark at all, let alone ask for help in something as small as getting him home. At worse, even Bruce’s public persona knew how to call an Uber.

Damian stopped abruptly and lifted in his head to a gathering of people across the room. Clark zoned in and realised what was happening very quickly.

“He’s drunk?” Clark had only seen Bruce drunk a handful of times and they were in very contained situations. It wasn’t out of the norm to see Bruce acting drunk, playing up the part of an affable idiot, but this looked like full on actual drunkenness. Loud, carrying voice, staggering posture, hands waving dramatically as he spoke. Clark could hear his elevated heartrate now that he was concentrating on it.

This wasn’t calculated. This was real.

“Luthor spiked his drink.” Damian crossed his arms and sniffed as he watched the display in front of him. “And with the amount of paparazzi outside, I can’t be behind the wheel to get him back safely myself.”

Not to mention that he’s thirteen and shouldn’t be driving regardless of who may see it. “Alright. I’ll look after it.” Damian turned to walk away. “Wait, don’t you want a ride, too?”

He paused and spun around again, shaking his head. “I’m fine. I’m going to go to Jon’s house.”

“My house.”

Damian clicked his tongue in annoyance, like he did what he thought someone was asking a redundant question that was beneath him. “Yes.”

“It’s 11:30, Damian. Jon’s asleep. He has been for several hours.”

“The text he sent me three minutes ago suggests otherwise.”

Clark groaned, because of course the son of Batman was slowly turning the son of Superman into being nocturnal. “Fine, but I’m letting Lois know you are on your way and you have to go to bed. No other activities. No outside activities.” His face was blank, undecipherable to an outsider if they were to overhear the conversation, but his message was clear.

“Fine,” huffed Damian. He was doing his best to look put out, but Clark caught the way that his eyes stayed trained on Bruce across the room, who had an arm resting around Lex Luthor’s shoulders, and a booming laugh that travelled through the room. He really was concerned if he had asked Clark for help. “Thank you, Kent. For looking after him.”

“Thank you for getting me, Damian.”

As Clark got closer he noticed that Bruce was flushed and clumsy, both things that he could fake with ease from his training, but his pupils were blown out to the max, something he couldn’t do on command, despite how many times Bruce insisted that he could. This wasn’t drunk like Clark has originally guessed. This was drugged, which was worse.

Clark quickly pulled out his phone to text Lois about their incoming house guest and then after pocketing it again, strolled up casually between the two men, and raised his hand in offer to Bruce. A greeting or a lifeline depending on who was looking at it. “Nice to see you having a good time, Mr. Wayne. It’s been awhile since you’ve been in Metropolis.”

“Clark!” exclaimed Bruce, beaming as if he hadn’t seen him in months and not earlier that evening before the gala, grumbling about Alfred sending him off in a Ted Baker suit instead of the Brioni that Bruce preferred. He grabbed Clark’s hand tight and pulled him in for a hug that to any outsider would look like was just an overly friendly tipsy Bruce Wayne thing to do, but Clark felt Bruce’s fingers curl into his jacket a little bit. Lifeline it was. Bruce pulled back again and clapped his hand on Clark’s shoulder. “Lex, have you met Clark? He’s my favourite reporter at the Planet. He always writes the nicest things about me. We talked after my company started working with that other company about that thing? The thing with the stuff that makes energy clean somehow? I don’t know how it works but it sounds neat. He’s so nice about everyone, don’t you think?”

Luthor raised his drink, and Clark saw him grinning behind the glass, and he had to refrain himself from punching the smile off his face. “We’re acquainted, but that hasn’t been my experience with Mr. Kent,” he drawled. “It seems like he doesn’t always agree with my ideas or how I conduct my business.”

“Really?” Bruce sounded surprised, and even pouted a little, like he was sad that the two of them didn’t get along, before shrugging and smiling again. “Oh. I wouldn’t know. I only read my own press. Gets boring when it isn’t about me.” Bruce’s drunken eyes lit up with glee and he gasped suddenly. “Clark, do you remember the burger place you took me to near the Planet that one time?”

Clark had never taken Bruce for burgers near the Planet if you didn’t count his own apartment, but he decided to play along. “You mean Superburger?”

“Yes!” Bruce snapped his fingers in Luthor’s face urgently, as if it was the most important thing in the world. “Lex, have you tried it? The onion rings, Lex. The onion rings.” Bruce shook Clark’s shoulder, like a child distracted by a new idea that had sank its teeth into them. “Can we go get some, Clark? I would kill for some of those.”

“Bruce, I’m sure Mr. Kent still has work to do,” said Luthor, clearly in attempt to keep Bruce with him. “People to interview and then inaccurately interpret their intentions about in the press later.”

“Actually, I’m done for the night and would love a burger. Escargot and caviar aren’t exactly my idea of a good meal.”

“Great! Let’s go now!” Bruce linked his arm with Clark’s and started to lead them towards the door. He waved back in a way that could only be described as thrashing. “Bye, Lex!”

Getting Bruce into the car was both very easy and extremely difficult at the same time. The valet brought the car around quickly, but trying to get Bruce to sit in the passenger seat instead of the driver’s seat took more convincing than Clark had expected, and then his limbs were all flaily when trying to get into the two seater. Only when Clark realised that Damian had the passenger seat pulled up closer to the dash and he released the latch to accommodate for Bruce’s long legs did things get easier.

He had also not expected to be confused the moment that he tried to put the car into drive. “Umm. I don’t know how to drive this.”

“You grew up on a farm. You can drive. I’ve seen you fly alien spaceships.” The last part trailed off into a mock whisper, as if Bruce knew that that was a secret, but couldn’t remember how to be quiet. Even with just a few words, and even while drugged, Clark could see the shift from Bruce Wayne into just Bruce, the Bruce that Clark knew best. Now that he was out of the crowd and in the safety of the car, the playboy demeanor gone and he appeared to be draining of energy fast.

“Sure, but where is the gear shift? I can’t drive the car if I can’t get the car out of park.”

“Oh.” Bruce looked around the dash, as if trying to remember what car he was in, before he pointed. “It’s the shifter that you normally use for the wipers.”

“Then how do you use the…” he spotted a wiper button on the console “Never mind.” He flicked the shifter down into drive and pulled away from the museum and started heading towards Bruce’s hotel. “You don’t strike me as the type of guy who would drive automatic.”

“I don’t usually. I just wanted to drive a red car. My Metropolis red car is automatic.”

Only Bruce Wayne would refer to a Jaguar that probably wasn’t going to be released to the public until next year as ‘his red car’.

“You know, everything I drive is an alien spaceship, technically,” said Clark. “Unless it’s at the Fortress or its Kara’s pod, it’s alien to me.”

“What about your pod?”

“I was a baby. I don’t fit anymore.” A few moments passed in silence. Bruce fumbled around in the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of water. He seemed to have trouble twisting the cap, but finally managed. “What happened tonight?”

“Lex spiked my drink. Couldn’t ditch it without suspicion so…” Bruce took a long sip of the water, draining half the bottle and wincing as he swallowed, “down it went.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Clark sighed. It was the ongoing battle. Bruce and Clark. Batman and Superman. Fine never meant fine. Fine meant that he was planning on struggling through whatever it was by himself, except Clark never actually let him do that. It was all part of the dance. “What was it?”

“Something similar to flunitrazepam, but it’s been mixed with something else.”

“That’s like Rohypnol, right?”

“Similar.” He ran his hands through his hair, product making it stand up strange in all directions. “I have a tolerance to it, but being cut with something else means I am compromised.” Clark thought that compromised was a polite way of saying ‘wasted off his ass’ but ignored the word choice.

“But why?” Why in the heck would Lex bother with roofie-ing Bruce Wayne? What could be the benefit, unless… “Does he know?” Lex was smart and had known Bruce a long time, both as the business mogul and as Batman. It wasn’t a far leap to connect the two.

Bruce shook his head and looked like he immediately regretted it, and held his hand to his mouth for a moment, fighting a wave of nausea. “Corporate sabotage.” Clark raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes on the road in front of him. “Happens more than you would expect. Probably just trying to get me to do something stupid publicly. Maybe leak some info that shouldn’t be leaked.” He cracked the window and rested his head in a position that the fresh air hit his face, eyes closed. “Jokes on him. It’s better for me long term if Bruce Wayne looks stupid.”

“You are Bruce Wayne.”

“Potato, tomato.”

“If you say so.” Clark struggled to keep a straight face. He stopped at a red light and turned his head to get a better look at Bruce. “How do you feel?” It was a better question than asking if he was okay. It had more parameters.

“Honestly?” Bruce fidgeted in the seat some.  “Twitchy. Like when you are overtired and your legs get restless, but I feel like that everywhere.” The light changed and Clark continued to drive. Bruce was silent for a few more lights and Clark was wondering if he had drifted off before he started talking again. “Jason used to do that. When his legs started twitching randomly I know that I had to send him off to bed. He’d argue about it, but go.” Bruce inhaled audibly and let it out shakily. “I miss him.”

Clark had seen Bruce go down this path countless times. Whenever he was hurt or sick or drugged, there was the inevitable tipping point when he started talking about Jason; the Jason from before the Joker. The boy that he had lost. Bruce worried about all his kids, his protégés, but this one in particular always came up when he was at his most vulnerable.

Clark reached across and gave Bruce’s hand a squeeze. “He’s safe, Bruce. He’s okay.”

“But we’re not,” mumbled Bruce. “Jason and I are not okay. We’re never okay. He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. Not really.” Clark tried to think of the best way to put it that made sense. “It’s like when you run two bulls together. You’re a lot alike and you just end up fighting and hurting each other. You both get too emotional when you try to talk to each other.”

Bruce’s eyes popped open at that and he sat up straighter to stare at Clark, jaw dropped comically. “I’m too emotional?” Clark sniggered and nodded while Bruce continued to stare at him in a dumbfounded way. “And to think Dick always tells me I’m emotionally constipated.”

“Constipated is not the same thing as non-existent.” It was something that he had heard Dick say countless times, in many colourful different ways. “You get backed up, is all. Then when you and Jason get together it explodes out in unfortunate ways.” He smirked at Bruce. “I don’t think I need to actually say the obvious poop joke there for you to get my point.”

Bruce grunted in response and turned back to the window. Clark thought that the conversation was over, until Bruce piped up again. “That’s a shitty thing to say.”

Clark burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it, and Bruce followed suit. For a few minutes it was just the two of them laughing in the car, not worrying about being drugged or Luthor or mistakes from the past. Just two friends being silly in a dark car in the middle of the night. It was moments like this when they were just normal people that Clark loved best.

Clark hit another red light and was at a literal crossroads. He had promised Damian one thing, but there was another, better option.

“Do you still want to go back to the hotel? Or my place? Damian’s sleeping over there tonight.”

“Hmm.” He thought the possibilities over for longer than it would have taken him on a normal night. “Your place if it is alright. I don’t want to be alone at the hotel.”

Clark nodded and turned right, in the direction of their apartment. “Home it is.”

“Wait. Pull over.” Bruce’s tone was urgent and insistent and Clark found himself pulling to the curb without hesitation.

“Why? Are you going to be sick?”

“No.” He pointed out the window, where the glowing lights of a Superburger were shining through the dark like a beacon. “I believe I was promised a burger.”

“I think you were more interested in the onion rings.”

“Burger, Clark,” said Bruce, in a familiar way to how he had sounded at the gala. Innocent and excited. “Getting food in me will only help.”

“Fine, but you have to eat it like a normal person. None of this ‘raised by a butler and uses a knife and fork’ nonsense.”

“Drunk Bruce Wayne can eat a burger like a heathen as long as there are a side of onion rings.”

“You’re an onion ring, you know,” said Clark. “A delightful onion with many rings.”

Bruce’s brow scrunched up in confusion, seemingly in deep thought. “I don’t get it. I have been drugged though. I’m not at my best for puzzles tonight.”

“You will in the morning, Dark Shrek.” Clark pulled the car into the drive through and up to the ordering screen. “Let’s go get that burger and go home.”

[singeramg]

Midnight: Chapter 19

Pairing: Clark Kent-Superman/ Metahuman! Black! OFC

Rating: M

A/n: Here is Chapter 19! As you all can tell my creative juices are flowing and while this chapter is also shorter than I would like, I promise I will more than make up for it in the next chapter.

Warnings: Ummm.... lang. for you faint of heart folks Lol. Mostly tame.

Catch up HERE!

Midnight: Chapter 19

 Clark bypasses my room and goes to Kalen’s. There is not much talking as he goes into the bathroom and starts a shower. I summon clothes from next door and go into the shower. I hear the TV switch on low volume to some Kansas City Chiefs rerun and a tired sigh. I let the hot water run down my body, as the events of the day catch up with me. I remembered only bits and pieces of everything that had happened. One thing I remembered clearly was the letter. After everything that happened between us, could there even still be anything between Clark and I? I was still struggling with trusting my own feelings and trusting that I was even lovable. How could I be the one he wanted?

 I was now even more broken and apparently I was now going through some sort of new mutation of my powers? Would he still be around for someone who couldn’t handle people’s thoughts? Maybe not even be able to learn to respect his?

 I got out the shower and dressed in the shorts and tank top I summoned. Modesty was out the window at this point. The man had seen me in way less and had been inside of me. I could manage to be in shorts and a tank in the same bed.

When I came out Clark had stripped down to his boxers and his white beater top. 

   “Are you going to join me? Or don’t tell me you are getting shy on me now.”

 He cracks a joke, waving his arm toward the bed despite the nerves rolling off of him. I feel terrible about it, the reason for his nerves weren’t on the surface of his thoughts, but I could guess it was only because he was nervous that I would force myself into him again. 

   “I didn’t think you’d want me in with you. Especially after I sexually assaulted you earlier.”

I look down and Clark surprises me with a laugh.

   “Gia, let me assuage some of your guilt. I am not counting that as sexual assault on my person.”

I look at him confused. I toss my hand on my hip and stare pointedly and confused while standing about 3 ft away from the edge of the bed that he was sitting on.

   “Clark I had you tied to a chair and sat on your lap while I grabbed your dick. If that’s not assault I don’t know what is.”

 He looks at me with honest and open blue eyes.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Despite you not being in your right mind, if you were, that would have been something of a wet dream. You dressed in tight spandex, taking exactly what you want from me. I feel ashamed for wanting to go along with it.”

 My jaw dropped, I’m sure it looked comical but it didn’t feel comical. I tried to play it cool even though I was stumbling over my words.

    “I..Umm... Didn’t realize you had a masochistic streak.”

   “Usually I don’t. I’ve felt like I have been so out of control of my own life that giving it up in my bedroom, a place where I should have final say is not my thing but lingering in my mind every time I see you show up as Midnight in that same material suit I’ve been thinking about us doing almost exactly what we did back in that compound at least once.”

 My eyes had to be comically wide, he had to be able to hear my heart rate tick up. I saw images of Clark and I flash across my mind, clearly not generated by me. Clark pushes forward some of his own emotions and views of me on top of him earlier. I bite my lower lip as he sends a bevy of emotions that despite being sore, with a headache made me want to jump him. 

The other side of me was scared. I didn’t want to do this again with him. To get my hopes up, that the feelings from so long ago lingered up until now? I remembered how he brought me out of my programming, the love he had to pour into me for it to work however there was always a voice in my head that told me we would never work. 

Clark reaches his hand out toward me, his fingers wrapping around my wrist and adding just enough pressure to imply that I come closer to him. I did. His large hands come to my hips and I try not to shiver.

  “You think loud.” I offer him as I reach up, resting my hand on his shoulder. 

  “And you overthink.” He counters

 The tension is thick in the room, I am standing  close enough to him that the energy is bouncing between us. 

    “Clark I just think...”

   “Exactly, you are overthinking. Tonight let’s make it simple. We can sort the rest out later but let me tell you exactly what I want right now. All I want right now is for us to just be us.  Be here in the moment. No expectations, no confusion, no talking to mess things up. Just us.”

 I smirk, part of the reason he was suggesting no talking was because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing to me again. He didn’t want to lose this moment again.

 We lock eyes and I lean down and press my lips to his for the first time in my right mind and it feels just as good now as it did almost four years ago. His hand trails behind my head as his tongue slides into my mouth. I whimper slightly and before either of us could fall into it anymore I hear the door open downstairs and footsteps coming up the stairs. It was enough to break whatever was building up in the TV lit room. We pull away from each other. 

   “Now that you’ve stolen my breath away, do you think you could do one more thing for me Clark Kent?”

   “Anything you want.”

  “Can we just be a family tonight?”

I ask him softly, kinda afraid he was going to say no, that maybe I was reading him wrong. I hoped he would be kind enough for this. Just to play this moment out for now. 

Clark just stands up going over to the door. He says thank you and takes Kalen from Bruce’s arms and lies him in the bed. Then he takes my hand, pulling me so that we are on the empty side of the King sized bed. He tosses the covers back with the free hand that is not holding mine, and then he urges me into it with a tilt of his head. I get in the extremely comfortable bed, moving over so there’s enough room for a Clark and I turn to look at my peacefully sleeping kid. I had missed his face so much. I run my hand down his face, the slightly cherubic cheeks and reddish pink lips poured and slightly open in sleep. Clark gets in behind me, his thick arm wraps over my waist, and I put my hand on top of his and press myself into his arms even more. 

   “I think we can manage that for more than just a night.”

 This was the moment I had seen in my mind's eye all those years ago when I had first developed my crush on Clark. Even if this was only for the night, I could never forget this moment with him...

 *The Next Morning*

 I could feel Kalen began to wake and I was grateful that he had at least slept until the sun was fully in the sky. It didn’t negate that I was still exhausted but it did help me to adjust to waking up. Clark had started coming to the minute he heard Kalen’s heart rate begin to increase. 

  *“Gia are you awake?”*

He asks me in his head and I crack open my eyes slowly, trying to adjust before Kalen fully woke up. At some point in the few hours I had been sleeping, I had turned and folded against Clark’s chest. He was still holding me securely and I relished in the few moments before Kalen’s eyes popped open and he practically yells

  “Mommy!!!!!”

He jumps on my back, and Clark’s arm takes much of the force from the dense little boy. He actually pulls his arm from being pinned as Kalen latch's on to my back like a koala bear. Clark gives him a second before he lifts him off my back and onto his chest so he can see my face properly, Kalen doesn’t sit still. 

I turn onto my back and Kalen climbs  on my chest to my stomach and presses excited kisses onto my cheeks.

 “There’s my baby! Good morning my Kalen!”

   “Momma! Momma you here! You came back because you were gone a looooonnnggg time mommy. I think that you will not come back. Where you go?”

 I give Kalen a smile, trying not to appear sad. I had missed him so much and I could only hope he hadn’t been too affected by my absence. 

