To Dale, thank you for listening to me bitch about writing this shit.
To my real life Superboy, Patrick, thank you for helping me finish this!
To my Beta Danie, I love you, you have no idea how much.
To Nicole, I hope to see you soon and BB I LOVE YOU SO MUCH; I could throw ideas at you and you practically shove them back in my face as a fic, all I need to do is write them.
To the Birds ang Prey of CBG, guys and gals, you are amazing.
And to Chris Daughtry, for writing this wonderful, wonderful song.
PS. The lyrics for the song aren't in order in this fic.
Watching the taxi driver, he pulls away
Been locked up inside the apartment a hundred days
Buildings, people and cars passed. People talking on their mobiles, walking their dog, taking home groceries...people walking with their lovers.
Bruce finally received a letter from Clark last night after weeks of waiting to hear from him. The letter, like every other letter Bruce received from him from time to time, had no return address. Emails were a little dangerous, since emails could be tracked and Clark couldn't really tell over email that he destroyed someone's truck with his pinky.
I don't want you to write back, one of Clark's earlier letters had said, because if I hear from you, I won't be able to stay wherever I am for very long. I won't be able to go anywhere else, to figure out what I want to do, because I'll be rushing back to you. Back to Ma. Back to Martha and Thomas. Back to Smallville, and Wayne Manor. Back home.
In the last letter, Clark told him about a pub he worked at, where a truck driver punched him (Bruce had laughed his head off), and of course it didn't even make Clark flinch. But then Bruce felt sad, because Clark had only been trying to get the perverted customer off one of their waitresses, and he received hurtful words from the disgusting man.
I'll come back soon. I'll just finish this one last job in Canada. The letter had said. I miss you. All my love, Clark.
He reread that letter a dozen times. He felt happy to hear from Clark and to know that he missed him loved him still. But it also made him feel sad, because Clark didn't deserve being humiliated and hurt like that because of his inability to ignore people who needed to be saved, even more so because he missed Clark.
Soon. It had said; Clark would come back soon. He'd never force Clark into anything, even into coming home even though he ached when Clark wasn't there; he'd always wait for him. Clark had been going around from state to state doing odd jobs, and Bruce didn't try to stop him. It was about finding himself, doing everything to find out what he really enjoyed and do it for the rest of his life. He was just taking his time and Bruce was going to wait until he found it. Bruce also had a feeling that he wasn't even in Canada yet.
But Clark was coming home soon, and that was what mattered. And Bruce would love to hear about where Clark had gone, if he had done something godly with this powers to help someone, like that incident with the burning oil rig a few months back.
Yes, that was me, said a postcard that Bruce received a few days after the news on the burning oil rig had erupted. The story had said all of the remaining workers there had been brought to safety, and that someone helped them, but no mention of Clark's abilities was made. One of them, who was probably still in shock after the whole ordeal, had told the news reporters the man was an angel. Bruce chuckled to himself. Yes, Clark was an angel.
Bruce sighed and fished his phone out of his coat pocket. He pressed the unlock button so the large touch screen would light up, and smiled as he saw his wallpaper: one of their more recent photos together, Clark was wiping some ice cream off Bruce's lip, their table full of apple pie and ice cream as dessert after dinner, courtesy of his mother, who loved to on her boys and taking pictures of them. Clark knew all about it, of course, hearing Martha Wayne from wherever she was trying to take a shot of them, but he didn't tell Bruce that. They'd just wait for Martha to come over to them giggling that she'd taken another adorable photo of them. Thomas would just chuckle. Bruce would immediately ask for the photo, and Clark, despite already knowing, blushes as red as a ripe tomato.
Bruce asked the Wayne employee, who he asked to drive him into the city in one of the company cars, to pull up near the coffee shop so he could go grab a coffee before going up to the penthouse. And probably add some pastries if he decided that he was hungry.
He gave the driver a tip before moving to step out of the car, to which the driver declined. Bruce insisted, telling him that he could take his children out for some good fun with the money, and that he was dismissed for the day. The driver gave Bruce his most sincere thanks. Bruce only smiled back and stepped out of the car.
He was thankful that everybody minded their own business when he stepped into the coffee shop. There were some children to approached to say hi and asked for an autograph, and Bruce couldn't really resist children. So after getting a few cups of simple brewed coffee and signing a few notebooks, Bruce bid goodbye to the children and to some other customers who waved.
Bruce entered his apartment building, where he was greeted by the guards and the concierge. He handed over the takeout rack of coffees over to the employees, leaving one for himself of course. The grateful employees said their thanks, and started on their coffee.
Bruce didn't bother asking Rade (1), the concierge, if Clark had already gone in, because he already knew that he hadn't arrived yet. Or, he didn't want to spoil the surprise that Clark was in his apartment, waiting for him.
Alfred's presence in the apartment was evident when Bruce stepped in. He and Clark hadn't spent time in the apartment the last few years, and today it looked fresh and a little lived in, maybe. Lived in, maybe because of the new plants, or the food on the counter.
Bruce took off his coat, scarf, and jacket, and carelessly threw it on the sofa. A step further into the living room, Bruce froze, remembering one of his more intimate moments he shared with Clark a long while ago, right on the very sofa he was staring at.
Bruce pushed Clark onto the sofa; the farmboy landed on the leather seat with a small 'oof,' and Bruce quickly made his way to Clark's lap and straddled him. "Mmm," he moaned, letting his hands roam from Clark's chest, to his shoulders, finding their way to Clark's nape to pull him into a kiss.
"Mmm, indeed," smirked Clark, letting his hands slide from Bruce's waist down to his hips, and over to Bruce's backside to knead the firm globes of flesh that made his ass. Unfortunately, they were covered in sweat pants, and fortunately they were quite easy to take off.
Bruce abruptly pulled away, but Clark's lips didn't dare leave his skin. "Oh my God," Bruce gasped and moaned, as Clark started to move his hips upward, making Bruce grind down on him. He gasped, grabbing a fistful Clark's hair as Clark kissed, sucked, nipped and licked his way down his neck and collarbone, all while Clark held him down, their crotches rubbing against each other.
Clark didn't speak, and continued canting his hips up and letting his hands explore, once again, his lover's body. He ripped the sweats off, and was very pleased to find that Bruce was bare underneath.
"Oh my God," Bruce said again, "That was my last pair mmm—"
Clark silenced him with a kiss, and pulled back a moment after. "I like you better without anything on anyways," he chuckled.
"Sir?"
Bruce looked up to find Alfred observing him. "Alfred," he choked out as he tried to pull himself back together. "Didn't see you there," he forced out a small laugh as he sat down on the sofa behind him.
"Lost in a memory, sir?" asked Alfred, moving closer to him. He picked up Bruce's clothes and smoothed out the wrinkled as he waited for Bruce's answer.
"Yes," Bruce cleared his throat. "It's one of our…naughtier moments,"
"On that sofa?" said Alfred.
