Music of the Spheres Interlude: Being Safe
Title: Interlude: Being Safe
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: A stand-alone story in the series "Music of the Spheres." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: G
Summary: Clark babysits for Jason Lane-White.
Word Count: 2400
Story Notes: A very belated birthday-present to the wonderful and talented
vigilante_wake!
Clark Kent was trying to make himself inconspicuous at his desk, and mainly succeeding, when Lois and Richard entered the Daily Planet offices. Lois seemed to be in a foul mood, her voice sharp and annoyed:
"I understand that her child having chicken pox is more important than babysitting for Jason tonight! I understand that! But it still leaves us kind of in the lurch, doesn't it?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at Richard, apparently not angry with him specifically so much as the whole universe. "We paid a lot of money for these tickets, and I was--well, I'll admit I was kind of looking forward to having a quiet evening out with you. The wedding preparations have been so crazy, why did I let my mother talk me into making this an actual event..." She trailed off and looked helpless. "Do we have to cancel?" she said plaintively.
"Where else are going to find another babysitter on such short notice?" said Richard.
Lois spotted Clark and pounced. "Clark!" she said triumphantly. "Clark, dear, Richard and I are in a terrible bind, our babysitter for tonight had to cancel, and we already had opera tickets..." Clark looked frankly alarmed and Lois continued hurriedly, "Jason's a good kid, he's no bother at all, you could probably even bring your work with you..." Her tone turned wheedling. "And Jase really likes you, Clark, you two get along so well. He's always disappointed when he comes to visit the Planet and you're not here." Behind the thick glasses, Clark's blue eyes blinked at her nervously. "Please, Clark?"
Clark swallowed a couple of times before answering. "Well, sure, Lois. Anything I can do to help, of course."
: : :
"--And he goes right to bed at nine o'clock no matter what," Lois finished up, looking around the kitchen. "And no sugary drinks after supper." She slipped a casserole into the oven and turned it on. "The lasagna will be done in about thirty minutes."
Clark looked through the pass-through into the living room, where Jason White was sitting on a sofa, intently focused on his Gameboy. "Nine o'clock, no soda, thirty minutes to lasagna..." He flashed a smile at Lois's concerned face. "Gosh, I'm sure everything will be fine, Lois."
Lois nodded, clearly reluctant to leave her boy now that the actual moment had come, but she threw on a shawl and went out to drop a kiss onto Jason's head. Jason looked up and smiled. "Have a nice night, Mom."
"You be good for Clark, okay?" Jase nodded and Lois waved goodbye as the door clicked shut behind her.
Clark stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, looking at Jason. His son. It never would have crossed Clark's mind that Jason were his if Lois hadn't told him that he had shown super-strength for a moment. She hadn't given him more details than that, and Clark wondered what exactly Jason had done to prove his parentage. He seemed like such a resolutely ordinary kid, the kind that tended to fade into the corners, rarely demanding attention, quiet and unobtrusive.
In fact, he seemed much more like Clark's child than Superman's, a thought that made Clark smile just a bit. Jason looked up from his game to catch the tail end of Clark's smile and smiled in return, open and sunny.
Clark cleared his throat. "So. You wanna...throw the old baseball around in the backyard or something?"
The boy rolled his eyes slightly. "I don't have a baseball. But we can play it on the Wii if you like." He jumped off the couch and began to set up the machine.
Clark took the controls rather gingerly and let Jason walk him through how to bat and pitch with the game. "I'm really lucky to have a Wii, you know, Uncle Perry said he totally scored one for a promotion and he couldn't think of anyone better to give it to than me." Jason swung the controls, the tip of his tongue sticking out just a little. "Brent at school, I thought he was gonna die with envy. It was great."
The two of them whaled at the air with their controls, and Jason taught Clark the fine art of razzing the batter.
"Heybatter heybatter haybatter heybatter swing batter!" Jason crowed as he managed to fake Clark into swinging too early again.
"That hardly seems sporting," Clark complained, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a finger.
