Fic: Au revoir à Paris
Title: Au revoir à Paris
Author: chauve_sourit
Characters: Clark, Bruce
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Sliece of life? (Very little angst, some fluff)
Warning: Not beta-ed - point and I’ll rush to correct
Disclaimer: The boys aren’t mine, the story is
Words: 964
Summary: “The morning after” Bruce faces his memories, his heart and… pastry?
Totally written out of the blue. And now I’m hungry.
Thanks to girl who nagged me to write this down, telling me about chocolate croissants and the like.
8.75 hours. It had taken Bruce several years to figure out the exact amount of sleep that would leave him well rested. Any deviation from this, in either direction, lead to inevitable grogginess. Mind you, obviously a nighttime vigilante couldn’t count on always getting this much sleep but whenever he could, the Dark Knight chose to get as close to this precise number as possible.
Unfortunately this did not mean that he woke up just like that; it usually still required an alarm clock. Which is why this morning, after close to 10 hours of sleep, it took him considerably longer to open his eyes and his bones felt heavier than usual. Still half-asleep, he blindly reached for where he usually kept the alarm clock to check the time but this half-hearted attempt left Bruce’s hand grasping first for thin air and then a squished pillow. Soft cotton, no less, not the cool silk he was used to from his very own bedroom.
Finally Bruce opened his eyes, squinting at the unfamiliar surroundings. No, this was definitely not his apartment. He looked at red bricks instead of cream-coloured wallpaper, tons of books instead of a plasma TV and the bustling city outside the window instead of the green park his own bedroom window faced.
Bruce had never been here but realizing that this must be Clark’s bedroom, he slowly came to terms with what had happened here last night. He didn’t know who had come on to whom, when they decided to give into temptation or even how they had ended up in this apartment. But for a moment he didn’t want to care and just enjoy the precious memories of last night. They hadn’t talked about whys, hows and what-ifs and just let happen what they both seemed to know was meant to happen. Closing his eyes again, Bruce remembered touches and sounds, smells and tastes. An involuntary smile crept on his face as he silently vowed to lock these feelings inside his head, so as to not forget a single one of them.
As soon as Bruce had finished this thought, reality came crashing back to him, reminding him that what he had felt next to himself was not Clark’s warm body snuggled up to him but an empty pillow. The billionaire swallowed hard as his mind suddenly realized what had happened here and why he was all alone in this unfamiliar bed. After all, this was not the first time that he was waking up alone after having gone to bed with someone else. Usually he was well able to tell ahead of time if a girl would stay until sun dawn, he knew the type… the ones that were keen on being seen with the famous Bruce Wayne, the ones who hoped to had their pictures taken by his side, the ones who wanted to be taken to Paris for breakfast. They never lasted for too long as soon as the night was over and he didn't want them to -- Alfred was instructed to call them a taxi and not to ask questions.
This time was different, though. He hadn’t anticipated ever to be on the receiving end of this game, silently expected to discreetly leave the apartment. Even worse, he would never have thought that Clark, a friend whom he had trusted with close to all of his secrets, was the kind of person who would just get some fun out of fooling around with someone, even worse with a friend… but impressions can be deceiving, can’t they?
Bruce sighed heavily, slowly accepting that he would spare himself more pain and regrets by adhering to his host’s obvious wish and leaving the apartment and Metropolis as quickly as possible.
As Bruce was getting up, his gaze fell on the nightstand to his right. Waiting patiently on a small plate was a golden croissant, fluffy and crisp, the way he hadn’t seen one in a long time. Next to it lay a small post-it.
“Morning, Bat! I’m working in the living room, join me when you’re up.”
The lump Bruce had felt in his throat earlier was back, though now for completely different reasons. His eyes switched back and forth between the sweet note and the delicious croissant, not sure what mesmerized him more.
A sudden knock at the door disrupted his rather fruitless train of thought and Clark’s head appeared next to the door frame, his hair still disheveled.
“Hey, so I heard right? You’re up.”
Bruce gave him a questioning look and grinned when his friend pointed to his ears. “Super hearing? I should have known… more like super spying, I suppose.”, Bruce teased with mock disapproval.
“Sorry… it’s just so new to me to have someone stay here for the night. I hope I didn’t wake you this morning.”, he looked concerned. “Perry had left a message for me and I figured if I got some work done before you got up, we could maybe… I don’t know… “, Clark’s voice trailed off, clearly well aware of the things they hadn’t talked about or thought through before going to bed with each other.
“Yeah… I’d like that.”, the other man smiled, padding to the empty space in bed next to him. As his lover followed this invitation, Bruce grabbed the pastry still sitting on the nightstand and took a bite.
“Oh God!”, he moaned, smacking his lips. “Where do you get croissants like that around here? I swear, I’ve only had them this good in-“
“Paris.”, Clark grinned. He answered Bruce’s confused look by performing a wave-like motion with his hands, so as to indicate that he took a quick trip across the Atlantic to get some breakfast.
In lieu of a wordy answer, Bruce’s lips did their best to make sure that Clark knew how much his efforts were appreciated.