Bruce chuckled. "Yes, on that sofa,"
Alfred just smiled at him. "I'm sure Master Kent will be home soon, sir," he gave Bruce's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and cleaned up after his master. "And you shall have all the naughty moments you desire,"
Bruce only laughed, then stood up and had a look around. It had been a while since hand Clark had spent some time together, here or outside. They didn't really have a favourite place anywhere in the apartment. They'd watch TV for hours in the living room as they cuddled on one of the sofas; they'd spend their mornings on the terrace, reading the paper and having breakfast; they'd push the coffee table aside and sit on the carpet, leaning on the sofa as they surfed the internet, watching random videos and listening to good music; they'd dirty the kitchen, making cookies and trying to make apple pie and smoothies; they'd stay in the tub together until they were all pruned and wrinkly; and Bruce missed it all, even if he only spent a few weeks with Clark at a time.
He sighed and made his way to the master bedroom. Legally, this apartment was Clark's. Bruce practically lived there with him when Clark was in Gotham. Clark, as much as he loved him, as much as he wanted Clark to stay, and as sad as it is to admit, was never really a permanent fixture in his life.
He ran his hand over their dresser, and looked at the frames that held their pictures. They'd been like this for years. Bruce didn't know why he bothered waiting. But he did, because he trusted Clark.
There was a knock on the door he'd left open. "Sir?" said Alfred, "Your mother is on the phone," he handed Bruce the telephone.
"Mom?" said Bruce as he pressed the receiver to his ear.
"Hi, honey," said Martha sweetly, but she sounded like she was in a bit of a hurry. "Are you at Clark's? When is he arriving? Did he say? I'd love to see him again. Mind if Alfred comes back home? I need someone to—no, put that away, that's hideous—help me oversee this,"
Bruce chuckled. "Mom, the party's still in two weeks. Alfred can do that in a day,"
Alfred cleared his throat.
"Well, you can though," said Bruce, looking at Alfred. "You are divine, Alfred,"
"Indeed I am, sir," replied Alfred sarcastically.
"Hm, well," said his mother, "If you're quite done snarking with Alfred, where's Clark?"
"He's not here yet," Bruce sighed again. He sat on the edge of the bed. "You know he comes and goes as he pleases, at his own pace," he looked around, feeling as if the room had become impersonal, even if they'd already shared so many memories in it.
"Well tell him—that's perfect, thank you—to move his cute little ass and get himself here!"
"Mother!" Bruce blushed.
"He's going to miss a lot of parties," said Martha, "And he's going to miss a lot of booze and dancing, and of course some hot—"
"Mom, mom, just stop," Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get it. I get it. Please don't traumatize your own son,"
"Oh, shush, you," Martha admonished. "It's not like I don't know anything about your…" she paused thoughtfully. "Escapades,"
"Oh my God," Bruce plopped down on the bed. "Mom…can you not, please?"
"Goodness, child," said Martha. "It's just a joke. I just miss having him around you. Around us. Next time he's here, tell him to bring Ma Kent over. It's going to be so much fun,"
"Alfred will be there shortly," said Bruce.
"Wonderful!" Martha smiled. "Love you, dear,"
"Love you, too," Bruce hung up.
"I am rather godly, aren't I?" smirked Alfred, taking the phone from Bruce.
"Oh, shut up, Alfred,"
It was Alfred who laughed this time.
Dancing with strangers, falling apart
Since Alfred was needed at the manor for some more preparing for a charity party Martha was holding, Bruce was alone in the apartment. Martha had insisted to send a servant or two for him, to which Bruce agreed to only if they cleaned out the place while he was out. There wasn't really much to clean since Clark wasn't there with him turning the place upside down. And besides, he could cook. It wasn't like he had anything else to do with his spare time. Alfred was a gifted cook and he wanted to learn. And if he wasn't in the mood to cook anything, his mobile phone was available and so were the delivery men of the nearest Chinese restaurant.
Bruced asked Connor, the employee who volunteered to drive him to Clark's apartment, to be a regular for him. He finally found out his name from the front desk and learned that he was a messenger for almost anyone in the building.
Connor was happy to accept the job of driving Bruce to any point in the country. What he didn't like about it though, was seeing the opposite of the smiling Bruce Wayne that he was used to. He'd already been working for Bruce for about two weeks, and he always seemed to look distant, like his thoughts and dreams were anywhere but here. He looked sad above all else. He looked like he was longing.
But he didn't ask because that was none of his business. He seemed withdrawn when he was alone, and he didn't answer his phone from the moment he slid into the car when Connor picked him up from work, until the next morning when he slid out of the car when he dropped him off at work.
Earlier that night, Conner was instructed to bring clothes up to Bruce's office. He was sure it was some kind of fancy suit since it was stored in a garment bag. It was something fancy, because when Bruce told him to go ready the car, he stepped out of the building in a dashing, dapper piece of fashion that Connor would never be able to afford. Today was the first time in the two weeks that Connor worked for Bruce that he saw him answer his phone in the car.
"To what do I owe this call, Mr. Queen?" Bruce smiled.
"I don't always forget a party invitation you know," said the man on the other line. "And just like you, I like pretty faces, too."
"Mhmm," Bruce chuckled.
"Alfred sent me an invitation, and I thought it'd be nice to tell you that I'm already in your beautiful home, with its beautiful heir nowhere in sight,"
"Kiss someone else's ass, Oliver," Bruce laughed this time.
"I'd love to kiss yours,"
"Uh-huh," Bruce smirked. "Jerk,"
"'Uh-huh,' to you, too, Mr. Sexiest Man Alive. Is your boyfriend around?" asked Oliver, "I've seen you two together like, once or twice, but never again. Where is he? Did you two break up?"
Bruce's smirk was wiped off his face. He sighed. "No, Clark won't be able to make it. He's in Canada, working,"
"And you can't send a jet there to get him?"
"He doesn't know about the party. And I don't want to get in the way of his travels,"
"You don't want to get on his way, or he doesn't want you in is way?"
Bruce didn't answer, because both were true. Only the latter was better answer.
"Bruce? Look, I'm sorry," said Oliver sincerely, knowing that he'd stepped on a mine. "I won't ask again, I'm sorry—"
"It's fine. I'll see you when I get there," Bruce hung up and didn't wait for Oliver to reply.
He sighed and put his phone back in his pocket. Tonight was going to be a different night. He was sure that tonight's guests weren't going to let up until he had told them if he had anyone special, and he didn't want to talk about that. The best thing he could do was pretend he had a bad headache and that he wanted wanted to go to bed to sleep it off.
That sounded like a good plan. Oliver wasn't going to fall for it, he was sure, but then again he'd understand anyways because he'd done it before. He just didn't want to be mauled by people tonight. Maybe a few drinks here and there, and if he felt that the alcohol was doing its thing he'd excuse himself and go to bed before anyone asked him if he had a significant other.