"Hey, is something burning?" said Jason.
Dropping the controls on the couch, Clark bolted into the kitchen to discover that the oven was emitting wisps of smoke. Yanking it open and nearly forgetting to put on oven mitts in his haste, he pulled out a woefully blackened lasagna.
The two of them sat and contemplated the charred lump in silence for a moment. "Hold on," said Clark reassuringly, flipping open his cell phone and hitting speed dial.
"Yes, Master Clark?" said the voice on the other end.
"Alfred! Um, I seem to have burned a lasagna pretty badly. What should I do?"
There was a pause. "What should you do, sir?"
"Yeah, I was hoping...you'd tell me how to fix it?" Clark's voice wandered toward plaintive.
An aggrieved sigh. "Sir, as far as I know there is no earthly way to un-burn lasagna."
"Oh." Clark drooped slightly.
"I do have one suggested remedy, sir..."
: : :
An hour later, Clark and Jason were nearly done with a large pizza, half-mushroom and half-pepperoni. "There's really no need to tell your mother I burned the lasagna, you know," Clark said, his mouth full.
Jason shook his head happily and grabbed another slice. "Can I watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? They're on in ten minutes."
"Sure thing." Clark grabbed the remote and flicked on the television in the kitchen, catching the tail end of the news. The story happened to be about Superman catching a group of particularly inept crooks in the morning; it probably wouldn't have even made the news except the car chase footage was particularly good. Superman swooped out of the sky to scoop up both cars, criminals shrieking and clinging to their seats, and Clark looked away from the screen; seeing himself in action in the third person always made him feel a bit vertiginous. He looked at Jason instead--the boy's face was slack with wonder and awe.
"Is it true he can hear everything?" Jason said, almost in a whisper, eyes still fixed on the screen.
Clark shrugged and pushed his glasses up again. "Probably not everything, no. But a lot of things."
Jason's voice dropped a little lower. "Is it true he can hear...what you're thinking?"
"What? No, no," Clark said quickly. "Superman's no telepath."
The news footage finally cut away and Jason looked back at Clark. "He's awesome."
Clark fidgeted on the spinning barstool. "He's not that great."
Jase scowled at him, a stubborn line appearing between his eyebrows, but didn't argue further, shifting his attention to the cartoon appearing on the screen.
After the show, Clark tidied up the kitchen, scrubbing the burned casserole and carefully disposing of the incriminating evidence of his negligence. When the kitchen was spotless he went back out into the living room where Jason was sitting, this time reading an "Encyclopedia Brown" book. Clark sat down at the piano in the corner of the room and plunked out a few random notes; hadn't Lois said something when he first came back about Jason taking piano lessons? But Jason didn't look up from his book.
"Don't you play the piano a little?" asked Clark.
"Nope. I stopped." The boy remained fixed on his book.
"Why?"
A shrug. "Dunno. Wasn't interested any more. I decided I liked the saxophone better."
Clark moved over to the couch and sat down next to Jason. "The saxophone's a cool instrument. Do you have one?"
Jason frowned slightly. "Mom won't get me one yet."
Clark made a mental note for potential birthday and Christmas gifts, although a musical instrument was an awfully expensive gift for a random co-worker to give. He pulled out the book he was reading on the history of the Supreme Court and they sat in silence side-by-side for a while, reading. Clark kept waiting for the stillness between them to become uncomfortable, but to his surprise it never did. Usually people seemed to feel the need to fill such spaces with conversation, but Jason just kept reading. Once he asked Clark about a word he didn't understand, but otherwise the quiet was complete, yet friendly.
It was probably the closest Clark had ever felt to his son.
When it was time for Jason to go to bed, Clark went upstairs with him to tuck him in, entering the room by the door rather than the window this time. He noticed books scattered across the floor: more Encyclopedia Brown, some Hardy Boys, another series called The A to Z Mysteries. "You like mysteries, huh?"
"Uh-huh. I'm going to be a detective when I grow up."
