Rating: T
Where else can I find this story? All five parts are on the first page of Part 5 of the original Young Justice Anon Meme on LiveJournal.
Hero
Masks, Part V
Chapter 10: In Bed, With Ducks
When everything is said and done, it's agreed that M'gann will stay with Batman (she cooks up a nurse outfit and it's kind of unfair that he has to go back to Metropolis while she looks like that). Superman offers him a ride back.
Conner crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. "A ride, really?"
"I can fly, it'll—
"Yeah. I know you can fly and I can't. Everyone knows that. I'm a big boy though—I don't need you to give me a piggy back ride. I can run there myself."
If Superman looks taken aback, Conner really can't bring himself to care. He says his goodbyes to Batman and Robin and everyone else. He squeezes Batman's hand, which is limp and clammy, but through M'gann, Batman lets him know he can feel it. He's a little surprised when Alfred suddenly grabs him and holds him in a hug, which is surprisingly tight, given how old the man is.
And then he runs all the way to Metropolis, to the Wayne Enterprises tower to see if he can find Mr. Kent there.
The concierge won't let him in.
"I'm Superboy," Conner says exasperated, pointing at the big S on his chest. "I'm supposed to be protecting Mr. Kent!"
The concierge looks him over dismissively. "You could be Superman himself, I still wouldn't let you up uninvited."
But just then, Conner feels a hand on his shoulder. It's Mr. Kent.
"That's OK Lou, the Justice League assigned Superboy here to look after me for a while until the whole LexCorp thing dies down. He's staying with me for a few days."
"Very well, sir," Lou says, and Mr. Kent ushers Conner up into the elevators.
Once they're up in Bruce Wayne's penthouse—Batman's penthouse—Conner turns to Mr. Kent.
"Where did you go?" he asks.
"I had some errands to run," he says, pushing back his glasses. Then, he lifts up a bag of groceries and some drycleaning."
Conner knows that he should be angry with Mr. Kent, for leaving when he knows his life is in danger, but he can't bring himself to it, mainly because the day's left him exhausted and because if Mr. Kent hadn't disappeared, he might not have called Ms. Lane and he might not have gone to Gotham, and while Conner doesn't want to claim undue credit… if he hadn't gone to Gotham today, if he hadn't brought M'gann with him, Batman's heart would be in someone else right now.
So he just smiles at Mr. Kent and helps him put the groceries away.
"I ran into Superman," Mr. Kent says. "He said you had a rough day."
"Yeah," Conner nods his head.
"He said you did a great job though," Mr. Kent adds.
Conner can't help the snort. "Better job than he was doing, at any rate."
"Well, I don't know what happened, but whatever you did, Superman seemed very impressed. And he's not an easy man to impress."
Conner smiles, but it's not a pleasant smile. It doesn't reach his eyes and it feels awkward on his face. "You know, it seems like a long time ago now, but there used to be a time I actually gave a damn what Superman thought."
"What changed?" Mr. Kent asks.
"I learned that Superman's affection wasn't worth dying for."
Mr. Kent pushes back his glasses. "Well," he says, "since Superman said you'd had a rough day, I picked you up some chocolate pie at a bakery I like."
Conner smiles, this time earnestly. "Thanks Mr. Kent. You shouldn't have."
"And you know what, Superboy? You don't have to call me Mr. Kent. You can call me Clark."
Mr. K—Clark asks him if he wants to go out or order in. It's been a long, long day, so Conner says he's up for staying in if Mr. Kent doesn't mind.
Clark corrects him again, tells him to call him by his given name, and then asks Conner what he wants to eat. But Conner shrugs, because really he doesn't care, he'd be fine with cold cereal and he tells Clark as much.
"It can't possibly be worse than M'gann's cooking," Conner says. Then he realizes he sounded mean and adds, "You know, I love M'gann more than anything, but it's a good thing I'm invulnerable, or I'm pretty sure her cooking would have killed me already."
Clark chuckles. "Lois is a great cook. Provided the only thing you ever want to eat is PB and J."