When they arrived at the manor, Bruce told Connor he could stay at the servants' quarters because he wasn't going back to Clark's apartment. One of the servants opened his door, and another took his coat off when he entered the house. Another told him that his mother had retreated to one of the drawing rooms to talk privately with some of the guests, and that she'd be out in a while, while and that his father was in the hall with the other guests. Bruce decided to go to his mother first. The privacy of a drawing room seemed like what he needed at the moment.
"Bruce, honey!" his mother said when he entered one of the drawing rooms.
"Mom," Bruce smiled as she kissed both his cheeks. "Sorry for being late," he turned to her guests, Mr. and Mrs. Queen. "Mr. and Mrs. Queen, it's lovely to see you," he went over to them to shake Mr. Queen's hand and to kiss Mrs. Queen's.
"Oliver's been looking for you all night, dear," said Mrs. Queen, withdrawing her hand from Bruce before he could kiss it. "None of that," she said, pulling him down a little to kiss his cheek. "You'd best be going after Oliver before he does something stupid," she chuckled.
"I'll make sure he doesn't push someone in heels in the pool," Bruce chuckled as his mother gently pulled him away towards the door.
"Really sorry I'm late," whispered Bruce, "I forgot and got caught up in the office—"
"Oh, Bruce, my poor boy," Martha said softly as she brushed an imaginary lint a way from Bruce's shoulder. "I know very well what's been keeping you up in your office, and in that apartment. And I miss him, too."
"Mom, can we not, please?" Bruce frowned. "I don't want to get the same thing again from dad, okay?"
"Okay," Martha nodded, and pressed another kiss to Bruce's cheek. "Go on and look for Oliver,"
Bruce nodded, too, and left the drawing room for the hall. It didn't take long for Bruce to find Oliver, and his father didn't waste time in acknowledging his arrival and introducing him to some people he'd never met before and whom Bruce wasn't really interested in. He wanted to excuse himself from his father's circle, which was composed of men his Thomas' age until their wives came up introducing their scandalously dressed daughters and their asshole sons to him and his father. And it was Oliver to the rescue, thank heaven.
"Borrow Bruce for a while, ladies and gentlemen," Oliver grabbed Bruce's arm.
"Excuse me," he said not so regretfully as Oliver pulled him out of the circle and shoved another champagne glass into his hands.
"We are going to get you drunk," said Oliver, as he pulled Bruce out of the hall. "Because that's what you need,"
Bruce downed the whole glass. "Nope, I was planning to get just a little bit intoxicated," said Bruce honestly, "And lie about being tired from the office and go to bed—thanks," a server took their empty glasses, and handed them full ones from his tray before going back in the hall.
"Cheers," said Oliver as they raised their glasses, and once again downed the whole glass in one go. "Now, I believe," Oliver put his and Bruce's glasses down on a furniture top nearby. "That you have a beautiful bar somewhere, with Johnnie in a blue box waiting for us,"
"Ollie," Bruce said as Oliver pulled him upstairs to the bar. "I told you, only enough to get me tipsy. I am not letting you get me drunk,"
"Just a teeny tiny bit drunk?"
And so, a considerable amount of shots later, some dancing according to whatever music was blaring downstairs, Bruce was incapable of walking straight. No, drinking wasn't forgetting. Drinking just made him feel a little bit number to Clark's absence, and just a little bit more sensitive. He was used to his absence, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt a lot, like a persistent ache that numbed and stung even more at the same time if he thought about it or if he downed one shot after another.
"I can still make it to my room, don't worry," Bruce slurred as Oliver helped him through the halls.
"I have no doubt that you still can, Bruce," Oliver chuckled.
When Bruce said he wanted to be slightly intoxicated, Oliver didn't expect him to down the Scotch whiskey like Gatorade after a ball game. With Bruce like this it was a bad idea to get drunk himself, so he decided to control the flow of the alcohol and look after Bruce instead. He'd overstepped a line with him, and this was probably the least he could do.
The party wasn't over. They could still hear music and talking and laughter. But Bruce didn't want anything to do with them. Not tonight. Maybe next year. Maybe never.
Without any major injuries, he and Oliver were able to make it to his room, safe and sound. Oliver set Bruce down on his bed. "Let's take this off," he said as he took Bruce's tie off. The jacket had been long forgotten on the bar stool next to Bruce, and Oliver thank the stars it was going to be easier to undress Bruce and put him to bed.
He left Bruce with his undershirt and boxers on and tucked him in bed.
"Hey, Ollie?" said Bruce as Oliver pulled the sheets up.
"Yeah?"
"You've met Clark, right?" Bruce looked at him and tried to focus his vision on his blonde friend. "Do you think he really does love me?"
If life was a movie, then it wouldn't end like this, left without a kiss.
Oliver had only met Clark a few times, and he didn't even spend enough time with him in the same room to notice anything else other than he was totally smitten over Bruce. "Yeah," he nodded, "Yeah, I think he loves you a lot,"
"I want him to come home," Bruce closed his eyes, "I'm tired of waiting, Ollie,"
"I know, Bruce," said Ollie, pulling up the sheets. He sighed. "I know,"
"That's coming off your paycheck, son," the bar owner calmly told Clark.
Clark stared at the broken mug on the floor. "S-sorry," he said as he knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of glass.
"Don't touch that," said his boss, and grabbed the broom that was nearby. "You're going to cut yourself," he swept the glass away, and gave the broom to Clark to finish up.
Clark sighed and started to clean up the mess.
"You okay?"
"Y-yeah," Clark said hesitantly, shaking as he swept the glass into the dust pan. "Just not myself today, I guess,"
Do you think he really does love me? I want him to come home. I'm tired of waiting, Ollie.
"I think you should go home," said his boss, "I'm sure he misses you,"
"What?" Clark looked at him. "I live upstairs?"
The man chuckled as he dried the glasses on the counter. "I meant home, to whoever you're writing to every damn night, and send him one out of twenty letters. He sure sounds like one heck of a guy, son. What's he like?"
"Oh, um," Clark deposited the broken glass into the trash bin. "He's…" he paused, thinking of anything that would describe his Bruce in every way possible. "Beautiful, inside and out. And he's everything to me,"
He left for Canada at dawn. He walked.
The boy was eight years old.
Bruce knew Haly, met him on a tour a while back, and met the Flying Graysons and their adorable son hiding behind his mother's leg when Bruce asked to meet them one night after a performance. After some bribery with ice cream and cake, Bruce was able to warm up to the child, and was able to get a hug before he left for the night, and a tiny kiss on his cheek goodbye when the Haly's circus left for their next stop. That was in Germany about a year ago. (3)
He walked towards the group of policemen talking, together with some detectives, and Haly, around the young boy who was wrapped in a blanket. He was quiet and wouldn't look or talk to anyone. And Bruce couldn't believe he saw and had a chat with them before their performance.
"Mr. Wayne!" the boy, Richard, he remembered, came running to him in tears. "Mr. Wayne!"