   “Well... mommy had to help a friend of hers who was far away and bring them back. Did you have fun with your dad, grandma and Ms. A?”

 He nods furiously, and his thoughts are fragmented like I imagined a child’s to be. He was thinking at a million miles per minute. All of the things he deemed fun including seeing if his toys could float in the bath, and running his father ragged. He thought it was hilarious to see Clark do a fake pass out or letting Kalen over power him. Clark was seeing the opposite where he honestly felt like he was in over his head, the guilt of needing so much more help than he thought I needed.

   “I bet you did. Well mama missed you, and momma is hungry and I bet your dad is too so how about we go see if we can find some food huh?”

 Kalen scrambles out of the bed and I follow behind to help him get dressed for the day while Clark goes and takes a shower. Kalen gets dressed and I lead him next door, where I can tell my shield is still holding up. The energy inside tells me Tracy is awake but not hostile. Confused, hungry but not hostile. Kalen and I knock so as not to scare her. We entered shortly after.

Tracy is sitting in bed with the legs folded one over the other and watching some Spongebob Squarepants, her hair plaited into two braids as they try to dry. 

   “Good Morning Tracy. How are you?”

She looks at me, for the first time without a grimace or evil look on her face. Her mind was at ease, thoughts mostly on identifying the small child at my feet. 

   “It was nice to wake up when I want, take a shower with hot water for longer than 10 minutes. You have very nice soap by the way.”

 “Glad to see that you are enjoying the amenities. I came to see if you would like to join us downstairs for breakfast?”

 Tracy looks down To my knees where Kalen has wrapped himself around my right side.

“I take it that means the two of you. Who might this be?”

 I kneel down to Kalen’s level and smile at him in comfort as he tries to put his hand in his mouth.

   “Baby this my good friend Tracy. Can you say hi to her for me? Hand out your mouth please young sir.”

 I say pulling his hand out his mouth gently and he doesn’t try to put it back. Instead he gives a small wave at her. 

    “Tracy this is Kalen.”

  “Don’t tell me you had a baby. I didn’t come here to be your live-in-teenaged babysitter.”

She says lightheartedly and stands to her feet. I laugh and stand up tall again.

   “Yes I had a child and no I did not bring you here to watch him. I can take care of Kalen just fine thank you. So are you coming down or not?”

   “I can’t eat air now can I?” Sarcasm drips from her but I’m just grateful it wasn’t malice.

   “No but a fist is not too far off.”

 I joke and go over to my closet, while Kalen mindlessly becomes entranced by the TV. Tracy surprises me by putting him in the bed so he could watch. I looked in my closet and decided on something to wear, snapping my fingers into a pair of jeans and a tank top covered with a coral colored kimono coverup.

 Tracy had followed me to the closet, but stood there looking as if she wanted something but didn’t know what to say.

   “ I get nervous when you are silent like that. Something on your mind?”

 I look at her again, her left foot draws a small pattern on the plush carpet.

   “I just...ummm”

 I scan her mind again. She needed a change in clothes but didn’t know how to ask me. I go into my closet and find something for her to wear. I hold out a hoodie and pants for her, and she takes them, heading toward the bathroom to change.

  “You know Tracy, for the record you don’t have to ask me for clean clothes. Take your time and come down when you are ready.”

 I leave with Kalen and a smile...

 The downstairs was bustling with activity as we met for breakfast in the actual formal dining room because there were so many of us in the manor. Bruce was having his normal coffee and toast, Alfred to his left, Diana and Victor were discussing some new discoveries on the human genome based on an article they both read, and Barry was about to begin inhaling the enormous plate of food in front of him. Ms. A and Martha jumped to their feet, both holding me tight. I sighed and just let myself be embraced by my adoptive mothers. 

  “I am so glad Clark found you.” Mrs. Martha says with tears in her eyes.

I hug them back, taking in their different scents while both of them still smelled familiar to me.

 “I am glad he found me too. Thank you both for helping with Kalen.”

 “You never have to thank us for that.”

 Ms. Alphonse says to me with a smile and turns to look at Kalen who is just excited to see them, gives both women their hugs and tries to get breakfast. I sat next to him and helped make a plate for him. Idle chatter circulated until I could feel Tracy come down stairs. She had actually not decided to wear what I gave her, deciding on a white summer dress and beige and rope colored sandals. With the two buns on the top of her head and no make up she actually looked like the teenager she was rather than what others had tried to make her.

  “Come on in Tracy, you have to be hungry.”

She is nervous, and unsure of what to do so I kicked a chair out slightly for her with a smirk. She relaxes enough to sit down and grabs some toast. 

 “So Tracy I take it you will be staying for a while.”

She nodded at Bruce’s question.

       “Yes.”

She was nervous and didn’t trust anyone.I sent calming energy her direction. She is nervous that someone will take her food away, this  breaks my heart so I reach over and scoop some eggs on her plate, then Clark comes bounding down the stairs, his energy high and his emotions calm, they only change slightly at Tracy, because he wasn’t sure if he could trust her. Truthfully, none of them were sure about Tracy, but I wasn’t giving up on her. Clark is smart enough to know that it wasn’t going to do good for anyone and especially not Tracy any good by treating her badly.

  “Morning everyone.”

He fluffs Kalen’s hair and pours himself a coffee. Kalen for all the toddler trouble he gave Clark while I was gone was still basically obsessed with his father, and judging by the way Clark emotions were ecstatic every time Kalen even looked at him he was too. As soon as Clark sits down he doesn’t have a moment before Kalen is crawling over to his lap. He tries to reach for the hot coffee but Clark pulls it away.

   “Oh no. No coffee for you just yet. I’d say you got at least 15 more years before that becomes a thing. You want some more eggs?”

   “No. I wan co-fee”

I shake my head and push Kalen’s plate toward Clark.

  “Kalen, you heard him say no, so no means no. Besides, your dad looks really hungry. He is going to eat your food.”

Clark raises his eyebrows at Kalen as if to say he didn’t know, but he had better make a choice, When Kalen doesn’t go to eat, Clark picks up a piece of sausage and slowly bring it to his mouth and Kalen starts to whimper and then cry, his hair turning fire truck red. I laugh as Clark hands the link to him and goes back to his coffee, and then Kalen becomes very involved in his food and his hair turns back to its dark color. 

    “So Gia you weren’t going to tell me you got busy with Superman.”

Tracy asks me with a smirk and the room gets silent. I laugh which significantly reduces the tension in the room.

  “Well telling you who my baby fava is not high on the to-do list.”

I joke and cut into my waffle...

 *Later*

   “So I’ve been doing some more research. I tracked Clark’s flight pattern last night via satellite monitors. Good News is that I found a clear path from there to here, bad news is that  the facility was destroyed 30 minutes after you left. Controlled explosions leveled the place, but not before their computer system backed up to a remote server.”

 We were all down in the batcave, while Kalen, Martha and Ms. A were all upstairs. Victor was sitting in front of the computer typing away, trying to get more information. I was leaning on his shoulder, while Bruce leaned on the other side next to one of the other screens. 

  “So what does that mean?”

   “It means that unless I can get access to the hard database servers then my access to this data is limited. I, however, did a little more digging. The building before it was destroyed was shelled out to a bunch of companies, before ultimately belonging to the government.”

 I stepped back slightly, mostly in disbelief.

   “What, the Government? You are telling me the government is in on abducting kids and making them experiments?”

    “I don’t know who is into what. I was able to glean a little information during its transfer to offsite. Does the city of Freeland, Georgia mean anything to you Gia?”

A/n: So as I mentioned at the beginning of this I mentioned this would be shorter, hopefully it doesn’t disappoint. This story is becoming a way to take my mind off everything else while we are all on lockdown! I am already done with chapter 20 and whew....

That’s all I am going to tell y’all! 

Thank you for reading, you all are awesome and make this thing called tumblr fun for me. 

TAGLIST (Still open just let me know if you would like to be added)

@thethirstyarchive​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​ @romyr4​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​

@kmcmpmd​ @winchwm​

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: Night of the Creeps

When a boutique label announces a new Blu-ray edition of a cult film that has already received the high-definition treatment with a great transfer and a variety of special features, said label must go above and beyond to entice fans to double dip. Scream Factory did just that for the Night of the Creeps Collector's Edition Blu-ray, producing several new extras to accompany the existing ones, along with two cuts of the film.

Night of the Creeps kicks off with a prologue set in 1959 aboard a spacecraft, where aliens - or, more accurately, little people in foam rubber alien suits - shoot a mysterious canister into space. Playing up the 1950s sci-fi tropes, the film briefly turns black and white as the canister lands on Earth. Johnny (Ken Heron) and Pam (Alice Cadogan) cut their necking at Lover's Lane short to explore the crash site, where they discover parasitic slugs that pop into a host's mouth, turning them into lumbering zombies. Oh, and an escaped mental patient is on the loose too.

The film cuts back to color for pledge week of 1986, where we meet geeky college kid Chris (Jason Lively, European Vacation) and his goofball best friend, J.C. (Steve Marshall). In a fairly progressive move, J.C. is physically handicapped without it being a plot point, although it helps for him to live vicariously through Chris. The friends pledge for the coolest fraternity on campus in an effort to impress a pretty girl, Cynthia (Jill Whitlow, Porky's). Unfortunately for them, Cynthia is dating Brad (Allan Kayser, Mama's Family), a stereotypical frat bro. To prove their commitment, the Bradster challenges Chris and J.C. to steal a corpse. The smitten Chris convinces J.C. to help him break into the local medical facility, where they thaw out Johnny, who has been cryogenically frozen since the incident three decades earlier. The small town is soon infested with space slugs.

Genre legend Tom Atkins (Halloween III: Season of the Witch) co-stars as Ray Cameron, who was a rookie cop that responded to the scene back in the '50s. Now he's a detective on the case, and he achieves Bruce Campbell levels of acerbic humor. From his "Thrill me" catchphrase to lines like "What is this: a homicide or a bad B-movie?" every word out of his mouth is pure gold. It's no wonder that Atkins cites it as his favorite movie that he's been in; quite impressive given his resume and the caliber of talent with which he has worked.

Beyond Atkins' scenery chewing, the rest of the cast seems to be having just as much fun. The chemistry between Lively, Marshall, and Whitlow is palpable, with all three perfectly assuming their archetypal roles. It's amusing to see Kayser removed from his sitcom persona to play a mega-douche. Several other genre favorites and character actors are in the cast: Suzanne Snyder (Killer Klowns from Outer Space) has a small role as a sorority girl; Dick Miller (Gremlins) pops up as a police officer; David Paymer (Drag Me to Hell) plays an ill-fated scientist; and filmmaker Shane Black (Iron Man 3, The Predator) has an uncredited role as a cop extra.

Much of the credit for Night of the Creeps' success goes to first-time writer-director Fred Dekker (The Monster Squad), who embraces the picture's B-movie roots with his tongue planted firmly in cheek. Dekker names many of the characters after famous horror directors of the era (Carpenter, Hooper, Romero, Cronenberg, Landis, Raimi, etc.); a tired, amateurish trope now, but it was a fun tip of the hat back in '86. Dekker is in on the joke, as the pastiche of genre cliches are deconstructed in loving homages to the greats that came before it, and he elevates it with ample heart.

The practical effects - ranging from decomposing bodies to heads that split apart - were headed by David B. Miller (A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Terminator), with Robert Kurtzman and Howard Berger of KNB EFX Group (Scream, From Dusk Till Dawn) working under him, and Ted Rae (Game of Thrones, Beetlejuice) handling the animatronics and visual effects. (All four of them appear as frat zombies too.) The film features cinematography by Robert C. New (Prom Night, Lionheart) and an ominous synthesize score by Barry De Vorzon (The Warriors, The Exorcist III). Steve Miner (Halloween H20, Friday the 13th Parts 2 and 3) served as second unit director.

Night of the Creeps originally hit Blu-ray from Sony back in 2009, when studios still invested in their library titles. Scream Factory's new Collector's Edition features the same sharp transfer, but the two-disc set includes both the theatrical and director's cuts of the film. They're identical with the exception of the final coda, but it's nice to have the option rather than merely including the alternate ending as a deleted scene. Scream Factory also offered a now-sold-out deluxe edition with an action figure of Atkins' character produced by NECA and an exclusive slipcover with new art. The standard retail version has its own slip with the poster artwork. Both versions include reversible cover art.

Let's start with the new extras: Lively, Kayser, Heron, Snyder, and fellow actor Vic Polizos, plus editor Michael N. Knue each sit down for individual interviews. The cast members are all fun as they look back on the production fondly (although Kayser's audio quality is distractingly poor; it sounds like they had to use the on-camera microphone rather than a boom or lavalier), while Knue adds a particularly interesting perspective. There's also a new installment of Horror's Hallowed Grounds, in which host Sean Clark is joined by Dekker and Lively for a walk down memory lane at the shooting locations as they appear today.

Beyond that, all of extras from the previous edition are ported over, including two audio commentaries on the director's cut. The first, featuring Dekker and moderator Michael Felsher of Red Shirt Pictures, is loaded with information but comes across as casual. The second, a high-energy track with Lively, Marshall, Whitlow, and Aktins, clearly illustrates the camaraderie among the cast; Atkins can barely get a word in edgewise among the chatty actors, who seem to gleefully regress to their younger selves.

A five-part retrospective covers the making of the film with many of those who were involved, from inception to cast to special effects to post-production to its legacy. The documentary totals just about an hour; my only gripe is that it doesn't have a "play all" option. A career-spanning, 20-minute interview with Atkins finds the veteran actor discussing Creeps along with such fan favorites as The Fog, Escape from New York, Creepshow, Halloween III, and Lethal Weapon. Finally, deleted scenes and the theatrical trailer are included.

Night of the Creeps holds up as a fun horror-comedy with a youthful spirit; the likes of which could only be borne by the '80s. Beneath the campy veneer lay a healthy dose of atmosphere and impressive special effects. Perhaps most importantly, Dekker - who, at only 26, was not far removed from the main characters - was able to inject a John Hughes-esque sincerity and authenticity to the story. The plethora of special features, both new and old, make Scream Factory's Collector’s Edition Blu-ray worth the upgrade.

Night of the Creeps is available now on Collector’s Edition Blu-ray via Scream Factory.

[thereifling]

Batman and the JL: JL Christmas Party at Wayne Manor (aka 4am Fast Food pt. 2)

           Alfred pulled the turkey from the oven. He breathed in the fresh scent sighing in satisfaction. Before placing the tray on the stove, the front door rang. Taking off the oven mittens he hastened to the door.  

           “Heya Jeeves!” Wally West stood outside tightly wrapped in a large coat and holding several pies. “Am I late?” He asked allowing himself in.

           “On the contrary, you are early.”

           “Woah, that never happens.” The red head laughed looking around for the kitchen. Alfred shut the door, keeping the December air out of the house, and ushered his guest to the living room. “So, where’s Bruce?” Wally inquired handing off his coat.

           “Master Bruce is currently on patrol but will return shortly.” Alfred took the pies heading towards the kitchen. “Dinner will be served once everyone arrives.”

           “Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a buffalo.” The front door rang again. “I’ll get it!” Wally rushed back swinging the large oak open to reveal Clark, Diana, and J’onn.

           “Merry Christmas!” Clark beamed. The three of them trudged in carrying several bags and platters of food.

           “Happy holidays Wally.” Diana undid her coat placing it on the rack with the rest of theirs. She gazed passed him frowning. “Where’s Bruce?”

           “Master Bruce is currently on patrol.” Alfred suddenly appeared making Wally jump. He took the bags and the pie in Clark’s hand.

           “It’s ma’s pie!” Clark exclaimed. “And here, let me take some of that.” He followed Alfred back to the kitchen. Diana, J’onn, and Wally made their way to the lounge settling in the cushions. They sat there in silence, feeling very awkward. Diana swore she saw Wally speed around the house several times but continued twiddling her thumbs.

           “Is it not customary-” J’onn suddenly spoke up. “-for the host to be present when his guests arrive?” Wally laughed at that.

           “It is, but we’re talking about Bats here.”

           “I do wish he could take one night of rest.” Diana sighed

           “Yeah well, he better get here soon, I’m starving!” The speedster flumped down on the couch beside her with a huff. Diana smiled sympathetically towards him.

           “Perhaps we should help the process further and head to the kitchen?” J’onn suggested.

           “Hey everyone!” Clark’s voice abruptly hollered from the hall. “I hear the car coming in from the cave. He’s here so we can eat!” Wally hadn’t run that fast in a very long time.

           Bruce laid another sample on the flask peering into the microscope. Coming out of the car he hadn’t bothered to remove the cowl and immediately set to work. Bruce had been working tirelessly for the past three weeks to get this sample and a new burst of determination bubbled up inside. Setting a new flask in, footsteps could be heard coming near.

           “What is it Alfred?” Bruce deadpanned, still gazing into the microscope.

           “Sir, your guests have arrived and are patiently awaiting your presence.” There was a hint of condescendence which made Bruce look up. What did he forget now?

           “Guests? I don’t recall inviting anyone…”

           “Your Christmas Eve party sir, with the founding members of the Justice League.” Alfred informed with a cock of his head. Bruce inwardly groaned.

           “I don’t have time right now.”

           “Sir, I insist that you head upstairs and be courteous to your guests.”

           “Alfred, I’m busy.” Bruce exhaled. “Can’t Dick entertain them?” Alfred erected himself raising an eyebrow at that.

           “Master Richard is out with miss Gordon as he will be unable to tomorrow since we are having Christmas with the entire family. These are your guests and friends whom you invited for today.” Bruce jabbed a finger at him.

           “I did NOT invite them over! You and slap happy Clark planned this while Diana practically had me pinned down. Now I have work to do and it cannot wait.” Bruce grew more serious. “I got a sample of the toxin.” Alfred’s eyes widened slightly.

           “Oh my.”

           “Yes.” Bruce turned back to the glass vials. “I finally acquired Sanders’ poison. I need to find a cure before she infects more people. I’m waiting for the results right now.”

           “As you wait, perhaps you could grace your associates with your presence.”

           “Alfred-”

           “A half hour, sir.” The two men stared at each other, a battle of wills. Bruce glared daggers into the old man. Alfred was giving him the look, one he has so far not been able to beat. With a sigh, Bruce removed his cowl and headed towards the changing room.

           “I’ll be up in five minutes.”

           “Very good sir.”

