Fic: More Than the Sum | DCU | Clark/Bruce | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: More Than the Sum
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,740
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: T05; P01 - Green (kryptonite)
Summary: After the events of Superman/Batman #48, Clark feels overwhelmed. Bruce reminds him that he's been through rough times before.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for the recently completed Superman/Batman kryptonite storyline, and for Superman/Batman Annual #2. Originally written for the S/B Annual Contest at wfslash, and won "Best Romantic Interlude" in that contest. ^_^ Now multi-tasked for my DCU FFA challenge! :p
More Than the Sum
Clark isn't at all surprised when his Ma insists he and Bruce stay the night before heading off to take on Lexcorp in search of more kryptonite. In fact, he's relieved that she suggested it first; he doesn't have much energy left to argue with anyway, and really doesn't feel like facing that hell just yet. What does surprise him is that Bruce doesn't argue with the suggestion, either. The other man simply gives her a toned down version of his noncommittal grunt and a faint smile before Martha shoos them both upstairs for the night. All Clark can figure is that Bruce must be tired as hell. He sure is.
After today... after fighting that thing that looked entirely too much like Doomsday, and turned out to be a person underneath all that poison rock, Clark wishes he could sleep for a week. And not just to recharge, but to not have to think about what his and Bruce's little crusade has just cost his hometown. Nearly every building ruined. Lives lost - yes, nearly a dozen, Clark knows already. Livelihoods destroyed. A hole through the spare bedroom and living room of his parents' farmhouse. He doesn't know quite how he's going to make it better, but between knowing that Waller's money will start coming in soon and his promise to his Pa to rebuild the town himself, he knows there's hope, at least.
“You've got that look on your face again. Stop it.”
Bruce's voice rouses him from his half-asleep thoughts as he sits on the edge of the bed - the twin in his old room, since the double in the guest room is a lost cause - and he shakes himself to regain his senses. “Mmm,” he offers. “Been a long day.” He isn't sure, but he's starting to think he might be spread a little too thin. Too much happening lately, too many things with far-reaching consequences that he knows he'll have to deal with later.
“Are you gonna actually get in bed and sleep, or just sit there thinking all night?” There's a hint of teasing in Bruce's light scolding, and Clark can't help a weak chuckle. The irony isn't lost on him.
“All right,” he concedes after a moment, standing to pull off his shirt and change into pajama pants he keeps here for occasions exactly like this.
Bruce is already changed - naturally, he keeps an extra set of clothes or three at the farmhouse for the same reasons himself, being in a relationship with the prodigal son notwithstanding - into a nice set of silk pajamas, waiting for Clark to join him in the narrow bed. It'll be a tight fit, but it's nothing they haven't had to deal with before.
“Get over here,” the Bat almost growls, eyes hard around the edges and, to Clark, a lifeline, and the slightly taller man can only smile, his resistance to Bruce's charms worn down.
“All right,” he says lightly, and when he climbs into the bed next to his lover and partner, Clark snuggles up close to Bruce, letting him pull the light comforter up over both of them.
Bruce pulls him closer, carding fingers through Clark's hair in a soothing gesture that's helped the Kryptonian fall asleep on more than one occasion, when a rescue had gone wrong or a disaster was too much to handle. “You haven't been this tense in years,” he observes, his voice softer and lower now. “Not since Mr. Socrates, I don't think.”
Clark pulls in a long, slow breath, his thoughts shifting back to a time when he'd felt so helpless he couldn't stand it. Being completely powerless and having had no real training had left him convinced that he was useless to the world. No... worse than useless. A burden. It was a lot like how he's been feeling lately, he realizes. Taking up everyone's time, using the League's resources to eliminate kryptonite from the face of the Earth... he feels like he's imposed on everyone's good will, feels like he's worn out his welcome. Especially after fighting to get that chunk of green K out of Atlantis, and then going up against Waller's 'All American Boy'. “Yeah, I suppose.”
His lover's fingers tighten in his hair for a brief moment. “You're thinking you're a burden, aren't you?”
“Wish you wouldn't do that,” Clark shoots back halfheartedly, only mildly annoyed that Bruce has never had any trouble reading him.