Bruce knelt down, caught him and hugged him tightly. "I'm here," he rubbed the boy's back in attempt to calm his sobbing. "I'm here,"
He looked at the burnt down area of the camp Haly put up. One of the lines connected to the generators that supplied electricity to the camp was faulty and set one of the tents on fire and spread. Authorities were bringing bodies out of the police line, and the first ones they were able to retrieve were the Graysons. Bruce found out from Commissioner Gordon that Richard had been out for the afternoon with some of the other performers.
"They're going to take me away!" sobbed Richard, hugging Bruce tighter when he tried to let go to look at his face. "Please don't let them take me away!"
And that was when Bruce made one of the most amazing impulsive decisions he had ever made in his life. He adopted the boy.
Dick, as the boy made Bruce call him, was quiet at first. He didn't say a word at the funeral, and wouldn't let go of whatever part of Bruce he was holding, hand, arm or leg, and was never more than a foot away from him.
Thomas was more than happy to handle the adoption papers for him, and Martha was excited to have a child in the house again. She even prepared his room herself.
"Whoa," said Dick as the car went past the gates to the estate. "This is where you live?"
"Yes," Bruce smiled, and found Dick's awe at his new home adorable. "Not right now, though, but since this is your new home now, we're going to live here,"
Dick looked at him. "You don't live here?"
"Not at the moment," said Bruce, "But there is no trouble with moving. I'm sure my parents will be glad to have us, okay?" he ruffled the boy's hair, and he was glad that Dick gave him a small smile.
The car came to a stop, and a servant opened passenger door. Dick pulled on Bruce's sleeve as he stepped out.
"Yes?" Bruce bent over so Dick could whisper in his ear
"Why'd he open the door?" Dick asked, "I could open it myself,"
Bruce chuckled. "It's their job to open the door for you," he said, "Now, come on. Mom and Dad are excited to welcome you, and Mom wants to show you to your room. She prepared it just for you,"
As Bruce had expected, Dick hid behind him, only peeking at Martha and Thomas, as he introduced them. "It's alright," said Bruce, putting a hand on Dick's back to gently push him towards Martha and Thomas. But Dick fisted Bruce's jacket and hid further behind him.
"Hi," said Martha, smiling at him. "We're glad to have you here, Richard. I'm Martha, and this is Thomas. We're Bruce's parents,"
Dick peeked at Martha and Thomas, and nodded. He looked up at Bruce.
"Say hi," Bruce mouthed to him.
Dick gave a small wave. "Hi,"
Bruce thought that went well. There weren't any tears or any similar casualties when Dick was shown to his room. He wouldn't let go of Bruce's hand though, and tried his best not to come hiding behind Bruce anymore.
"I hope you like this room," said Martha, drawing the curtains to let the sunshine in. Alfred was by her assisting in brightening up the room.
"It was Master Bruce's when he was your age," said Alfred, smiling at the boy.
He shy said his thanks, and bravely stepped forward and gave Martha a hug. She held back her tears as Dick let go and went over to give Thomas a hug as well.
Thomas, Martha and Alfred left them to give Dick some privacy while he settled in and went around the room.
"Dick?" said Bruce when Dick had stopped by the window, blankly looking out on the estate.
Dick turned around and watched Bruce kneel down to his level.
"I know that we, especially I, will never be able to replace your parents," Dick looked down at his shoes so he didn't have to look at Bruce, but Bruce lifted his chin up to meet his eyes. "Or that we'll be able to know what it's like to carry this great loss. But I want you to know how very honored I am that you trust me enough to take care of you. It will get better in time, I promise; and for however long it takes, you will always have a home with us," (4)
Dick threw his arms around him and sobbed, and there was nothing Bruce could do but hold him.
Talking to angels, counting the stars
Dick overheard him talking to Clark one night.
Dick came and went in his room and even though it was a little bit of an invasion of privacy, Bruce thought that Dick's willingness to come to him for anything was adorable. But privacy was probably one of those things that had to be given up when entering parenthood. Parenthood terrified him, but he was already there and there was no turning back. There were no regrets taking Dick in. It had only been a few weeks, and he was honestly looking forward to his time raising Dick.
Dick entered his room, and was surprised to see his surrogate father not on his bed like usual. Quietly, he closed the door and made his way into the room. He saw Bruce on the terrace, barefoot, leaning on the stone railing in his pajamas and bathrobe. As quietly as his tiny feet would let him, Dick walked over to the open terrace doors. Bruce looked like he was talking to the stars, like he was praying.
"I think I just made an amazing decision," said Bruce, "Yes, kissing you in the back of the car was an amazing decision, too. What I meant was, oh my god, Clark. I've been so busy with him, trying not to fuck anything up because this is a child—a life! Oh my god, I'm responsible for a life now, Clark!" he put his face to his hands, then looked up at the sky again.
If he were asked if Dick got his mind of Clark's absence, it did. It felt good to just have someone constantly by his side. It felt nice to be needed the way a child needed an adult. Bruce found the innocence and purity in the actions Dick did something he wanted to protect and preserve for as long as possible.
"I just adopted this beautiful little boy, and Jesus, Clark, I have a son. I seriously think you're going to be better than me at this,"
Dick's eyes widened. Bruce thought of him as his son. He wanted to run over and hug him, not only because of what he had found out, but because Bruce looked so sad. He was smiling, just a little bit, but but the smile didn't look happy at all, and Dick had never seen anyone so sad. He wanted to make Bruce feel better, like how he made him feel better when he was sad.
"I think you'll be able to understand him better," Bruce continued. "He lost his parents and…and you know what that's like. I mean, I know what it's like to lose a loved one but you…I think you're going to love him. He's just like you, a little ball of sunshine and hugs, just everything beautiful about an innocent soul," he chuckled. "His name's Richard, but he likes being called Dick. I think you have the same eyes," he took a deep breath. "Come home, please, Clark?"
When Dick decided he'd heard enough, he spoke. "Bruce?"
Bruce made soft gasp and turned around. "Dick?" he went back inside the room, closed the door to the terrace and drew the curtains closed. "What are you doing up? It's way past your bedtime,"
"I can't sleep," Dick frowned a little. "I'm sorry,"
Bruce fondly smiled at him and ruffled his hair. "C'mon, I'm tired, too,"
"Who were you talking to?" Dick asked as Bruce helped him up on the bed. "Who's coming home?" he pretended he'd only heard the last sentence.
Bruce sat on the edge and Dick sat in the middle of the bed. "Clark," answered Bruce, "I was talking to Clark," he took the framed photo from his bedside drawer and showed it to Dick.
Dick took the photo frame and looked both at the two people in the picture carefully. "Is he someone special?" he looked back up at Bruce.
"Yeah," Bruce nodded. "I like to think he's listening,"
"Where is he?" Dick looked at the picture again. "He looks very nice,"
"He's working somewhere far away," answered Bruce, "And yes, he's very nice. He saved me from bullies when we were young,"
Bruce swore Dick could've snapped his neck when he looked up at him again. "Really?" he said, sounding truly at awe. "Wow!"