           When Bruce finally came up, having changed into a t-shirt and cargo pants, Shayera and John had just arrived. Wally practically forced them in their seats and seemed ready to throttle Clark for demanding to say grace before digging in. Bruce grimaced at the display of food. There were at least ten pies, several unidentifiable casseroles, pork, turkey, all forms of potatoes, a couple cakes, and many more sugar infested delicacies. He couldn’t eat most of it, not if he wanted to double his workout for the next week. He observed the rest of the guests and their lack of needing a restraint. Clark had a moderate portion, far less than he could handle, Wally had half his food stuffed in his mouth while simultaneously pouring more onto his plate. Bruce sighed, thankful that the others brought meals. Poor Alfred. At the far end of the table John and Shayera were flirting again, and that’s when he noticed Diana had been placed next to his spot. Nice try Alfred. J’onn ate very little more interested in his conversation with Clark. They were discussing tomorrow’s plans for Christmas. Bruce sighed again. These were all his friends, perhaps his only ones besides Jim. He could take a half hour off for them. A smile tugged at his mouth, resigning his fate to the party.

           “Diana, would you please pass the salad and the Greek dressing?” She beamed back at him.

           “Here you are.”

           “Thank y-” The bowl clattered on the table the moment he grasped it. Salad splattered across spreading all the way to Clark on Diana’s right. The room went silent, all staring at Bruce. He glared at them and began to pick up the pieces along with the sudden appearance of Alfred.

           “Sorry Bruce.” Diana whispered as everyone picked up their conversations again.

           “It’s all right.” He finished retrieving the last piece.

           “I will be back with more.” Alfred informed and promptly disappeared. Bruce nodded to him and reached for his glass. The way his hands shook did not escape him. Bruce flexed his other hand under the table. His muscles were stiff and achy. The past couple of days must have caught up to him making it act quicker. He growled to himself, taking a sip. He saw Clark eyeing him, a look of concern. Bruce mouthed I’m fine to only have the Kryptonian roll his eyes.

           “So, presents or a game?” Wally jumped up. They had finished eating and were now sitting in the main room. The speedster pulled several board games out of his bag handing them to Clark.

           “Oh!” Diana exclaimed. “I have heard of Scattergories, it sounds like fun.” She pulled it from Wally’s hand looking it over.

           “I’m in.” Clark nodded towards the box. J’onn, John and Shayera agreed as well. “You playing Bruce?” He turned to the billionaire. Bruce was slumped in a leather chair by the gigantic glittering tree.

           “I don’t play games.” He huffed.

           “You play chess with me.” Shayera smirked.

           “Chess is a strategic and mind building tool. I play enough games with the Riddler and Joker as it is, I don’t need another.”

           “Fine, suit yourself.” Wally shrugged, helping Diana unpack the box. Bruce sunk more into the chair. He hadn’t been feeling good since dinner and the constant noise was stabbing his head forming a headache. The chair felt amazing as his energy seemed to drain with every moment. His head swam. It felt heavy as he leaned against his hand on the armrest. Bruce checked his watch grimacing at the time. An hour over what he promised Alfred, but he just couldn’t will himself out of the chair just yet. Clark had asked him if he was all right several times and received a plate in the face when he tried to x-ray him. He was such a worry wort.

           “Yes! More food!” Wally cried. Alfred walked in with a tray of snacks placing it on the coffee table. Half of it was gone by the time anyone else got to it. Wally only stopped because of John’s glare.

           “Bruce, would you like some?” Diana inquired. Bruce stared off out the window, he couldn’t look at it, feeling nauseous.

           “No.”

           “Bruce, you hardly ate anything at the dinner.” Diana frowned, becoming concerned.

           “Are you sure you’re all right?” Clark joined in. Bruce clenched his jaw, this was getting annoying. He needed to keep up appearances, but their constant asking was really irritating.

           “I’m fine! See!” He grabbed some sort of pork and onion from the tray and plopped it in his mouth. He immediately regretted it. Nearly gagging, Bruce ran to the nearest trash and let it go. He heaved losing his lunch from earlier, but even when it ran out it didn’t stop. The convulses continued making him cough occasionally. He dry heaved until his throat hurt and sweat coated his face. A hand was on his back, rubbing circles. Clark’s soothing voice spewed comforting words. After what felt like an eternity, Bruce sat back on his knees gasping. Clark continued rubbing circles until he caught his breath again.

           “I’m okay.” Bruce rasped.

           “Looks like it.” sarcasm dripping from Clark’s voice. Bruce turned up to see Alfred coming towards them. They were the only ones in the hallway, the others giving the dark crusader is privacy.

           “Master Bruce, are you all right?” Master Bruce was getting really annoyed with people asking that.

           “You have a fever.” Clark frowned feeling his head. “Did you catch the flu?” Bruce swatted his hand away dismissing both their concerns and stood up. At least he tried to. Bruce’s shaky legs immediately collapsed under him and he grasped the trashcan for support. His headache was turning into a migraine and his chest burned. It had begun.

           “I need to get to the cave…” Bruce rasped starting a new fit of coughing.

           “I think you mean upstairs to bed.” Clark chided. Bruce ignored him, attempting to get up and succeeded, even if he was leaning on the wall.  

           “Master Bruce, now is not the time to be stubborn. Healing requires rest.” Alfred held one of his arms urging him towards the stairs. The billionaire resisted forcing his way to the clock. He returned to the living room full of leaguers who all watched on in concern. Growling at their looks, he turned the clock hands opening the secret door. Bruce’s chest suddenly flared up like it was on fire. He grasped it with a groan falling to the floor again.

           “Bruce!” Diana cried, catching him before he hit the floor. The rest gathered around in distress. “Bruce, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

           “I…need to get, to get to the cave…” He began to cough again, clutching his burning ribs. Diana bit her lip trying to decide what to do. She stopped suddenly reaching for his neck.

           “Bruce, what’s that?” In place of his veins were a purple venomous color snaking up his body. She noticed that they had curved down his left arm more numerous and black in color.

           “No!” They all swiveled around meeting a distressed Alfred. “You bloody idiot! You did not, did you?!”

           “It…it was the only way…” Bruce murmured, still clutching his chest. He eyed his butler daring him to argue.

           “What did he do? What on earth is going on?!” Wally burst out.

           “Bring him downstairs post haste!” Alfred commanded motioning Diana towards the clock entrance. Without question she picked up Bruce and flew down in a blur.

           “Alfred, what’s going on?” Clark calmly asked. Alfred huffed setting towards the stairway down.

           “I will explain in the cave.”

           Diana gently placed the dark knight down in the medical bay. The coughing had returned, and he squeezed his eyes shut clutching his chest. His face was so stricken in pain that tears were streaming down his face. Diana tried to remain calm, but she didn’t know how long for. Bruce was in pain, a lot of it. She rubbed his back whispering that it was okay, but a lump settled making it harder. Alfred suddenly appeared with the rest of the league at his heels. They crowded around the still hacking vigilante growing increasingly worried. The purple veins had reached his jawline.  

           “Listen.” Alfred demanded. “I am sure master Bruce was planning on being more coherent for this segment, but that does not seem to be the case at this moment. I will need your help.” The butler revealed no emotion on his face, but Diana was certain she heard a tint of irritation in his voice. “For the past three weeks a serial killer known as Jessica Sanders has been spreading a toxin all around Gotham. The poison has no known cure and leaves no traces after death. Master Bruce has…has, well, injected himself with the toxin in hopes to procure a cure for the next victims.” Alfred faltered clenching his fist. “This is beyond my medical experience, if you all wo-”

           “Way ahead of you Jeeves!” Wally hollered from beyond in the lab room. J’onn moved towards the now limp form of Bruce, eyes glowing.

           “I know Batman will not appreciate me entering his mind, even for his information on the toxin.”

           “But he was being an idiot anyway.” Clark smirked, eyes turning to x-ray. Diana placed a hand on the butler’s shoulder.

           “We’ll save him Alfred, I promise.” Wally zipped by them, taking a syringe, and drawing blood from the patient.

           “Only bats would poison himself to get out of a Christmas party.”

THE END

[douxreviews]

Quantum Leap - Season Five Review

It had been awhile since I watched season five, and some of it was better than I remembered. Unfortunately, some of it was worse.

Celebrity leaps

The Kennedy assassination? What were they thinking? ("Lee Harvey Oswald," 5.1 and 5.2.)

Quantum Leap always played with celebrity encounters as cute little supplemental by-the-ways and isn't-this-fun, like Buddy Holly and Michael Jackson, and honestly, I totally understand their desire to try something new, to do a high concept two-part episode. But "Lee Harvey Oswald" was terrible, uncharacteristically grim and unforgivably dull. Quantum Leap is a science fiction adventure show with a great deal of humor and charm. It is not a documentary.

Not to mention that Quantum Leap's raison d'etre is to fix "what once went wrong." How on earth could they possibly fix the Kennedy assassination without changing a massive event in American history? Having Sam save Jackie Kennedy, who died in the original history, was an interesting twist, but it was also a cop-out. Especially when you consider what Jackie did with her life after Jack Kennedy's untimely death. (No judgment there, honestly. I'm just saying.)

It also felt wrong to see Sam so affected and influenced by the person he leaped into that he couldn't change anything, and it's telling that this was the only way they could make the script work. We all know that if Sam had been himself, he would have found some way to stop the assassination. I understand from the internet that Donald Bellisario believed that Oswald acted alone and that it was the point he was trying to get across. And I will respond by saying that a show like Quantum Leap was not the place to do it.

"Goodbye, Norma Jean" (5.18) didn't work either, despite a good performance by Susan Griffiths as Marilyn and some enjoyable faux cameos by actors playing Clark Gable, John Huston and Peter Lawford. The big question for me again was, why? What did Sam put right that once went wrong? Supposedly, Marilyn needed to live a little bit longer and do one last film, and if The Misfits had been one of the greats, I would get it, but honestly, it's not a great film. If they had to do Marilyn, wouldn't it have been great if Sam had kept her from committing suicide earlier in her life?

The other two celebrity leaps this season were outright fun, though, and those did work.

I loved Scott Bakula doing an actual impression of "Dr. Ruth" (5.14) in an episode that featured the real Dr. Ruth Westheimer. While the double entendres were uncomfortably thick on the ground, it was pretty much the perfect celebrity leap to illustrate the differences between the reserved and prudish Sam, who had a terrible time doing a radio show about sex, and Al, who didn't hesitate to avail himself of free sex therapy in the Waiting Room with Dr. Ruth herself. We also got a timely reminder that Al has been married five times, and that he still loves his first wife, Beth.

I also enjoyed "Memphis Melody" (5.21) where Sam leaped into a young Elvis Presley. It was so much better than Lee Harvey Oswald and Marilyn Monroe because it wasn't depressing, and Scott Bakula got to sing as Elvis. Very nice. Especially his version of "Amazing Grace." (Which is not what they're singing in the photo below.)

Movie tributes

One of Quantum Leap's constant go-tos was movie tributes and/or ripoffs. In "Leaping of the Shrew" (5.3), Quantum Leap did The Blue Lagoon, and they even got Brooke Shields to guest star. You'd think that wouldn't work, but it was actually pretty darned cute. They also did Coming Home in "Nowhere to Run" (5.4), and it even guest starred an adorable pre-Friends Jennifer Aniston. But honestly, the way they got around Sam walking around while he was supposed to missing his legs was pretty darned weird.

Points for trying

I liked the idea behind "Trilogy" (5.8, 5.9 and 5.10), an interesting twist in the formula where Sam leaped into three different people while trying to save the same person, Abagail Fuller. It was almost like they finally addressed the "what happened to the person Sam saved later on" question. But the story acquired a mildly incestuous feel when Sam went from being Abagail's father figure in part one to her fiance in part two. And the idea of Sam fathering a child while not in his own body was interesting, but also weird. Although I did like the idea of Sam's brilliant daughter Sammy Jo helping out at the Quantum Leap project. Were they thinking about casting her as a permanent character? That could have been fun.

I also liked "Killin' Time" (5.5), where Sam leaped into a serial killer and had to explain the truth about the Quantum Leap project to his hostages. The best part about it was that there was actually action at the project in alternate universe 1999 as the killer escaped and Al took off after him, while Gooshie had to replace Al in the imaging chamber. I'll admit that the face paint, neon decoration and strange computer stuff didn't work, mostly because we all know now that 1999 didn't look like that. Maybe I should have taken that to mean that all of Quantum Leap happened in an alternate universe?

I wasn't as crazy about "The Leap Between the States" (5.20), the first and only time that Sam leaped out of his own lifetime, inhabiting his great-grandfather and romancing his great-grandmother back in 1862. It might have been a little better if they'd managed to resist white savior syndrome.

"Promised Land" (5.11) was a nice idea in theory, popping Sam back to his own home town with people he grew up with. Maybe a little hokey, but at least he got to see his late father one last time. But couldn't we have spent time with Sam's family again instead of getting stuck in a bank for the entire episode?

No points for trying

And then we had the evil leaper. (5.7 "Deliver Us From Evil," 5.16 "Return of the Evil Leaper," 5.17 "Revenge of the Evil Leaper")

Okay. I can see where the writers would have hit on the idea of an evil counterpart to Sam, but I thought it made absolutely no sense and was in fact never explained. Was Satan carrying on a Quantum Leap project of his own to put wrong what once went right? Although it was nice to see the characters from season two's "Jimmy" again and the carrying on in the women's prison was sort of fun, it just didn't work for me. Plus Alia's existence made Sam non-unique, which is something you don't want to do with your lead. The evil leaper concept didn't deserve to take up three full episodes of their final season.

The series finale

I hadn't seen "Mirror Image" (5.22), the final episode of Quantum Leap, since it aired, and was really looking forward to it because I remembered how choked up I was by that last scene with Beth and that final card about what ultimately happened to Sam. Unfortunately, I am sad to report that I found the rest of "Mirror Image" to be sub-par.

Sam arrived in a barroom at the moment he was born, and for the first time, when he looked into a mirror, he saw himself. That was actually a powerful scene, and it was touching that his hair had started to become gray. There were many scenes in the barroom in the coal mining town of Cokesburg that included actors from previous episodes playing other characters. I'm sure they were going for some sort of huge metaphorical what's-is with the mine collapse, but I just didn't get it.

I also thought it was sad that, even though the resolution of the series was all about Al Calavicci, we saw too little of him in the finale. Instead, we got Bruce McGill as the enigmatic Al the bartender, who kept giving Sam clues about what's going on. Was this new Al supposed to represent the God who had sent Sam on this strange journey? I suppose so.

We also learned that it was always Sam's unconscious choice to keep leaping, that his leaps would become more difficult, and at this point, Sam could choose to go home. The fact that Sam chose instead to leap back to the end of "M.I.A." and change Al's life forever was by far the best part of this mishmosh of an episode. Sam's ultimate choice was a selfless expression of love for his closest friend. It was also a radical, series-changing choice, breaking all of the rules we've come to accept as governing Sam's leaps. It was emotionally satisfying, though. So like Sam to give such a huge gift to someone else instead of taking advantage of his one last opportunity to go home. Tragic.

That last title card, "Dr. Sam Becket never returned home," really got to me way back when it first aired in May of 1993. This time, when I saw it, the one big thing that struck me was that in their rush to close down their series, they spelled their lead character's name wrong. (It's "Beckett," with two T's.) Maybe they made that mistake because "Mirror Image" wasn't supposed to be the series finale and they were forced to tack on an ending.

While that last scene with Beth, and its implications, were a worthy end to the series, and I loved the idea of Al happily married to the love of his life, the thought of a sad and exhausted Sam choosing to continue leaping forever was emotionally wrenching. In a way, it also negated everything that happened in the entire series. The Al Calavicci that helped Sam on every step of his journey is no longer the same Al Calavicci. I guess I need to remind myself that I must never try to apply logic to time travel stories.

Bits and pieces:

-- The credits for season five featured a new arrangement of the original theme song. It was terrible. Awful. Blech.

-- Notable actors: Neil Patrick Harris, age twenty, in "Return of the Evil Leaper," Stephen Root in "Goodbye Norma Jean," Hinton Battle from the Buffy musical in "Revenge of the Evil Leaper," and Meg Foster of the amazing eyes in "Trilogy."

-- Bruce McGill, who played Al in the series finale "Mirror Image," was also in "Genesis," the pilot episode. That was a nice touch, since I assume it was deliberate.

-- I hadn't known this until I looked it up, but Susan Griffiths ("Goodbye, Norma Jean") has made a career out of playing Marilyn Monroe. And Michael St. Gerard, "Memphis Melody," played Elvis several other times as well.

-- Just a general observation: when I was finished my rewatch, I figured out what years Sam leaped into the most, and which months of the year. There were very few winter leaps, which makes sense since they filmed in Los Angeles. It also makes sense that the writers would mostly choose the 1950s and 1960s because they could do more interesting period stuff. The year Sam leaped into the most was 1957 (seven times).

And in the end:

Despite this mostly negative closing review, I enjoyed rewatching Quantum Leap more than I thought I would. It was a creative series that aired at a time when there was very little quality science fiction on television, and the two lead characters and the actors who played them were exceptional. There's also no question that Quantum Leap is showing its age a bit sooner than it probably should.

There are a lot of series revivals going on right now. What would a reboot of Quantum Leap be like? I bet that in today's "it's all about the arc" environment, they could go in some truly interesting directions.

What do you guys think?

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[ambiengrey]

death

This takes place in the cartoon Young Justice universe.

Jason had been prattling on about this to anyone who would lend him half an ear, for weeks.

From the boys and girls in charge of make-up and costume to design, to the choreographers and script-writers, to the teacher in charge of production and back again – he had several stories to tell about each of them and their process; a new one after every rehearsal. To the point where Bruce had to ask Jason which department he was in, because it sounded like he was part of every one.

He’d paused, and rubbed the back of his neck, and blushed, and grinned, “Oh! I’m acting,” after which he’d immediately gone into a story about his “co-stars” and how excited they all were.

In all the time he’d regaled them with his theatre tales – of whom Alfred was eventually the only one who could stand to listen for more than twenty minutes, much to Bruce’s shame, but alas – he’d absolutely refused to say what they were performing, or the role he’d been cast in.

“It’s a surprise,” he’d insisted.

Two weeks before their performance invitations had gone out and at least now, they knew what the play was going to be, and the general theme of it.

Jason was delighted to share more information, but Bruce and Dick had claimed not wanting to be spoiled, and Jason had, pouting, been forced to silence.

“Okay, this isn’t a spoiler,” he was saying now, hands gesticulating as he spoke, “Because you’ve already read the book, but just so you know – we’re doing a lot of the original stuff with this. Like – Peter, killing off the Lost Boys,” he said, dropping his voice conspiratorially even though they were alone in the hallway. “Because it had to be scary, for Halloween.”

“Of course,” Bruce said agreeably, equally quiet.

“But you’ll never believe what happens after that, or by the end – we had to ‘up’ the scare-factor, after all. And yeah, it’s probably really stupid and a disgrace to literature in general, but…this is high school, I guess,” he shrugged, like it couldn’t be helped.

