Fic: First Impressions
Clark muse! Is that really you? Or were you bodysnatched? *tilts head quizzically* And Harvey! Where did you come froooommm??? *shakes him*
Anyway ... it's still June 4th! In ... Hawaii! Which means that the celebrations for
jen_in_japan's birthday continue!!!
Title: First Impressions (hmm, why do I have the feeling that another S/B fic has this title? lol)
Note: Written for the wonderful
jen_in_japan's birthday. May you have many happy returns, Jen! And thank you for being, well, YOU! LJ would not even be half as awesome as she is without her S/B kitten. :D
Characters/Pairings: Bruce/Clark, Harvey
Continuity: Movieverse. Specifically, this takes place during a slightly tweaked version of Superman: The Movie.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: DC owns 'em, I just mess with 'em.
Word Count: 1,061
Summary: Clark and Bruce have their first "encounter." This is basically a rewrite of the first Smallville scene in S:TM.
“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lana sighed, and Clark could tell that she meant it-meant it, but wouldn’t do anything about it. She spared her neighbor one last look, then stepped over the helmets and pads that Brad had spilled on the ground, and followed him to his convertible.
Jerk, Clark thought as Brad hopped behind the wheel of his shiny new car, Lana at his side. Clark watched them go; once the convertible had turned out of sight, he picked up a football and punted it clear across the field. He held it in his hands and imagined that it was Brad and kicked it right between the goal posts. It didn’t make him feel better, though. He was angry at Brad for harassing him, sure, but that anger was only a symptom of a deeper grievance.
Clark set the table that Brad had overturned back upright, then began re-stacking the helmets. He gathered them up at a normal speed-at the speed at which his father liked him to do all of his chores. “You might be the fastest soul on earth-doesn’t mean you don’t need to learn patience,” Pa was always saying. Patience. The word lingered in Clark’s mind, and the football he had kicked caught his eye from where it lay in the opposite end zone.
None of his schoolmates would have guessed that studious Clark Kent could nail a field goal that was over a hundred yards long. And they would never even have believed the rest of the feats he was capable of. How he wished that he could show them. How he wished (with the fervor of anyone who doesn’t have a choice) that he didn’t need to hide.
In the distance, a train’s horn sounded, breaking through Clark’s thoughts. Looking at the table in front of him, he was surprised, but not shocked, to find that it was covered by neat piles of the equipment that had lain scattered in the grass only seconds before. The train’s horn sounded again, and a smile touched his face.
Well, it wasn’t as if Pa had to know …
::-::
“I’m afraid you have an incurable case of overachieving,” Harvey drawled. He slouched back against his seat, hazel eyes focused on the friend sitting across from him.
“What?” Bruce asked without looking up from his book. He was getting a headache from reading on the train, but he kept at it anyway.
“This multitasking business-surely you realize that makes you an overachiever,” Harvey explained, lazily gesturing between Bruce’s book and the half-eaten sandwich that he held, forgotten, in one hand. “It’s unacceptable.”
“We’ve missed the first week of classes because of-“
“We agreed-“
“It was stupid of me to agree,” Bruce muttered, still not looking up. “It was a waste of time.”
A beat of silence passed between them. Bruce squinted at the circuit diagram on the page before him.
“Clearly,” Harvey finally noted with a chuckle, as if the flow of the conversation hadn’t been interrupted at all. “Well, I’m going to make a trip to the restroom.” He stood up, straightening his jacket as he did so. “Try not to miss me too much.”
“Harv,” Bruce raised his head, but his friend was already gone.
Setting the book and the sandwich down, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. He felt as though the rumbling of the train was inside his skull and trying to scrape its way out. When shutting his eyes didn’t ease this sensation, he sat up and gazed intently out of the window.
::-::
It was amazing how Clark’s frustrations never failed to vanish when he was running; it was almost as if they were physically torn away by the wind that whipped past him. He fell into a rhythm of swinging arms and legs and of feet pounding the earth, and suddenly, there was no reason to live save to beat that rhythm out across all the plains of Kansas.