Clark couldn't help grinning to himself a little. A detective: that was cute. He'd have to tell Bruce about that later.
The boy yawned widely as he crawled into bed. "Will you read me the next chapter of my book before I go to sleep?" His eyes were heavy already, and as Clark finished reading he snuggled further down into the blankets. "Thanks, Mr. Kent," he said sleepily.
"Uh, you can call me--you can call me Clark, if you want."
A small smile. "Thanks, Clark."
"You're welcome." Clark tucked the blankets up around Jason. He felt a moment's impulse to kiss the shaggy head, but refrained--friends of the family didn't kiss little boys. "Sleep tight," he whispered, and heard Jason murmur something indistinctly in response as he headed back down the stairs.
Clark settled back in on the sofa and started to do some work writing up an interview he had done yesterday. The house was silent around him, quiet and mundane and relaxing. The grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room held no secret passages behind it; everything was so solid and secure and safe.
He was almost done with the article when the shrieks of panic started on the second floor.
Clark was up the stairs without touching them and through the door, ready to thwart any attack--and found himself in a room empty of anyone save his son, thrashing in his bed, tangled in bedsheets, screaming in terror so abject that Clark rushed to him and put his arms around him without thinking.
Jason struggled against his embrace, halfway between waking and sleeping. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he screamed. "I'm so sorry!" He pulled away from Clark, his face white, eyes locked onto something Clark couldn't see.
"It's all right, Jason, it's all right." Clark groped helplessly for something that would reassure the boy. The image of the look on Jason's face when he saw Superman on the television came to him. "It's all right, Superman's watching you, he's always watching you--"
To his horror, Jason broke down into agonized weeping at his words, suddenly clinging to Clark almost desperately, his tears dampening Clark's shirt. "I know, oh, oh, I know," the boy choked between gasps, his sobs dangerously close to hysteria.
Clark floundered; Superman was obviously not calming the boy right now. What to say? He started babbling anything reassuring he could think of. "Everything's all right, Jason. You're all right, you're okay, you're safe..."
His son stared up at him, tears streaking his face. "I'm okay? I'm...I'm safe?" He swallowed sobs, then demanded almost fiercely, "Promise?"
"I promise. I promise." Clark patted the boy's back gingerly, uselessly, and Jason's tightly-clenched fists relaxed just a little. Clark held his son while he cried himself gradually to sleep again, breath slowly easing into hitching hiccups, then the steadier breaths of sleep. Clark lowered him gently back onto the bed again, holding on to one small hand. He sat in the dark with his son until he heard a key in the door, then made his way downstairs.
Lois and Richard were staring at the spherical newel from their staircase banister, which had gotten snapped cleanly off at some point and now lay on the living room floor like a wooden baseball. They looked up at Clark as he came down the stairs. "I'm sorry," Clark said nervously. "Jason was having nightmares and I grabbed the banister as I went up and...it seems to have been a little bit unsound."
A tiny line appeared between Lois's eyebrows. "Nightmares again?" she said worriedly.
"Does he have them often?"
"Well, he's been through a tough time lately, you know," Richard said. "They've been dropping off in frequency, and we thought maybe he was over the worst of them." He looked apologetically at Clark. "I'm sorry, Clark, we should have warned you."
"It's been over a month since the last one," Lois said a little faintly. "I'd hoped..."
Richard put a hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine, honey. Being kidnapped--twice in a month, even--it's the kind of thing that would give any kid nightmares for a while."
Lois bit her lip but nodded. "I'm sorry, Clark," she said in turn.
"There's no need to apologize, Lois. He fell back asleep with no problems. He's a good kid, no trouble at all."
Lois smiled a little wanly. "How was the lasagna?"
"Dinner was delicious," Clark said truthfully.
: : :
After that evening, at Jason's request, Clark babysat for the Lane-Whites about once or twice a month. When his parents asked why he preferred Clark Kent, he just shrugged. "He makes me feel safe," he said.
After that evening, whenever Bruce would suggest that Clark tell Jason about Superman, about their true relationship, Clark refused to even discuss it.
