Story 11: We're Ready
Author's Note:
Okay, so SMWW #12 was Soule's last hurrah on the comic and with DC. This reunion issue was a long time coming. By the end, our power couple are ready to face the world with a new creative team at the helm. This gap filler includes content from SMWW #12, Action Comics #35, and Superman Doomed #2. I addressed some issues that lingered with me at the close of the crossover, trying to make sense of things that were left unsaid or not shown. Which, of course, makes for the ideal gap filler fic.
London
Diana had told Clark she loved him. Well, sort of. She'd definitely said, "I love you," but it wasn't exactly to Clark or in the way Clark had imagined Diana's declaration would eventually be said. No, Diana had, more or less, mumbled the confession to herself. While they hovered in the air, in the middle of the pettiest argument Clark had ever had, literally screaming at each other, tempers out of proportion to the situation at hand.
So yes, Diana had said those three magic words Clark longed to hear for months. In the midst of their heated argument, Clark verbally blasting Diana for not giving oil to the flower he'd given her as a gift, which resulted in the damn thing turning into what Diana called an "oil-sucking monster," she'd realized they were acting unlike themselves.
Now, this is the part that, each time Clark reflected back on it, made him smile. The reason why Diana knew something was amiss with them, that their stupid, loud argument was based on something other than genuine anger, was that she loved Clark and would never feel such rage towards the man she loved.
Clark smiled. Yes, in the middle of a raging row, Diana managed to do what Clark had not. She'd realized they were "under attack." Unsurprising, but most annoying, Diana's half-sister, Strife, was behind the anger, the argument, the heated feelings that had Diana and Clark screaming at each other like a married couple on the verge of divorce and in desperate need of a marriage counselor. But the goddess' interference in their reunion, a reunion Clark had looked forward to with as much enthusiasm as an eight-year old on Christmas Eve, unable to fall asleep in anticipation of the big day, resulted in an unexpected confession.
While Clark did not particularly care for Strife and her role in the world, causing chaos and discord, he secretly thanked her.
"Wait. This isn't right. I love you."
Yeah, that's what Diana had said right after she yelled at Clark and called him "arrogant". Her eyes were bright with fury, nostrils flared, and voice pitched to a warrior's snarl.
"I know what this is. We're under attack. I'll handle it. See if you can find a way to slow down the flower. I'll be back very soon."
Mind in a daze, and no longer on the huge, green "oil-sucking monster" in the North Sea, destroying the UK's petroleum reserves, Clark barely processed what Diana had said. His "Wait … What did you say?" too late to do much good, for Diana was already flying off, destination unknown.
For a few seconds, Clark could only stare after the woman he'd fought with all the power in his Kryptonian body to return to. Sixty days of tearing, non-stop, through endless space, punching through the ice and rocks of Saturn's rings, bringing him so close to Earth, to his friends and family, to Diana, his love. When he'd finally reached Earth, seeing the planet he so loved, all that he'd been through had thrummed through Clark— his success, his failure, and his utter, bone-deep exhaustion.
But he'd done it. Clark had dragged Brainiac into a Black Hole, leaving him to rot, for what Clark hoped would be forever. Although something told Clark he'd be seeing that mind-raping, green foe again someday. Then there was Doomsday. He'd managed to purge his body of that wretched killing machine as Clark fought his way through Black Holes and back to normal space.
Back to my life and Diana.
Stupidly, foolishly, wonderfully, Clark smiled again. His Amazon warrior, his Goddess of War, loved him. She hadn't taken her words back. Diana could have just as easily denied them, claiming they too were a result of Strife's mental and emotional manipulations. But, of course, that wouldn't have been the way of his Diana, the way of Wonder Woman. It was her stalwart love for him that had most likely prevented Clark and Diana from going at each other with fists and sword.
This fact made Clark's smile broaden. Diana may not have confessed her love to Clark in the weeks and months after he made his declaration to her, yet, at some point during that time, she'd clearly come to terms with the emotion. That was the only explanation as to her absolute certainty that Strife was the cause of the animus between them, the screaming match that should have never been.
"I'm sorry about what I said," Clark recalled saying to Diana, Swamp Thing having calmed the "oil-sucking monster" back into its small and manageable flower state, no maw of a mouth with razor-sharp teeth to give Diana and Clark pause.
"So am I. I think it was mostly Strife."
"All of it?" Clark had posed the question, not daring to look at Diana. Instead, he continued to stare out at the blue-and-green of the ocean below their mountaintop perch. But his heart raced, and he was thankful Diana didn't have his level of super hearing. Diana's thirty seconds pause was long enough for Clark to question whether Diana would retreat into herself, unwilling to openly claim her love for Clark and all that such a confession meant.
For him.
For her.
For their future.
"Most of it," Diana finally answered, with an emphasis on the word "most" Clark hadn't been sure how to interpret. But then she added, "There was one part I meant. Very much."