Dust billowing behind him, Clark approached the train. He had originally intended to keep his distance from it, but had since grown rash under the influence of speed. He drew up next to the black locomotive, easily keeping pace with it. Presumably bored with the monotonous landscape, none of its passengers were looking outside, but he grinned up at their windows anyway. He never wanted to slow, never wanted to stop, and then-
A pair of eyes locked with his, blue and sharp. Clark stumbled to a halt. The train roared past and he couldn’t take his eyes off of those eyes. The train fled eastwards and he watched those eyes for as long as they watched him-and long after they stopped. The train receded across Kansas and Missouri and Illinois and Clark watched. From beside the train tracks, from the barn, from his room in the night-he watched.
When that piercing blue finally faded into the distance, he waited for the panic to set in. He had been an idiot. Someone knew his secret. His parents could be in danger-the entire town could be. Then, he remembered the look in those eyes, and he knew that panic was unnecessary. In its stead came something like … liberation.
::-::
“Bruce, are you all right?” Harvey asked as he returned to his seat. His friend was staring out of the window, his forehead pressed against the glass along with the palm of one hand. When he didn’t answer, Harvey gripped his shoulder.
“Bruce?”
“That boy,” Bruce spoke without moving. “He was running next to the train.”
“Um … how fascinating,” Harvey remarked as he sat down. “I suppose these farmers would be backwards enough that a modern marvel such as this-“ Harvey rapped twice against the side of the train. “Would attract their attention. But chasing after it? Now that’s quaint. Even for-“
“That’s not what I meant,” Bruce shook his head, frowning.
“Bruce, I’m kidding,” Harvey laughed. “You don’t really think-jeez, I’m not that much of a privileged bastard, am I?”
Bruce looked his friend square in the eye, and seemed to finally come back to himself. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“No,” Bruce answered. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m glad you agree,” Harvey smirked. “Now tell me-what were you referring to if not some awestruck peasant children?”
Another half-smile from Bruce, one that slowly widened, spreading like water through dry earth.
“Nothing.”
He shook his head again, dark bangs sweeping across his eyes.
"It was ... it was nothing."
And of course, Happy Birthday to
starsandsea, too!!!! I have a present for you also, but it is not yet finished. *tear* I hope you had a fantastic day, though, and that this year brings you everything you wish it to. :)
Last but certainly not least: flist please forgive meeeee!!!! I am still so behind, both on recent and older happenings--it's horrible! I shouldn't even be posting, except this is birthday fic? and ... and ... and ... *flails* Augh, catch-22!! I'm doomed either way. *headdesk*
Anyway ... it's still June 4th! In ... Hawaii! Which means that the celebrations for
jen_in_japan's birthday continue!!!
Title: First Impressions (hmm, why do I have the feeling that another S/B fic has this title? lol)
Note: Written for the wonderful
jen_in_japan's birthday. May you have many happy returns, Jen! And thank you for being, well, YOU! LJ would not even be half as awesome as she is without her S/B kitten. :D
Characters/Pairings: Bruce/Clark, Harvey
Continuity: Movieverse. Specifically, this takes place during a slightly tweaked version of Superman: The Movie.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: DC owns 'em, I just mess with 'em.
Word Count: 1,061
Summary: Clark and Bruce have their first "encounter." This is basically a rewrite of the first Smallville scene in S:TM.
“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lana sighed, and Clark could tell that she meant it-meant it, but wouldn’t do anything about it. She spared her neighbor one last look, then stepped over the helmets and pads that Brad had spilled on the ground, and followed him to his convertible.
Jerk, Clark thought as Brad hopped behind the wheel of his shiny new car, Lana at his side. Clark watched them go; once the convertible had turned out of sight, he picked up a football and punted it clear across the field. He held it in his hands and imagined that it was Brad and kicked it right between the goal posts. It didn’t make him feel better, though. He was angry at Brad for harassing him, sure, but that anger was only a symptom of a deeper grievance.
Clark set the table that Brad had overturned back upright, then began re-stacking the helmets. He gathered them up at a normal speed-at the speed at which his father liked him to do all of his chores. “You might be the fastest soul on earth-doesn’t mean you don’t need to learn patience,” Pa was always saying. Patience. The word lingered in Clark’s mind, and the football he had kicked caught his eye from where it lay in the opposite end zone.
None of his schoolmates would have guessed that studious Clark Kent could nail a field goal that was over a hundred yards long. And they would never even have believed the rest of the feats he was capable of. How he wished that he could show them. How he wished (with the fervor of anyone who doesn’t have a choice) that he didn’t need to hide.
