Fic: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji: Summer (1/9)
Title: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji: Summer (1/9)
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: PG
Summary: It's a sultry summer night in Gotham: debut night for a young new hero, and Superman and Batman make plans for the creation of the JLA which might require another trip to the Land of the Rising Sun.
Word Count: 1900
No different, really--
a summer moth's
visible burning
and this body,
transformed by love.
--Izumi Shikibu
There was a neatly stacked pile of newspapers in one corner of the room. On the small desk a man was going over hundreds of clippings. Each were torn carefully from the newspapers--the man wasn't allowed scissors.
Most of them were about Bruce Wayne, with special focus on his travels in Japan. He paused to look at one of Wayne in January, standing in a crowd of people milling about in the aftermath of an attempted assassination. Next to him was an awkward-looking man with heavy glasses. The article explained that American Clark Kent had been taken hostage briefly by the assassin and explained to police that the foreign hero Batman had come to his rescue.
Another clipping from the next day: Superman saving a window-washer in Tokyo, lifting him easily to safety while the crowd cheered.
Another, this one of Bruce Wayne introducing Superman at an environmental conference in the spring. The billionaire's hands gripped the superhero's with a firm grasp, their eyes locked. The smile on the alien's face was brilliant--the same brilliant smile he gave everyone in all of the clippings.
Bruce Wayne's face...
From two days later, a story about how Bruce Wayne had recently acquired Matsunaga Construction. The billionaire was smiling blandly as Shigeru Matsunaga was accosted by police.
Tucked in the corner, his tie askew, his smiling eyes fixed on Bruce Wayne, was Clark Kent.
Kyodai Ken grunted quietly to himself and continued to thumb through the papers, looking for anything of further interest.
: : :
It was a hot, oppressively humid night in Gotham. The tide was low, and the air was full of the smell of the sea: not salty or sweet as in the romantic cliches, but the real, briny, muddy scent of sea.
Far above the docks, a lone figure hovered, out of sight, watching. He grimaced slightly as damp air moved around him, making his costume cling just a bit too close to be comfortable.
On the docks, a group of men was moving cases onto a ship, their motions furtive. X-ray vision was unnecessary to guess the contents were less than licit.
The figure made no motion. Waiting. He was listening to two heartbeats: one fairly steady, the other racing.
From the shadows stepped a young boy, no more than thirteen. He was dressed in an implausibly garish costume, his smile brilliant under tousled black hair. His heartbeat was probably faster than it should be. The person floating above shifted position in the humid air but held steady.
The thugs noticed the boy. "What have we here?" Guffaws. "A little past your bedtime, boy!"
"Can't leave yet." The kid's voice was light, casual. His heart was like a tiny machine, pounding. "Batman told me to take out the garbage first."
"Batman working with a kid?" More laughter. "Right. Benny. Plug him."
One of the thugs pulled a gun.
The steadier heartbeat in the shadows thudded abruptly, painfully, and the watcher in the air leaned forward...but the boy was already in the air, dancing. A kick, and the man's gun was suddenly elsewhere, a leap and the boy elsewhere as well, too quick for anyone but perhaps the cautious presence in the sky to track. Curses, flounderings, and the boy was joined by a dark form, black silk rippling, like a shadow cast by the bright child, following his moves. Villains dropped left and right--the one who had pulled the gun on the boy fell a little harder than the rest--and soon they were trussed like turkeys, glaring impotently.
The young man laughed, the sound strangely bright in the dark, dank Gotham night. "Tell your buddies when you see them in prison--it's Batman and Robin now!" He leaped and swung away like a bird. His companion followed a moment after, after whispering something to the bound thugs which made them blanch.
The watcher in the sky moved to keep up with them, tracking their movements, listening to the boy's grip on his line, to the air moving silk. He watched as the duo stopped to investigate a burglary that required a great deal of scrupulous fingerprinting from the detective, watched as Robin leaned against a wall, as the adrenaline in his system ebbed away, as his breaths became slower.