Bruce laughed. "Yeah," he nodded. "I'd love for you to meet him, and for him to meet you. I pray that it's going to be soon,"
"Can't we go over to him?" Dick picked up the photograph and put it back on the bedside table.
"No," Bruce shook his head, and adjusted the frame's position. "We can't. I promised him I'd let him take his time," he stood up, "Now, how about we go to bed?"
Dick let himself be tucked in, and curled up next to Bruce when he slid in under the covers. "Good night, Bruce,"
"Good night, Dick," he pressed his lips to Dick's hair, and closed his eyes.
Both had a good night's sleep.
"Do I have to?" Dick frowned as he looked up at Bruce. "I don't wanna. I wanna stay with you and Alfred, and Grandma and Grandpa," he didn't want to go in the big stone building. It looked easy to get lost in it and he'd rather Bruce teach him like his mom taught him. He didn't want to go to the big fancy school.
Bruce smiled fondly. "School is only a few hours, Dick," he knelt down to brush invisible lint off Dick's uniform, and to fix his tie. "I'll pick you up when it's over, and we'll go out for some ice cream while we talk about how your day was, then visit Grandpa at the clinic, how's that sound?"
"You promise?" he pouted this time.
"I promise,"
Dick threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly. "What if I don't make any friends?"
Bruce hugged back. "I doubt that," he rubbed comforting circles on the boy's back.
"You promise you'll pick me up?" Dick let go for a bit to look at Bruce.
"I do," Bruce nodded. "Now, you'll be late. The bell is about to ring, and the principal is waiting for you," he let go and Alfred helped Dick with his backpack.
He was still pouting. He hugged Bruce one last time, and pointed at his nose. "Promise,"
"You're strapping young man, sir," Alfred smiled at him, "I'm sure you'll make a lot of friends,"
Dick giggled, and then he ran over to the principal who was waiting for him at the entrance. She looked nice enough, but Dick was still wary of her. He waved goodbye to Bruce and Alfred, and went inside the school.
School was a success, Bruce thanked the heavens. Ice cream and the visit to Grandpa Thomas' clinic after school did happen, and Bruce just smiled through it all when Dick told them everything that had happened. Bruce was glad that he had made a lot of friends. A lot of them were exchange students from other schools, and some were there from the Wayne Scholarships. He caught a few names, there was an Artemis, a Megan and a Garfield.
Halfway through to Canada, Clark decided to work as a stocker at a twenty four hour supermarket for a while. Most of the time, his aisles were given to someone else because the manager was always asking him to unload the trucks. His…talent with heavy things didn't go unnoticed. So did his ass.
He'd been working there for about two weeks, and was bringing in sacks and sacks of detergent into the stock room from the delivery trucks one night when he heard Bruce talking.
I think I just made an amazing decision. Yes, kissing you in the back of the car was an amazing decision, too.
Clark smiled to himself as he put the sack over his shoulder.
"What are you smiling about?" smirked one of his co-workers.
"Nothing I just…" Clark couldn't help but giddily smile wider. "I just heard from…"
His coworker put his hand up. "Say no more," he chuckled. "I think I already know who you heard from. It's written all over your face. Go put that in the stockroom," he waved a hand for Clark to go back into the building.
Clark set the sack down with the rest of the detergent sacks in the soaps section, and dusted off his hands, ready for another round of lifting. The smile never left his face as Bruce continued to talk, and even chuckled softly when Bruce started to panic. He wished he could kiss those worries away.
He's just like you, a little ball of sunshine and hugs, just everything beautiful about an innocent soul. His name's Richard, but he likes being called Dick. I think you have the same eyes. Come home, please, Clark?
"I think you'll be a great dad, Bruce," he whispered with a smile as he put a box of canned goods away. He sighed as he looked up at the tall shelf. "I will, soon,"
"Hey, Colton!" (5)
He turned to his left and saw one of the cashiers, a brunette college girl whose name escaped him, was running towards him. "Yes?"
"Your shift's over, right? Manager wants to see you," she said, "My shift starts in five, so see ya 'round!" she turned back around and ran out of the stockroom.
He pulled his face towel from his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead before heading to the locker room. He changed his shirt and put on his coat before making his way to the manager's office. His shift's manager was a blonde woman in her late twenties. It was a good thing she hadn't put her coat on yet because he'd forgotten her name. Again. It was a Hannah something. He was sure there was a Hannah.
Clark knocked on the open door. "You asked to see me?"
"Ah, there you are," she said, locking the drawer on her table, then grabbing her coat from the coat hanger by the door. "C'mon, I'll treat you to dinner," she went past him and closed the office door.
"What? Why?"
"Are you kidding me?" she laughed at him. "You're practically a gift from heaven to this place. It takes you a third of the time to finish the work others before you did. I think you need a break. You always look so distant!"
Clark didn't get why she had to treat him dinner for doing his job, but it was free food so he wasn't going to turn that down. He smiled at her. "Okay, thank you, ma'am,"
"Call me Hannah," she said as they exited out the employee's door out back, "We're not at work anymore,"
"Okay," said Clark reluctantly with a light nod, "Hannah,"
"Good!" she said cheerfully, walking out of the establishment premises with him. "I can't tell you how much help you've been. We've never had so much work done before!"
"I try my best," said Clark as they walked down the block.
"If that was you just trying, I don't know what you'd be capable of if you really did do your best!"
To be completely honest, this supermarket had given him the kindest people to work with. This manager seemed to live off of everybody else's energy, never really got angry at mistakes, was always smiling and was hands on with the people who worked within her shift.
"You don't mind do you?" Hannah asked, "I mean, is it okay if I cook you dinner? There aren't anything else around here other than fast food and convenience store dinners,"
"Oh," said Clark, "Oh, no. That's okay. As long as your husband doesn't mind,"
He was so not in the mood for angry, jealous husbands.
Hannah laughed as she led him to an apartment complex. "Honey, I had a husband,"
Her unit was on the second floor, and Clark had to wait on her sofa in front of a nice, warm fire while she changed out of her uniform. He was poking the fire when he heard her from the kitchen.
"Lasagna okay for you?" she asked as she popped the tray of pasta into the oven. "It's going to take a while,"
Clark was definitely okay with anything. "Um, yes, thank you," he stood up went to the kitchen. "Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked.
"Nope, just sit down and relax," she smiled at him, and reached for a couple of wine glasses from her cupboard, and a wine bottle from the wine rack.
Nodding, he left the kitchen and went back to the living room. He had noticed that she did have a husband. They were probably separated, maybe in the middle of a divorce, or already divorced. There were pictures where a man's head was torn off. His x-ray vision let him see through a duffel bag near the front door, which contained men's clothing and personal belongings. There were folders on a desk in an office nook near the kitchen which looked like they were from a divorce attorney judging by the header print. His boss's personal life wasn't any of his business, so he sat back down on the sofa and stopped snooping around the apartment.