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: A stand-alone story in the series "Music of the Spheres." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: G
Summary: Clark babysits for Jason Lane-White.
Word Count: 2400
Story Notes: A very belated birthday-present to the wonderful and talented
vigilante_wake!
Clark Kent was trying to make himself inconspicuous at his desk, and mainly succeeding, when Lois and Richard entered the Daily Planet offices. Lois seemed to be in a foul mood, her voice sharp and annoyed:
"I understand that her child having chicken pox is more important than babysitting for Jason tonight! I understand that! But it still leaves us kind of in the lurch, doesn't it?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at Richard, apparently not angry with him specifically so much as the whole universe. "We paid a lot of money for these tickets, and I was--well, I'll admit I was kind of looking forward to having a quiet evening out with you. The wedding preparations have been so crazy, why did I let my mother talk me into making this an actual event..." She trailed off and looked helpless. "Do we have to cancel?" she said plaintively.
"Where else are going to find another babysitter on such short notice?" said Richard.
Lois spotted Clark and pounced. "Clark!" she said triumphantly. "Clark, dear, Richard and I are in a terrible bind, our babysitter for tonight had to cancel, and we already had opera tickets..." Clark looked frankly alarmed and Lois continued hurriedly, "Jason's a good kid, he's no bother at all, you could probably even bring your work with you..." Her tone turned wheedling. "And Jase really likes you, Clark, you two get along so well. He's always disappointed when he comes to visit the Planet and you're not here." Behind the thick glasses, Clark's blue eyes blinked at her nervously. "Please, Clark?"
Clark swallowed a couple of times before answering. "Well, sure, Lois. Anything I can do to help, of course."
: : :
"--And he goes right to bed at nine o'clock no matter what," Lois finished up, looking around the kitchen. "And no sugary drinks after supper." She slipped a casserole into the oven and turned it on. "The lasagna will be done in about thirty minutes."
Clark looked through the pass-through into the living room, where Jason White was sitting on a sofa, intently focused on his Gameboy. "Nine o'clock, no soda, thirty minutes to lasagna..." He flashed a smile at Lois's concerned face. "Gosh, I'm sure everything will be fine, Lois."
Lois nodded, clearly reluctant to leave her boy now that the actual moment had come, but she threw on a shawl and went out to drop a kiss onto Jason's head. Jason looked up and smiled. "Have a nice night, Mom."
"You be good for Clark, okay?" Jase nodded and Lois waved goodbye as the door clicked shut behind her.
Clark stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, looking at Jason. His son. It never would have crossed Clark's mind that Jason were his if Lois hadn't told him that he had shown super-strength for a moment. She hadn't given him more details than that, and Clark wondered what exactly Jason had done to prove his parentage. He seemed like such a resolutely ordinary kid, the kind that tended to fade into the corners, rarely demanding attention, quiet and unobtrusive.
In fact, he seemed much more like Clark's child than Superman's, a thought that made Clark smile just a bit. Jason looked up from his game to catch the tail end of Clark's smile and smiled in return, open and sunny.
Clark cleared his throat. "So. You wanna...throw the old baseball around in the backyard or something?"
The boy rolled his eyes slightly. "I don't have a baseball. But we can play it on the Wii if you like." He jumped off the couch and began to set up the machine.
Clark took the controls rather gingerly and let Jason walk him through how to bat and pitch with the game. "I'm really lucky to have a Wii, you know, Uncle Perry said he totally scored one for a promotion and he couldn't think of anyone better to give it to than me." Jason swung the controls, the tip of his tongue sticking out just a little. "Brent at school, I thought he was gonna die with envy. It was great."
The two of them whaled at the air with their controls, and Jason taught Clark the fine art of razzing the batter.
"Heybatter heybatter haybatter heybatter swing batter!" Jason crowed as he managed to fake Clark into swinging too early again.
"That hardly seems sporting," Clark complained, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a finger.
"Hey, is something burning?" said Jason.