“No you don't. Not even then, you didn't. You might have complained that I was pushing you too hard, but what you really meant was that you needed to be pushed that hard.” He pauses as Clark opens his mouth to protest, pressing two fingers against the Kryptonian's lips. “Forget it. I know you, Clark. I know what makes you tick. Did then, do now. I know you feel guilty for what happened today, responsible for giving Waller just enough cause to feel the need to create that thing, that team. Just like then - you feel like you've failed everyone.” Bruce shakes his head, staring into Clark's deep blue eyes, only barely visible in the darkened room. “But you know what? You haven't. Didn't then, either. You didn't crash through Smallville looking for a fight, you drew Waller's super soldier away. You weren't the one that bought enough kryptonite from Luthor to stop a small army of Kryptonians. Waller was, and you took it away from her, helped put an end to her little project, saved that soldier's life, and a hell of a lot more lives in the process. And you know what else? You aren't the reason that people like her and Luthor are so paranoid, either. You're just a target, because of that symbol of hope you wear on your chest,” he pauses, stabbing a finger against Clark's chest. “Some people are too terrified to hope, terrified to let other people hope, and when that fear gets brought out into the light, bad things happen.”
Clark draws in another deep breath, and heaves a sigh. “I know,” he says in a small voice, letting Bruce's words sink into his brain.
“That's not all,” the other man continues, sweeping his fingers through Clark's hair again. “I know you're getting run-down. It's obvious from the lack of conversation on your end. You haven't argued a single point I've made tonight.”
“I... yeah,” he admits, feeling sleep and fatigue dull the edges of his senses, even as his mind reels from Bruce's speech. He can barely hear the crickets out in the fields anymore, much less the diminishing small-town bustle of Smallville as folks pack in their clean-up efforts for the night. It's unnerving, but he can't fight it, doesn't want to.
“It was the same back then. You were exhausted all the time, couldn't keep up. Worst of all, you were afraid.”
To that, Clark has no response. It's true, and he knows it.
“You'll need as much strength as you can muster if we're gonna face Luthor and his people tomorrow, and I know that has you scared. But here's the twist: you know, just as much as I do, that even if you have to do it completely powerless, you're not helpless.”
“I-”
Bruce cuts him off before he can speak up, “You didn't need powers to take on Mr. Socrates. All you needed was confidence in yourself, the knowledge that you can make a difference, and that you're not a burden or a threat or any other goddamn thing that's swirling around in your brain. That's what you'll need tomorrow, to know that you're more than your powers, that you're more than some unstoppable train capable of destroying the Earth. That you're better than that, greater than that. That you've saved every life you could, done everything in your power to make things right. That it's what's inside you that's always counted, and that you've always done the right thing.”
“More than the sum of my parts, huh?” Clark ventures when Bruce pauses.
“Exactly,” the Bat acknowledges with a twisted smirk, his eyes hooded. “I can't believe you let yourself forget that lesson.”
Clark scrubs a hand over his face, feeling like an idiot. How could he have forgotten, indeed... After a moment, he looks back up at Bruce. “I guess I needed to hear that.”
“No guessing about it. I'm not about to let you go facing the worst humanity has to offer without your spine intact. What kind of a friend would that make me?”
Choking off an embarrassed laugh, Clark tilts his head back and leans up to kiss his lover. Bruce tastes like Ma's apple crumb cake, toothpaste, and loving determination, and Clark commits the moment to memory. He'll need it later, he knows, if he wants to keep his head in the game; thoughts of how much Bruce believes - and has always believed - in him have helped him through more than one crisis over the last decade and a half. Truth be told, the other man has been his rock, keeping him together when the rest of the world seemed to be going to hell, when he would have fallen apart otherwise.
Pulling away from the kiss after a moment, he smiles weakly. “For all my strength and abilities, you'd think I'd have a better self-image.”
Bruce meets his smile with a more mischievous expression. “Which is why you need people like me around - to keep you grounded, and feed your ego, depending on the circumstances.”
Clark smiles more widely, already feeling bolstered despite sleep starting to overcome him. “My hero,” he chuckles.
“Damned straight. Now get some rest,” Bruce says quietly, brushing Clark's hair back with his fingertips and dropping a light kiss on his forehead.
Without any argument, the taller man snuggles closer, pillowing his head on Bruce's shoulder as warm arms wrap around him to pull him in, their bodies melding together in the narrow bed. With the memory of defeating Mr. Socrates through his will power alone renewed in his mind, and the reassurance that Bruce won't let him falter, he knows that tomorrow won't be as bad as he'd made it out to be. The threat of all that kryptonite isn't nearly so menacing anymore.
And the town... well, just like he promised his Pa, he'll rebuild it brick by brick, with Bruce at his side.