Conner looks at Mr. Kent, and then they both burst out laughing.
"Alright then," Clark says when they're done laughing, "Chinese it is."
So they order Chinese food. A lot of it, because Conner refuses to tell Mr. Kent what to order, and Mr. Ke—Clark doesn't just want to rely on his own tastes, so they get a little bit of everything.
Mr. Clark calls it a smorgasbord, which confuses Conner because isn't smorgasbord a Swedish food?
Clark laughs, "Yeah, of course. But people use the word to mean a buffet, you know, when you have a lot of different non-related foods to choose one."
Because it's so much food, they end up just sort of spreading it out on the floor in the living room and eating straight out of the containers. It's the kind of thing that Wally would heartily approve of.
Because they ordered so much, they've gotten eleven fortune cookies.
"Lois would be very angry with me if she knew I was going to eat five whole fortune cookies!" Clark gloats.
"If you like them so much, you can have the sixth one."
"Nah. You can take it," Clark answers.
Conner shrugs and opens the first one of his. They can figure out who gets the last cookie when they get to it. He cracks the cookie open and pops it in his mouth before looking at his fortune.
Animals make the best companions. It's not very profound, Conner thinks. Not that he's exactly in a position to disagree.
"What's the fortune?" Clark asks.
"Not really much of a fortune," Conner says. "Animals make the best companions."
Clark burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" he asks.
"Oh, you don't know the fortune-cookie game?" Clark's eyes glimmer with boyish enthusiasm.
Conner shakes his head.
"Ok, so whenever you have a fortune from a fortune cookie, you add the words 'in bed' at the end of the fortune."
"Animals make the best friends… in bed." Conner laughs. "Haha. That's pretty funny. What's yours?"
"I can't even bear to say it," Clark says, and hands over the small piece of paper.
"It is often the soft things that scare us most… in bed." Conner bursts out laughing. "Do all fortunes work as well?"
"Depends on the fortune. If it doesn't work very well, you can add 'in bed with ducks' and that usually helps. Just, because it's more absurd."
Conner reaches for another one. "Plain sight is the best hiding place." Doesn't really work as well does it?" he asks disappointed.
Clark pushes his glasses back. "No. Let's see this one." He cracks another one open. "Past mistakes are hard to remedy." He frowns. "These are pretty terrible."
"At least the cookies are good," Conner says as he opens the next one. "The special girl will make you soar… in bed." Conner chuckles. "See, this one is good! I have to text M'gann about it.
Clark opens another and promptly buries his face in his hands. Conner takes the fortune from him and snorts: Your tongue is your ambassador. "There's no way they weren't thinking of this game when they wrote that one!"
"I…" and then Clark apparently can't think of anything else to say, because he just shakes his head.
They read through the rest, until there's only the last cookie left. Finally, they decide to just split the cookie and share the fortune, even if Clark's not sure that you can split fortunes.
"It's not like these are really going to change our lives. I mean, 'Your tongue is your ambassador' isn't really even a fortune. It's just a weird thing to say."
Conner breaks the cookie and Clark does the honor of reading the fortune. Or at least, he's supposed to read it. Instead he crumples it up. "I don't know why the hell they'd put something like this in a cookie," he says.
"What's it say?"
"Nothing. It's stupid."
"Hand it over."
After a second, Clark drops the crumpled slip of paper into Conner's palm. It's just two words: The truth will bring you sorrow.
"Well, I guess if I were in bed with ducks, the truth would bring me 'sorrow'."
Clark laughs. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
"Though, actually, my girlfriend is pretty kinky. She might like it."
Clark turns beet red. "Jesus kid, you're like what, 18?"
"Biologically speaking. What of it?"
"Nothing, it's just, aren't you a little young to be… you know…"
"Having sex?" Conner asks with a skeptical eyebrow.
"Well… sorta. Where'd you learn about that stuff anyway? You do know about that stuff… right? About protection and, well, things?"