Dropping the controls on the couch, Clark bolted into the kitchen to discover that the oven was emitting wisps of smoke. Yanking it open and nearly forgetting to put on oven mitts in his haste, he pulled out a woefully blackened lasagna.
The two of them sat and contemplated the charred lump in silence for a moment. "Hold on," said Clark reassuringly, flipping open his cell phone and hitting speed dial.
"Yes, Master Clark?" said the voice on the other end.
"Alfred! Um, I seem to have burned a lasagna pretty badly. What should I do?"
There was a pause. "What should you do, sir?"
"Yeah, I was hoping...you'd tell me how to fix it?" Clark's voice wandered toward plaintive.
An aggrieved sigh. "Sir, as far as I know there is no earthly way to un-burn lasagna."
"Oh." Clark drooped slightly.
"I do have one suggested remedy, sir..."
: : :
An hour later, Clark and Jason were nearly done with a large pizza, half-mushroom and half-pepperoni. "There's really no need to tell your mother I burned the lasagna, you know," Clark said, his mouth full.
Jason shook his head happily and grabbed another slice. "Can I watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? They're on in ten minutes."
"Sure thing." Clark grabbed the remote and flicked on the television in the kitchen, catching the tail end of the news. The story happened to be about Superman catching a group of particularly inept crooks in the morning; it probably wouldn't have even made the news except the car chase footage was particularly good. Superman swooped out of the sky to scoop up both cars, criminals shrieking and clinging to their seats, and Clark looked away from the screen; seeing himself in action in the third person always made him feel a bit vertiginous. He looked at Jason instead--the boy's face was slack with wonder and awe.
"Is it true he can hear everything?" Jason said, almost in a whisper, eyes still fixed on the screen.
Clark shrugged and pushed his glasses up again. "Probably not everything, no. But a lot of things."
Jason's voice dropped a little lower. "Is it true he can hear...what you're thinking?"
"What? No, no," Clark said quickly. "Superman's no telepath."
The news footage finally cut away and Jason looked back at Clark. "He's awesome."
Clark fidgeted on the spinning barstool. "He's not that great."
Jase scowled at him, a stubborn line appearing between his eyebrows, but didn't argue further, shifting his attention to the cartoon appearing on the screen.
After the show, Clark tidied up the kitchen, scrubbing the burned casserole and carefully disposing of the incriminating evidence of his negligence. When the kitchen was spotless he went back out into the living room where Jason was sitting, this time reading an "Encyclopedia Brown" book. Clark sat down at the piano in the corner of the room and plunked out a few random notes; hadn't Lois said something when he first came back about Jason taking piano lessons? But Jason didn't look up from his book.
"Don't you play the piano a little?" asked Clark.
"Nope. I stopped." The boy remained fixed on his book.
"Why?"
A shrug. "Dunno. Wasn't interested any more. I decided I liked the saxophone better."
Clark moved over to the couch and sat down next to Jason. "The saxophone's a cool instrument. Do you have one?"
Jason frowned slightly. "Mom won't get me one yet."
Clark made a mental note for potential birthday and Christmas gifts, although a musical instrument was an awfully expensive gift for a random co-worker to give. He pulled out the book he was reading on the history of the Supreme Court and they sat in silence side-by-side for a while, reading. Clark kept waiting for the stillness between them to become uncomfortable, but to his surprise it never did. Usually people seemed to feel the need to fill such spaces with conversation, but Jason just kept reading. Once he asked Clark about a word he didn't understand, but otherwise the quiet was complete, yet friendly.
It was probably the closest Clark had ever felt to his son.
When it was time for Jason to go to bed, Clark went upstairs with him to tuck him in, entering the room by the door rather than the window this time. He noticed books scattered across the floor: more Encyclopedia Brown, some Hardy Boys, another series called The A to Z Mysteries. "You like mysteries, huh?"
"Uh-huh. I'm going to be a detective when I grow up."
Clark couldn't help grinning to himself a little. A detective: that was cute. He'd have to tell Bruce about that later.