Wine wasn't exactly one of his strong points. Bruce knew a lot about wines, and most of the stuff Bruce made him try out were the ones that really aged well. He didn't know if what she had was nice but turning it down would be rude. So when she entered the living room with the two glasses and the wine bottle, and offered him a glass, he accepted it.
Her clothes thankfully wasn't anything he should be worried about. She was wearing an oversized sports shirt that obviously didn't originally belong to her, and some shorts. "So," she started as he plopped down next to him. "You can't possibly be single,"
Clark almost choked on his wine. "Well," he coughed, "I do have a significant other, and he has a son,"
"Oh," Clark was sure he wasn't going to survive this small talk thing. "A pre-started family I see,"
"Not really," said Clark, "I haven't seen him in a while, and I haven't met the boy yet. He adopted him,"
"You're away from your lover," she set the wine glass down on the coffee table beside the wine bottle.
Clark nodded.
"No wonder you always look so distant," she pouted, and moved closer to Clark. "So, why are you here? Far away from your beloved?"
"Um, well," Clark started gingerly as he stared at his glass of wine. He really didn't want to talk about this. "I really don't want to talk about this," this woman was way too close for comfort.
"Then what do you want to talk about?"
Before she could put her hand on Clark's thigh, Clark stood up and put the glass of wine down. "Uh, Ma'am—Hannah,"
"What's wrong?" she smirked at him. "Can't have a little fun?" she got up from the sofa and tried to pull him in. "Is handsome, little Colton too scared to bend the rules for the game? C'mon, he won't know,"
Clark firmly held her by the shoulders and pushed her away. "This isn't a game," he frowned at her.
"Hey!" she frowned at him, "That hurts, let me go!"
Clark pushed her onto the sofa. He had never felt this bothered before. Bothered and mad. How could anyone think of sleeping with another person when they were already committed to someone else? "Maybe that's why you don't have a husband, ma'am,"
Never, in his whole time with Bruce, had he ever thought about someone else, looked at someone else the way he looked at Bruce, and yet this woman, his boss, thought he could somehow ignore all of the feelings he had for Bruce and sleep with her.
"Excuse me?" she said incredulously.
"I love him," said Clark vehemently. "I love him," he repeated, "And there is nothing you can do or say that will make me look at you the same way I look at him, or will make me feel the same way he makes me feel," he didn't know why, but he wanted to punch something. "Thank you for the wine,"
He didn't wait for her to answer. He grabbed his coat and left. He turned in his resignation the next day, and decided to not make any more stops until Canada.
'He won't know,' thought Clark as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, and gave his room key back to the landlady. 'But it will kill me knowing that I do,'
Dick was at school and Bruce was at work with Lucius when Connor knocked on his office door. "Sir?"
"I'm in the middle of a meeting with Mr. Fox, Connor," said Bruce, "Can't this wait? And aren't you supposed to be on your way to fetch Richard from school?"
"I am and I'm sorry," said Connor as he stepped into the office. "But Mr Pennyworth instructed me to go back to Wayne Manor and pick something up for you. He said it was urgent," he look long strides over to Bruce's desk, and handed him the white envelope. "I'll go fetch Sir Richard now," he left the room in a rush.
"He sure looks like he ran a marathon," Lucius chuckled as he watched Bruce open the envelope.
"Well, if Alfred asked him to run a marathon he probably would,"
The envelope was theirs, the baronial ones with the Wayne family crest printed on it, and it wasn't sealed or signed. The card inside it wasn't the same size as the envelope either. Bruce understood why when he pulled out the contents.
Out on the corner trying to catch a glimpse
It was a postcard from Clark.
The front was a blank, almost like it was a vintage postcard, but it wasn't discolored. At the back was the manor's address, and the message was short.
I love you, Bruce. Always, Clark.
Bruce smiled, and Lucius knew enough to know what that smile meant. "Yeah, I love you, too, Clark," he said, knowing Clark would hear it.
Dick smiled in relief when he saw the family car pull up in front of the school. Connor stepped out of the driver's seat and opened the passenger car for him. He waved goodbye to his friends, and ran towards the car.
"I was beginning to think you forgot me!" Dick smiled at Connor. He'd been fifteen minutes late.
"Sorry," said Connor bashfully. "I had to run an errand for Mr Pennywroth. I think Mr Wayne received a letter,"
"A letter!" said Dick excitedly. "Who's it from?"
"I don't know," Connor shrugged. "I can take you to Wayne Tower to find out if you like," he offered with a smile.
"Let's go!" Dick slid into the car, and Connor closed the door for him.
The smile couldn't be wiped off from Dick's face. He knew exactly who that letter was from.
"Sir Richard, you can't go in there!" came the voice of Bruce's secretary.
"You got a letter!" Dick declared as he barged in the office.
Lucius looked over his shoulder and chuckled at the boy's excitement. "Good afternoon, Richard,"
"Good afternoon, Mr Fox!" Dick closed the door and made a beeline for Bruce's desk.
Bruce laughed. "Indeed I did," he lifted Dick up onto his lap. "How was school?"
"I wanna see! Please let me see!" said Dick, ignoring the question about school.
Lucius just found the two adorable so he just kept quiet, watching the kid rough up Bruce's desk, looking for the letter Bruce had received earlier.
Bruce opened the drawer to his left, and let Dick open the envelope.
Hurriedly but gently, Dick took the postcard out of the envelope and read the short handwritten message. Dick face flushed red, the blush creeping up to his ears and down his neck. He looked up at Bruce. "He needs to come home to you right now if he loves you!"
"Well," said Bruce, taking the postcard and envelope and put it back in his drawer. "Like they said, when you love someone, you let them go,"
"No, if you love someone, you wouldn't leave!" argued Dick, "Especially when they love you back!"
"It's not about wanting to be with them, son," said Bruce, ruffling the child's hair. "It's about loving them enough, and trusting them enough, to let them do what they want, even if it means that you have to let them go,"
Dick pouted. He didn't understand why that would be a testament to a great love. Dick didn't understand why Clark decided to stay away even though he knew that Bruce missed him, loved him. Dick was sure Clark felt the same for Bruce. Something he didn't understand too was why Bruce understood. He didn't really understand. Grown-ups think so weird.
Bruce laughed. "Alright. Go ask the nice lady outside my door for some snacks, and I'll finish up here and we'll go home, okay?"
"Okay," Dick hopped off Bruce's lap, and left the office. He hoped this Clark person really felt guilty about hurting Bruce so much.
It was raining hard one morning when Bruce and Dick had no choice but to retreat to Clark's penthouse. Tommy, Bruce's childhood friend, was with them. He and Bruce were supposed to have coffee for the morning after they dropped Dick off at school, but it started raining too hard. Bruce wasn't going to send Dick off to school with bad weather, so he decided just let him skip school for the day.
