"Possessions" (Superman/Batman) : Jen_in_Japan, Labuenaventura
Title: Possessions
Author:
jen_in_japan
Artist:
labuenaventura
Fandom: DC Universe
Charachters: Superman and Batman
Rating: G
Themes set: Light Themes
Theme: On The Night Stand
The sun was just sliding above the horizon, light flooding the steel canyons of Metropolis and striking the sleepy faces of commuters on their way to work, when Batman finished interrogating the last of Luthor's thugs.
He left the man dangling like a fly from a spider's line and made his way toward a familiar apartment building, frowning as the shadows lessened in the dawn. Luthor had gotten a bee in his bonnet about investigative journalist Clark Kent and sent a few of his boys to rough him up a bit. Batman was pretty sure he'd rounded up the last of them, but he wanted to do a quick check of Clark's apartment and make sure none had slipped by him. Not that Clark couldn't handle a few petty thugs trying to scare him, but--well, Batman didn't particularly want Kent to have to deal with it right now. Superman had been dangerously over-extended for the last few months, and just a couple of days ago had taken some fairly serious injuries in a fight with Metallo.
Crouched in an alarmingly thin slice of shadow, Batman scanned the outside of Clark's apartment building. He cursed under his breath as he noticed one of the reporter's windows was open: he should be at the Planet by now. Did one of Luthor's thugs get past his dragnet and break into Kent's apartment? Batman hovered, irresolute, at the border between safe shadow and annoyingly bright sunlight. Then he made his way to the window and slipped inside.
The living room and kitchen were empty. Batman looked around the rather bare and shabby room. Almost everything in it--from the heavy old metal kitchen table that could have been taken from Ward and June Cleaver's kitchen to the couch that hinted its previous owner had owned several incontinent dogs--looked like it had been bought at Goodwill. At first glance, the man seemed to own nothing at all of any value.
At second glance--Batman's sharp eyes began to take in a few items that looked cherished. It was not terribly surprising that all of them appeared to be gifts. There were photos on the end tables of the Kents, Pete and Lana, Lois Lane, Jimmy. And there were other, subtler signs. A desk lamp in an elegant Grecian design was most likely from the ambassador from Themyscira. There was a piece of abstract art, a painting of geometric shapes caught in the moment between balance and imbalance, signed "Rayner." On one wall hung a cuckoo clock Bruce remembered helping Dick pick out during a trip to Geneva. On the refrigerator was a picture of what might have been Superman done in macaroni, his mouth a hugely cheerful curve of pasta, signed "L.H."
Batman's eyes scanned the silent, empty room again. There was nothing at all here from Bruce Wayne. As far as he could remember, he'd never given Clark Kent or Superman anything.
Well, anything physical. He'd given plenty of time to the man, and a fair amount of energy and effort to keeping him safe.
Anything else he may have given Clark Kent was information he kept strictly to himself.
He shouldn't have to give him anything at all, Batman thought, feeling unaccountably annoyed. Kent didn't need tokens of friendship from him; he had nothing to prove.
So he wasn't sure why it made him feel...restless, to see there was nothing of him in Clark Kent's home.
Before he had the opportunity to examine that feeling further, he heard a whisper of movement from Kent's bedroom. Abruptly alert again, he slipped to the open door and peered in.
He drew back in shock when he realized Clark Kent was asleep in the bed, only his dark head visible from a pile of blankets, turned toward the wall.
Composing himself and edging back to where he could see the man's sleeping form, he realized Clark must have called in sick from work today. The fight with Metallo must have weakened him worse than Batman had realized. The man never was honest about his physical condition, Batman thought with irritation. Well, he was here and obviously Luthor's goons were not, so Batman could get going now, making his way back to Gotham. No reason to disturb Kent's rest.
The morning sunlight flowed into the room from between the blinds, heavy and golden, casting bands of light across Clark's sleeping form. It caught in his dark hair and glistened, throwing off refracted bits of blue light, each strand looking softer than any textile Batman had ever worked with. The hair was fanned out across--
Batman stifled a sudden snort of laughter as his brain finally processed the image.
Kent's pillowcase was adorned with tiny little bats.
Batman stared at the tangle of dark hair across the little bats, like a net of black silk, catching them. He could see only the curve of Clark's ear, but he suddenly wished he could glimpse more of Clark's face. Was he smiling in his sleep? Was he dreaming?
The golden light was warm and thick as honey, filling the room, touching Clark's body, healing him.
Bruce watched it.
The cuckoo clock struck eight and Batman started. He'd been staring at Clark for a full fifteen minutes. Well. The man was safe, there was no need to gather any more information about the situation. No sense in waking him up to tell him to get some rest. But it wouldn't be fair to not leave a hint.
He moved forward soundlessly and adjusted Kent's classes on the nightstand so they were pointing toward the sleeping form. Kent would probably notice the change, would probably be able to guess at the message: I'm keeping an eye on you.
Any other implied messages the man would have to figure out for himself.
Batman slipped silently from the room and out the window, grimacing at the brightness outside. It was going to be difficult to get back to Gotham unseen. Well, so be it.
He realized, as he made his way toward a promising shadow, that somehow he didn't feel so badly anymore that Clark had nothing of his in the apartment.
: : :
Back in his bedroom, warmed by sunlight--and something more--Clark Kent smiled against his pillowcase.
FIN