The boy yawned widely as he crawled into bed. "Will you read me the next chapter of my book before I go to sleep?" His eyes were heavy already, and as Clark finished reading he snuggled further down into the blankets. "Thanks, Mr. Kent," he said sleepily.
"Uh, you can call me--you can call me Clark, if you want."
A small smile. "Thanks, Clark."
"You're welcome." Clark tucked the blankets up around Jason. He felt a moment's impulse to kiss the shaggy head, but refrained--friends of the family didn't kiss little boys. "Sleep tight," he whispered, and heard Jason murmur something indistinctly in response as he headed back down the stairs.
Clark settled back in on the sofa and started to do some work writing up an interview he had done yesterday. The house was silent around him, quiet and mundane and relaxing. The grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room held no secret passages behind it; everything was so solid and secure and safe.
He was almost done with the article when the shrieks of panic started on the second floor.
Clark was up the stairs without touching them and through the door, ready to thwart any attack--and found himself in a room empty of anyone save his son, thrashing in his bed, tangled in bedsheets, screaming in terror so abject that Clark rushed to him and put his arms around him without thinking.
Jason struggled against his embrace, halfway between waking and sleeping. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he screamed. "I'm so sorry!" He pulled away from Clark, his face white, eyes locked onto something Clark couldn't see.
"It's all right, Jason, it's all right." Clark groped helplessly for something that would reassure the boy. The image of the look on Jason's face when he saw Superman on the television came to him. "It's all right, Superman's watching you, he's always watching you--"
To his horror, Jason broke down into agonized weeping at his words, suddenly clinging to Clark almost desperately, his tears dampening Clark's shirt. "I know, oh, oh, I know," the boy choked between gasps, his sobs dangerously close to hysteria.
Clark floundered; Superman was obviously not calming the boy right now. What to say? He started babbling anything reassuring he could think of. "Everything's all right, Jason. You're all right, you're okay, you're safe..."
His son stared up at him, tears streaking his face. "I'm okay? I'm...I'm safe?" He swallowed sobs, then demanded almost fiercely, "Promise?"
"I promise. I promise." Clark patted the boy's back gingerly, uselessly, and Jason's tightly-clenched fists relaxed just a little. Clark held his son while he cried himself gradually to sleep again, breath slowly easing into hitching hiccups, then the steadier breaths of sleep. Clark lowered him gently back onto the bed again, holding on to one small hand. He sat in the dark with his son until he heard a key in the door, then made his way downstairs.
Lois and Richard were staring at the spherical newel from their staircase banister, which had gotten snapped cleanly off at some point and now lay on the living room floor like a wooden baseball. They looked up at Clark as he came down the stairs. "I'm sorry," Clark said nervously. "Jason was having nightmares and I grabbed the banister as I went up and...it seems to have been a little bit unsound."
A tiny line appeared between Lois's eyebrows. "Nightmares again?" she said worriedly.
"Does he have them often?"
"Well, he's been through a tough time lately, you know," Richard said. "They've been dropping off in frequency, and we thought maybe he was over the worst of them." He looked apologetically at Clark. "I'm sorry, Clark, we should have warned you."
"It's been over a month since the last one," Lois said a little faintly. "I'd hoped..."
Richard put a hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine, honey. Being kidnapped--twice in a month, even--it's the kind of thing that would give any kid nightmares for a while."
Lois bit her lip but nodded. "I'm sorry, Clark," she said in turn.
"There's no need to apologize, Lois. He fell back asleep with no problems. He's a good kid, no trouble at all."
Lois smiled a little wanly. "How was the lasagna?"
"Dinner was delicious," Clark said truthfully.
: : :
After that evening, at Jason's request, Clark babysat for the Lane-Whites about once or twice a month. When his parents asked why he preferred Clark Kent, he just shrugged. "He makes me feel safe," he said.
After that evening, whenever Bruce would suggest that Clark tell Jason about Superman, about their true relationship, Clark refused to even discuss it.