"WOW!" Dick exclaimed when they entered the unit. "This is yours?!" he ran over to the door to the terrace, and watched the rain hammer onto the terrace floor. He squinted his eyes to try and see anything outside beyond the veranda, but it was too foggy. He couldn't even see Wayne Tower and that never happened before!
Bruce took off his coat and hung it in the closet. "No, it's Clark's," he chuckled as he watched Dick run around. "I gave it to him. We used to live here together, when he started looking for a job, and then decided to go on his trip," he put on some slippers. "Alright, take your shoes off, make do with the slippers in the closet, and hang your coat. Then we'll have some hot drinks,"
"HOT COCOA!" Dick put his backpack down on the sofa, and did as he was told, then went to explore more of the unit.
Bruce headed to the kitchen to fix up some coffee. He was relieved to find some coffee in the cupboard, and to find that the coffee maker was ready for him on the counter.
Tommy entered the kitchen free of his coat and shoes, and set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. "I have no idea why you have an entire floor as a supermarket in this building, but that's a genius idea," he said, "Anybody ever tell you that fatherhood suits you?" he asked
"Quiet, you," Bruce chuckled, "And make yourself useful and light the fireplace,"
"The boy already did," Tommy peeked in the living room and saw Dick poking the fire.
Bruce pulled out the milk and chocolate from the grocery bags, and put a pan out to heat the milk. "Sorry about today, Tommy. It seems like the weather doesn't agree with us,"
"Hey, privacy in your apartment," said Tommy, pulling up a stool. "I think that's way better than a coffee shop, surrounded by cameras,"
"This isn't my apartment," Bruce poured some milk with a small bar of chocolate into the pan. "It's Clark's," he poured Tommy a mug of coffee, and took the creamer and sugar from the bag of groceries for him to use.
"Oh, him," Tommy sipped his coffee.
"Dick, come get your mug," said Bruce as he poured the warm milk into the mug, and grabbed the cinnamon from the herb shelf to garnish the drink.
Dick quietly made his way in and out of the kitchen, knowing that grown up talk was going to happen. "Can I watch TV?" he asked Bruce before he was out of hearing range.
"Yeah, but keep the volume down," said Bruce, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "Aren't you going to put anything else in that?" he asked as he sat down on a stool opposite Tommy.
"No, I like black coffee," Tommy set his mug down. "So this place is Kent's, huh?"
"You never did like him, did you?"
"I'm supposed to like the guy who keeps my best friend waiting like an idiot?"
Yeah, he's still coming, just a little bit late
He got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape
"Clark and I talked about this,"
"Obviously not enough,"
"Tommy."
"Bruce."
For a moment they had a staring contest, until Bruce sighed.
"There are other people right here, beside you, who can give you what you deserve, take care of you better, be there for you, who won't make you wait, or dream of when your next date will be. A lot of people have asked for your heart, Bruce. Veronica (6) when she didn't think you were boring and wasn't married? Ollie? Hell, even Hal before you introduced him to Barry! You've only ever given it to one person, and he's not even around for you!"
"I don't want to talk about this, Tommy,"
"You never want to talk about this,"
"I love him!" frowned Bruce.
"Does he love you?"
"I know he does!"
"Do you?"
"Of course I do!"
"How sure are you that he'll come back to you?"
"As sure as the sunrise,"
"Will he even come back?"
"He will!"
"How do you know?"
Bruce slammed his fist onto the counter. "I know because he tells me he'll come back!"
There was a moment of silence, then a small voice spoke. "Dr Elliot?" said Dick from the threshold.
"Yes, Richard?" Tommy looked at him.
"If you're not going to say anything nice to Bruce, please leave," he said solemnly. "I don't know about you, but I don't like arguing with my friends,"
"Dick, go back to the living room—"
"No," Tommy cut him off. "The kid's right. I should leave," he left the coffee unfinished, grabbed his coat and left.
Dick frowned. Bruce really looked pained and bothered. "I'm sorry—"
"How long were you standing there?" said Bruce. "And I want the truth Richard,"
Dick swallowed at his first name. "About that part with a lady named Veronica,"
Bruce sighed. "I don't ever want you eavesdropping on and interrupting adult conversations like that ever again, am I clear?"
The boy nodded. "Yes, Bruce,"
It was the first time Bruce scolded Dick, and he looked like he was about to cry. "Come here," he said softly as beckoned the child to come closer. Dick did, and Bruce knelt on one knee and pulled him into a hug. "I'm not mad, okay?" Dick hugged back tightly. "I am upset, because you didn't do as I asked, and for Tommy bringing up Clark. But I want you to know," Bruce let go and looked Dick in the eye. "That best friends say things like what Tommy said because they care,"
"But he was being mean," Dick frowned.
"Only to protect me and knock some sense into me," said Bruce and smiled at Dick.
Dick could tell Bruce was hiding a lot of sadness behind that smile. He'd seen enough movies to know what distance does to lovers, but he was sure Bruce and Clark are trying to keep their ties strong. "Okay," he nodded, and wiped the tears away with his sleeve.
"C'mon, let's finish your cocoa and when the rain dies down we can get some food delivered, how's that sound?"
The boy nodded. "Okay," and they cleaned up the counter together. "Are we going to live here?" he asked as he handed the mugs over to Bruce for him to wash.
"If you want us to," said Bruce, letting the warm water wash the soap bubbles off of the mugs he and Tommy used. "I was staying here before I adopted you. But mom and dad wanted you to get used to the manor first, so I moved back,"
"Why were you staying here?" Dick asked curiously, grabbing one of the towels from the closet to hand over to Bruce.
Bruce took the towel and started drying the mugs. "Clark sent me a letter, and that he was coming home soon. I thought the first place he'd come to in Gotham would be here, because we used to live here together,"
Dick watched Bruce put the grocery items in the fridge. And a moment later he thoughtfully and carefully said, "I want to live here with you,"
Bruce closed the fridge door, and put away the brown paper bag from the groceries in a drawer. "Why is that?"
"So you wouldn't have to wait for him alone,"
Still, he smiles, the way he smiles.
Bruce smiled genuinely.
Clark didn't expect the woman he had saved in the Kryptonian scout ships was going to find him. He was going to make sure that until everything was fixed, until this man named General Zod was gone and Earth was safe, until he was sure that he could defeat this madman who wanted to turn Earth into Krypton, he was going to keep Bruce safe . They threatened his mother. He wasn't going to take that risk with Bruce, his son, or Alfred, or Thomas and Martha.
He had to protect them, even if it meant he had to die.
Just a little bit late,
He got stuck at the Five and Dime saving the day
He flew to his and Bruce's apartment, and he knew that Bruce knew that these people were looking for him. And as much as possible, he was going to keep Bruce away from them.
That's when Bruce saw it, a red and blue blur that went past his window in his room. He rushed to the terrace, and quickly opened the sliding door.
"Clark!"
Bruce saw Clark land on his terrace.
"Bruce, stay here. No matter what you hear on the news. Stay here,"
He didn't waste any time and ran towards him. "They're looking for you. Oh my God, Clark, they want you," Bruce said frantically.