* * * * *
Lovely companion art by eve_k.
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,740
Prompt: For dcu_freeforall: T05; P01 - Green (kryptonite)
Summary: After the events of Superman/Batman #48, Clark feels overwhelmed. Bruce reminds him that he's been through rough times before.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for the recently completed Superman/Batman kryptonite storyline, and for Superman/Batman Annual #2. Originally written for the S/B Annual Contest at wfslash, and won "Best Romantic Interlude" in that contest. ^_^ Now multi-tasked for my DCU FFA challenge! :p
More Than the Sum
Clark isn't at all surprised when his Ma insists he and Bruce stay the night before heading off to take on Lexcorp in search of more kryptonite. In fact, he's relieved that she suggested it first; he doesn't have much energy left to argue with anyway, and really doesn't feel like facing that hell just yet. What does surprise him is that Bruce doesn't argue with the suggestion, either. The other man simply gives her a toned down version of his noncommittal grunt and a faint smile before Martha shoos them both upstairs for the night. All Clark can figure is that Bruce must be tired as hell. He sure is.
After today... after fighting that thing that looked entirely too much like Doomsday, and turned out to be a person underneath all that poison rock, Clark wishes he could sleep for a week. And not just to recharge, but to not have to think about what his and Bruce's little crusade has just cost his hometown. Nearly every building ruined. Lives lost - yes, nearly a dozen, Clark knows already. Livelihoods destroyed. A hole through the spare bedroom and living room of his parents' farmhouse. He doesn't know quite how he's going to make it better, but between knowing that Waller's money will start coming in soon and his promise to his Pa to rebuild the town himself, he knows there's hope, at least.
“You've got that look on your face again. Stop it.”
Bruce's voice rouses him from his half-asleep thoughts as he sits on the edge of the bed - the twin in his old room, since the double in the guest room is a lost cause - and he shakes himself to regain his senses. “Mmm,” he offers. “Been a long day.” He isn't sure, but he's starting to think he might be spread a little too thin. Too much happening lately, too many things with far-reaching consequences that he knows he'll have to deal with later.
“Are you gonna actually get in bed and sleep, or just sit there thinking all night?” There's a hint of teasing in Bruce's light scolding, and Clark can't help a weak chuckle. The irony isn't lost on him.
“All right,” he concedes after a moment, standing to pull off his shirt and change into pajama pants he keeps here for occasions exactly like this.
Bruce is already changed - naturally, he keeps an extra set of clothes or three at the farmhouse for the same reasons himself, being in a relationship with the prodigal son notwithstanding - into a nice set of silk pajamas, waiting for Clark to join him in the narrow bed. It'll be a tight fit, but it's nothing they haven't had to deal with before.
“Get over here,” the Bat almost growls, eyes hard around the edges and, to Clark, a lifeline, and the slightly taller man can only smile, his resistance to Bruce's charms worn down.
“All right,” he says lightly, and when he climbs into the bed next to his lover and partner, Clark snuggles up close to Bruce, letting him pull the light comforter up over both of them.
Bruce pulls him closer, carding fingers through Clark's hair in a soothing gesture that's helped the Kryptonian fall asleep on more than one occasion, when a rescue had gone wrong or a disaster was too much to handle. “You haven't been this tense in years,” he observes, his voice softer and lower now. “Not since Mr. Socrates, I don't think.”
Clark pulls in a long, slow breath, his thoughts shifting back to a time when he'd felt so helpless he couldn't stand it. Being completely powerless and having had no real training had left him convinced that he was useless to the world. No... worse than useless. A burden. It was a lot like how he's been feeling lately, he realizes. Taking up everyone's time, using the League's resources to eliminate kryptonite from the face of the Earth... he feels like he's imposed on everyone's good will, feels like he's worn out his welcome. Especially after fighting to get that chunk of green K out of Atlantis, and then going up against Waller's 'All American Boy'. “Yeah, I suppose.”
His lover's fingers tighten in his hair for a brief moment. “You're thinking you're a burden, aren't you?”
“Wish you wouldn't do that,” Clark shoots back halfheartedly, only mildly annoyed that Bruce has never had any trouble reading him.