Batman turned to notice that his young charge was nodding off. "Let's stop by the car. You can wait for me there. There shouldn't be much else tonight."
The boy's eyes were sleepy. "Sorry, it's just..." a huge yawn.
Batman's voice held no reproach. "It's your first night. The excitement is catching up with you. It's natural."
Back at the car, Batman checked the security systems carefully. "You'll be safe in here. Call me if anyone tries to mess with it--although most people know better." The boy was already curled up in the passenger seat, yawning. Batman went to close the door, then stopped and reached out a dark hand to rumple the boy's hair. "Good work tonight. I'm proud of you." The door closed quietly on Robin's happy face.
In the sky, the watcher smiled to himself.
A few minutes later, Batman was on a rooftop alone, the sticky night air rustling his cape. He took up position on a gargoyle, looking down at his city.
Without looking up, he said softly, "Thank you."
A ripple of movement, and Superman was hovering in the air in front of him, his knee almost touching the gargoyle's mouth. "You had everything under control. You didn't really need me." His smile took any possible rebuke from the words. "But you're welcome."
Batman scowled. "Well. Don't get in the habit of following us around just because I asked for a little backup tonight." He shrugged as if dismissing the topic entirely. "What news on the Truth and Justice League?"
Superman cast a rather severe look at the unmoved vigilante. "Among the Americans, Green Lantern and the Flash say they're in."
"Of course."
"Of course." There was a smile in Kal's voice. "Green Arrow is willing to be on reserve, if rather peeved about it. Black Canary says she's willing as well. That new guy, Captain Marvel, sounded delighted to even be put on reserve. I haven't heard back from a few others. As for the meta-civilizations, I still haven't heard from either Themyscira or Atlantis, and I'm leery of forcing a visit to either place."
Batman grunted in annoyance at Kal's statement. "On the foreign front, the Brazilian woman, Fire, has gotten in touch and is willing to be in the reserves. And I got a two-word response from Constantine."
"Let me guess: 'bugger off.'"
"Actually, it was 'sod off,' but good guess." Batman might have been hiding a smile behind one leather-clad hand. "Still nothing from the hero in Turkey, Dervish, or from the Jade Warrior in Japan."
"Damn. Well, I've managed to get a little time off next week, I'll go to Japan and see if I can track the latter down."
"I'll go with you," Batman said, abruptly enough to elicit a surprised frown from the Kryptonian. "If he's going to prove elusive, you'll need a detective along."
Superman pointed at his own chest. "Investigative journalist, Batman."
"You stick with charming him, I'll do the tracking. Besides, I have a good cover story to get us there, that helps." Batman looked rather annoyed for a second. "Don't be so damn contrary, Kal."
The Kryptonian executed an ornate bow in midair, head almost grazing the gargoyle. "Your wish is my command, Dark Knight. It would be my pleasure to have your scintillating company."
"Hrn." Batman's mouth was scowling, but the corner contained the possibility of a smile. "Only you could be so damn polite in this kind of heat." As if on cue, a bead of sweat slipped from beneath the cowl and trickled down his temple in the sultry air; he grimaced and raised a hand to wipe it away, but Superman had already reached out without thinking and brushed it off. Batman jerked backwards in surprise and there was an awkward silence.
"Sorry," said Superman sheepishly. "I just--" He let the sentence hang unfinished, since he had no idea how to finish it unmortified. His fingertips were damp.
"It's sweat, Kal. Human beings perspire when they're hot or have exerted themselves."
"I know what sweat is." Clark tried for lofty and achieved only rather befuddled.
Batman made a dismissive noise that seemed to categorize Superman as "alien: motivations uncertain" and backed into the shadows. "Contact me when you know your schedule," said a voice from the darkness, and he was gone.
Superman lifted gently away from Gotham, checking briefly on the breathing and respiration of the young occupant of the car below to make sure they were steady and sound.
