(FIC) Safe haven
..hey, flist! If I could be any more behind on fb, I would be.. uhm.. I dunno, a lot more behind? I'm going to try to catch up today, I've been having a couple of hellish weeks -who pulled the Drama tag out in my life??? who did, and what must I do to plug the Drama again???
I promised quirky_circe a couple of ficlets for her birthday, so here is one, pretty late, but I hope is the thought that counts, Tammy! More birthday fic -for you and for sasha_anu, happy birthdaaaaaay, my Queen!!- will be coming later. If I can shake the writer's block, which I can feel receding...
Title: Safe haven
Fandom: DCU
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Bruce/Clark
Word Count: 860+
Summary: Bruce and Clark take a day off, and Bruce's idea of fun involves a lot of Z's.
Clark shifted under the pressing weight, trying to get a better view of Bruce’s face, who was lying sprawled on top of him, dangerously leaning towards the edge of the couch. It wasn’t that Clark didn’t like spending time with him like this, but he had made some plans for the day and Bruce didn’t seem likely to move at all. It wasn’t everyday that Bruce allowed himself to take a day off, and it was once in a blue moon that Clark could take time off at the same time he did. There were things that they had never gotten to do together, like spending the day in Robinson Park and having a picnic, or going out to the movies; going rowing in the lake, or… just spending the day by the pool in Wayne Manor. They didn’t do much outside of the house or Clark’s apartment other than eat and fight crime, and he had thought this was a good chance to do something different.
Instead, he was lying down on the couch watching a ‘Girls of the Playboy Mansion’ marathon with one hundred and ninety pounds of boyfriend on top of him, debating if he could extricate the remote from Bruce’s hand without waking him, since his request to watch something else had been turned down with a plaintive ‘But I’m watching this’ in between naps.
The worst part was Bruce was actually watching it; he seemed to know who was who and what was going on, like he had already watched the episodes he napped through. The fake laughs were ringing on Clark’s ears for the umpteenth time when he felt Bruce stir, his hold on the remote control tightening. He decided to try again.
“Why are we watching this?”
Bruce’s voice was a sleepy mumble. “Because.”
“Because what?”
“’s fun.”
“They are really vapid and shallow, and they’re not even stupid, they just… pretend to be stupid while they manipulate everything around them. How can this be your idea of fun?”
“Research, then.”
Clark reached up to grab a fistful of dark hair, pulling slightly. “You’re not like that,” he said, his smile rueful. “You’re a better actor.”
Bruce shifted, nestling more comfortably over him. “I have a couple of years of practice on them,” he said, his voice pitched well into the airhead playboy register. A new episode was starting, and after seeing which one it was, he closed his eyes again. “I’m going to be Hugh Hefner when I get old. Wearing pajamas all day and hanging out with my scantily clad Kryptonian.”
Clark laughed, smoothing out Bruce’s dark hair. “I really doubt it. I could never be that blond.” Clark listened for the deepening of breath that signaled the approach of sleep. “Bruce,” he called, eliciting a grunt from his lover. “Don’t you want to do something else?”
Bruce turned his head up, meeting Clark’s eyes. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced and darker than usual -it added a shaggy and weary touch to the handsome face, and when he smiled they made him look roguish- and his eyes were bloodshot. He narrowed them, the mock glare dispelled by the half smile on his lips. The five o’clock shadow made him look paler, but the light in his eyes was challenging him, full of the same energy that had captivated Clark years ago. Clark looked at the spark in the pools of steel blue, thinking of all the things they could be doing, the blue sky outside, the bright sun and the crisp air, the city rustling around them, embracing them with the rhythm of life.
“Is there anything you would rather do?” he asked, his expectant smile weary. Clark knew that whatever he proposed, they would argue about it for a while, mostly just for the sake of arguing, but in the end they would spend the day somewhere else, away from the couch and the TV and the safety of den.
He thought about the noise of the city, the glare of the sun, the smell of cars and chlorine and people. He saw the tired smile, smelt the soap and shower gel on Bruce’s skin, felt the drag of exhaustion on the heavy weight on top on him. His hair was still damp from what Clark could only guess was his after-patrol shower.
“Nothing. There’s nothing I would rather do,” he said, pressing a kiss on his hair as Bruce settled down again over his chest. Clark tightened his arms around him, and the low hum rumbling on the back of Bruce’s throat was like the purr of a big cat.
Bruce awkwardly waved the remote closer to Clark’s hands from his facing down position. “Want to watch something else?”
“Nah,” Clark said, his eyes on the TV screen. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
It didn’t take long for Bruce to fall asleep again. Clark let his breathing match his partner’s, feeling the throb of his heartbeat everywhere their bodies touched, drowsiness creeping over him, submerging him in warmth.
