Water Brothers (DCU, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, PG-13)
Title: Water Brothers
Fandom: DCU
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 466
Warnings: None. Well, there might be some grokking going on...
Challenge: #005 - Beach
“We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth
Let us rest our eyes on the fleecy skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth…”
“I didn’t know you were a Heinlein fan.” Clark had known he would find Bruce here, on this stretch of beach where the something-like-a-zeta beam had deposited them weeks ago. It was reasonable to believe that, when rescue came, it would arrive at the same point. Rescue would come; that hope was almost all they had. “Guess my favorite line of his?”
“’Once upon a time there was a Martian named Valentine Michael Smith.’”
“Kind of obvious, huh?”
Bruce shrugged, winced, tried to hide it. “Alfred encouraged my science fiction geek phase. I think he hoped it was a distraction.”
“Was it?”
“Little bit.” Bruce looked out across the ocean, up at the pale glimmers of this world’s five moons. “I never expected to be living out any of those scenarios.”
Usually Clark got a kick out of those scenarios. Something deep down in his bones, his DNA, remembered that he hadn’t been born under the skies of Earth. It was almost as if these alien worlds sang to him sometimes. The melody was muted and somber just now, however, with the reminder of their servitude heavy in the collar around his neck, and injuries from the last round of gladiatorial combat still aching.
They were permitted this much, at least, to come down to the beach. After all, with the Citadel on an island and the mainland miles away through dangerous waters, their captors had little fear of any slave escaping. Not that Bruce didn’t have plans. If Clark could get his powers back, those plans would be moot. He came down here every day to soak up the sun, to hope that this time, today, he would feel that familiar energy rush through his body once more. So far, though… Planet, 1 - Superman, 0.
Bruce kept himself busy with that mystery, too. Was it something in the slave collars, in the food and water that took away Clark’s powers? Bruce would have loved to perform some experiments to find out. What they both feared, but hadn’t talked about much, was that magic played a role somehow. They could do something if it was the collars. If it was magic and not science, or the two things improbably married…well, best not to dwell on that.
So they had the beach, with its giant driftwood like the bones of prehistoric monsters, and exotic natural sculptures like sandcastles the waves couldn’t wash away. They had the hope their friends would find them, magic or science be damned. They weren’t alone.
As they stood on the shore, the surf rolling over their feet, those didn’t seem like paltry treasures.
Fandom: DCU
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 466
Warnings: None. Well, there might be some grokking going on...
Challenge: #005 - Beach
“We pray for one last landing
On the globe that gave us birth
Let us rest our eyes on the fleecy skies
And the cool, green hills of Earth…”
“I didn’t know you were a Heinlein fan.” Clark had known he would find Bruce here, on this stretch of beach where the something-like-a-zeta beam had deposited them weeks ago. It was reasonable to believe that, when rescue came, it would arrive at the same point. Rescue would come; that hope was almost all they had. “Guess my favorite line of his?”
“’Once upon a time there was a Martian named Valentine Michael Smith.’”
“Kind of obvious, huh?”
Bruce shrugged, winced, tried to hide it. “Alfred encouraged my science fiction geek phase. I think he hoped it was a distraction.”
“Was it?”
“Little bit.” Bruce looked out across the ocean, up at the pale glimmers of this world’s five moons. “I never expected to be living out any of those scenarios.”
Usually Clark got a kick out of those scenarios. Something deep down in his bones, his DNA, remembered that he hadn’t been born under the skies of Earth. It was almost as if these alien worlds sang to him sometimes. The melody was muted and somber just now, however, with the reminder of their servitude heavy in the collar around his neck, and injuries from the last round of gladiatorial combat still aching.
They were permitted this much, at least, to come down to the beach. After all, with the Citadel on an island and the mainland miles away through dangerous waters, their captors had little fear of any slave escaping. Not that Bruce didn’t have plans. If Clark could get his powers back, those plans would be moot. He came down here every day to soak up the sun, to hope that this time, today, he would feel that familiar energy rush through his body once more. So far, though… Planet, 1 - Superman, 0.
Bruce kept himself busy with that mystery, too. Was it something in the slave collars, in the food and water that took away Clark’s powers? Bruce would have loved to perform some experiments to find out. What they both feared, but hadn’t talked about much, was that magic played a role somehow. They could do something if it was the collars. If it was magic and not science, or the two things improbably married…well, best not to dwell on that.
So they had the beach, with its giant driftwood like the bones of prehistoric monsters, and exotic natural sculptures like sandcastles the waves couldn’t wash away. They had the hope their friends would find them, magic or science be damned. They weren’t alone.
As they stood on the shore, the surf rolling over their feet, those didn’t seem like paltry treasures.