Once he was safely far from Gotham, floating above the ocean, he held a hand before his face for a long, careful moment, examining the sheen of moisture on his fingertips. Then he slowly, carefully, put his finger to his lips, savoring each tiny salt crystal, the scent and taste, sucking and licking until he had nearly exhausted the flavor. He was panting slightly when he was done.
It seemed like every time he saw Batman or Bruce--which was distressingly often in the last few months--he came away with some new detail to focus on in his fevered nighttime fantasies. The way his eyelashes shadowed his cheeks, the curve of his ear, the feel of his breath on the back of Clark's neck, the sound of his laughter, the way twilight seemed to catch in his hair--every scrap of input seemed to fuel endless breathless scenarios in Clark's head. He had discovered he could get off just replaying the sound of Batman sighing in exasperation in his mind, imagining that sound in his ear at just the right moment. Never enough, it was never enough.
His hand was in his mouth again, his other hand moving across overly-tight spandex. He rolled over onto his back in the air, the blank sky above him, the empty sea below, groaning to himself, stroking. He wasn't even going to make it back to his apartment this time. Bruce's taste in his mouth, salt and warmth, in his mouth...Bruce.
Clark rolled back onto his stomach, staring at the dark water far below, catching his breath. The sea breeze pulled at his hair, damp and humid.
Somewhat belatedly, he realized he had agreed to go touring in Japan with Bruce Wayne again. He closed his eyes and muttered imprecations to himself: he should have rejected the offer (though it had seemed more like a demand), should have said he could handle this on his own. He'd gotten so much practice at handling things on his own in the last few months, after all, he thought wryly. Having to make small talk with his co-worker, having to hide this crazy, desperate crush from the greatest detective in the world...
His brow was damp with moisture from the wet, salty sea air. Clark dragged in a lungful of warm air. He was a Kryptonian, an alien, he could bathe in the sun's corona without breaking a sweat.
He could stay cool in a little summer heat.
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: PG
Summary: It's a sultry summer night in Gotham: debut night for a young new hero, and Superman and Batman make plans for the creation of the JLA which might require another trip to the Land of the Rising Sun.
Word Count: 1900
No different, really--
a summer moth's
visible burning
and this body,
transformed by love.
--Izumi Shikibu
There was a neatly stacked pile of newspapers in one corner of the room. On the small desk a man was going over hundreds of clippings. Each were torn carefully from the newspapers--the man wasn't allowed scissors.
Most of them were about Bruce Wayne, with special focus on his travels in Japan. He paused to look at one of Wayne in January, standing in a crowd of people milling about in the aftermath of an attempted assassination. Next to him was an awkward-looking man with heavy glasses. The article explained that American Clark Kent had been taken hostage briefly by the assassin and explained to police that the foreign hero Batman had come to his rescue.
Another clipping from the next day: Superman saving a window-washer in Tokyo, lifting him easily to safety while the crowd cheered.
Another, this one of Bruce Wayne introducing Superman at an environmental conference in the spring. The billionaire's hands gripped the superhero's with a firm grasp, their eyes locked. The smile on the alien's face was brilliant--the same brilliant smile he gave everyone in all of the clippings.
Bruce Wayne's face...
From two days later, a story about how Bruce Wayne had recently acquired Matsunaga Construction. The billionaire was smiling blandly as Shigeru Matsunaga was accosted by police.
Tucked in the corner, his tie askew, his smiling eyes fixed on Bruce Wayne, was Clark Kent.
Kyodai Ken grunted quietly to himself and continued to thumb through the papers, looking for anything of further interest.
: : :
It was a hot, oppressively humid night in Gotham. The tide was low, and the air was full of the smell of the sea: not salty or sweet as in the romantic cliches, but the real, briny, muddy scent of sea.
Far above the docks, a lone figure hovered, out of sight, watching. He grimaced slightly as damp air moved around him, making his costume cling just a bit too close to be comfortable.
