Secret Santa Fic for arch_schatten
X-X-X-X-X
"You. Did. What?"
Across from Clark, both Booster Gold and the Blue Beetle cringed in unison. "Well, it wasn't entirely our fault," Beetle started.
"Totally! It was a complete accident," Booster cut in.
"Could have happened to anyone! Hell, knowing the JSA, it probably has before," Beetle chorused.
"And we're still not sure-“
"-at least not exactly sure-"
"-what even happened, so really-"
"-we're probably not the guys you want to talk to."
"Yeah! J'onn would definitely know more-"
"-right, absolutely. You should check with him."
"We'll just be going." The (in)famous Blue and Gold made their attempt to amscray, a maneuver Clark cut short by slamming his fists on either side of them and into the titanium wall. Which dented with a loud screech.
"Aah! Don't kill us!"
"Really! We're really, very, terribly sorry!"
Clark tuned out the babble, focusing on the voice that had just appeared in his head. ~Superman?~ J'onn's 'voice' was almost puzzled. ~What are you doing?~ Clark sent back the mental equivalent of 'what does it look like I'm doing?'
J'onn was silent for several seconds, and when he continued his voice was stern, if slightly amused. ~You do realize those are my teammates that you're threatening?~
~So I take it you're over the incident with the giant mouse? And the Oreo-stealing? Oh yes, and let's not forget Kooey Kooey Kooey?~
J'onn paused. ~Hmm. On second thought, never mind. As you were.~ J'onn's presence faded, and Clark leaned in to deliver what he knew was a terrifying smile. The two men immediately shut up. "Now. What happened to Batman?"
X-X-X-X-X
Clark landed in an alley in back of the club Beetle had named. Clark had heard of it; as a matter of fact, he'd done an expose on it a few months back, about the amount of drugs that passed through it's doors. The only question was, what on earth Bruce was doing here. He pried open the back door, and slid inside, eyes instantly adjusting to the gloom broken only by strobe lights. His white Oxford, unbuttoned to show his undershirt, and black pants from his job at the Prophet hardly fit the dress code, but it was all he could grab in a hurry. Besides, even without the glasses or spit curl aiding his disguise, he'd seen his own face often enough to know he couldn't project anything besides heartland wholesomeness no matter how he tried.
The bass made the floor vibrate, and if his eardrums weren't as invulnerable as the rest of him, Clark would be worried about permanent hearing loss. As it was, he hadn't a chance of locating Bruce's heartbeat in this melee. He allowed himself to get carried along by the crowd, eyes darting along the other club kids, looking for the frame he'd recognize. No, no, no, not even close, no, n-are those feathers? Huh. No. No, no, no, n-hmm. Actually, if that young man was bigger, I'd say...
"Um, excuse me?" Clark called to the dark-haired young man. Bruce, shorter and much slimmer, with long bangs and an unlined face turned to him. Clark froze the moment he met Bruce's eyes. So much more innocence there, a thousand battles the kid in front of him had never seen. And Clark was going to bring them all back. He was going to destroy whatever innocence this kid had left-
"Did you have something to ask, or were you just going to stare at me for the rest of the night?"
Clark was abruptly yanked out of his musings. Bruce, younger and smiling, but with the same ironic slant to his eyebrows and quirked lips, was eyeing him from less than a foot away, appreciation obvious in his face. Clark immediately flushed, and the smile across his frie-part-teammate's face grew. "I, ah."
"You, ah..." Bruce mimicked him, head tilted and eyes trailing along his body.
"I'm Clark. Clark Kent." He stuck out his hand
Bruce's lips twitched, but he took Clark's hand. "Shaken, not stirred?" Clark flushed even more. "Bruce Wayne."
"I know," Clark said automatically, then mentally kicked himself as Bruce tensed, eyeing him warily. He'd forgotten-the Bruce in his time might pretend to enjoy the attention he got, but until he had developed the idiot playboy persona as a defense, he'd hated it. "I, um, recognized you," Clark made vague flailing gestures in the attempt to communicate-something-and Bruce apparently decided he was too stupid to be anything but harmless and relaxed.