Clark closed his eyes and let go, following the healing rhythm. The empty laughs and antics from the show kept rolling before them, forgotten. For now, at least, nothing could touch them.
I promised quirky_circe a couple of ficlets for her birthday, so here is one, pretty late, but I hope is the thought that counts, Tammy! More birthday fic -for you and for sasha_anu, happy birthdaaaaaay, my Queen!!- will be coming later. If I can shake the writer's block, which I can feel receding...
Title: Safe haven
Fandom: DCU
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Bruce/Clark
Word Count: 860+
Summary: Bruce and Clark take a day off, and Bruce's idea of fun involves a lot of Z's.
Clark shifted under the pressing weight, trying to get a better view of Bruce’s face, who was lying sprawled on top of him, dangerously leaning towards the edge of the couch. It wasn’t that Clark didn’t like spending time with him like this, but he had made some plans for the day and Bruce didn’t seem likely to move at all. It wasn’t everyday that Bruce allowed himself to take a day off, and it was once in a blue moon that Clark could take time off at the same time he did. There were things that they had never gotten to do together, like spending the day in Robinson Park and having a picnic, or going out to the movies; going rowing in the lake, or… just spending the day by the pool in Wayne Manor. They didn’t do much outside of the house or Clark’s apartment other than eat and fight crime, and he had thought this was a good chance to do something different.
Instead, he was lying down on the couch watching a ‘Girls of the Playboy Mansion’ marathon with one hundred and ninety pounds of boyfriend on top of him, debating if he could extricate the remote from Bruce’s hand without waking him, since his request to watch something else had been turned down with a plaintive ‘But I’m watching this’ in between naps.
The worst part was Bruce was actually watching it; he seemed to know who was who and what was going on, like he had already watched the episodes he napped through. The fake laughs were ringing on Clark’s ears for the umpteenth time when he felt Bruce stir, his hold on the remote control tightening. He decided to try again.
“Why are we watching this?”
Bruce’s voice was a sleepy mumble. “Because.”
“Because what?”
“’s fun.”
“They are really vapid and shallow, and they’re not even stupid, they just… pretend to be stupid while they manipulate everything around them. How can this be your idea of fun?”
“Research, then.”
Clark reached up to grab a fistful of dark hair, pulling slightly. “You’re not like that,” he said, his smile rueful. “You’re a better actor.”
Bruce shifted, nestling more comfortably over him. “I have a couple of years of practice on them,” he said, his voice pitched well into the airhead playboy register. A new episode was starting, and after seeing which one it was, he closed his eyes again. “I’m going to be Hugh Hefner when I get old. Wearing pajamas all day and hanging out with my scantily clad Kryptonian.”
Clark laughed, smoothing out Bruce’s dark hair. “I really doubt it. I could never be that blond.” Clark listened for the deepening of breath that signaled the approach of sleep. “Bruce,” he called, eliciting a grunt from his lover. “Don’t you want to do something else?”
Bruce turned his head up, meeting Clark’s eyes. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced and darker than usual -it added a shaggy and weary touch to the handsome face, and when he smiled they made him look roguish- and his eyes were bloodshot. He narrowed them, the mock glare dispelled by the half smile on his lips. The five o’clock shadow made him look paler, but the light in his eyes was challenging him, full of the same energy that had captivated Clark years ago. Clark looked at the spark in the pools of steel blue, thinking of all the things they could be doing, the blue sky outside, the bright sun and the crisp air, the city rustling around them, embracing them with the rhythm of life.
“Is there anything you would rather do?” he asked, his expectant smile weary. Clark knew that whatever he proposed, they would argue about it for a while, mostly just for the sake of arguing, but in the end they would spend the day somewhere else, away from the couch and the TV and the safety of den.
He thought about the noise of the city, the glare of the sun, the smell of cars and chlorine and people. He saw the tired smile, smelt the soap and shower gel on Bruce’s skin, felt the drag of exhaustion on the heavy weight on top on him. His hair was still damp from what Clark could only guess was his after-patrol shower.
“Nothing. There’s nothing I would rather do,” he said, pressing a kiss on his hair as Bruce settled down again over his chest. Clark tightened his arms around him, and the low hum rumbling on the back of Bruce’s throat was like the purr of a big cat.
Bruce awkwardly waved the remote closer to Clark’s hands from his facing down position. “Want to watch something else?”
“Nah,” Clark said, his eyes on the TV screen. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
It didn’t take long for Bruce to fall asleep again. Clark let his breathing match his partner’s, feeling the throb of his heartbeat everywhere their bodies touched, drowsiness creeping over him, submerging him in warmth.
Clark closed his eyes and let go, following the healing rhythm. The empty laughs and antics from the show kept rolling before them, forgotten. For now, at least, nothing could touch them.