On the docks, a group of men was moving cases onto a ship, their motions furtive. X-ray vision was unnecessary to guess the contents were less than licit.
The figure made no motion. Waiting. He was listening to two heartbeats: one fairly steady, the other racing.
From the shadows stepped a young boy, no more than thirteen. He was dressed in an implausibly garish costume, his smile brilliant under tousled black hair. His heartbeat was probably faster than it should be. The person floating above shifted position in the humid air but held steady.
The thugs noticed the boy. "What have we here?" Guffaws. "A little past your bedtime, boy!"
"Can't leave yet." The kid's voice was light, casual. His heart was like a tiny machine, pounding. "Batman told me to take out the garbage first."
"Batman working with a kid?" More laughter. "Right. Benny. Plug him."
One of the thugs pulled a gun.
The steadier heartbeat in the shadows thudded abruptly, painfully, and the watcher in the air leaned forward...but the boy was already in the air, dancing. A kick, and the man's gun was suddenly elsewhere, a leap and the boy elsewhere as well, too quick for anyone but perhaps the cautious presence in the sky to track. Curses, flounderings, and the boy was joined by a dark form, black silk rippling, like a shadow cast by the bright child, following his moves. Villains dropped left and right--the one who had pulled the gun on the boy fell a little harder than the rest--and soon they were trussed like turkeys, glaring impotently.
The young man laughed, the sound strangely bright in the dark, dank Gotham night. "Tell your buddies when you see them in prison--it's Batman and Robin now!" He leaped and swung away like a bird. His companion followed a moment after, after whispering something to the bound thugs which made them blanch.
The watcher in the sky moved to keep up with them, tracking their movements, listening to the boy's grip on his line, to the air moving silk. He watched as the duo stopped to investigate a burglary that required a great deal of scrupulous fingerprinting from the detective, watched as Robin leaned against a wall, as the adrenaline in his system ebbed away, as his breaths became slower.
Batman turned to notice that his young charge was nodding off. "Let's stop by the car. You can wait for me there. There shouldn't be much else tonight."
The boy's eyes were sleepy. "Sorry, it's just..." a huge yawn.
Batman's voice held no reproach. "It's your first night. The excitement is catching up with you. It's natural."
Back at the car, Batman checked the security systems carefully. "You'll be safe in here. Call me if anyone tries to mess with it--although most people know better." The boy was already curled up in the passenger seat, yawning. Batman went to close the door, then stopped and reached out a dark hand to rumple the boy's hair. "Good work tonight. I'm proud of you." The door closed quietly on Robin's happy face.
In the sky, the watcher smiled to himself.
A few minutes later, Batman was on a rooftop alone, the sticky night air rustling his cape. He took up position on a gargoyle, looking down at his city.
Without looking up, he said softly, "Thank you."
A ripple of movement, and Superman was hovering in the air in front of him, his knee almost touching the gargoyle's mouth. "You had everything under control. You didn't really need me." His smile took any possible rebuke from the words. "But you're welcome."
Batman scowled. "Well. Don't get in the habit of following us around just because I asked for a little backup tonight." He shrugged as if dismissing the topic entirely. "What news on the Truth and Justice League?"
Superman cast a rather severe look at the unmoved vigilante. "Among the Americans, Green Lantern and the Flash say they're in."
"Of course."
"Of course." There was a smile in Kal's voice. "Green Arrow is willing to be on reserve, if rather peeved about it. Black Canary says she's willing as well. That new guy, Captain Marvel, sounded delighted to even be put on reserve. I haven't heard back from a few others. As for the meta-civilizations, I still haven't heard from either Themyscira or Atlantis, and I'm leery of forcing a visit to either place."
Batman grunted in annoyance at Kal's statement. "On the foreign front, the Brazilian woman, Fire, has gotten in touch and is willing to be in the reserves. And I got a two-word response from Constantine."
