Ficlet: Silent Promise and Hope | DCU/SR/BB | Clark/Lois/Bruce | R | 1/1
Title: Silent Promise and Hope
Fandom: DCU/Superman Returns/Batman Begins (The Dark Knight)
Pairing: Lois/Bruce; Clark/Lois/Bruce, Clark/Bruce
Rating: R
Word Count: 768
Prompt: For the Porn Battle - Lois/Bruce, ache; Clark/Lois/Bruce, silver; Clark/Bruce, night
Summary: An alternate take on how Clark, Lois, and Bruce might have handled Clark's death and resurrection, some years after the events of Superman: Aftermath. In the darkness, they find each other, becoming each other's strength.
Disclaimer: DC and WB still own it all. I still own nothing. Darnit!!
Author's Notes: I've been wanting to write this one for a long while now. This is essentially an AU of the future of Aftermath, where instead of it being a one-time thing between Lois and Bruce, it becomes a whole lot more for the three of them. I just couldn't resist the slashy OT3-ness that cropped up when I wrote Awaiting the Ghost of Christmas Past and Lost Time. Yes, I am writing AUs of my own work. I am officially insane. XD
Silent Promise and Hope
I.
This isn't the first time. It probably won't be the last. Lois knows it just as much as Bruce does, even as they pant and sweat and move together, bodies colliding, hips rolling with stuttered thrusts, broken souls reaching for each other in the only way they can think to.
With Clark gone... dead, where else would they go? Who would they be with? There's no one else either of them trusts enough with this part of themselves. No one else who knows the ache of losing the sunlight in their world.
Quiet in the aftermath of their grief-sharing―not love-making, never that―Bruce and Lois lie together in his too-large bed in a city that Lois has found herself spending too much time in lately, curled around each other, clinging for dear life. As if... if they just hold on a little tighter, they can undo what's been done, they can bring back the man they lost, mend the shattered pieces of themselves and go back to the way things were.
But the ache never truly abates. Clark doesn't come back. He's dead, and they're broken.
When morning comes, Lois has already gone back to Metropolis, and Bruce goes about his usual business, both of them wishing, waiting, and hurting.
* * * * *
II.
When Clark does return, miraculously whole and very much alive, he takes the news about his wife and his partner better than either of them could have expected, quiet and contemplative, reserving his judgment. His eyes take on a distant expression when in both of their company, as if he's reexamining things, looking at them from a new angle. Lois is mildly unnerved by it. Bruce only returns Clark's distant gaze with an intense one of his own.
A month later, dinner at the Manor and a relaxing movie-night-in somehow turns into three bodies tangled together in Bruce's massive bed, quiet laughter becoming whimpers of need and desire, clothing discarded in favor of flushed skin and claiming marks. The three become one, taking and being taken, celebrating life and an end to the crushing ache of before.
After a long night of renewing and reshaping their bonds, Clark watches over his wife and his lover as they sleep, his soul soaring with joy that they've found this, their strength in each other. In the silver moonlight pouring through gauzy curtains, he kisses them both, brushing a light touch of fingertips over their temples, and swears to never leave them again.
* * * * *
III.
The night after Lois leaves on a week-long trip to Cairo for the Planet, Clark finds himself in Gotham, meeting up with Bruce over a robbery in downtown, unable to sleep, restless, and needing to burn off some excess energy. Helping his partner take down a few goons with guns bigger than their heads helps alleviate a little of his restlessness, but even afterward his body's still burning and thrumming with the need for more.
Eying him with a smirk beneath the cowl, Bruce invites him back to the Manor for the rest of the night and the weekend.
It's already become old-hat for them, really. When things get crazy, or the world is too quiet, the three of them have taken to sequestering themselves for indeterminate lengths of time, taking what they need from each other, giving what they can, healing themselves as only they know how.
But it's always been the three of them, since Clark returned from the dead. With Lois away for an entire week, he isn't completely sure this is the best course of action.
His body tells him otherwise, however, when Bruce guns the engine of the Tumbler and roars away into the night.
He can't help but follow.
* * * * *
With the heavy curtains drawn against the ever-encroaching light of day, Bruce lets Clark take exactly what he needs, lets him work off the tension and anxiety of being away from Lois for more than a few days, assuring him that Lois's directive for them to take care of each other was clear on this. He drops kisses on the Kryptonian's sweat-slicked brow as Clark pushes into him, wraps his arms around him and holds him as tight as he can afterward, Clark shaking and needy and satisfied all at once.
They keep the cloak of night around them, even as the day passes, the two of them taking comfort in what the other has to offer, missing that distant part of themselves, filling in that space for each other. And when the true night has fallen again, and passed, and the day returns anew, they draw back the curtains at last, finally rested and calmed, their hands entwined in silent promise and hope.