Clark did look at Diana then, only to see that she was also gazing at him, unvarnished truth in her serious eyes.
Very much. She said very much. Yes!
And wasn't that worth battling and defeating Doomsday and Brainiac for?
"It's not always easy. Is it?" Clark knew it wasn't. Knew them being together, as friends, heroes, and lovers, could never be easy.
"I'm not sure it's supposed to be. Let's be honest, Clark – we're fighters. We fight because we want a better world."
They did fight for a better world, one major point of convergence for two people who were dissimilar in many ways, but quite alike in most ways that mattered.
"And the harder we struggle, the more precious it becomes," he replied.
They stared at each other then, a slight lifting of Diana's lips letting Clark know she understood his double meaning. The more they fought for a better world, the more precious such a world would become to them. And the harder they fought for their relationship and the love they shared, the more precious they would become to each other.
It was all there, in the way they gazed at each other, that they were ready for the next leg of their adventure, no matter where the journey would take them. Yes, they were ready.
Hours later, Diana rolled over in bed, her gorgeous blue eyes opening and immediately finding Clark. Which wasn't exactly difficult considering he'd been propped on his left elbow for the better part of thirty minutes watching Diana sleep and thinking about all that they'd been through lately.
"You do that far too much."
"Do what?" He knew what, but Clark enjoyed teasing Diana, enjoyed waking up beside her even more. Those two months had seemed like an eternity, an endless sea of quelling blackness and disorienting silence.
Diana swept a hand over hair that had fallen into her eyes, pushing the stray tresses out of her way. A simple gesture Clark found both adorable and sexy as hell, particularly since the movement had Diana's beautiful breasts lifting in the most enticing way.
When Clark had awoken, he'd discovered Diana like that, the comforter and flat sheet pooled at her waist, Diana's bare breasts on display. A gentleman would've covered her, protecting Diana's modesty. Clark had always considered himself a gentleman, but—dammit—it had been sixty long days without the sight or feel of Diana. More if Clark counted the days after he'd been infected with the Doomsday virus. And, he'd reasoned, when he'd gawked at his nude, sleeping girlfriend, if Diana had a problem with Clark staring at her naked body she would sleep in a nightgown.
So really, when viewed like that, this whole staring business was pretty much Diana's fault.
Yup, definitely her fault. And her full, beautiful breasts fault. Can't forget to blame them, too.
With the hand not taming her morning riot of onyx waves, Diana used the other to pull the comforter up to her underarms, hiding those mouthwatering breasts from Clark.
"Spoilsport," he complained with a humor-laced frown. "Is that any way to treat the returning hero?"
A sexy as hell smile lit Diana's face. "Well, I think I showed you precisely how much I missed the 'returning hero' last night."
Ah, well, yes she did. And Clark had showed Diana that the feeling was absolutely mutual.
He touched her face—her cheek, her chin, her nose, her parted lips he'd kissed last night until they were swollen, but still begged for more.
"I tried to contact you."
"You did? When?"
He'd meant to tell Diana this last night. But after the incident with the flower, they'd returned to Diana's apartment. While he repaired her door, the one the "oil-sucking monster" destroyed in its haste to escape and find a nourishing meal of petrol, Diana cleaned up the kitchen and ordered takeout.
They hadn't made it halfway through the meal before they'd ripped each other's clothes off, thus beginning a long, glorious night of consummating their reunion and love.
"Kara was the first person I saw when I finally made it back to Earth. We eventually made it to the Fortress where she informed me that the Phantom Zone projector had imploded, swallowing up Mongol, Non, the Phantom King, my menagerie, and Dr. Veritas."
At the news, Clark's heart had stuck in his throat, recalling Diana had gone into the Phantom Zone. He'd figured out why she had, smartly using Warworld to attack Brainiac's mothership. Without Diana's attack, Clark doubted that he and the Doomsday creature he'd turned into would've been able to defeat the megalomaniac.
Diana's presence in the Phantom Zone was also what helped Clark break free of the fake future Brainiac had created for Clark and Bruce. In that future, Clark had everything he'd always wanted.
"You couldn't change everyone," Bruce had said to Superman in the illusion Brainiac had crafted for him. "Human nature is human nature. But you didn't have to. Your presence—your example—it made a difference. Ten percent less crime, less war, less pain—across the world. And with each year … each generation … that reduction grows exponentially. Because of you. Because of Superman."
A truly happy Bruce Wayne had smiled at Superman, laying a hand of friendship and gratitude on his shoulder.
"I thought the only way to make them better was to force them into it, through fear. You gave them something better."
"Bruce … I don't know what to say."
"You gave me my life back, Blue. I was wasting myself on that crusade—when I think about all the good I've done since then … twenty-five years of good. All due to you."