It's too bizarre. For the first time Conner realizes how much older than him Mr.—Clark really is.
"Of course. Well, there's school, and the internet for one, but most of what I know I learned from Batman. He has pamphlets, you know."
"Pamphlets?"
"Yeah. With these useful little diagrams."
"Of, like, the fallopian tubes and things, right?" Clark asks and Conner can't help but laugh. The older man is adorably awkward. He's going to have to move on with his plan to get him laid without M'gann's help, which is sort of too bad, since it would have been a great bonding exercise.
"Yeah. Ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, cervix, vagina, labia, clitoris—all the fun girl parts." It's a bit mean of Conner to say all those words, since Clark is a lot more squeamish about sex than Batman. As he expects, Clark's face turns redder and redder with each word. "Boy parts too. And a couple of positions. Missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, you know, the basics."
Watching Clark so incredibly uncomfortable is oddly satisfying.
"But it all pales to the stuff Batman told me. But I guess, when you're the goddam Batman, just the same old boring stuff isn't really going to do it for you. Actually, it might have been too much, you know, not left enough for exploring, if it weren't for the fact that my girlfriend is a shape shifter, if you know what I mean."
Clark looks absolutely horrified. Red is not a color that suits his face.
"Oh God, I think my mother was right about Batman—I don't know what kind of sane person would leave an impressionable young boy with the World's Most Promiscuous Detective."
"A Boy Scout who didn't want his babysitting badge, I guess," Conner answers.
"And at no point did Batman tell you that a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell?" Clark seems desperate.
"Well, sort of. Batman said some people are not comfortable with sex, and that for some people it's a very private matter. But the culture's a bit different on Mars, because of the telepathy. Martians have completely different perceptions of privacy."
"That makes sense. Hey, have you ever been to Mars?"
Conner shakes his head. "No. M'gann, I get the impression, doesn't really like it very much there. One day, I'd like to go."
"Yeah, me too."
"I bet it'd be really expensive."
Clark smiles mischievously. "Maybe I could get the paper to pay for it. You know, it's not a terrible idea, I can see it now, Daily Planets. Actually, I don't know why we don't already have an AP-style news service for Mars and Oa and New Genesis and the other inhabited planets."
"Probably because there's too many, and because interplanetary trade and politics aren't quite significant enough yet to justify it. Give it a few half-centuries."
"That's remarkably perceptive, Superboy," Clark says, apparently impressed, and Conner can't help but smile with pride.
"Hey, Clark, is there anyone special in your life?"
"Sure Superboy, lots of people."
"No, that's not what I meant, and you know it. I mean, someone like M'gann. Maybe a little more human. Or duck-like—whatever floats your boat."
"Oh god, I should never have told you about the ducks. But, no, not at the moment. I'm… waiting."
"You know," Conner says, "A man could get old while waiting."
"You should write fortune cookie fortunes," Clark tells him, then he gets up and starts to clean up.
Clark insists that Conner should take the master bedroom, since he's already slept there and since Clark has already made up one of the guest beds for himself. But without the panic fueled by Luthor's words, Conner realizes something…
He's sleeping in Batman's bed, and he had what he can only assume is a form of Martian sex with his girlfriend in Batman's bed, while Batman was dying. Conner's not even sure if there are enough words to describe how incredibly creepy that is, and the worst part is that it's him being the creeper.
It makes it hard to sleep, even if the bed is the softest bed he's ever slept on. In the sleepless dark, his thoughts turn down dark and winding paths, until his thoughts turn to Lex Luthor. And once he's opened that can of worms, there's no sleeping. Dawn breaks, and he hasn't slept a wink.
Conner makes breakfast for the two of them. Batman's Metropolis pantry is amazingly well-stocked. He puts out toast, scrambled eggs, hash browns, an omelet, bacon, milk, and freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Wow," is the first thing Clark says when he steps into the kitchen and sees the spread. "Someone's been busy."
"Couldn't sleep," Conner says with a shrug.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really. Just, couldn't sleep. Not a big deal."