* * * * *
Fandom: DCU/Superman Returns/Batman Begins (The Dark Knight)
Pairing: Lois/Bruce; Clark/Lois/Bruce, Clark/Bruce
Rating: R
Word Count: 768
Prompt: For the Porn Battle - Lois/Bruce, ache; Clark/Lois/Bruce, silver; Clark/Bruce, night
Summary: An alternate take on how Clark, Lois, and Bruce might have handled Clark's death and resurrection, some years after the events of Superman: Aftermath. In the darkness, they find each other, becoming each other's strength.
Disclaimer: DC and WB still own it all. I still own nothing. Darnit!!
Author's Notes: I've been wanting to write this one for a long while now. This is essentially an AU of the future of Aftermath, where instead of it being a one-time thing between Lois and Bruce, it becomes a whole lot more for the three of them. I just couldn't resist the slashy OT3-ness that cropped up when I wrote Awaiting the Ghost of Christmas Past and Lost Time. Yes, I am writing AUs of my own work. I am officially insane. XD
Silent Promise and Hope
I.
This isn't the first time. It probably won't be the last. Lois knows it just as much as Bruce does, even as they pant and sweat and move together, bodies colliding, hips rolling with stuttered thrusts, broken souls reaching for each other in the only way they can think to.
With Clark gone... dead, where else would they go? Who would they be with? There's no one else either of them trusts enough with this part of themselves. No one else who knows the ache of losing the sunlight in their world.
Quiet in the aftermath of their grief-sharing―not love-making, never that―Bruce and Lois lie together in his too-large bed in a city that Lois has found herself spending too much time in lately, curled around each other, clinging for dear life. As if... if they just hold on a little tighter, they can undo what's been done, they can bring back the man they lost, mend the shattered pieces of themselves and go back to the way things were.
But the ache never truly abates. Clark doesn't come back. He's dead, and they're broken.
When morning comes, Lois has already gone back to Metropolis, and Bruce goes about his usual business, both of them wishing, waiting, and hurting.
* * * * *
II.
When Clark does return, miraculously whole and very much alive, he takes the news about his wife and his partner better than either of them could have expected, quiet and contemplative, reserving his judgment. His eyes take on a distant expression when in both of their company, as if he's reexamining things, looking at them from a new angle. Lois is mildly unnerved by it. Bruce only returns Clark's distant gaze with an intense one of his own.
A month later, dinner at the Manor and a relaxing movie-night-in somehow turns into three bodies tangled together in Bruce's massive bed, quiet laughter becoming whimpers of need and desire, clothing discarded in favor of flushed skin and claiming marks. The three become one, taking and being taken, celebrating life and an end to the crushing ache of before.
After a long night of renewing and reshaping their bonds, Clark watches over his wife and his lover as they sleep, his soul soaring with joy that they've found this, their strength in each other. In the silver moonlight pouring through gauzy curtains, he kisses them both, brushing a light touch of fingertips over their temples, and swears to never leave them again.
* * * * *
III.
The night after Lois leaves on a week-long trip to Cairo for the Planet, Clark finds himself in Gotham, meeting up with Bruce over a robbery in downtown, unable to sleep, restless, and needing to burn off some excess energy. Helping his partner take down a few goons with guns bigger than their heads helps alleviate a little of his restlessness, but even afterward his body's still burning and thrumming with the need for more.
Eying him with a smirk beneath the cowl, Bruce invites him back to the Manor for the rest of the night and the weekend.
It's already become old-hat for them, really. When things get crazy, or the world is too quiet, the three of them have taken to sequestering themselves for indeterminate lengths of time, taking what they need from each other, giving what they can, healing themselves as only they know how.
But it's always been the three of them, since Clark returned from the dead. With Lois away for an entire week, he isn't completely sure this is the best course of action.
His body tells him otherwise, however, when Bruce guns the engine of the Tumbler and roars away into the night.
He can't help but follow.
* * * * *
With the heavy curtains drawn against the ever-encroaching light of day, Bruce lets Clark take exactly what he needs, lets him work off the tension and anxiety of being away from Lois for more than a few days, assuring him that Lois's directive for them to take care of each other was clear on this. He drops kisses on the Kryptonian's sweat-slicked brow as Clark pushes into him, wraps his arms around him and holds him as tight as he can afterward, Clark shaking and needy and satisfied all at once.
They keep the cloak of night around them, even as the day passes, the two of them taking comfort in what the other has to offer, missing that distant part of themselves, filling in that space for each other. And when the true night has fallen again, and passed, and the day returns anew, they draw back the curtains at last, finally rested and calmed, their hands entwined in silent promise and hope.
* * * * *