“No you don't. Not even then, you didn't. You might have complained that I was pushing you too hard, but what you really meant was that you needed to be pushed that hard.” He pauses as Clark opens his mouth to protest, pressing two fingers against the Kryptonian's lips. “Forget it. I know you, Clark. I know what makes you tick. Did then, do now. I know you feel guilty for what happened today, responsible for giving Waller just enough cause to feel the need to create that thing, that team. Just like then - you feel like you've failed everyone.” Bruce shakes his head, staring into Clark's deep blue eyes, only barely visible in the darkened room. “But you know what? You haven't. Didn't then, either. You didn't crash through Smallville looking for a fight, you drew Waller's super soldier away. You weren't the one that bought enough kryptonite from Luthor to stop a small army of Kryptonians. Waller was, and you took it away from her, helped put an end to her little project, saved that soldier's life, and a hell of a lot more lives in the process. And you know what else? You aren't the reason that people like her and Luthor are so paranoid, either. You're just a target, because of that symbol of hope you wear on your chest,” he pauses, stabbing a finger against Clark's chest. “Some people are too terrified to hope, terrified to let other people hope, and when that fear gets brought out into the light, bad things happen.”
Clark draws in another deep breath, and heaves a sigh. “I know,” he says in a small voice, letting Bruce's words sink into his brain.
“That's not all,” the other man continues, sweeping his fingers through Clark's hair again. “I know you're getting run-down. It's obvious from the lack of conversation on your end. You haven't argued a single point I've made tonight.”
“I... yeah,” he admits, feeling sleep and fatigue dull the edges of his senses, even as his mind reels from Bruce's speech. He can barely hear the crickets out in the fields anymore, much less the diminishing small-town bustle of Smallville as folks pack in their clean-up efforts for the night. It's unnerving, but he can't fight it, doesn't want to.
“It was the same back then. You were exhausted all the time, couldn't keep up. Worst of all, you were afraid.”
To that, Clark has no response. It's true, and he knows it.
“You'll need as much strength as you can muster if we're gonna face Luthor and his people tomorrow, and I know that has you scared. But here's the twist: you know, just as much as I do, that even if you have to do it completely powerless, you're not helpless.”
“I-”
Bruce cuts him off before he can speak up, “You didn't need powers to take on Mr. Socrates. All you needed was confidence in yourself, the knowledge that you can make a difference, and that you're not a burden or a threat or any other goddamn thing that's swirling around in your brain. That's what you'll need tomorrow, to know that you're more than your powers, that you're more than some unstoppable train capable of destroying the Earth. That you're better than that, greater than that. That you've saved every life you could, done everything in your power to make things right. That it's what's inside you that's always counted, and that you've always done the right thing.”
“More than the sum of my parts, huh?” Clark ventures when Bruce pauses.
“Exactly,” the Bat acknowledges with a twisted smirk, his eyes hooded. “I can't believe you let yourself forget that lesson.”
Clark scrubs a hand over his face, feeling like an idiot. How could he have forgotten, indeed... After a moment, he looks back up at Bruce. “I guess I needed to hear that.”
“No guessing about it. I'm not about to let you go facing the worst humanity has to offer without your spine intact. What kind of a friend would that make me?”
Choking off an embarrassed laugh, Clark tilts his head back and leans up to kiss his lover. Bruce tastes like Ma's apple crumb cake, toothpaste, and loving determination, and Clark commits the moment to memory. He'll need it later, he knows, if he wants to keep his head in the game; thoughts of how much Bruce believes - and has always believed - in him have helped him through more than one crisis over the last decade and a half. Truth be told, the other man has been his rock, keeping him together when the rest of the world seemed to be going to hell, when he would have fallen apart otherwise.
Pulling away from the kiss after a moment, he smiles weakly. “For all my strength and abilities, you'd think I'd have a better self-image.”
Bruce meets his smile with a more mischievous expression. “Which is why you need people like me around - to keep you grounded, and feed your ego, depending on the circumstances.”
Clark smiles more widely, already feeling bolstered despite sleep starting to overcome him. “My hero,” he chuckles.
“Damned straight. Now get some rest,” Bruce says quietly, brushing Clark's hair back with his fingertips and dropping a light kiss on his forehead.
Without any argument, the taller man snuggles closer, pillowing his head on Bruce's shoulder as warm arms wrap around him to pull him in, their bodies melding together in the narrow bed. With the memory of defeating Mr. Socrates through his will power alone renewed in his mind, and the reassurance that Bruce won't let him falter, he knows that tomorrow won't be as bad as he'd made it out to be. The threat of all that kryptonite isn't nearly so menacing anymore.
And the town... well, just like he promised his Pa, he'll rebuild it brick by brick, with Bruce at his side.
* * * * *
Lovely companion art by eve_k.