"I've had nights like those," Clark says, and Conner wonders if he has. But then he shoos the thought away and just puts a glass of juice in front of Clark before offering him some coffee.
"I have to say, Superboy," Clark says, "this looks amazing."
"What do you want?"
"Would you judge me if I said everything?"
Conner shrugs. "I won't tell Ms. Lane."
Clark grins like the sun and Conner starts to pile a little bit of everything onto a large plate before handing it over to Clark, and then serving himself.
"Wow! Superboy, this is amazing!" Clark exclaims through mouthfuls of bacon and eggs. "This may be the best omelet I've ever tasted. Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"I guess the Genomorphs thought cooking was a more important skill than… well… other things."
Clark tilts his head and Conner recognizes his mistake. "Genomorphs?"
"Um, don't worry about it. And, er, that's off the record."
"Sure Superboy," Clark says. "But, what are the Genomorphs?"
"Creatures. Look, I don't really want to get into it, if it's ok."
"Did these creatures hurt you?" Clark asks
Conner shakes his head. "No. Or at least, not intentionally. It wasn't their fault. I guess I can tell you—you already know I'm a clone. The genomorphs are clones, like me, though, for the most part, they don't look human. They're the ones that taught me the things I knew when I met Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad. They taught me to read and write, the names of things, foreign languages, how to cook, apparently. They didn't teach me what any of the recipes in my mind would taste like, or how to eat cookies, or how to make love. I still don't know half of what's rolling around in my head. Sometimes, people will just mention a topic and I realize I know stuff about it after I've told them about it. Or sometimes I'm watching a show and then Kid Flash looks completely puzzled, and that's how I realize I'm watching a Korean drama in Korean. And then other times, there's things everyone knows, like who the Beatles are, or the plot of Harry Potter, and I'm left in the dark and I look like an idiot."
"That's rough," Clark says. "But, on the plus side, you have all these amazing skills no one else has, and you still have the opportunity to learn things. Imagine how boring the world would be if there were nothing left to discover."
Conner smiles. "Yeah, I guess that's right."
"Have you tried this omelet?"
"No."
"You should."
He does. "Oh my god. It's absolutely delicious."
"Yep. If the whole superhero thing doesn't work out, you could open a restaurant."
Conner laughs. "No. I really couldn't. M'gann would expect to be a pastry chef, and I don't know if I could afford the insurance."
"Point," Clark laughs.
To be continued...
Author's Notes: I love Clark. A lot. This is one of my favorite scenes, right up there with the one where Conner and Clark and Lois are all out having lunch and they're talking about apple pie. Well, almost up there. For some reason, the apple pie discussion had me grinning like an idiot the whole time I was writing it. This one isn't on that level, but I just love everything about Clark and Conner chilling in Bruce's Metropolis penhouse pigging out on fortune cookies.
Speaking of which, I didn't pay that much attention to proofing this chapter-I managed to catch a couple of typos on a quick glance-over), but the one thing that was significant that I changed was Conner's response to the last fortune cookie. I can't remember now what it was originally, but it's clear from the old draft that I had reworked the fortune and then hadn't edited Conner's answer accordingly. In the published draft, the fortune said "The truth will bring you sorrow" and Conner answered that the truth would hurt. I briefly considered changing the fortune to Sometimes the truth hurts, but opted finally to change Conner's answer, though I don't think Conner's line works as well as the previous one did. Oh well.
Another thing that I'm curious about, is what exactly is the nature of Conner and Clark's evolving relationship is. I think I remember reading something on Station 8 Clark and Conner having a brotherly bond in Season 2. That's not really relevant to me, since I'm basically disregarding everything that happened after I started writing, except for the things I really like. But I have a hard time categorizing the relationship. Lois, I think, is clearly the awesome surrogate aunt, but I'm not sure with Clark. Thoughts on this matter, now and as the case evolves, would be quite welcome, especially as it becomes more of an issue in the sequel I'm writing/planning.