“Naturally,” Bruce said. “So, what role will you be playing, then?”

“I’ll be—” Jason started, but cut himself off abruptly. “—oh, nice try,” he said instead, a suspicious little quiver in his voice, and he jabbed at Bruce’s arm. “But I’m not telling you; it’s a sur-prise,” he enunciated slowly and firmly, giving Bruce a meaningful look. The quiver had gone.

Bruce chuckled good-naturally. Trying to trick Jason into revealing his part in the play had become a competition between Bruce and Dick – and Alfred, and eventually the Team, and even Diana (Bruce isn’t entirely certain Jason hadn’t caved and told her, actually) – besides which, it had served as a good deterrent against Jason’s theatre talk continuing on too long, less someone try and catch him slipping up. He’d been making Alfred nostalgic, and Bruce didn’t know how much longer he could listen to Alfred reminisce.

“Well,” Bruce patted Jason on the back, “I tried.”

They fell into a seemingly comfortable silence as they continued down corridors towards the school’s theatre hall, but, after a short while, Jason lagged behind, and stopped.

Bruce stopped as well, turning around, “Jay?”

Jason stood with his head bowed, fingers fidgeting.

His mood had changed so unexpectedly, Bruce had to take a quick, surreptitious breath, to keep him calm. Dealing with Jason was a difficult endeavour for Bruce, who was, somehow, prone to saying the wrong thing more often than not. On occasion, he’d gone so far as to ask Clark – who had arguably no experience raising a son, since he and Conner had decided they were rather brothers instead – of all people, for advice.

Bruce approached, settling a hopefully comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Pre-performance jitters?”

Jason shook his head, “No, no; it’s…nothing like that.”

“Alright…” Bruce said slowly. “Something else on your mind, then…?”

“Um…yeah,” Jason mumbled, and touched at Bruce’s sleeve. “Can…we talk?”

“Jason,” Bruce squeezed his shoulder, caught slightly off-guard by the boy’s hesitation. “Of course, kiddo.”

“Okay,” Jason breathed, and slipped out from under his hand, pulling Bruce along by the edge of his sleeve, into a stairwell and onto the first landing before he let go.

Bruce stood with a fair view of the hallway they’d come from, and the ascending stairs. Jason took a step or two up and clutched at the railing as he faced Bruce.

“I… don’t want you to be mad,” he started.

Bruce had already repeated their earlier conversation in his head three times, looking for some indication of what he might have said to have triggered Jason’s change in demeanour, but he’d come up empty.

“Or… disappointed,” Jason added bitterly.

Bruce shifted his feet; uneasy and unsure of how to respond.

Jason glanced up at him briefly, and Bruce hoped he’d smoothed the frown from his face quick enough. He didn’t want Jason to think he was glaring at him.

“Okay, so,” Jason started again, “I’m Peter,” he looked up, eyes wary and expectant. “In the play…” he trailed off.

“Alright…” Bruce said, uncertainly, and leaned forward to whisper, half-smiling to try and lighten the mood, “Why am I privy to this information all of a sudden?”

“Because—Peter murders the Lost Boys, and I’m…Peter,” Jason explained uneasily. “And I don’t want you to be mad—”

“Jason,” Bruce cut in, gripping the banister as he came closer. “It’s a play.”

“I know, but—”

“It isn’t real—”

“I know that,” Jason nearly snapped, sounding exasperated, and Bruce thought he’d said the wrong thing again. “It’s just that, after what happened—”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Bruce interjected, knowing what Jason was referring to and not wanting him to finish the sentence. Bruce thought he had a vague idea of where this was headed, and he didn’t like it. He might have said more if he knew how exactly to continue, or Jason’s face didn’t suddenly look so startled.

“What?”

“You haven’t said that to me before,” Jason answered, hushed, almost awed, as if this was the first time it even occurred to him—

“It—” was implied, Bruce almost said, but stopped – that would definitely be the wrong thing to say. “You said it was an accident,” he said instead, “I believed you.”

“You—

“You believed me?” Jason questioned, sounding caught somewhere between incredulity and frustration. “Bruce. You hardly acknowledged me. You benched me; sent me to Dinah, and avoided me for a week!”

Bruce glanced sideways at the hallway, one hand raised, placating, before he tried to explain, “I was not—avoiding you,” he kept his voice carefully levelled. At least Jason hadn’t raised his above an angry whisper.

“Well, that’s what it felt like,” Jason countered.

“…I was working the case,” Bruce said, and continued before Jason could add something and make him feel guiltier. “As for benching you, and your appointments with Dinah—” for a moment he considered asking if Dick had not explained that, but then changed his mind. “You had a traumatic experience – not just watching a man fall while you could do nothing to save him,” Jason shifted his weight, not looking up, but Bruce ploughed through, “Not to mention the victim right before—”

“Gloria,” Jason whispered.

“Yes. Gloria. The case as a whole was taking its toll on you, Jay,” Bruce heaved a heavy sigh, eyes landing on his feet as he admitted, “It’s cases like those that make me question letting you kids into this life.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Jason said defiantly, however quiet.

“I know…” Bruce said, looking up again. “I made you see Dinah, because I thought you’d need someone to talk to about what you’d been through.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Jason said, and when he looked at Bruce, his eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

Bruce swallowed thickly, “I’m no good at talking…” he said gently. It was different with Jason – especially after this incident. With Dick, Bruce could claim some training exercise or another, and spend time with him for a few hours – or a few days. Sometimes that, and almost never a full-length conversation, was enough to get him forgiven.

But Jason, more often than not, responded better to verbal reassurance. Grandiose gestures often overwhelmed and embarrassed him. There was no good way to explain that Bruce could not have communicated well on this issue, because he had been struggling with whether or not to believe his adopted son had in fact shoved a man off a balcony to his death – and subsequently lied about it. Or, attempted and failed to save him.

Or, chose not to attempt at all.

“You could have tried…” Jason replied.

If Jason spoke to Dinah, Bruce had reasoned, he could receive more professional help in dealing with his trauma than Bruce could provide, and, Bruce could drown in the ignorant belief of his son’s innocence that came with taking the boy at his word without investigating or thinking about it further.

As opposed to treating every shared thought and feeling of Jason’s as a fact of the case; analysing, judging and questioning it – and Jason – endlessly.

“You’re right…” Bruce admitted. “I could have,” he shook his head regrettably. With encouragement from Dick, who had handled the situation a lot better than Bruce (naturally), Alfred and the Team, Jason had joined the theatre group. “I should have,” he added, and stepped closer. Bruce had thought showing an interest would be enough. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I will, from now on,” he hadn’t expected it to haunt Jason for this long. “I promise, Jason. I’m sorry.”

Jason ducked his head, hiding an embarrassed smile and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. He looked back up, “You really believed me…?”

“Yes,” Bruce said firmly. If any doubts had lingered, he was banishing them immediately.

Jason lurched forward, swinging his arms around Bruce’s middle and hiding his face against his chest. “Thanks…” he mumbled.

Bruce wrapped his arm about the boy’s shoulders and squeezed, “Of course, Jay.”

“So…if I wanted to talk to you…?”

“Anytime,” Bruce promised. “About anything,” he let go, and Jason stepped back, as he added, “And, I’m not mad about the play.”

Jason smiled, however briefly, “I’d never—”

Bruce ruffled his hair, clutched his shoulder. “I know.”

“I don’t think the play can start without you, Jay!” a voice called from below – Dick.

“Right,” Jason said, and slipped around Bruce and down the stairs. “I’ll go on ahead, okay? You can find your seats?”

“’Course,” Dick said easily – by which he probably meant Alfred already had – hands on his hips, smile on his face.

“Okay,” Jason trotted on one spot, and then sprinted down the hall, narrowly avoiding Dick catching him for a headlock, but not escaping a hair-ruffle in passing. He laughed, sounding only almost too much like Robin.

Bruce came down slowly, debating whether or not to ask Dick how much he’d heard.

“You’re late,” he said instead.

“Mission ran late,” Dick shrugged.

“Any mishaps?”

“How bout I tell you after?” Dick suggested, clapping Bruce on the back and basically steering him along.

“Fair enough,” Bruce agreed. After a moment, he said, “You owe me a twenty.”

“No!” Dick exclaimed. “He told you who he is?”

Bruce chuckled, “He did.”

“It’s Peter, isn’t it?” Dick asked, bouncing in his step.

Bruce only shook his head, “I’m not telling you.”

“Twenty bucks says he is.”

“I’m not betting with you anymore.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’ve already won.”

“Rub it in.”

“I am.”

“…B?”

“Hm?”

“You’re good, right?”

“…Yes, Dick. We’re good.”

October 30th: Death.

[tgwltw]

(I'm sorry if this has been asked before) but can you do one where Batmom (or Supermom. I love both of them so much) and all the kids almost compete to see who can be the nicest to them? (see: cuddles, soup, extra blankets, etc etc.) and even low key Bruce (or Clark) does it? I just think it'd be really cute 😂 Thanks!

Sorry it took a while! Close to 1500 words and sorry, if it was not cute orfluffy enough! This was a toss between superman and batman and I flipped a coinfor it lol! Anyways thank you for requesting!

Healthy competition runs deep in the family! So it really is no surprise whenyour kids started taking things out of proportion! You had been surprised toknow that even your Bruce had a part in it. Although you probably would nothave found out, if it was not for Alfred pointing it out.

It all started with a simple questionfrom an interview by some reporter you could not even remember the name of.“Mrs. Wayne, having had a lot of children – none of which are of your own, Imight add – surely you have your favourites so do tell us, who out of them allis your favourite?”

You had remembered being extremelyincensed at what they had implied that night. Your answer had simply been: “Itdoes not matter that they are not of my own blood – I am their mother just asthey are my sons. To answer your question, I do not play favourites. I love allof them equally.” And before the reporter could even approach you for a followup, you merely stuck your nose up in the air and left the reporter.

That was when it all had begun.

First it started with just simplethings like a kiss on the cheek and a hug in the morning.

“Good morning, ma.” Dick came up to youto press a kiss on your cheek and you smile at him. “Have you had breakfast?”

You nod your head before placing a kisson his cheek. “Morning, Dick. How about you? Do you want me to cook something?’Dick shakes his head before grinning at you. “Is there something that youwant?” Dick shakes his head but before he is able to open his mouth, Damianappears behind him and pushes him away, causing Dick to sputter. “Damian, thatwas not nice.”

Damian shrugs his shoulders beforewrapping his arms around you. “Morning, mother.” You are somewhat surprise athow touchy-feely your youngest son is being but shrugged it off. You wrap yourarms around his body and give a kiss atop his head.

Then came the cuddles, the visits tothe office and flowers.

“Tim! You surprised me,” You smilewidely when your son walks in to your office. He hands you a bouquet of yourfavourite flowers. “Darling, thank you.” You press your lips against Tim’scheeks. He then hands you a thermos as well.

“Alfred made some of your favouritecoffee earlier and since you were not coming back home for lunch, I decided tobring lunch to you.” He tells you and your eyes almost well up with tears.“Jason is bringing them up here as we speak.”

And true to his words, a few minuteslater, Jason walks in with a basket filled with a lot of food. The two of themeven bickered with each other over who gets to feed you the food. You found itabsolutely endearing that your boys were willing to spend some time with youlike this.

When you reach home that night, Brucehad his arms wrap around you tightly. Not many knew of this but Bruce reallylikes to cuddle especially when the two of you are on the bed. He just likeshaving you in his arms. You tell him the stories of what your boys are doingand with a glint in his eyes, Bruce nods his head.

Then came the breakfast in bed, thepicnic and the stargazing dinner as well.

“Of course, it was me who told them tobring breakfast in bed to you, mother.” Damian boasts when he sees you lookingat the tray happily. He shoots his brothers a smirk and they roll their eyes.

“I managed to download the entireseason of that show you wanted to watch, mum.” Tim hands the remote controllerto you.

“Suffice to say, I am probably thenicest one.” Jason mutters under his breath to his brothers before procuring aset of tickets. “Here, you have been wanting to watch this, haven’t you? Imanaged to get you the best tickets to see that musical you wanted.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of theticket and you are about to pull Jason in to a hug when Dick decides to speakup.

“Ma, remember the old cottage yourgrandparents bought for you? I managed to fix it up and it’s livable again.” Hedrops the key to the cottage on to your lap.

That was probably when you startedrealizing that your boys (and most likely Bruce as well, that sneaky man!) aretaking healthy competition to a whole new level. Over the next few days,despite feeling enamored and endeared by all of their efforts, you know theywill most likely not stop until they get an answer from you.

“Is something bothering you, miss?”Alfred asks as he pours you a cup of tea. You thank him and take a sip of thetea. Alfred always makes the nicest tea. You slowly nod your head as you ponderabout what has been happening in the household.

“I am trying to count all the blessingsI have, Alfred but I am coming short in reasons.” You tell him before shakingyour head. Your migraine is preventing you from being coherent. “I mean, it isnot that I do not appreciate all the attention and love the boys have given mebut I am starting to think this is going to end up with someone breaking someof their bones and in the hospital.” You sigh.

Alfred shakes his head. “That simplywould not do.” He answers you and you nod your head in agreement. “If it is anyconsolation, they are simply taking their competition to a whole new levelbecause of the interview a few days ago, miss.” Alfred points out, finallytaking note of your expression. “Though I suggest you should take a rest firstbefore you face the family.”

You knew which interview Alfred hadbeen referring to. It was all starting to make sense now. But first, you reallyneed to get some sleep. Your migraine is starting to kill you. Meeting up withthe boys will just have to wait until you are feeling slightly better.

Which is why once you were feelingbetter, you called all of your boys to your study room and each and every oneof them are still trying to best the other so you decided to whistle loudly andsharply. All of them stared at you in surprise.

“I mean it when I answered thatreporter, boys. I don’t have a favourite – I love all of you equally, for yourstrengths and weaknesses.” You tell your boys, amused by how far they were allwilling to go to see who your favourite is. First you pull Dick in to yourembrace. “I love you, Richard Grayson.” Dick returns the hug with a smile. Youpull back from Dick to give Jason a hug. “Jason Todd, no matter where you flyoff to, you will always be my baby and I love you.” You give him a kiss on thetemple and Jason hugs you fiercely before pulling away with a smirk on hisface. Turning to hug Tim, you are taken aback when Tim hugged you first. “Ilove you, Tim Drake. I will never replace your own mother, I am fully aware,but just know that you are my son as much as the rest.” Tim smiles brightly atyou and you look at your ten-year-old who is staring at you pointedly. You pullhim in to your embrace regardless. “I love you, Damian Wayne. It does not evenmatter that you are not of my own blood – I will still love you the same.”

Once you finish assuring the boys thatyou do not play favourites, all of them left your study room, chatting happilyabout the turn of events. You must have been lost in your own thoughts becauseyou jump slightly when an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to a warm,broad and hard chest. A kiss meets your shoulder.

“Be honest, Y/N – the reason why theyare not your favourite is because I am your favourite, right?” Bruce asks youhuskily and turns your head to face him. He has that twinkle in his eyes,filled with mirth as well as something. You try your hardest not to smile butBruce, knowing you like the back of his hand, knew. You knew he knew he isright the moment he leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

You moan in to the kiss and wrap yourarms around his neck, turning your body towards him. Bruce keeps one of hishand on your waist and the other is holding your face. He pulls away to stareat your flushed face. He smiles before kissing you softly on the lips. “I knowfor a fact that I am your favourite.”

[supermanshield]

A Weekend in Smallville

Summary: Amid a town coming together in the aftermath of an alien invasion, Bruce meets Lana, learns a little bit more about Clark, and reflects on his place in Clark’s life and rural Kansas.

Or: Bruce in Smallville. Goes about as well as you'd expect.

Words: 7,217

Rating: Teen and up for like one swear word and mentions of sex.

Read on AO3 or continue reading here!

-----------------------------------------------

Dinner had been put away and Bruce had once again taken his place at the table, papers and laptop laid out in front of him. Various people from town, and eventually some Leaguers (and shouldn’t that raise some suspicion? No one paid attention here) had been walking in and out all day to get a bite to eat. The old wooden floorboards were littered with dusty footsteps, but Martha Kent was on the couch, too exhausted from providing for everyone all day long. Jonathan wasn’t much better off after driving around town and helping his neighbors. Bruce would sweep up the dust for them when he was done working and before he flew back for the night.

“We’ve rebuilt what we can right now, with the available materials. It’s not much, but at least people will be able to sleep in their own home right now.” He must be tired too if Clark could sneak up on him like that.

“It’s something,” he sighed. “I’ve been on the phone with contractors all day to procure the necessary materials and workforce. The more elaborate structures might be repaired within the month.”

Clark grabbed a glass of water and slumped down in the chair across from Bruce. Even he seemed tired, which should be impossible, but seeing your hometown in shambles and its people in distress all day will do that. Even to Superman.

“Rest of the League?” Bruce asked.

“Barry and Hal helped all day. They went back home just now. J’onn went back to the watchtower and Diana had other matters to attend to.”

Bruce nodded. It was time he got back to Gotham as well. With a bit of luck, he could charter a jet to fly back tonight and still get a couple hours of patrol in. He told Clark as much and started putting away his papers, but Clark grabbed his hand when he went to close the laptop.  “Bruce, wait… It’s Friday, why don’t you stay the weekend?”

A weekend in Kansas, with nothing to do but help at the farm… While he loved the Kents, that wasn’t Bruce’s idea of a productive time. They still had to figure out what had led the aliens to Smallville of all places, and what they wanted. No, he could be of much more use elsewhere.

Before Bruce could reply though, Jonathan shot over his shoulder from where he was sitting in the living room, “We got that queen size bed for your room, Clark,” and Martha added, “You’re more than welcome to stay, Bruce dear.”

Great. Clark looked at him expectantly, still holding his hand. “It’ll be fun. And wouldn’t it be easier to start investigating here what those aliens wanted?” Clark knew exactly what to say to keep him around. He had other obligations, though.

“You know I can’t.”

“Aww, come on, Dick and Tim can watch over Gotham. And they’ll have backup from Cass, the Birds of Prey…” Clark’s voice faded, his eyes drifting down. “And you have to let those ribs heal properly. Finally.”

Something in Clark’s voice said he would just keep Bruce here if he threatened to fly back tonight. Bruce sighed. The only appealing thing about the queen size bed was the fact that he and Clark didn’t have to literally sleep in each other’s arms all night like before. Although it was going to be another warm night so he might just kick Clark out anyway. He could sleep floating in the air for all he cared.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll just have to make some phone calls to set things in motion back home.”

--- 

The new queen bed stood proudly in the middle of Clark’s small room, with Clark seated on the edge now, observing Bruce put his things away and taking off his jacket. At least Alfred had packed one extra set of clothes.