Coming from Bruce Wayne, his friend's words had meant the world to Clark.
"Unbelievable. I just hope you're willing to say all that again when Diana gets here."
"Diana?" Bruce had asked, dropping his hand from Clark's shoulder, a confused expression on his face. "Who's Diana?"
And that was it. The end of the illusion, the end of Brainiac's trick. As he told Brainiac, "You gave me everything you thought I wanted. Both of us—Bruce and me. But without Diana—"
Clark hadn't finished, Brainiac cutting him off with an angry, "I don't care."
Yet the thought and the feeling were clear and complete in Clark's mind and in his heart. A future without Diana was not a future that included everything he wanted, everything he needed. He simply didn't want to have a future without Diana in his life.
So when Kara had told him of the projector implosion, Clark, for a second, had feared for Diana's safety. But when Kara had continued, not mentioning Diana in her list of people trapped inside the zone, Clark released his held breath, permitting himself to breathe once more.
"I called you after I returned to my Metropolis apartment. I tried your cell first then the landline here."
Diana playfully nipped at the thumb gliding back and forth over her bottom lip. If she kept doing that, she would find her expensive, Damask comforter back down to her waist, Clark's body covering her instead.
"I was on Paradise Island."
Yeah, he'd finally figured that out after the twentieth phone call and no return call from Diana.
"I've spent most of the time since you disappeared there."
When she thought I was dead, she means.
The thought had Clark frowning. He hadn't meant for her to learn of his return by reading his "Who Needs Superman, Anyway?" article. But she had, thinking the question he posed included her.
"I'm sorry you found out the way you did. That wasn't my intention."
No, his intent was to find and talk to Diana as soon as he returned. But when he couldn't contact her, he'd traveled to Smallville, needing to know how his hometown and friends, like Lana Lang, fared, and then he flew to Gotham and met with Bruce. Bruce had advised him to "lay low for a while."
Which Clark had done, that is until he'd clicked on the news, only to see the woman he'd been trying to contact. There, in the middle of Wembley Stadium, was Wonder Woman beating the holy crap out of Giganta.
No lasso.
No sword.
Just bare hands, speed, and well-honed martial skills. Damn, but she had been a sight for his Kryptonian eyes-all fired up from her battle and hotter than he'd remembered. There was just something amazing and tantalizing about a woman who could brawl better than most men but still look like a lady while doing it. Yes, damn hot. That was his Wonder Woman. And he had to see her.
After that, the laying low plan went flying out the window nearly as fast as Clark had—London and Diana his eager destination.
Diana leaned up and placed a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. "I know, Clark. Actually, I'm glad you sought me out. It was the best surprise ever."
He'd never seen Diana look so shocked to see someone—her expression priceless and heartwarming. But when she flew into his arms, all warm body, pounding heart, and smiling face, Clark's world shifted back on its axis, correcting itself after months of misalignment—Doomsday and Brainiac the cause.
When Diana had kissed him, he truly felt like he'd come home—a solider returning from war and to his best girl.
"Our kiss has gone viral. Again." And Clark couldn't care less about the public display of their affection and love for one another.
"I couldn't resist." Diana's hand came up, and she ran her fingers through his beard. "By the way, I love the beard."
He'd hoped she would. Her opinion mattered to Clark, even for something as inconsequential as facial hair. He wanted to look good for Diana, liked the idea of knowing she found him as attractive as he found her.
"Not too scratchy?"
A naughty grin told Clark precisely where Diana's mind had gone right before she said, "Well, there are some activities that are better when you're clean shaven."
"Oh really?" He teased. "So you're telling me you didn't enjoy when I kissed you all over."
The spike in the beat of Diana's heart had Clark smiling with self-satisfaction. Oh, yeah, he'd kissed and licked every delectable inch of Diana's body, mapping her with tongue, lips, and scratchy beard.
"Enjoy is a relative term, Clark."
Oh, the woman wanted to play. Well, Clark was up to the challenge. With her, he always would be.
Yanking the comforter down to Diana's waist, Clark grinned at the little yelp his unexpected move garnered from the Amazon.
"I have no place to be right now, I have no intention of cutting the beard right away, and you're not leaving this bed until I've proven to you that 'enjoy' is not a relative term."
"So you think to keep me prisoner in my own bed?"
He loomed over top of Diana, his massive body coming down on top of hers when she smiled up at him—all erotic temptation in a lithe body made as much for fighting as it was for sex and sin. And, oh man she felt good, so luscious and warm and moaning at the flesh-on-flesh contact.
"Two months, Diana," he whispered against her mouth, so ready to be inside of her again that he ached and pulsed all over.
"I know. I've missed you."
He'd missed her as well. More than she would ever know.
"Are you ready for this enjoyable ride?"
Diana raised her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled Clark in close with a kiss and then whisper of her own. "I'm ready, Clark. We're ready."