Author: chauve_sourit
Characters: Clark, Bruce
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Sliece of life? (Very little angst, some fluff)
Warning: Not beta-ed - point and I’ll rush to correct
Disclaimer: The boys aren’t mine, the story is
Words: 964
Summary: “The morning after” Bruce faces his memories, his heart and… pastry?
Totally written out of the blue. And now I’m hungry.
Thanks to girl who nagged me to write this down, telling me about chocolate croissants and the like.
8.75 hours. It had taken Bruce several years to figure out the exact amount of sleep that would leave him well rested. Any deviation from this, in either direction, lead to inevitable grogginess. Mind you, obviously a nighttime vigilante couldn’t count on always getting this much sleep but whenever he could, the Dark Knight chose to get as close to this precise number as possible.
Unfortunately this did not mean that he woke up just like that; it usually still required an alarm clock. Which is why this morning, after close to 10 hours of sleep, it took him considerably longer to open his eyes and his bones felt heavier than usual. Still half-asleep, he blindly reached for where he usually kept the alarm clock to check the time but this half-hearted attempt left Bruce’s hand grasping first for thin air and then a squished pillow. Soft cotton, no less, not the cool silk he was used to from his very own bedroom.
Finally Bruce opened his eyes, squinting at the unfamiliar surroundings. No, this was definitely not his apartment. He looked at red bricks instead of cream-coloured wallpaper, tons of books instead of a plasma TV and the bustling city outside the window instead of the green park his own bedroom window faced.
Bruce had never been here but realizing that this must be Clark’s bedroom, he slowly came to terms with what had happened here last night. He didn’t know who had come on to whom, when they decided to give into temptation or even how they had ended up in this apartment. But for a moment he didn’t want to care and just enjoy the precious memories of last night. They hadn’t talked about whys, hows and what-ifs and just let happen what they both seemed to know was meant to happen. Closing his eyes again, Bruce remembered touches and sounds, smells and tastes. An involuntary smile crept on his face as he silently vowed to lock these feelings inside his head, so as to not forget a single one of them.
As soon as Bruce had finished this thought, reality came crashing back to him, reminding him that what he had felt next to himself was not Clark’s warm body snuggled up to him but an empty pillow. The billionaire swallowed hard as his mind suddenly realized what had happened here and why he was all alone in this unfamiliar bed. After all, this was not the first time that he was waking up alone after having gone to bed with someone else. Usually he was well able to tell ahead of time if a girl would stay until sun dawn, he knew the type… the ones that were keen on being seen with the famous Bruce Wayne, the ones who hoped to had their pictures taken by his side, the ones who wanted to be taken to Paris for breakfast. They never lasted for too long as soon as the night was over and he didn't want them to -- Alfred was instructed to call them a taxi and not to ask questions.
This time was different, though. He hadn’t anticipated ever to be on the receiving end of this game, silently expected to discreetly leave the apartment. Even worse, he would never have thought that Clark, a friend whom he had trusted with close to all of his secrets, was the kind of person who would just get some fun out of fooling around with someone, even worse with a friend… but impressions can be deceiving, can’t they?
Bruce sighed heavily, slowly accepting that he would spare himself more pain and regrets by adhering to his host’s obvious wish and leaving the apartment and Metropolis as quickly as possible.
As Bruce was getting up, his gaze fell on the nightstand to his right. Waiting patiently on a small plate was a golden croissant, fluffy and crisp, the way he hadn’t seen one in a long time. Next to it lay a small post-it.
“Morning, Bat! I’m working in the living room, join me when you’re up.”
The lump Bruce had felt in his throat earlier was back, though now for completely different reasons. His eyes switched back and forth between the sweet note and the delicious croissant, not sure what mesmerized him more.
A sudden knock at the door disrupted his rather fruitless train of thought and Clark’s head appeared next to the door frame, his hair still disheveled.
“Hey, so I heard right? You’re up.”
Bruce gave him a questioning look and grinned when his friend pointed to his ears. “Super hearing? I should have known… more like super spying, I suppose.”, Bruce teased with mock disapproval.
“Sorry… it’s just so new to me to have someone stay here for the night. I hope I didn’t wake you this morning.”, he looked concerned. “Perry had left a message for me and I figured if I got some work done before you got up, we could maybe… I don’t know… “, Clark’s voice trailed off, clearly well aware of the things they hadn’t talked about or thought through before going to bed with each other.
“Yeah… I’d like that.”, the other man smiled, padding to the empty space in bed next to him. As his lover followed this invitation, Bruce grabbed the pastry still sitting on the nightstand and took a bite.
“Oh God!”, he moaned, smacking his lips. “Where do you get croissants like that around here? I swear, I’ve only had them this good in-“
“Paris.”, Clark grinned. He answered Bruce’s confused look by performing a wave-like motion with his hands, so as to indicate that he took a quick trip across the Atlantic to get some breakfast.
In lieu of a wordy answer, Bruce’s lips did their best to make sure that Clark knew how much his efforts were appreciated.