When he was done, he turned around and looked at Clark, who looked as if he was debating a life or death situation, and as always, Bruce wondered what he would ask. It didn’t take long.

“Wanna go out tonight? Have you ever been to a real midwestern bar?” Bruce only knew of one bar in Smallville, and it was in no condition to operate right now. Still, he felt a vague sense of excitement at Clark asking him out in his hometown. They hadn’t done that before. Every time they had been in Smallville together so far had been for something serious. Clark’s parents, Clark’s temporary loss of powers, Kara, Conner, and even once for Damian, to recover from a nasty concussion.

“It’s open? Didn’t half the roof and the back wall get blown up?” he asked Clark.

“Already boarded up. And yeah, there’s a lot of people there. Something about celebrating your whole town surviving an intergalactic attack, maybe, who knows.” Clark shrugged.

“Hmm. They got karaoke?”

Clark’s eyes shot wide open. “Yeah!”

“One of those bull-riding things? Because I would beat the crap out of everyone.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no. There’s another bull you can ride though,” Clark grinned and hooked his fingers through Bruce’s belt loops to pull him close. He felt his heartrate spike and really, this is why they should’ve just gone back to Gotham.

“Not here.”

“Jeez, no, of course not.” Clark kept looking up at him though, still waiting for an answer. He was truly tired, but also mildly curious to Smallville nightlife. If anything, Clark would make it more fun. Maybe he could beat him at pool or darts or something, and then maybe they could make everyone and themselves believe that they were normal and just have an average date night out.

“Alright, just not too long. And I’m gonna beat you at whatever bar games they got,” Bruce grinned.

“At karaoke?”

“Maybe we’ll do a duet, who knows,” He winked and freed himself from Clark’s grasp. The other man stood up and hooked his arm through Bruce’s offered one. “What say you, Clarkie? Let’s get to that bar o’ yours,” he continued in his worst midwestern accent.

“Not like that you aren’t. You’ll stand out way too much in your dress shirt and Armani pants.” To his horror, Clark turned around towards the closet in the corner of the room. Oh no, whatever he kept here was probably worse than the rainbow cacophony of shirts he had in Metropolis.

“Short sleeves or long? It’s pretty warm.”

Bruce debated his options. Better get this over with quick and hopefully painless. “Long, and I’m keeping the pants. I am not wearing your old jeans.”

Clark threw a shirt at him. “This one has the most black I think.” It had black alright. And red. Straight-up lumberjack. At least the fabric felt nice. “I’ve also got an old blue and white Henley, but it’s pretty worn down. What do you think?”

“I’ll go with the lumberjack,” Bruce mumbled.

 ------------------------------------------------

"Lana, Pete! How are you?" Clark hugged his friends in the middle of a loud, crowded bar, filled with the continuous strings and drums of country music. They had been here for just over an hour and Bruce was on his second beer, something he didn’t do all that often. They kept getting interrupted by people that knew Clark, and Bruce was enjoying himself less and less. Lana he hadn’t met before yet, though, and he had to admit to a quiet curiosity, with the way Clark talked about her and all. (Clark’s enthusiastic ‘My friends are your friends’ from earlier rang in his ears and he forced his mouth into a smile. He would do anything for that man.) His train of thought got interrupted by Clark’s warm hand on his shoulder. "This is Bruce!"

Lana was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt that didn’t completely cover her shoulders, her auburn curls doing that instead. Bruce grabbed her hand to shake it, but it got answered swiftly by a peck on his cheek. He introduced himself to Pete as well, a scrawny guy, who was somehow allowed to wear a crisp white dress shirt, unlike Bruce. He was starting to feel like maybe Clark had played him and shot him an accusatory look.

Lana turned back to Clark. "We came over as soon as we heard you were in town! Couldn't pass up the opportunity you know?"

"Great to see you Clark,” Pete joined in. “And, you know, Smallville could really use some extra hands right now.”

Clark laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, gee, what did you guys get yourselves into this time?” Before the alien invasion became the talk of the day, he quickly changed the topic. "How's little Clark?"

"He's great! We’re lucky we could get a babysitter this late, but... Are you still here tomorrow? You should come by to see him!"

"We’d love to, yes.”

The conversation carried on for a while, as Clark and his friends obviously had a lot to catch up on. Bruce felt strangely intruding. He considered to start looking for that darts game, right as Lana turned to him.

"So, Bruce, how are you? You from around here?"

"Gotham.”  

"Oh, one of Clark’s city friends! What's it you're doing all the way out here?"

"Bruce is my boyfriend," Clark said and grabbed his hand.

"Oh, Clark... Really? That's awesome!" She turned to Bruce. "I've heard him drop the name a couple times… Didn't know you were so handsome!"

"And I'm a billionaire, too!" Bruce chimed, automatically kicking into Brucie mode. Clark rolled his eyes.

“Wait? Bruce Wayne? The Gotham pl… philanthropist?”

“That’s me.”

Lana’s whistle got lost in the music, but the look she sent Clark said it all. "Wow, Clark, not becoming a gold-digger are we...?" Clark put up his hands in defense, but she continued quickly. "How did you two meet again?" Clark’s flat "work"  got lost in the music too, and Bruce didn't hear anymore after that, because he could see the wheels turning in Lana’s head as she turned back to Clark and made some joke about journalistic integrity. Her whole expression had changed though, and Bruce turned away from the bar to start walking towards the exit. Fresh air. Did he make a mistake? Slip up? Maybe it was the beer. He needed fresh air. The door was too far and it took too long to push through everyone, but eventually the stars looked down at him, the door slammed shut and the music got abruptly replaced by late-night Kansas silence.  

Bruce looked around himself and quickly regained control of his breathing. The parking lot was half-empty, Clark’s beat up truck tucked away in the far corner. He’d be out here soon. He was probably making excuses to Lana and Pete right now to start looking for Bruce.

It wasn’t long before he heard the old rusty door slam shut again.

“She knows.” The calm in his own voice surprised Bruce. 

Clark walked up to him. “She's the first person I ever told."

"You saw the look in her eyes, she's putting one and one together right now, and I…"

“Bruce, stop. You don’t know that, and besides, I trust Lana.”

“You could have at least told me, warned me.” Trust was a burden in Bruce’s life, and an unnecessary slip-up had revealed who he was. He should have asked Clark who they could have run into, a stupid mistake. "I'm walking back to the farm," he said resolutely.

“Hey, what? It’s fine. Stay.” Clark grabbed his hand, but Bruce quickly pulled away. He really didn’t have time for this.

“I’m done here. This was a mistake,” he bit back, and turned around to start walking towards the exit of the parking lot.

"At least take my car? Bruce?"

"No."

Clark was beside him before he could blink. "Bruce."

"I'm walking to the farm and taking my car back to the airport and to Gotham. I'll have Alfred prepare some documents and have a hefty sum of money send Lana's way."

“What? Bruce, baby no, you don't have to do that,” Clarks hand were on his shoulders and he was forced to look straight into those blue eyes. Unobscured by glasses. Idiot. “Lana is my oldest friend. I trust her. Look, I’m sorry this happened. But maybe she hasn’t figured it out and we can still…”

“It’s too late for that. All I can do now is make sure nothing else gets compromised.”

“For fucks sake, Bruce, I’m trying to tell you, it won’t.”

“Until it will.”

Clark let out a huff of breath and closed his eyes. “At least talk to her.”

If it were anyone other than Clark, he would have just walked away. But alas, here he was, with Clark in front of him. The only man that could convince him to do something as ridiculous as wearing a lumberjack to a midwestern bar, and reason his way into Bruce’s mind just like he had wiggled his way into Bruce’s heart. Bruce crossed his arms. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“I’m still walking back to the farm.”

“No karaoke?”

“Forget it, Clark.”

“Ok, whatever, you’re tired. Get some rest. I’m gonna hang around here a bit longer. Here,” Clark pressed his car keys into Bruce’s hands and kissed him on the cheek.

When Clark was back inside the bar, Bruce debated walking back anyway and tossing the keys somewhere in a field for Clark to find. Exhaustion soon enough took over his anger though, and the adrenaline dissipated. Clark should consider himself lucky.

 ---

Clark’s ‘I’m sorry’ and chaste kiss on his forehead woke him up briefly barely an hour after he’d gone to bed.

“Still mad.”

He heard Clark flop on to his back and chuckle quietly. “And still here.”

“Quite the observation you made there.”

“Well, I learned from the best.”

“Obviously.”

Whatever Clark said after that was lost on him, and he turned around again to face the other way and closed his eyes.

  ------------------------------------------------ 

The next morning, as Bruce walked down the creaky stairs, hair still damp from his shower, the smell of fresh coffee approached him pleasantly. There was a lot more work to do in town, so Bruce had really made an effort to get up early, but he still found Clark at the kitchen table with a half-eaten stack of pancakes before him. There was toast, yoghurt and fruit laid out for Bruce. Martha knew him well.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked Clark as he took his seat. Jonathan walked in through the kitchen door, his brow already covered in sweat.

“Dang dust is making it so much harder to clean,” he said as he wiped his handkerchief over his forehead.

“Oh shush Jonathan, you need to eat something and drink plenty water. The boys will be there to help soon.”

“I’m staying all week, pa,” Clark clarified.

“Alright,” Jonathan said after he gulped down his water. “Just came back to get some more tools.” Martha walked him to the door and Bruce heard her say to slow it down, especially in this heat and Jonathan’s yes, yes you know me probably sounded funny to himself, but clearly not to Martha.

Clark looked at him over the cup of coffee he was pouring for Bruce. “So I take it you’re staying?”

“If you’ll have me, yes.” He still wasn’t sure how to feel about what happened last night. It seemed like something so avoidable, something Damian would definitely pin on him for being careless. And his son would be right. As much as he wanted to blame Clark, it was largely his own fault. The wrinkles disappeared from Clark’s face as he smiled and passed him the coffee.

“J’onn contacted me about the aliens this morning. They’re Zandrian. He’s been interrogating them, and it seems as if they were looking for some signal here.”

Here, as in Smallville. “Your Kryptonian ship.”

“Most likely, yes.”

“And why is it still here?”

Clark swallowed his bite. “Thought it was harmless. It’s never sent out any kind of signal, not now either. Nothing I can sense at least.”

“Radiation?”

“Perhaps. So, that’s what we’re doing today. I’m taking the ship to the north pole and I wanted to ask you if you could take a look at the barn.”

That sounded like a plan. Something where Bruce could be useful. “Okay. I’ll need some instruments from the cave though.”

“I’ll pick up whatever you need. But first… Baby time!” Clark grinned. Bruce nearly choked on his coffee. “Eat your breakfast. Lana’s expecting us.” Clark got up and started putting things away, clearly way too excited for this.

“I have to see her right now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He quickly drank the rest of his coffee. “The sooner, the better.”

“No scary batshit, Bruce,” Clark pointed a finger at him. “We’re there for the baby.”

 ---

Lana and Pete’s place was another old farmhouse, not too far from the Kent’s, so they walked there. Lana inherited it from her aunt after having lived with her most of her life, Clark told him. Bruce had sweat stains under his arm by the time they reached the house. Maybe he should have opted for one of Clark’s t-shirts and ugly cargo shorts today.

The breeze blowing through Lana’s living room and being out of the sun helped though, and Lana served them lemonade with ice cubes. Bruce sat down on a chair and Clark took his place on the large couch.

“I’m sorry Pete couldn’t be here, you know how he is with the store.”

“Is it bad? We can go help if he needs,” Clark offered, verging on apologetic.

“He’ll be fine. I’m sure you both have more important matters to attend to.” She looked at Bruce when she said it, and he cleared his throat.

“Just. Make sure he asks if he needs. We can provide,” He settled on, hoarsely. The bat was barely audible in his voice and Clark should be proud. He nodded at him from where he was sitting on the couch. It could wait.

They got startled by a baby’s cries, and Lana disappeared out of the living room. She came back in with Clark (the name still irked Bruce, even though Clark had told him the child wasn’t named after him but after Martha’s maiden name – because yes, that made it less weird somehow). “Look who’s awake!”

The child on Lana’s arm looked around drowsily, clearly unsure how to feel after waking up from his nap and being greeted by two strange men. 

Clark reached out his hands and Lana placed the baby in his lap. Bruce knew he was around 5 months old. Clark had been there for the birth but hadn’t had much opportunity to see him after that. Lana sent him many pictures and videos though, that Clark would show Bruce late at night in bed, and they would laugh at the child’s antics and giggles. The learning curve of young people was incredible.

The child was slowly waking up in Clark’s arms and started making more sound. Not crying, he was content, and Bruce wondered if he knew instinctively that Clark’s arms were the safest place on earth. “He likes me,” Clark grinned up at Lana when the baby grabbed his fingers.

“Of course.”

Bruce felt stuck in place, captivated by the sight. Clark looked so incredibly at home, so natural with a child in his arms that held on to Clark’s pointer finger with a force as if he did it every day and was decidedly not named after Clark. Bruce quickly swallowed around the lump forming in his throat before his thoughts would betray him anymore and moved from his chair over to the couch to sit next to Clark.

When Lana walked back into the living room with pie, she took a picture of them, and that would probably make this day a lot harder to look back on later, but right now Bruce didn’t care. The baby was on Clark’s lap, looking up at both of them and laughing. Definitely at Clark sticking out his tongue and making cooing sounds. Bruce didn’t do that. Until he found himself mimicking the baby and trying to get him to laugh. Damn mirror-reflexes.  

He tried not to think about what he had missed out on with Damian. What Damian had missed out on. Instead he put a hand on Clark’s back, and held it there while they both continued to make ridiculous sounds and faces at little Clark.

 ---

When Clark left to take the rocket ship to the North Pole, Bruce went to work on the barn. Though, not before he did change into Clark’s old Henley and cargo shorts. Alfred would kill him if he got any more dust on his nice clothes.

The hatch in the floor of the barn was open, and the space underneath now empty. There had been some radiation coming off of the ship itself, but it was faint and not nearly enough to hurt anyone. Bruce doubted he would find any more in the rest of the barn, and considered other forms of signals the aliens could have picked up. Lower frequency wave lengths, maybe.

Nonetheless, he went around the hole in the ground methodically, scanning every scrap piece of metal, rock, and dirt. He swept it clean too, and took any tools that were still there out to examine them later in the barn. There was a large box, all the way at the back, that he skipped at first, but knew he eventually had to get back to as well. Getting it out was no problem, he could lift it over his head and slide it onto the barn floor easily, but he had a feeling what might be in there.

After cleaning the other tools and logging anything of interest he could find on the metal and rocks, he went back to the box and opened it. Sitting on the floor, he stared down at pictures of Clark, a baseball and bat, scrap of red fabric, a pair of extremely worn down and no-longer-white converse.

“Haven’t seen that thing in a while.” Jonathan’s voice startled Bruce as he walked into the barn and took his cap off.

“Hmm. Sorry, I was cleaning, we thought…”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“What happened to the baseball?” Bruce held up the ball, split clear in half and its threads loose.

“Was the first one Clark hit clear across Smallville. I looked for it for six months on the other side of town,” Jonathan answers proudly. “The shoes are from when he first outran the car.”

“That must’ve been something,” Bruce huffed. He got up. “So this is a reminder. Of what he can do.”

“Oh, I don’t need to be reminded of that,” Jonathan Laughed. “But I kept the memories because I knew he could never belong to us. Never belong here. He belongs to everyone, out there.”

Bruce thought about that. In Smallville, Clark was clearly at home. “I don’t know. I think he belongs right here, in the center of it all. I haven’t seen him so relaxed and… happy in a long time.”

“Bruce, son. As much as Clark is still a small-town boy - and will never not be -, I know he is happy right where he’s supposed to be, with you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told me.”

As Jonathan left the barn again, Bruce felt in the back of his mind the creeping feeling that he could never give Clark what he had left behind here. That he could never be what Clark truly wanted. Because as much as he hated Smallville’s openness and missed the gothic stoicism of Gotham, this place was everything Clark stood for. It was everything Bruce was not. Somehow, somewhere along the way, a mistake had been made, one that Bruce would have already undone were he a stronger and less selfish man.

  ------------------------------------------------

Bruce would never tell the man as much, but Martha’s sandwiches were far superior to Alfred’s. Maybe it had something to do with working outside all day that made the sandwiches waiting for him taste just that much better.

He had considered multiple times during the day to beam up to the watchtower, but he didn’t have his suit, and finally settled on just contacting J’onn about his progress with the aliens and the mediocre findings of his work in the barn. Maybe it could help, as J’onn was still in contact with the creatures after they had quickly been escorted away by the Green Lanterns. Hopefully, some negotiations were all that was needed to keep them away.

 ---

As the day progressed, and Clark didn’t return, Bruce worked himself to a sweat multiple times. In Smallville, he wasn’t expected to be Brucie Wayne, because no one knew who that was. But he wasn’t Batman either. It was as if he was back in training, another nobody working long days in the sun, sweat forming a sheen on his skin, and exhaustion putting him to sleep in the afternoon heat on the porch. No, he decided, this was as far from his training days as possible, and allowed himself to relax.

As the sun started setting, he ended up in the kitchen with Martha to prepare dinner. She knew he wasn’t very skilled around the stove – courtesy of Alfred’s warnings -, so he was put on vegetable cutting duty. That was fine. He used to do it all the time with Alfred as a child and still did sometimes. The methodical slicing of the bell peppers, potatoes and onions kept him focused and calmed him down.

Just as dinner was almost done and they were cleaning up the kitchen, a familiar sound followed by creaking floorboards and the opening of the screen door made Martha jump. Bruce smiled. Maybe the smell of dinner had made Clark fly back a little faster.

“Oh, Jonathan! He’s back!” Martha shouted while putting her tea towel down and practically skipping towards the screen door. “Hey, ma. Pa,” Bruce heard from his place in the kitchen.

“Are you okay? We got worried, you stayed away so long…”

“I’m fine, ma. Just some miners in South-Africa that got stuck.”

“Told you the boy was fine, Martha.”

Bruce washed his hands and was drying them when he walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, where an adult, 6 foot 3 tall man in a Superman suit was hugging his aging and tired parents. Bruce felt painfully out of place, but it quickly subsided when Clark looked up at him. “Hey. Little detour there.”

“So I heard.”

Clark walked over to him and kissed him chastely on the lips. It was the kind of kiss you give your significant other in front of your parents or your children, or when you return home from work after a long day. A type of kiss they had shared many times, to the children’s (and especially Damian’s) horror, but that here, in Smallville, made Bruce feel as if they were normal. As if they could be normal. As if he always helped Clark’s mom with dinner and worked long hours in the sun with his dad. Though, as quickly as the kiss ended, the feeling fleeted and Bruce felt like himself again. They broke apart and Clark looked him up and down.  