In the distance, a train’s horn sounded, breaking through Clark’s thoughts. Looking at the table in front of him, he was surprised, but not shocked, to find that it was covered by neat piles of the equipment that had lain scattered in the grass only seconds before. The train’s horn sounded again, and a smile touched his face.
Well, it wasn’t as if Pa had to know …
::-::
“I’m afraid you have an incurable case of overachieving,” Harvey drawled. He slouched back against his seat, hazel eyes focused on the friend sitting across from him.
“What?” Bruce asked without looking up from his book. He was getting a headache from reading on the train, but he kept at it anyway.
“This multitasking business-surely you realize that makes you an overachiever,” Harvey explained, lazily gesturing between Bruce’s book and the half-eaten sandwich that he held, forgotten, in one hand. “It’s unacceptable.”
“We’ve missed the first week of classes because of-“
“We agreed-“
“It was stupid of me to agree,” Bruce muttered, still not looking up. “It was a waste of time.”
A beat of silence passed between them. Bruce squinted at the circuit diagram on the page before him.
“Clearly,” Harvey finally noted with a chuckle, as if the flow of the conversation hadn’t been interrupted at all. “Well, I’m going to make a trip to the restroom.” He stood up, straightening his jacket as he did so. “Try not to miss me too much.”
“Harv,” Bruce raised his head, but his friend was already gone.
Setting the book and the sandwich down, Bruce leaned back and closed his eyes. He felt as though the rumbling of the train was inside his skull and trying to scrape its way out. When shutting his eyes didn’t ease this sensation, he sat up and gazed intently out of the window.
::-::
It was amazing how Clark’s frustrations never failed to vanish when he was running; it was almost as if they were physically torn away by the wind that whipped past him. He fell into a rhythm of swinging arms and legs and of feet pounding the earth, and suddenly, there was no reason to live save to beat that rhythm out across all the plains of Kansas.
Dust billowing behind him, Clark approached the train. He had originally intended to keep his distance from it, but had since grown rash under the influence of speed. He drew up next to the black locomotive, easily keeping pace with it. Presumably bored with the monotonous landscape, none of its passengers were looking outside, but he grinned up at their windows anyway. He never wanted to slow, never wanted to stop, and then-
A pair of eyes locked with his, blue and sharp. Clark stumbled to a halt. The train roared past and he couldn’t take his eyes off of those eyes. The train fled eastwards and he watched those eyes for as long as they watched him-and long after they stopped. The train receded across Kansas and Missouri and Illinois and Clark watched. From beside the train tracks, from the barn, from his room in the night-he watched.
When that piercing blue finally faded into the distance, he waited for the panic to set in. He had been an idiot. Someone knew his secret. His parents could be in danger-the entire town could be. Then, he remembered the look in those eyes, and he knew that panic was unnecessary. In its stead came something like … liberation.
::-::
“Bruce, are you all right?” Harvey asked as he returned to his seat. His friend was staring out of the window, his forehead pressed against the glass along with the palm of one hand. When he didn’t answer, Harvey gripped his shoulder.
“Bruce?”
“That boy,” Bruce spoke without moving. “He was running next to the train.”
“Um … how fascinating,” Harvey remarked as he sat down. “I suppose these farmers would be backwards enough that a modern marvel such as this-“ Harvey rapped twice against the side of the train. “Would attract their attention. But chasing after it? Now that’s quaint. Even for-“
“That’s not what I meant,” Bruce shook his head, frowning.
“Bruce, I’m kidding,” Harvey laughed. “You don’t really think-jeez, I’m not that much of a privileged bastard, am I?”
Bruce looked his friend square in the eye, and seemed to finally come back to himself. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“No,” Bruce answered. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m glad you agree,” Harvey smirked. “Now tell me-what were you referring to if not some awestruck peasant children?”
Another half-smile from Bruce, one that slowly widened, spreading like water through dry earth.
“Nothing.”
He shook his head again, dark bangs sweeping across his eyes.
"It was ... it was nothing."
And of course, Happy Birthday to
starsandsea, too!!!! I have a present for you also, but it is not yet finished. *tear* I hope you had a fantastic day, though, and that this year brings you everything you wish it to. :)
Last but certainly not least: flist please forgive meeeee!!!! I am still so behind, both on recent and older happenings--it's horrible! I shouldn't even be posting, except this is birthday fic? and ... and ... and ... *flails* Augh, catch-22!! I'm doomed either way. *headdesk*