"So, you wanted to... speak to me?" Bruce asked. Clark noted that his ability to infuse even the most mundane words with potent meaning was apparently one he was born with--though his Bruce used it for terrifying criminals (and teammates), not for hitting on far older men.
"I... yes. That is, um," Clark stopped. He hadn't actually planned past this point. Somehow, despite hearing from the terrible two that Bruce had lost his memory, Clark had still expected to find Batman, with a plan (and at least three backups) ready to take over and tell Clark how to save the day. Unfortunately, it appeared that it was all up to him. Clark gave a few moments thought to tricking Bruce, took into consideration that who it was he was dealing with, and gave up on the spot. The truth had always served him well before, he decided.
"See-Beetle and Booster-teammates of ours-were playing around with an artifact they found that Dr. Fate brought back, and managed to reverse your age by, um," Clark eyed him, "probably a good fifteen years. Apparently it affected your memory as well. Anyway, you need to come with me back to the League's headquarters so we can find a way to fix this."
Bruce stared. "Uh huh. That pink sparkly stuff? Not something you should be mixing into drinks. Why don't you sit down over here," he shooed Clark over to a darkened corner of the room, ignoring his protestations, "and wait for the dancing white elephants to go away," Bruce said soothingly.
"Wha-but-Bruce! I was telling the truth! You really need to come with me!" Clark cried, catching hold of his arm.
Bruce smiled at him, and Clark froze. He didn't actually remember the last time he'd seen Bruce smile--if ever, but on this young, good-looking face, it fit easily. "Sorry handsome," Bruce said, cupping the side of his face in one palm, thumb rubbing over his mouth, "you're much prettier than he is, but this is one date I can't break."
Clark was still standing frozen stiff when he managed to pull his thoughts away from handsome? Prettier than he is? to notice Bruce had disappeared.
X-X-X-X-X
It took Clark a good twenty minutes to find Bruce again, after shaking off his stupor, and once he’d succeeded, he wished he hadn’t.
Dear Lord! Is that supposed to be dancing? That is not dancing! That’s-that’s having sex while still clothed and upright in public! Clark stared, red-faced and slack-jawed, until the laughter of the other patrons reached his ears. He spun around staring fixedly at nothing at all, and ignored anything he could hear behind him. Since when does Bruce even know how to do things like that?! He certainly never told me!
Eventually he realized that he couldn’t stare at the wall forever. Turning around, he was just in time to watch Bruce disappear into the men’s room-with the skinny blonde young man he’d been plastered all over.
Is he-no. He isn’t. He wouldn’t. Clark looked through the doors with his x-ray vision and groaned. Oh, hell, he is.
He hovered for a moment, while the Bruce-skeleton and the skinny guy-skeleton did something that Clark was adamantly Not. Watching. If I interfere, he’ll probably never speak to me again, Clark reasoned. On the other hand, with everything I’ve already seen, he’s already never going to speak to me again.
X-X-X-X-X
“Bruce! You can’t do this! I know you think it’s fine at the moment, but believe me you will regret it!” Clark shouted, bursting through the door. He noticed absently that the man had apparently pulled out something white and powdery in a clear baggie and was pressing it into Bruce’s hand.
Bruce stared, mouth open, as the skinny blonde guy stumbled backwards. “What the-hey! Are you a cop?" And to Bruce, "Man, you’re a narc?”
Clark ignored the other man, catching Bruce by the elbow, and keeping his eyes strictly above his friend’s neck and away from his gaping clothing and sweaty skin. “Please, you have to trust me! There’s something wrong with you, you just can’t remember it.”
“Bastard!” The guy shouted, hopping about and trying to fasten his pants. “You son of a bitch, you sold me out!”
Clark, caught by Bruce’s shocked gaze, didn’t notice until too late that the man had pulled out a gun. He only just managed to jump in front of Bruce, hearing the sharp retort of the gun and feeling the bullet impact his lower back.