“You look dashing in that ensemble Bruce, who picked that for you?”

Right. He was still wearing the Henley. And the ugly shorts. A pair of his own limited edition and now-brown sneakers to top it off. “Oh, thank you, just a simple get-up I found in the dumpster here.” He made his way over to the stairs, and Clark followed him with a grin.

“You boys be down soon, dinner is ready and I’m setting the table outside,” Martha warned as they made their way upstairs.

In Clark’s small bedroom, they both changed into something more appropriate, and Clark combed down his wind-swept hair. Bruce turned to look at him and waited for him to be done.

“Your ship?”

“Buried it next to the Fortress.” Bruce nodded approvingly. Clark set down the comb, but as he did so he stared out the window into seemingly nothing, his brows furrowed and drawn together. The miners. Bruce walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Clark sighed, but still pulled Bruce into a hug. “Thanks for asking.”

Clark hugged him with an intensity that made it clear that it was needed much more than the kiss from before. “Just… It was stressful,” he sighed. “Those miners. I couldn’t just drill them out, it took hours.”

Bruce nodded and angled his face towards the crook of Clark’s neck. He smelled like dust and a vague hint of sea-salt, and definitely needed a shower, but the crisp clean t-shirt was all Martha’s laundry detergent. As they stood, Bruce felt the tension leave Clark’s shoulders and his grip loosen, and he looked back up at him. Clark’s eyes had regained their usual shade of blue and the lines had disappeared from his forehead.

Bruce tried a smile and grabbed Clark’s hand. “Come. Dinner’s waiting.”

 ---

After dinner, Clark somehow got them excused from doing dishes and took Bruce by his hand out into the garden, and to the barn. Bruce thought about telling him about the box he found, but didn’t. Instead, Clark asked if he wanted to for a walk and grabbed a picnic blanket.

Their walk was laced only with the sound of cicadas, and took them away from the farm uphill where the low grass gave way to bushes and trees. They stopped at the top of the hill.

“I don’t know why it is you’re taking me here,” Bruce said as Clark laid down the blanket on a patch of very dry grass.

“I thought we could enjoy the night together. Just the two of us.” Clark’s smile was much too innocent as he sat down and patted beside him for Bruce to sit.  

“We had a fight.”

“Yes. And I love you. Please tell me you haven’t been thinking about that all day. I thought we were okay just now.”

Bruce sighed. “My secret identity got exposed. I’m not okay with that.”

“You wanna talk about it? Did you get a chance to talk to Lana?” Clark prompted.

“Not yet. But I’m… sorry. For the way I reacted last night.” He sat down next to Clark on the blanket.

“I’m sorry too. I should have let you know.”

“Does Pete know?”

“Yes, although he doesn’t really acknowledge it. We barely talk about it.”

Bruce huffed out a breath of air. They were surrounded by small, green trees that gave way to a view of the corn and grain fields below. The sun was inching closer to the horizon and it had finally started to cool down a little bit. Next to him Clark was looking at him, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

Clark shifted and settled behind Bruce, trapping him in between his legs and large arms, which Bruce allowed. It was painfully clear that Clark knew just what Bruce needed, and where that used to irk him to the core and make his skin crawl, he now welcomed it, leaned back, and let himself relax. It was easier to talk when you didn’t have to look the other person in the eyes.

“That should have been you, Clark,” he started. “A house in Smallville, wife, child... sometimes I don’t understand why you left this place at all.” This whole weekend felt like the first time he was really in Smallville and had seen what made Clark, Clark. A reality that he wasn’t a part of and only allowed a glimpse of, by some miracle.

“So you do like it here,” Clark said. When Bruce didn’t say anything to that, he continued: “I knew I had to give that up a long time ago. And, just between you and me, I'd say we have the most awesome family in the universe.”

“But we'll never have that. A child all our own. You could have.”

“I know,” Clark whispered into his hair. “Is that something you would have wanted? If…”

“Even if it was technically possible, the moral implications are just... I wouldn't want to bring a child into this world. Into our world,” Bruce mused out loud.

“But It is technically possible. Conner.”

“Conner is a clone. And we’re lucky we found him when we did.” He had turned into a wonderful kid, a good crimefighter even, but he had his unpredictability. They didn’t know nearly enough about his physiology, his lifespan, his unpredictable moods. Clark squeezed his hand.

“And if we were normal?”

If they were normal, Clark would have stayed in Smallville, and they would have never met. And Bruce, as a rule, did not think in hypotheticals. Not like this. Yet, he heard himself answer without hesitation.  “Yes.”

“Me too,” Clark’s lips were on Bruce’s ear in a way that was not quite a kiss. It was an affirmation, taking Bruce in, this moment, his scent mixed with that of Kansas, and a gush of breath that ghosted through Bruce’s hair. Clark’s breathing was grounding, a dull constant in the midst of the song of the cicadas, the feeling of dead grass under his toes and the Kent’s old picnic blanket under his fingers. It was all wrong.

“Don’t you wonder what would have happened if you had stayed? With Lana?”

“Once or Twice, a long time ago. But I left here to find myself. I never fit in here, never really belonged here. You know that.”

“You do, though. You’re much happier here. Yourself.” Bruce turned to meet Clark’s blue eyes, the smile lines visible even on Superman’s perfect skin. “And I don’t,” he breathed in. “I don’t fit in here. With you.” The smile lines disappeared.

“Bruce… Why would you think that?”  

“I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever really been in Smallville. Stopped and looked around. Like I’ve finally seen the last piece of the puzzle that is you.”

“And everything else completes it. You complete it. I belong to you.” Clark put a hand over his heart. “And you belong to me. Don’t you ever forget that.” Clark’s blue eyes under his furrowed brows pierced right into his soul, something he had discovered a long time ago he could not ignore.

In a different life, Clark might have stayed in Kansas. As it was, they had found each other elsewhere amid their hectic lives, in some twisted inescapable fate. An alignment. 

“Hn. You’re still a Kansas boy at heart.”

“And you like that.” Clark’s smile was back. The one that regardless of the Kansas sun or Gotham greys or Metropolis shine brightened up his life and Bruce found himself smiling back in return.

“Can’t say that I don’t.”

“So… now that you’ve got me completely figured out…”

“Hmm?”

“Where do we go from here?”

“We have sex. That is why you brought me here, right?”

“Bruce!” Clark covered his mouth with his hand in a fake gasp. “I can’t believe you think of me that way.”

“But you did.”

“Can’t say that I didn’t,” Clark smirked, put his hand on the back of Bruce’s neck, and kissed him.

 ------------------------------------------------

In the middle of the night, the queen bed was too big and Clark should be right on him, spooning him, and cooling him with freeze breath. So Bruce rolled over into his space, and Clark – half asleep – happily put his arms around him. He could be a selfish man if Clark was too.

 ------------------------------------------------

On Sunday morning, the clouds started gathering and simultaneous to the electric tension of a storm building in the air, the people of Smallville let out a collective sigh. Soon, they would get some rain.

After a quiet Sunday breakfast and Clark’s parents had returned from church, it was off to town in Clark’s old truck. Jonathan had taken his newer one, full of materials and tools, and Clark and Bruce would do clean-up together and haul away rubble to a nearby depot. Main street already looked more lively than the day before, with most of the rubble gone and gathered in piles. People were walking around and making small talk, a stray door was being hung back into its hinges. The few buildings that had any structural damage had been taped of, and shattered windows had been boarded up, but the wind had picked up and blew the dust away, clearing the air and everyone’s mood.

 On the way to and from the depot, Clark rolled down the windows and sung along with the songs on the radio, missing some of the words and looking over at Bruce every now and then.

He watched Clark, sunshine ever present in his skin and smile. How he was in such good spirits while literally cleaning his hometown after an alien attack was lost on Bruce. But then again, Clark was usually in a good mood if he was able to help someone. Even though he was doing it as Clark Kent now, and couldn’t use his super strength to haul stuff into the truck, or maybe because of that.

“It’s fine, B.”

Bruce hummed in response.

“I hope you had a good time here, despite everything.”

“I’m still having a good time now.” He immediately regretted saying that, because Clark mistook it for him liking his singing and continued on for the remainder of the ride. Really, it was Clark’s enthusiasm that made it tolerable. Bruce felt content to just watch, and breathed in the Kansas air, and tried to store away this memory forever.

 ---

When they were back in town, Clark stayed to help Pete at the store while Bruce went to the local hardware place to get some more supplies. He found what he needed and was waiting in line when he felt someone approach him from behind.

“Hey, Bruce.” He turned around to face her.

“Lana. Hello.”

“You got something that needs fixing?” she smiled at the small box of screws and plugs in his hands. He looked at the people in line behind her, all getting something, even if it was just a nail to hang up a picture that had come off the wall during the attack.

“More than one thing, I’m afraid.”

Lana huffed. “Smallville will be fine. I hope you’ve been enjoying your weekend here at least?”

“It’s been…” Eye-opening. New. Necessary. “Different,” he settled on.

“Ha! I believe that, coming from the big city and all.” That obviously wasn’t what he meant, but he assumed Lana knew that.

It was Bruce’s turn to pay. He put down a 20 and accepted his change, stepped aside to let Lana pay. “Walk with me,” he commanded when she was done. They reached Clark’s truck in the middle of the sunlit parking lot. Bruce held on to the keys in his pocket and missed the protective confining warmth of his cowl.  

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Lana cleared her throat. "The way Clark talked about the bat always made me think he was in love with him. Glad to see it worked out." It was a good thing Lana was just as blunt as Clark. Something about rural Kansas, he thought. He couldn't help but feel a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, it just wasn't hard to connect the dots. You’re him, right?”

Without hesitation. "Yes." The things this town did to him were beyond his understanding. Small town life brought out the truth easily. Here, there were no covers required, no masks. It’s the same reason why he could have found the last piece of Clark, only here.

"Look, Bruce. I know how important the whole secret identity thing is to Clark. Think he can count on one hand the people that really know him."

"More like three hands now with my children and the league." There was that incessant tug at the corner of his mouth again.

"You're a father."

"Not in the most traditional sense of the word, but yes." He leaned against the door of the car. Lana seemed to think about that. Batman and Robin. What it implied. Bruce braced himself for the passion of a young mother, but it never came. Instead she swallowed.

“I did love Clark once, but I knew I could never be what he needed. I’m glad he found someone,” she paused. Looked up at Bruce with her brows drawn together. "Your secret is safe with me Bruce."

That was the issue, though. No secret is ever safe with anyone, because then it wasn’t a secret anymore. He gritted his teeth, swallowed. He thought of Clark, how he would put his warm hand on his shoulder if he were here right now, how he would say once again that it was fine, Lana could be trusted. Clark’s closest friend, first love, and the person that knew him best before he became who he had to be. Lana was to be trusted. Bruce sighed.

"I just need you to sign some documents, and get your contact information in case something gets compromised."

Lana nodded. "Sounds fair."

He opened the car door and climbed in. Lana put her hand on the open window. “It was nice meeting you, Bruce.”

“Likewise.” He paused. “I’ll make sure Clark gets you those documents.”

“Alright,” Lana laughed and waved at him as he started the car. He wondered how much of Clark had rubbed off on her during their childhood friendship and dating through high school. Or maybe it had been the other way around. Clark probably wouldn’t be who he was today without her, or without anyone here for that matter.

------------------------------------------------

The jet was placed imminently in front of them, Smallville and its normalcy reduced to a memory on the far horizon. Bruce turned around and looked at Clark, his hair windswept and glasses placed awkwardly back on his nose. Here to see him off to Gotham.

“Thank you for having me.”

Clark laughed. “Thanks for staying.”

“I would almost say it would be acceptable to do this again some time.”

“Almost?”

“Well.” Bruce shrugged. “Minus the alien invasion.”

“Of course. 4th of July? Bring the kids?”

“That could turn out worse than an alien invasion,” his own laugh surprised Bruce.

“I mean… we’ll have Alfred to keep them in check,” Clark argued. “Ma would love having all of them over.”

“I’ll give it some consideration, then.”

“Hmm, so that’s a yes?” Clark grabbed his waist and brought his face close to Bruce’s. His triumphant, beautiful grin was the most annoying thing in the world that Bruce could only wipe off with a long, slow kiss. 

Behind him, the engines of the plane roared and it was really time to say goodbye. To Clark, if only for a couple days. To Clark’s parents. To Kansas. Godawful, unpredictable, and beautiful Kansas. Just like its most important (former) inhabitant.

 ------------------------------------------------

Out of the window of the jet, he watched Clark, the town, and finally the cornfields disappear, and he sighed contently. Smallville. His secret was safe here.

[lopithecusfanfiction]

The End of the Star: Chapter Two

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3055 Alternate: AO3, fanfiction.net Author's Note: N/A

Chapter Two:

Bruce is left in the room alone for what seems like hours. He paces, lies down after checking the bed for anything that could possibly harm him, and stares out the window in awe at the view. He has to admit; it is pretty beautiful. From what he can tell, the sun is starting to set. However, the sunset doesn’t look like anything he’s ever seen on Earth. Instead, the red of the sky just intensifies to the most magnificent scarlet Bruce has ever seen. It’s stunning.

When there is finally another knock on his door, he almost expects it to be Kal coming back, crying over the fact that he was wrong about his father. Instead it’s one of the Kryptonians from earlier, the one in green. He takes Bruce by the elbow, after handcuffing his hands together, and leads him out of the room. Bruce doesn’t struggle as they walk. It wouldn’t be worth it anyway considering he has nowhere to go.

Eventually they enter into a large room that has a complicated structure of pillars and symbols. There are also holograms. Bruce never thought he would live to see such a thing. It takes all his effort to not say “wow” out loud and act like an excited kid on Christmas. He has just been kidnapped to an alien world, he really shouldn’t be excited about it.

Another door opens and when Bruce looks, in walks Lex with the Kryptonian wearing red. Lex is also dressed in a white gown, with frills along the seams and arms, hands cuffed like Bruce. “Brucie? So you’re here too?”

“Lexie, what a great pleasure to see you,” Bruce answers with one of his famous Brucie smiles. “Lexie, can you please tell me what kind of party this is? It’s very strange.”

Lex rolls his eyes and Bruce smirks internally at his success at annoying the billionaire. “Brucie, this isn’t a party. We’ve been kidnapped by aliens.”

“Kinky.” Lex groans at Bruce’s response. “So this is some kind of roleplay?” Bruce continues, because if he’s going to be held hostage, he’s going to at least have a little fun. “Are we going to have a foursome? I’ve never done one of those before. Three yeah, but four? Never. It could be fun.”

By now Lex is pinching the bridge of his nose. “Would you shut up? This is serious.”

“Oh, sorry Lexie, I don’t do serious sex.” Another groan escapes Lex’s mouth before finally a door at the far side of the room opens.

When Bruce looks, he sees the man in black from the abduction. He’s surprised, however, when he sees Kal walk in behind him. A woman in a black, skin tight outfit but with red fabric draping at her shoulder in front and back, accompanies the younger man. Kal immediately catches his eyes, but then quickly looks away. Bruce narrows his eyes in suspicion. Was Kal playing him earlier, and really did know why he was here?

The man in black approaches Bruce and Lex, while Kal and the woman stand in the distance. He addresses both men. “Hello, it is very nice to meet you again.” Neither he nor Lex say a word. “My name is Jor-El. The two standing next to you are General Zod and Lieutenant Nam-Ek.”  The one in green, Nam-Ek, grunts and the one in red, Zod, scowls. Jor-El then points to where Kal and the woman are standing. “Bruce Wayne, you’ve already met my son, Kal-El. I hope he didn’t bother you. He had strict orders to not enter any of your rooms. His curiosity about humans got the better of him.” Bruce sees Kal’s cheeks turn red as he avoids eye contact. “That is my wife, Lara.” Lara gives them both a small smile.

Bruce turns back to Jor-El. “What are we doing here?”

“Yes, I was getting to that.” Jor-El paces around them as he explains. “I had meant to acquire the both of you with your permission. Unfortunately, my plan didn’t quite work out like that. I didn’t want to take you against your will, or have you restrained. Even now I see they have you cuffed, which I had given instructions not to do.” He shakes his head and approaches Bruce. Jor-El gives Bruce a small nod then turns to Nam-Ek. Jor-El speaks a word in his native tongue. At Bruce’s raised eyebrow, he clarifies with a single word “Key.” Nam-Ek grunts again but hands the key over. Jor-El then unlocks the handcuffs. “Unfortunately” the Kryptonian continues, walking to Lex and releasing the Metropolitan “General Zod didn’t think it was wise to have you unrestrained. The guards at the door of your rooms were also his idea.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Bruce prompts, not really caring what was or wasn’t listened to. “What are we doing here? Is my family okay?”

“Don’t worry Bruce Wayne, your family is perfectly fine. The gas we used on them was only designed to knock people out, not kill them. They should have woken up about an hour in Earth time, after the gas was administered.” Bruce sighs a breath of relief knowing Alfred, Dick, and Jason are all right. “Now, as to what you are doing here.” Jor-El goes and stands in front of them again, facing them. “I want you to help me save Krypton, my home.”

Bruce and Lex stare at Jor-El in astonished bewilderment. Save Krypton? Save it from what? “What are you talking about?” Lex asks, beating Bruce to the punch.

“Krypton is dying,” Jor-El responds and Bruce looks over at Kal to try and see his reaction. Except he doesn’t have one, which means he already knew about his planet dying. “The core is unstable.”

Lex scoffs. “And you expect us, humans, to help you? What in the world are we supposed to do? We know nothing about your planet.”

“Yes.” Jor-El nods. “You are humans and I am hoping that fact will grant us a new perspective on things. Maybe as humans, you will see something that us Kryptonians have missed. As for knowing nothing about Krypton, I have that covered. Being delivered to your rooms, is a packet of information for you to read about Krypton. You’ll have one Kryptonian day, the equivalent of 27 Earth hours, to assimilate this information. Commencing on the following day, you will begin helping me find a solution that will save Krypton. Tonight you will rest, with food that will be brought to your room.”

“Wait a minute,” Lex says. “Tell me, why us?”

“Because you two are two of the smartest people on Earth.”

Lex snorts, beginning to laugh and point at Bruce. “Brucie? Smart? I think you’ve made a mistake. Brucie here is as dumb as a rock.

Jor-El looks highly unamused and Bruce rolls his eyes. Bruce, ignoring what Lex just said, says, “But why me? I may be intelligent, I'll give you that, but I'm not arrogant enough to think there aren't people on this planet, or Earth, who are smarter than me.”

“Because you two were the ones that were calculated by Brainiac to be the most likely able to find a solution.”