"I love you, Bruce," Clark had just landed and he was floating away again.
"No!" Bruce grabbed onto Clark's arms.
"Give this to someone else, okay?" Clark gently pressed his hand to Bruce's chest
"No, Clark, please," Bruce begged, clinging onto him tighter as the tears started to fall.
"They can take care of it better than I can,"
What?
"I can't…" Bruce sobbed, trying to pull Clark down onto the ground.
"They'll always be here for you,"
"Please…"
"They won't make you wait, or dream of your next date. They won't be able to hurt you more than I already have,"
Those were Tommy's words.
"CLARK!"
Clark heard Tommy's words.
Show him love and flying through the air
Save him now before it's too late tonight
"I love you," said Clark.
"Clark, please! I can't do this again!"
"Say it, say it, please, Bruce," Clark cupped Bruce's face with his hands, willing his lover's tears to stop falling.
"I love you! I love you so please, please, Clark," but Clark only pressed a kiss to Bruce's forehead, and gently brushed him away, and flew. "Please come back to me!"
Bruce sent messages to Alfred and his mom and dad to stay at the manor until the crisis was over. Good thing they were scared enough not to question suggestions of hiding. He was distraught, but he was trying to keep it together so that Dick wouldn't panic. He was already obviously scared of what was happening, and he didn't want to add to that. But even if he did try to look calm, his eyes were swollen and his nose was red from the crying, and Dick had seen the whole thing on the terrace.
Now he was making lunch for them both. A simple pot of mac and cheese because he didn't trust himself enough to make anything complicated without burning the building down. As for the news, Bruce always had the TV and radio on, and made sure he read every notification on his phone.
Lunch was quiet, if not for the radio and TV in the background. Bruce busied himself, but kept his phone with him at all times, and the radio and TV loud enough so he could hear. He asked Dick to let him clean up alone after lunch, he did their very little laundry, and when finally Dick saw him with nothing to do, he handed him a mug of tea, and pulled him to the sofa to calm him down, at least. There wasn't anything Dick could say that would make Bruce feel better. But at least, Bruce found solace from the Dick's embrace.
"We're going to be fine," Bruce told Dick, trying to push away Dick's fears. "We're going to be okay,"
Dick nodded, and hugged him tighter.
By the time the news had said that a ship crashed into whatever was digging into the Earth's crust, Bruce had already gone through numerous repeats of the rosary, clutching the beads tightly, praying, asking, begging the heavens to keep His children safe, to keep Clark safe, to return to his parents and family and friends, to him, whole and healthy and unhurt. (7)
The night came and the news had said that everything was okay and that it was over.
Nothing from Clark.
"Bruce?" said Thomas when his son picked up the phone. "I'm going to Metropolis to help with the injured. Your mother is going to handle any kind of donations the people of Gotham are willing to give. You stay here and take care of Dick. He must be very scared,"
"Be careful, dad," said Bruce hoarsely. "I'm going to call Tommy so he could help,"
"Are you alright? Bruce, is everything okay?" said Thomas worriedly.
"Dad," Bruce choked out as he slumped down onto his bed. "Clark is in Metropolis," he sobbed. "I heard from him and he said he was there to try and look for a job before coming here," it wasn't completely a lie, but he had to say something or his chest was going to explode.
"Oh, Bruce," his father said sadly. "I will do my best to help find him, son. But for now, I'm going to have to ask you to be strong for Dick,"
"I'm trying," Bruce heaved. "Believe me, I'm trying, but I feel like something's crushing my chest and—" he stopped to breathe. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Good luck, dad. I'll join you to help soon,"
"I'll call you as soon as something's come up," said Thomas, "May I talk to Dick?"
Dick was by the door, worriedly waiting with a glass of water for Bruce. His surrogate father motioned for him to take the phone, and Dick went into the room to hand over the glass of water.
"Thank you," Bruce took the glass, and Dick took the phone from him.
"Grandpa?" said Dick softly.
"Richard, is it okay if I ask you to look out for Bruce?"
"Yes," Dick nodded. "I will,"
"Thank you. May I please have Bruce back on the phone?"
"Yes, Grandpa," Dick handed the phone back to Bruce.
"Dad,"
"I love you, and don't do anything stupid,"
A laugh broke out from Bruce's tears. "I love you, too, Dad," and Bruce hung up.
He was less shaky, but even more worried while he and Dick fixed dinner. There were some Chinese noodle bowls in the cupboard, that were thankfully not expired yet, and they had those. After dinner, Bruce sat by the fire with a fresh mug of tea Dick made for him.
He wanted to wait for any news about Clark, but he didn't want to worry Dick than he already had, so he finished his tea, and told Dick he was going to bed. Dick joined him under the covers. He was sure that Bruce didn't fall asleep immediately, and that he tired himself out crying.
"Bruce!" Dick said urgently as he shook Bruce awake. "Bruce, wake up!"
For some reason, Bruce really hated how the sun was shining into the room as he blinked awake. His eyes were red, puffy and tired from all the crying. "What is it?" he groaned.
"Someone's in the kitchen and it's not Grandma or Grandpa or Alfred!"
"What?" Bruce quickly got out of bed, not even bothering to put on his slippers and rushed out of the door to see who the intruder was.
The man was tall, wearing a white Henley and was making breakfast. Eggs and bacon and toast. And Bruce knew exactly whose broad shoulders those were, and how familiar those movements were.
And then the man turned around.
"Hi, Bruce," Clark smiled at him. "I'm home,"
(1) Rade Serbedzija played the homeless man Bruce gave his jacket to in Batman Begins.
(2) Connor is a small time crook from The New Batman Adventures. Bruce gave him a job at Wayne Enterprises after learning that he joined some thugs to earn a quick buck for his starving wife and son.
(3) Taken from Young Justice, "Haly International Traveling Circus."
(4) Scene and lines taken from Batman The Animated Series Season 1 Episode 32, "Robin's Reckoning Part 1."
(5) In Man of Steel, Clark went around using different names.
(6) Veronica Vreeland, a member of Gotham City's elite. She appeared in episodes of BTAS and TNBA. According to Marilu Henner who voiced the character, Veronica "is the type of person who would reject Bruce for being too boring, then sit around wondering why Batman hasn't called her."
(7) Clark in MoS believed in God, and in Arkham City, Bruce's subtitles had the pronoun 'him' for God capitalized. After Bruce saved a cop from some thugs in the museum, the cop says "Thank God," and Bruce replied, "You may want to hold off on thanking Him until after you've answered my question." So I'm pulling this from that.
This really, was supposed to be a drabble. Now look at this monster.
When I started this, I said to myself, a thousand word superbat fanfic, tops. Four thousand words later, I said to myself, 'You can finish this in six.' Eight thousand words, later, 'You can finish this in ten.' At nine thousand, obviously this thing wasn't going to finish by ten thousand.
Comments are very much appreciated!