"Let me guess: 'bugger off.'"
"Actually, it was 'sod off,' but good guess." Batman might have been hiding a smile behind one leather-clad hand. "Still nothing from the hero in Turkey, Dervish, or from the Jade Warrior in Japan."
"Damn. Well, I've managed to get a little time off next week, I'll go to Japan and see if I can track the latter down."
"I'll go with you," Batman said, abruptly enough to elicit a surprised frown from the Kryptonian. "If he's going to prove elusive, you'll need a detective along."
Superman pointed at his own chest. "Investigative journalist, Batman."
"You stick with charming him, I'll do the tracking. Besides, I have a good cover story to get us there, that helps." Batman looked rather annoyed for a second. "Don't be so damn contrary, Kal."
The Kryptonian executed an ornate bow in midair, head almost grazing the gargoyle. "Your wish is my command, Dark Knight. It would be my pleasure to have your scintillating company."
"Hrn." Batman's mouth was scowling, but the corner contained the possibility of a smile. "Only you could be so damn polite in this kind of heat." As if on cue, a bead of sweat slipped from beneath the cowl and trickled down his temple in the sultry air; he grimaced and raised a hand to wipe it away, but Superman had already reached out without thinking and brushed it off. Batman jerked backwards in surprise and there was an awkward silence.
"Sorry," said Superman sheepishly. "I just--" He let the sentence hang unfinished, since he had no idea how to finish it unmortified. His fingertips were damp.
"It's sweat, Kal. Human beings perspire when they're hot or have exerted themselves."
"I know what sweat is." Clark tried for lofty and achieved only rather befuddled.
Batman made a dismissive noise that seemed to categorize Superman as "alien: motivations uncertain" and backed into the shadows. "Contact me when you know your schedule," said a voice from the darkness, and he was gone.
Superman lifted gently away from Gotham, checking briefly on the breathing and respiration of the young occupant of the car below to make sure they were steady and sound.
Once he was safely far from Gotham, floating above the ocean, he held a hand before his face for a long, careful moment, examining the sheen of moisture on his fingertips. Then he slowly, carefully, put his finger to his lips, savoring each tiny salt crystal, the scent and taste, sucking and licking until he had nearly exhausted the flavor. He was panting slightly when he was done.
It seemed like every time he saw Batman or Bruce--which was distressingly often in the last few months--he came away with some new detail to focus on in his fevered nighttime fantasies. The way his eyelashes shadowed his cheeks, the curve of his ear, the feel of his breath on the back of Clark's neck, the sound of his laughter, the way twilight seemed to catch in his hair--every scrap of input seemed to fuel endless breathless scenarios in Clark's head. He had discovered he could get off just replaying the sound of Batman sighing in exasperation in his mind, imagining that sound in his ear at just the right moment. Never enough, it was never enough.
His hand was in his mouth again, his other hand moving across overly-tight spandex. He rolled over onto his back in the air, the blank sky above him, the empty sea below, groaning to himself, stroking. He wasn't even going to make it back to his apartment this time. Bruce's taste in his mouth, salt and warmth, in his mouth...Bruce.
Clark rolled back onto his stomach, staring at the dark water far below, catching his breath. The sea breeze pulled at his hair, damp and humid.
Somewhat belatedly, he realized he had agreed to go touring in Japan with Bruce Wayne again. He closed his eyes and muttered imprecations to himself: he should have rejected the offer (though it had seemed more like a demand), should have said he could handle this on his own. He'd gotten so much practice at handling things on his own in the last few months, after all, he thought wryly. Having to make small talk with his co-worker, having to hide this crazy, desperate crush from the greatest detective in the world...
His brow was damp with moisture from the wet, salty sea air. Clark dragged in a lungful of warm air. He was a Kryptonian, an alien, he could bathe in the sun's corona without breaking a sweat.
He could stay cool in a little summer heat.