Bruce wants to tell Jor-El that he has it wrong, but he’s too horrified to discover he was calculated to be on par with Lex Luthor. With Lex’s reputation of screwing things up, and his plans never succeeding despite being more intelligent, Bruce really doesn’t like the fact that he is seen as being at the same level. It’s insulting really.

“You people are crazy,” Lex mumbles but Jor-El pays him no attention.

“Now, Lieutenant Nam-Ek and General Zod will escort you back to your rooms.” Jor-El turns and beckons his family to follow. Kal looks back at Bruce, wide-eyed and curious. Bruce quickly looks away and follows Nam-Ek out.

He is escorted back to his room quickly and locked inside once he enters. Bruce sighs, not really believing the situation he’s found himself in. There’s no way he’ll be getting off this planet, and back to Earth, without at least understanding how to fly their spaceships. So he presumes he will just have to play along for the time being, until he does somehow learn. Except, he’s not exactly sure how he is going to do that in first place.

When Bruce approaches the bed, sure enough there is a packet on top of it labeled Krypton. Bruce sits down on the edge of the bed and opens the packet. He wouldn’t be surprised if Lex has even done that so far, and only set the thing aside. Maybe Lex has tossed it away in frustration, or defiance. Bruce, on the other hand, flips through it. He’s trying to gauge what he is going to be reading and learning about. Thankfully the Kryptonians had the decency to translate the book into English, even if it is a bit choppy in some sections.

He’s skimmed halfway through the information when there is a knock at his door. Bruce looks up and waits for whoever knocked to come in, like previously. Only no one does, and instead, there is another knock. Bruce raises an eyebrow, calling out “Come in?”

In walks Kal, sheepish smile on his face. “Ehrosh :bem.”

“Eh…rosh :bem?”

“Oh, sorry, mean hello.”

“…Hello.”

Kal bites his bottom lip and then hesitantly shuts the door. “May sit?” Bruce looks at the spot next to him on the bed and feels a bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t know anything about Kryptonians and isn’t sure if he should allow one to get so close to him. He nods anyway. Being nice and getting on the good side of one, might work in Bruce’s favor, for the future and for getting off this planet. Kal walks up, sitting next to him and eyeing the packet. “Think save Krypton?”

Bruce peels his eyes away from Kal’s and back to the packet. Were his eyes that blue before? “I…” He glances at Kal again. He looks hopeful with his eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. “I don’t know, Kal,” he says, instead of the truth of no, he can’t. Still, Kal deflates a little, a frown forming on his face. “But Lex is smarter than I am so maybe he’ll be able to.”

“Think so?”

He doesn’t think that at all. Lex might be smarter than Bruce, but his plans never work and besides, Lex knows just as much about geology as Bruce does, and that’s zero. “I do.”

Kal brightens and Bruce is glad that his smile is back. After all, Kal wasn’t the one who kidnapped him. He just happens to be the son of the one that did. None of this is his fault. “Hope so.”

Bruce nods, flipping to another page. “Kal? If Krypton is dying, how come you all don’t just go to another uninhabited planet and live there? Or terraform another uninhabited planet if you really have to?”

It takes Kal a few seconds to work through what Bruce said and actually understand. Bruce watches as the confusion on Kal’s face slowly morphs into understanding. “Billions Kryptonians live here, Bruce. Krypton our home. Not all people want leave and even if do want leave, not all can afford.”

Bruce nods in his own understanding. “So you have socio-economic classes here too.”

Kal gives him a small smile. “Think everywhere does.”

“Then next question.” Kal tilts his head, prompting him to ask. “If Lex and I can’t figure out how to save Krypton, you do have an evacuation plan, right?”

Kal’s face turns into sudden sadness, taking Bruce by surprise. Kal shakes his head. “Mehl not believe Ukr.”

“And Mehl and Ukr are?”

Kal’s cheeks turn red. “Sorry, keep forget. I mean council and father. Council not believe Father when tell Krypton dying. No escape, uh, mean evacuation. Ukr run against time.”

“Why don’t they believe him?” Bruce questions. He can’t believe anyone wouldn’t take the word of someone regarding something so serious.

“Mehl think Ukr crazy.”

Bruce studies Kal and then asks, “Is Krypton really dying, or is the council right, and your father is crazy?”

Hurt flashes over Kal’s face but he answers anyway. “Ukr not crazy. Krypton dying. That why you need save.”

“Kal, I don’t know if I can.”

“Try. Please. This my planet. Need save.”

Bruce sighs, seeing the desperation in Kal’s eyes. Bruce still isn’t convinced that he will be able to do anything but he can’t let Kal know that. Not when Kal’s looking at him that way. “I’ll try Kal.” Bruce closes the packet and rubs at his eyes tiredly. It’s been a long day, at least in Earth time. He doesn’t even know how long it’s been on Krypton. Bruce sets the packet beside him and rubs his hand down his side, feeling the soft, silky smoothness of the gown. He turns back to Kal and sees the Kryptonian has been watching him. Bruce clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, so why the gown?” He runs his hands over the fabric once more, feeling how the fabric bunches at the knees. The gathers make the gown look like two pieces, as if he is wearing a shirt with a formal kind of skirt.

Kal brightens immediately. “That formal guest gown.”

“So all guests wear this? That’s why Lex is wearing one too, correct?” Kal nods enthusiastically. “And gender doesn’t matter it seems.”

Kal’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What gender have do with?”

“Back on Earth, clothes are normally for either men or women. Granted some men wear women’s clothing, and a lot of women wear men’s clothing, but those aren’t the designated genders for those articles of clothes.”

This time Kal’s head tilts, eyebrows furrowing more. “You assign genders to clothes? That weird.”

Bruce can’t help but chuckle. “It is, but that’s human culture.” He looks down at himself. “Have to admit, this is the first time I’ve ever worn anything like this. And don’t think I haven’t noticed I’m not wearing any boxers anymore.”

Kal’s eyes widen and he brings a hand up to his mouth. “Boxers?” Kal sounds almost horrified, as if he actually thinks Bruce wears living, human boxers.

Bruce chuckles more. “No, that’s what we call a kind of underwear.”

“Un... underwear?” Kal sounds even more confused, which only serves to amuse Bruce more. “I very confused. Why wear athletes under clothing?” Bruce bursts into laughter, bending over in half and holding his side. He hasn’t been this entertained in a long time, and he certainly hasn’t laughed this hard. He really doesn’t even know why he finds Kal’s confusion so funny. “Why laugh?”

Bruce takes a deep, calming breath. “I’m sorry, Kal, but you not understanding what I was talking about was very amusing.”

“I not understand.”

Bruce waves it off. “It doesn’t matter.” He takes one last calming breath, before finally clarifying. “Underwear is clothing that us humans wear under our outer clothing.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, we just do.” Bruce stores away the information that Kryptonians seem to not wear any kind of underwear. “Anyway, boxers aren’t actual people. They are just what we call a particular kind of underwear. They’re really called boxer shorts but everyone just calls them boxers.”

Kal shakes his head. “You make no sense.”

Bruce chuckles, not being able to help himself. “Yeah, well your culture isn’t any easier for me to understand.” Kal smiles and laughs while Bruce watches.

Kal is cute. At least in an adorable, puppy dog way. And handsome, Bruce notices, with eyes the color of blue sapphire. Bruce has never seen such blue eyes before and he’s almost mesmerized by them. Kal’s teeth are white and perfectly straight. Black hair, darker than his own, curled over his forehead, delighting Bruce. Bruce has a sudden urge to run his fingers through Kal’s curls in order to feel how soft they are, but he resists by squeezing his hands into fists. Looking at Kal’s body doesn’t help with Bruce’s need to touch either. The outfit Kal is wearing is skin tight and though the cape hides most of his front, Bruce’s imagination still runs wild. Bruce would bet, with how much muscle Kal seems to have, that if Kal wasn’t wearing the suit, he would look like a Greek god. Bruce swallows.

“Both strange to each other,” Kal says, still smiling. He then gently pokes Bruce in the chest. “You fun.”

“Fun?” Bruce questions teasingly. “I don’t know how you can determine that when we’ve just met. You know nothing about me.”

Kal shrugs. “You not know things entertain.”

“I’m entertaining when I’m confused?” Kal nods and Bruce chuckles again. “Okay. I’m sure it can get frustrating though.”

Kal shakes his head and points at himself. “My English frustrating.”

Bruce wants to correct him and say that his broken English is actually kind of cute. When did he start thinking that? Instead he says, “It’s not that frustrating. As long as I can understand what you’re talking about.”

Kal opens his mouth to speak, but suddenly the door to the room slams open. Both Kal and Bruce stand immediately, facing the door. Jor-El is there, not looking happy. The Kryptonian takes a few steps towards them, eyes directly on Kal. “Kal-El.”

Kal looks at the floor, a guilty expression on his face. “Ukr.”

Jor-El speaks in Kryptonian furiously and Kal responds, sounding annoyed. Jor-El takes another step towards them, looking like he’s getting angrier. Then speaks again and Kal looks away in annoyance. Jor-El points to the door to the bedroom. “Awuhkh.” Kal’s arms cross. “Ugem!” Kal huffs then leaves the room, glaring at Jor-El the whole time. Bruce squirms, feeling like he was just caught in the middle of an argument. Jor-El looks at him, narrowing eyes that resemble Kal’s. “You will join us for dinner tonight,” Jor-El says, before turning and leaving the room.

Bruce feels dazed, not really knowing what just occurred. Obviously Kal got in trouble, but he has no idea what exactly for. Maybe he’ll have an opportunity to ask later. For now, he better prepare himself for this dinner that Jor-El said he was going to be joining. He wonders what kind of mystery meal he’ll be getting, and really hopes it’s nothing too disgusting.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[blaineandsamevanderson]

Title: Stretch right up and touch the sky Chapter 4

Author: @blaineandsamevanderson

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow/Arrow/The Flash/Supergirl

Ship: Iris/Eddie, will have many more to come

Rating: G

Summary: Camp STAR is one of the North East’s most popular science camps.  Every year, young minds arrive to learn and explore.  Unfortunately, a few weeks before the camp was to open for the season, a large explosion in one of the labs and the ensuing fire made the camp uninhabitable.  Not wanting his campers to miss out on their summer, Owner Harrison Wells called up Joe West, Owner of Camp Superflarrow, who he knew was looking to expand the science discovery program at his own camp.

Author’s notes: There are a few random counselor names thrown in to fill out the lists.  They will not be of importance.

**

**

“Gimme a boost, boys!”

In a practiced motion, Barry grabbed one of Iris’s hands while Eddie took the other and they lifted her up onto a tall stump by the camp gates.  From there, all the counselors and CIT’s would be able to see her as she made a brief announcement.  After today, such announcements would be done by the head counselors, but as they had just arrived, Joe was letting Iris hand out cabin assignments this year.

“I know some of you have summered with us before,” she was saying and a cheer rose up from most of the returning campers.  Iris grinned back at them before continuing, “This season, we’ve got a lot of new faces joining us and we’ve also got lots of new programs and guest speakers available for all campers.  Dad and Dr. Wells will fill everyone in at the Welcome ceremony, but for now, I’m sure you all want to know where to store your gear.”

Cabin assignment time.

“First up, we have the Penobscot Cabins, which house our younger boys.  Cabin 1, Barry Allen and Eddie Thawne.”

Barry tossed an amused grin over at Eddie, who held out his hand for a fist bump.  “Joe wants you to keep an eye on me, right?” the blond joked, but Barry winced a little at the comment.  Eddie’s eyes widened.  “Oh God, that’s actually it!”

With a shrug, Barry admitted, “He may have muttered something about making sure you stay in the cabin at night….”

Eddie groaned as Iris continued to read off names.

“…Leonard Snart & Jefferson Jackson…Oliver Queen & Winn Schott…Mon-El Daxam & Tommy Merlyn…Bruce Wayne & Steve Trevor….”

After that, she moved on to assigning counselors to the Sequoia (Boys Middle Age) Cabins. “James Olsen & Ray Palmer to Cabin 1…Wally West & Nate Haywood…Cisco Ramon & Curtis Holt…John Diggle &Roy Harper…Rory Regan & Rene Ramirez…..”

Kennebagos (Older Boys) were next.  Clark Kent & Julian Albert, Mick Rory & Hartley Rathaway, Carter Hall & Rip Hunter were paired to watch over cabins while Lex Luthor was given a cabin of his own with fewer boys to manage.

“All of you, make sure to keep your boys out of the girl’s cabins, you hear me?”  Iris teased.  “Our younger girls are in the Acadia Cabins.  Cabin 1 is me, Iris West, & Caitlin Snow.  We’re gonna have fun!”

Barry tracked her wave to a pretty auburn haired girl of about their age.  The summer sun painted her curls in colors that reminded him of fall and Barry blinked before refocusing on the cabin assignments.  Not that he’d remember all of them, but it was good to be able to match unknown faces to names.  “…Sara Lance & Lisa Snart…Kara Danvers & Felicity Smoak…Diana Prince & Eve Teschmacher…Cindy Taylor & Lyra Strayd….”

Next came the Baxter (Middle Girls).  “Lyla Michaels & Jesse Wells…Lucy Lane & Amaya Jiwe…Megan Morse & Thea Queen…Cassandra Savage & Linda Park…Nyssa Al Ghul & Evelyn Sharp…Dinah Drake & Isabel Rochev….”

Finally, she reached the Kennebeck cabins, where the Older girls bunked.  “…Lena Luthor & Laurel Lance…Alex Danvers & Maggie Sawyer…Lois Lane & Kendra Saunders…Patty Spivot & Leslie Willis…Cindy Reynolds & Siobhan Smythe…Helena Bertinelli & Elena Vasquez….” Iris read off, then nodded to the crowd.  “See you all at the campfire in an hour.”

As Eddie helped her down off of the stump, Barry raised his voice to call out, “Wally, help any new Sequoia counselors find their way!  Rip, you got the Kennebagos!”  A happy wave from Wally and an annoyed eye roll from Rip said that they’d heard him.  “Lyla, take the Baxter?  Thanks! Laurel, Kennebecks?”

The two girls started leading their newbies as Iris called, “Acadia & Long Creek this way, Penobscots with Barry.”

Everyone gathered up their gear and began trooping off into the camp, splitting into smaller groups as they headed for their cabins.  As they made their way through the campground, Barry began pointing things out and rattling off bits of information.  Most of the boys in his group had been to camp before and were only listening with half an ear, but some of the newbies peered at the tennis courts, soccer fields and climbing towers with interest.

Once they reached their small cluster of cabins, each with a plaque bearing the name Penobscot and a number, they paired off, hauling their things into their bunks. The cabins were spacious log buildings with large windows that could be opened to allow airflow through the screens. Bunk beds filled the main room and there was a storage room to keep clothes and belongings in beside the small counselor’s room.  At the other end of the cabin was the shower and bathroom, all newly renovated and each cabin had a small, attached porch.

“You okay if I take bottom bunk?” Eddie asked as he and Barry entered the room they’d be sleeping in for the summer.

“Sure,” Barry agreed amiably as he opened the windows, letting the cross draft flow through the room.  He’d already brought most of his things over earlier, but he had a bag with bedding that he dug his sheets out of.

As they began to make their beds, Eddie said, “You were kidding about spying on me for your dad, right…Barry?”

He wasn’t planning on narcing on them, but it was fun to tease Eddie with the idea.  Maybe if he played his cards right, he could get Eddie to take care of the particularly messy criers in exchange for keeping quiet….

“This is more like what I though camp would be like when Alex first started talking about going,” Kara enthused, grinning at Felicity as they entered their cabin.  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I loved STAR, but I didn’t expect dorms and stuff like that.  Movie camps look like this!”

The dorms at STAR had been large and spacious, each room holding 2 campers, single beds, dressers, desks, chairs and closets.  Each room had a ¾ bath attached, air conditioning, a kitchenette and a tv.  It seemed more like a pre-college experience than a camp, and a pretty spiffy college at that.

Superflarrow was far more camp like, with cabins and many more outdoor activities.  Their cabin was neat and clean, rows of bunks taking up the main room, a large, shiny bathroom taking up one end of the building. The counselor’s room was at the other end and they had their own separate bath.

That was nice.

The bunk beds might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but they didn’t bother Kara.

“Do you mind if I take the bottom bunk?” Felicity asked a little sheepishly. “I’m not the biggest fan of heights.”

“Not a problem,” Kara assured the other girl.  Felicity was another transfer from STAR, so she was happy not to be rooming with a total stranger.  Not that she wasn’t eager to meet new people, but what if she didn’t get along with her roommate?  Alex seemed okay with bunking with Maggie, whom they had met on the bus, but she was glad for a familiar face.  “What did you pick for your specialty?”

Each counselor had an area of focus that they would direct activities in.  The cabin pairings were probably assigned so at least one counselor from each cabin would be with their campers at any given time if the other had to go off and lead a sport or class.

“The Camp Radio Station,” Felicity told her with a smile.  “I know not as many campers will take an interest in that, but me and Cisco will be able to have fun with it, doing daily announcements and improving the camp’s audio systems.  I mean, did you see the old school, mega-phone looking speakers nestled in the trees?”

Kara nodded.  “I thought they blended in pretty well, considering someone went to the trouble of painting them green.”  

“I’ll give them points for that,” Felicity agreed, then asked, “Which program are you working in?”

“Voice,” Kara told her.  “Alex says I put the Kara in Kara-eoke.”

Felicity let out a giggle.  “That’s an awful joke.  I love it.”

Yeah, this rooming situation was going to work out just fine!

TBC......

1.      Waterski - The Ski Dock is home base to our fleet of 4 Mastercraft Pro Star Ski Boats. Campers love our ski program:  Waterskiing, wakeboarding, skurfing, slalom, trick and even barefoot with our experienced staff.

2.      Swimming - Crystal clear Echo Lake is home to our American Red Cross swim program. A hard-sand bottom and expansive dock system provides a natural area for swim lessons, snorkeling and a full recreational aquatics program.

3.      Small Crafts - Our fleet of more than 50 sailboats, windsurfers, canoes and kayaks eagerly awaits water-enthusiasts. From Hobie 16s to Vanguard 420s, Sunfish and more….our small crafts staff of 18 keeps close watch on our campers and our fleet.

4.     Camp Owner House - The home of camp owner Joe West.

5.      Dining Hall - One of Superflarrow’s original buildings, our Dining Hall sits at the base of camp, overlooking Echo Lake. Campers enjoy great camp dining in a beautiful atmosphere. Our chefs are proud of their homemade entrees, fresh fruit and salad bars and desserts.

6.      Discovery - Rabbits, frogs, snakes, turtles and other small animals await you at Discovery, located in an original camp building on the shore of the lake. Make your own ice cream, identify birds and plants and learn about different ecosystems on our 150 acres.