“No,” Bruce whispered, staring horrified at him, eyes wide and agonized. “No, not again.” The next moment he had slid past Clark, delivering a kick to the gun that snapped the dealer’s wrist. Two vicious hits later, the man collapsed to the ground.
Bruce grabbed onto his shoulders. “Damn it, no one was supposed to be involved, I just saw him dealing to those kids and I had to-can you breathe all right? Did it puncture your lung?”
Clark felt his friend’s shaking fingers sliding around his ribcage, feeling for the bullet wound, and he hastened to reassure the other man. “No, it’s fine, I’m fine, I promise.”
Bruce stared. “... What?”
Clark pressed the other man’s fingers over the hole the bullet had left in his shirts, and held up the crushed lead in his other hand. Bruce was still breathing harshly, and looked as though he couldn’t trust his eyes.
“What are you?”
“I’m your friend. Also,” Clark added, “I’m kind of invulnerable. But that’s really not the important thing here.”
Bruce’s laughter verged on hysterical. ”Not important? What-“
"Look, haven't you noticed this isn't right?" Clark interrupted, frustrated past caring. Bruce had nearly been shot, damn it. "The clothing, the language, the music, the buildings.... Everything just feels like it's somehow-“
“-Off," Bruce finished for him, studying him. "Yes. I noticed."
Clark swallowed. "That's because it isn't all of this that's different. It's you. Please, Bruce. Come back with me to the League. We’ll figure something out together.”
For several agonizing moments, Bruce didn’t speak at all-just stared at him long and hard. Then finally he nodded, and for the first time all evening, Clark began to relax.
X-X-X-X-X
“So this is the-what did you call it? Justice League?” Bruce was looking curiously around the room.
“Yes, it’s an organization of superheroes that work together to fight crime and protect humanity.”
“Riiight.” Bruce gave him that look again, the same one he’d been giving him throughout the afternoon. The one that said, ’I still think you’re crazy, but you seem cute and harmless, so I’ll humor you for now.’
“No, really, it is. You guys manage to accomplish a lot. You really help people.”
Bruce still looked skeptical, but before Clark could continue, he raised voices in the hall. Two in particular he recognized.
“But-but-“
“Accident! It was an accident!”
J’onn appeared first, dragging both Beetle and Booster behind him. Dr. Fate brought up the end. ~You two are going to tell us exactly what you did. And then we will find a way to fix it, or you are going to be in bigger trouble than you ever thought possible,~ J’onn said grimly. And with that he threw them forward into the room to land in front of Bruce.
Looking up, Booster attempted an innocent smile. “Uh… Oops?”
X-X-X-X-X
“So what are we, exactly?”
Clark blinked. “What?” Bruce had been so quiet for the past several hours, after they'd been shunted off to this side room while J'onn and Fate worked on the artifact, Clark was beginning to think he’d forgotten anyone else was there.
Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. “The two of us. I mean, obviously you’re first on my list of ‘emergency contacts’ despite not being on my team. You broke into a club, stalked me through it and chased off everyone interested, jumped in front of a bullet for me and then talked me into coming back with you, when you could have just grabbed me. Why?”
Clark swallowed. “I was only doing what anyone would do.”
Bruce shook his head, mouth curling up in a slight smile. “Nope. Try again.”
“Well-we’ve been partners for almost as long as there’s been a Batman and a Superman. I just-“
“Better. But still not quite good enough.” Bruce stepped closer to him, the challenging look Clark knew so well still recognizable on his quite different face. “What are we, really?”
Clark stared at him helplessly, and gave up. “You’re my best friend.”
“If that’s really all we are, then I must go blind as I get older,” Bruce said, just before he slid an arm around Clark’s neck and shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. Clark had about ten seconds of heat and bliss and Bruce until -
“So, hey! Dr. Fate fixed the time-thingy, so it’s all set for you to-WHOA!”
“Hey, what’s the hold…up….”
Clark dragged himself away from Bruce with a gasp, staring at the two men frozen in the doorway. Bruce, only slightly flushed and rumpled, and with no evidence of alarm, stepped back calmly. “No hold up. I’m ready if you are,” he said blandly, walking toward the duo. They parted wordlessly to let him through, then turned back to stare wide-eyed at Clark.