7.      Cove - The Cove is a camp gathering area where campers and counselors convene each morning and evening for announcements, birthday songs, intercamp scores and in-camp news-of-the-day. It’s a great place for our camp family to unite after breakfast and dinner. We sing songs and recognize the accomplishments and strides all campers are making.

8.      Archery - Ready…aim…fire!  Our archers learn the skills of the bow & arrow at our Archery range overlooking Echo Lake.

9.      S’Mores Site - A great camp-out area in the woods on Laurel’s grounds. The perfect place to learn about camping… just steps from your own cabin.

10.   All Camp Campfire - Weekly campfires are a wonderful Superflarrow tradition. Whether as a campus or as one camp family, we tell stories, sing songs and enjoy campfire folklore…a camp tradition since our founding in 1949. Superflarrow Family… you’re pretty good company!

11.    Acadia Girls - Our campus for girls having completed 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th grade.

12.  Science Buildings – Each lab is focused on a particular scientific focus.

13.  Metalsmithing/Woodworking - A growing and ever-popular camp program. Metalsmithing includes the design and crafting of bracelets, belt buckles, earrings, key chains and more in our Metals Studio. Real silver and copper come to life through campers’ creativity.

14.   Ceramics/Arts and Crafts/Studio Arts - A popular camp activity. Join our talented team of potters at Ceramics to learn to throw, build, paint, glaze and fire your clay projects.  Our new Arts and Crafts center is a hot-bed of all things related to sculptures, molds, weaves, tie-dyes, balsa wood airplanes, friendship bracelets, wax-resist paintings, paper-mache masks and much more. Join us down at the Crafts Center.  Painting, drawing and pastels await you in our beautiful Studio Art facility at the top of camp. Come here to illustrate, draw, paint, use charcoal, and try your hand at Comic Book Illustration.

15.   The Grove - A beautiful spot near the Dining Hall for outdoor lunches and birthday celebrations. Our Acadia and Apache campers eat lunch at a cabin-specific table in this area. It is also a place where siblings can eat together and visit at lunch.

16.   Health Center - Our modern, fully-equipped Health Center staffed by a Nurse Practitioner and EMT.

17.   Moosetracks - Each night after evening activity and before bedtime, campers meet at Moosetracks for a quick “Nite-Bite."  Fresh fruit is available each evening…or a snack like milk and cookies.

18.   Kennebeck Girls - Our campus for girls having completed the 7th, 8th and 9th grade.

19.   Penobscot Boys - Our campus for boys having completed  the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th grade.

20.  Kennebago Boys - Our campus for boys having completed the 7th, 8th and 9th grade.

21.   Sequoia Boys - Our campus for boys having completed the 5th and 6th grade.

22.  Basketball Courts - Camp Superflarrow has 30 glass basketball goals, spread out over 5 regulation courts, 2 of which are lit.

23.  Baxter Girls - Our campus for girls having completed the 5th and 6th grade.

24.  Gaga - Campers love our two turf Gaga complexes with mini-stadium seating.

25.  Basketball Courts - Camp Superflarrow has 30 glass basketball goals, spread out over 5 regulation courts, 2 of which are lit.

26.  Gaga - Campers love our two turf Gaga complexes with mini-stadium seating.

27. Hockey - Our full-size, lighted arena for Street and Roller Hockey. Also home to the famous Sequoia Hockey League. Professional cages, penalty boxes, lights…we have it all for the hockey enthusiast.

28.  Equestrian Center - The Superflarrow Equestrian Center is home to our 22 camp horses, 2 barns, instructional rings, paddocks and 3-acre pasture.  A program well-equipped for the beginner to advanced rider.

29.  Soccer - Another signature Superflarrow sports program. Our two regulation fields are lit and home to soccer players of all abilities. Everyone who wants to play, plays soccer at Superflarrow… in age, gender and skill appropriate groups.

30.  Climbing Towers - Our Climbing Center features two Climbing Towers, connected by a wire bridge more than 50 feet in the air. Our bouldering pavilion is perfect for beginners, intermediate and expert climbers.

31.   Tennis - A signature program at Superflarrow.  15 all-weather courts and an electronic wall and backboard complement our program.

32.  Tennis - A signature program at Superflarrow.  15 all-weather courts and an electronic wall and backboard complement our program.

33.  Handball – A regulation Handball court nestled between the tennis courts for use by all campers

34.  Theatre – Superflarrow Theatre hums with activity. Campers may participate on stage in one of our musical productions (Grease, Annie, Bye Bye Birdie, Oliver, Willy Wonka, High School Musical… to name a few over the past few years) or work backstage. Lighting board operators, sound engineers, costuming, stage make-up, stage managers…we have it all in our professional theatre.

35.  Chef Camp - The Chef Camp facility is home to our extensive culinary arts program. Superflarrow is known for one of the most comprehensive cooking programs of any camp in the northeast.

36. Dance & Fitness Center - Our brand new Fitness center features all current equipment for a complete workout. Fitness is one of Superflarrow’s most popular programs. The Fitness Center boasts a Cardio and Strength Studio, tailored for campers from 2nd through 10th grades. Specialty Fitness programs for campers include, running, weight training, Superflarrow Abs, yoga, triathlon and the Camp SuperflarrowFit Trail. Our General Fitness and Junior Fitness programs provide an introduction to the "world” of health and fitness for all ages.  Our brand new Dance Center with moveable walls feature two separate mirrored studios and hardwood flooring. Campers love practicing their hip-hop, jazz, ballet, modern and tap routines.

37.  Fieldhouse - Ten glass basketball goals, a full court basketball court, professional indoor volleyball court and automatic bleacher seating for 500 make the Superflarrow Fieldhouse the place-to-be. It is the perfect rainy day activity center and all-weather building for hoops, volleyball, ga-ga and group games. It is also home to our big-screen movie center. The Fieldhouse also hosts many of our traditional all-camp events including College Days Closing Ceremony, Dance and Talent Shows & The Quest…to name a few.

38. Gymnastics - Our beautiful Gymnastics Building sits toward the top of camp. A full springboard floor and modern equipment make our 4000 square foot facility inviting for all levels, from beginner to advanced.

39. Library - A quiet area for camp meetings.

40. Camp Office - Behind the scenes, where our wonderful office administrators & staff make it all happen.

41.   Log Cabin - Our authentic Log Cabin is where our teenagers (Bec and Bago campers) enjoy snacks and a little recreational time (ping pong, foosball, pop-a-shot) at the end of a busy day. For you former campers, it’s like a “Canteen.” A supervised place for our teens to hang out at night.

42. Tennis - A signature program at Superflarrow.  15 all-weather courts and an electronic wall and backboard complement our program.

43. Tennis - A signature program at Superflarrow.  15 all-weather courts and an electronic wall and backboard complement our program.

44. Basketball Courts - Camp Superflarrow has 30 glass basketball goals, spread out over 5 regulation courts, 2 of which are lit.

45.  Basketball Courts - Camp Superflarrow has 30 glass basketball goals, spread out over 5 regulation courts, 2 of which are lit.

46. Soccer - Another signature Superflarrow sports program. Our two regulation fields are lit and home to soccer players of all abilities. Everyone who wants to play, plays soccer at Superflarrow… in age, gender and skill appropriate groups.

47.  Volleyball - A regulation lighted beach volleyball court is a favorite camp spot.

48. Baseball - Our regulation Little League Fields are busy with baseball and softball players all day. Batting cages and clinics complement our program. Under our head of baseball, our instructional staff of 5 exposes every camper to baseball (boys) or softball (girls). An exciting intercamp program awaits those desiring a competitive element to the game.

49. Lacrosse & Football - Our full size lacrosse and football fields are busy with action all day long. Great lax and flag football instruction, games, Sports Night Football under the lights and intercamps highlight these active programs.

50.  Camp Entrance - Welcome to Camp Laurel! Enjoy your tour around our facilities, and call us with any questions.

51.   Ropes Course – Multi-Level ropes courses and towers for adventure seakers of all skill levels.

52.  Camp Owner House - The summer home of camp owner Harrison Wells.

[buddyrabrahams]

10 under-the-radar NBA free agents who could make a big splash

In this year’s NBA Finals, LeBron James, Stephen Curry, and Kevin Durant — three all-timers who have claimed seven of the last eight MVP awards — operated at the height of their powers. But it was an under-the-radar Warriors forward who finished with by far the best plus-minus of any player in the series: Andre Iguodala.

Iguodala finished the series +60, 20 points better than the next-most impactful player (Draymond Green was +40). And the 33-year-old Iguodala saved his best performance for last, playing 38 minutes, scoring 20 points, notching a +18, knocking down two vital threes, and playing excellent defense on James in the decisive Game 5.

Iguodala played so well that the Warriors were able to employ small-ball for most of the game, as JaVale McGee didn’t see the court and Zaza Pachulia played only 10 minutes.

Golden State acquired Iguodala in the 2013 offseason in a sign-and-trade deal involving the Nuggets and Jazz. The next year, the Dubs signed Shaun Livingston. And in the 2016 offseason, they inked three veteran big men (McGee, Pachulia, and David West) to bargain-basement deals. The three combined to make $5.7 million — nearly $2 million less than Channing Frye.

Role players don’t draw much attention when they sign with a new squad, but these players often prove to be difference-makers — even on the most talented teams.

Here are 10 under-the-radar free agents to keep an eye on this offseason.

10. Ersan Ilyasova

Ilyasova is a 10-year veteran who has bounced around after spending his first seven NBA campaigns with Milwaukee. He’s suited up for five teams in the past two years, but he’s still a valuable piece. Most recently he was dealt from the Sixers to the Hawks in exchange for Tiago Splitter and a second-round pick and potential pick-swap.

This season he averaged 10.4 points and 5.8 rebounds in 24.3 minutes per game for Atlanta. It wasn’t his best year, but he did notch 31 points in a January game, and throughout his career he’s consistently put up double-digit points and provided a punch on the offensive end.

The Turkish big man, a second-round pick in 2005, presents potential suitors with an interesting skill set. He can stretch the floor; he’s a career 35 percent three-point shooter. He’s a good pick-and-pop guy and he runs the floor.

Ilyasova, 6-foot-10 and 30 years old, lacks lateral athleticism, so he struggles to keep up with guards on switches, but he plays hard on defense and is a good rebounder. He could be a key bench guy for a contender.

9. Tony Allen

Allen is getting up there — he’s 35 now — but he’s still one of the best perimeter defenders in the league. He’s not showing signs of slowing down.

Allen, 6-foot-4, doesn’t get playing time for his offensive abilities, but he put up 9.1 points per game this season, the third-best mark of his career. The Grindfather also averaged 1.6 steals per game with Memphis this season.

Entering his 14th season, Allen has only played for two teams (Boston and Memphis), but he may well be looking for a third this summer, as the Grizzlies have several key free agents and a lot of money tied up in Mike Conley, Chandler Parsons, and Marc Gasol.

In a league filled with scorers, wings who can lock a guy up on the defensive end have real value (as we saw with Iguodala and Klay Thompson in the Finals). Tony Allen may have an Old Man Game, but it’s an important game.

Bruce Bowen, a similar player, competed in the NBA until he was 38. Allen should at least match that. When the season came to an end, Allen expressed his desire to return to Memphis.

8. Patrick Patterson

Patterson, a stretch forward out of Kentucky who feels like he’s been in the league forever, just recently turned 28.

He has been a key piece on the Raptors’ playoff teams of the past four years, but Toronto appears to be headed for a mini-rebuild — what else can you do when you’re so far from overtaking Cleveland? — and Patterson may depart with this era of North basketball. Patterson has expressed interest in returning to Toronto, but the team’s hands are tied because Kyle Lowry and Serge Ibaka are also free agents.

Patterson is the consummate example of a guy who doesn’t put up big stats, but simply finds ways to make his team better — the “glue guy.” He’s a good shooter, facilitator, and defender; he gets the ball moving on the offensive end and defensively, at an athletic and strong 6-foot-0, 235, he can switch on a wide range of players.

He’s played a consistent 24 minutes per game throughout his career, and has always hovered around 8 points and 5 rebounds per game. He’s been one of the more valuable bench players in the East over the past few years.

He’s also beloved in Toronto. It’s one of those special athlete-city relationships that unfortunately looks like it’s headed for its conclusion.

7. Ian Clark

Clark signed a 1-year, $1 million deal with Golden State last offseason. He was still a project at that point. Now he’s a verified solid backup point guard.

It’s unlikely Clark will want to leave the Warriors, where he has fit in well and been privy to a lot of winning, but they may have a tough time keeping him around. Clark had a career year, scoring 6.8 points per game as an energy guy off the bench.

He may be lured elsewhere by the promise of more money (he’s made less than $3 million in his career) and a bigger role. He knows Curry, who’s only three years older than him, will be the lead dog at the point for Golden State’s foreseeable future.

There are a lot of good point guards available in free agency this year — Kyle Lowry, George Hill, Jrue Holiday, and maybe even Chris Paul. Clark is probably not a starter, but the 26-year-old former undrafted free agent out of Belmont will garner significant interest from teams looking for lower-tier, more affordable help at the 1 spot.

6. Tyreke Evans

Evans is a head-scratching case study. The Memphis product, who was a one-and-done in 2008-09, is super talented, but he hasn’t lived up to expectations. Still, it feels like the former No. 4 pick is just searching for the right situation. His best season was his first, when he averaged 20.1 points and 5.3 rebounds per game.

Evans was sent back to Sacramento, his original NBA home, as part of the DeMarcus Cousins trade in February (Sacramento received Evans, Buddy Hield, Langston Galloway, and 2017 first- and second-round picks in exchange for Boogie and Omri Casspi, a trade that looks much more favorable for Sacramento now than it did at the time).

Evans has developed an improved three-point shot, and though his scoring numbers have dipped (he averaged 11.6 points per game this year), he remains an adept scorer and creator. He’s shifty in the paint, a good finisher, and capable of exploding for 30 on a random night. Though there are some parallels between Evans and Lance Stephenson, it wouldn’t be fair at this point to make that comparison; Evans is a better player, and he may still have some untapped potential.

Evans, 27, is poor on defense and has a history of injuries, so teams should approach signing him with caution, but it might be worth the risk to see if he finds a career resurgence a la Shaun Livingston.

5. Zach Randolph

Z-Bo will turn 36 in July. He’s no longer a dominant force in the paint, but Randolph’s abilities haven’t dipped too much; he can still get buckets in the post.

The former Spartan’s Player Efficiency Rating this year was 18.5, not all that far off from his 19.4 career average. He averaged 14.1 points and 8.2 rebounds in only 24.5 minutes per game. He still boxes out well and has that nice lefty 20-footer. He may need to take a decreased role, but at this point he has earned $140 million in his career — the 14-year veteran might be willing to step out of the spotlight in order to pursue a championship.

The Grizzlies may try to keep him around — it’s difficult to imagine that team without Gasol and Randolph bruising together in the post — but they may need to choose between Z-Bo and 26-year-old forward JaMychal Green. Green had a breakout season, and it’s likelier that he’ll end up back in Memphis and Randolph will suit up for a new team.

4. Taj Gibson

Gibson was the best player in the Thunder-Bulls deal earlier this season, which sent Gibson, Doug McDermott, and a second-round pick to Oklahoma City in exchange for Joffrey Lauvergne, Anthony Morrow, and Cameron Payne. Gibson wasn’t a perfect fit in OKC — it can take time for big men to find their place in a Westbrook-run offense — and he’ll turn 32 this offseason, but he’ll still receive quite a bit of interest.

He’s a voracious competitor, rebounder, and defender. Gibson, a former first-round pick out of USC, was one of the Bulls’ key pieces on their playoff teams of the 2010s. In 2013-14, he finished second in Sixth Man of the Year voting (Jamal Crawford won the award). This season he averaged 9.0 points and 4.5 rebounds per game.

He’ll be one of the best big men on the market. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Golden State, which favors agile big men who can grab boards, made a run at Gibson.

3. Rudy Gay

Ahh, Rudy Gay. One of the more talented wings since he entered the league from UConn as the eighth overall pick in 2006, Gay is an enigma. He’s always been an “Almost All-Star,” but never gotten over the hump.

He has toiled away in Sacramento for the last four years, but continues to put up good offensive numbers on a bad team; he averaged 18.7 points and 6.3 rebounds this season.

Though Gay has not become a superstar as some people expected during his early years with Memphis, he’s a consistent scoring threat. Because he’s coming off of a serious injury (he ruptured his Achilles’ tendon in January and missed the rest of the season), a team might be able to land Gay at a decent price.

Whether he wants to cash in with another bad team, where he would be the first or second option, or take less money to join a contender remains to be seen.

2. J.J. Redick

As the NBA has become more three-happy, Redick’s value has increased. His game has developed quite a bit, too, throughout the course of his career.

The former NCAA Player of the Year (2006) from Duke was a vital piece for the Clippers the past four years. This season, he scored 15.0 points per game and shot 43 percent from deep — sixth-best in the NBA. He’s an underrated defender. Needless to say, having a three-and-D guy who shoots that well is a major asset in today’s game.

Redick really knows his role; he’s refreshingly self-aware.

He’s no longer in his prime, but Redick should still have a couple good years left in the tank. He’s also a well-liked locker-room guy. As we saw with Golden State this season, a team’s culture is perhaps just as important as the talent of its roster.

1. Danilo Gallinari

Gallinari has been overlooked throughout his career in New York and Denver, but teams will fight for the Italian big man’s services this offseason. The 6-foot-10 forward, the sixth-overall pick in 2008 (he went immediately after the UCLA teammates Russell Westbrook and Kevin Love), shot 39 percent from three and put up 18.2 points per game this year.

He’s a 90 percent free-throw shooter, too, and in recent years he’s improved at drawing fouls. Perhaps most importantly, he stayed healthy. Gallinari has battled a number of injuries, including an ACL tear, throughout his career.

The Nuggets finished only one game out of the West’s No. 8 spot, and Gallinari was a big reason for that. All indications are that Gallinari is in the best years of his career.

He isn’t a max player, but Gallinari has a lot to offer, and there will be teams lined up to recruit him. He should command roughly $20 million a year and even has shown an interest in returning to Denver.

The players on this list won’t turn heads this offseason like Gordon Hayward, Blake Griffin, or Chris Paul, but they could turn the tide of a playoff series. Others to keep an eye on: Greg Monroe, Jeff Teague, P.J. Tucker, James Johnson, Nene, Thabo Sefolosha, Jeff Green, Darren Collison, and Gerald Green.

Basketball nerds, rejoice: NBA free agency officially commences July 6. Free agents can begin reaching verbal agreements with teams July 1.

from Larry Brown Sports http://ift.tt/2tfgSJd