“Not. One. Word,” he said hoarsely.
“X-X-X-X-X
It was actually quite anti-climactic. Some muttering and waving from Dr. Fate, a flash of purple light, and Bruce was back to normal. In fact, glancing at the clock on the wall, Clark saw the entire thing, from the moment he first got the call that something had happened to Batman, to the moment the man stood before him, restored to his usual form, had taken less than four hours.
“What happened?” Bruce, or rather, Batman, growled.
“You don’t remember?” J’onn asked, concern writ across his features.
“Beetle, Booster, flash of... light...” Bruce broke off abruptly. ”What did you two idiots do?!”
Clark ignored Beetle and Booster’s panicked assertions of innocence and Bruce’s threats of bodily harm, and went to go collapse in a chair in the control room.
He’d been sitting there, head in hands, for what must have been a quarter of an hour, when he heard someone tentatively clearing their throat. He looked up to see Beetle giving him a worried look, expression easily readable through the large yellow goggles. “Hey Big Blue. Are you okay?”
Clark summoned up his usual smile. “Of course, I’m fine. I’ve just relieved to have Batman back-unharmed,” he added sternly.
Beetle winced, but continued on with his apparent attempt to comfort Clark. “Look, um… I don’t know exactly what’s going on between you two-“ he was forestalled by Clark’s raised hand.
“Nothing.”
Beetle-Ted-gave him a look that said ’bullshit’ as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud. “I just-you should know that whatever’s going on with you, we all just want the best for you two. Uh, peace and happiness and whatnot. Just-if you need someone to talk to….”
Clark forced down the urge to take Beetle up on his offer and dump all of his confusion and fear and frustration of the past few hours on the other man’s shoulders. He was a hero. He could handle having his best friend reduced to a horny twenty-year-old with a preference for built, dark-haired men who were decades too old for them. He could even handle having said best friend grabbing him and giving him the best kiss of his life and then forgetting all about it. “I’m fine. But thank you.” He stood, and Beetle backed off.
“Ookay. Just-asking.”
Right as Clark was about to leave, Booster came tearing through the door, slamming it behind him. He threw himself against it and stared at them, panting and wild-eyed. “Holy shit! He wasn’t even this mad about Kooey Kooey Kooey!”
Clark stared at him. “On second thought, I think I’ll take the teleporters out.”
“We’ll come with you,” Beetle and Booster chorused.
“X-X-X-X-X
Once Superman was gone, and both Beetle and Booster were changed into civvies and safely ensconced in a nice, safe bookstore on another continent, Booster turned to him and asked, “What was all that about?”
Ted shrugged. “Oh, just-y’know. Before, when we, ah… walked in on them?”
Booster snorted. “Yeah, tell me about i-you mean you went and asked Superman about that?” He stared.
“No! Well, sort of. I asked if he needed to talk to anyone about it. I mean, it’s pretty obvious he never even considered Batman in that light before-though really, you’d think with all the jokes going around,” Ted trailed off.
Booster, mean while, was staring with a ‘just hit by lightening’ expression. “Jokes? You mean-they never were before? They were just friends? Really?”
Ted stared back. “What, you mean you thought they were? What the hell-?” But Booster was already ignoring him
Ted stared in shock as Booster laughed hysterically, kicking his feet and drumming his hands on the chair’s arm rests. “Oh my Not-God! I’m going down in history after all! I mean, never mind all the daring rescues and whatnot-I’m the man who got Batman and Superman together!”
“You’re the-what? What do you mean, together? They’re not-are they?”
Booster cut back on the expressions of glee long enough to give Beetle a pointed look. “Why Beetle, why ever are you asking me? How would I know? I’m only a man-from the future.”
“You mean you-they-we-“
Booster stood and draping an arm around in partner-in-crime’s shoulder, began steering him toward the doorway. “Do you know, Beetle, I think it’s high time we get in on that inter-dating betting pool. I’ve got a few ideas….”
“X-X-X-X-X
FIN