Fic: Silken Ropes of Sound (Music of the Spheres)
Title: Silken Ropes of Sound
Pairing/Characters: Bruce/Kal
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: A stand-alone story in the series "Music of the Spheres." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: PG
Summary: Bruce is at a party while Kal listens in from the Fortress.
Word Count: 1,100
Spires of crystal towered around Kal-El as he worked steadily on the display. The Fortress was entirely unlit, but the Kryptonian's hands were sure and unerring, his vision keen beyond that of mortals. Starlight filtered down into the Fortress, caught and refracted by the crystals all around him, a web of dim light, glinting.
Kal ignored the starlight and listened to Bruce Wayne's voice in his ear.
At the moment, Bruce was at a "Christmas in July" party held by a major figure in the Gotham society circles. Clark Kent couldn't make this one--Kal had decided the Fortress needed calibrating, and Bruce had smiled wryly and let him get away with the excuse this time.
The sounds in Kal's ear were inconsequential: party chatter, Bruce complimenting someone's dress, the clink of glasses. The comlinks between Bruce and Clark weren't automatically open, and Bruce almost always closed his when he was out in public. Hearing Clark's voice in his ear, he said, made it hard to be either Batman or Brucie.
The words were always said gruffly, but with a smile that made the meaning clear: Hard to be anything but what I truly am, with you.
Bruce never asked specifically, but he seemed to assume that Clark often turned his comlink off as well, shut Bruce's voice out of his head. Clark let him think that.
But he didn't.
Kal shifted the array of crystals about like a puzzle, making it glow first blue, then purple, then back to white. The party noise was an undercurrent in his ear, Bruce's mild voice a line binding him to Gotham, to warmth and conversation.
Kal had turned off the comlink maybe twice in the year and a half since they got them. Waking and sleeping, Bruce's voice, his breathing, the sound of his movements, they were always there.
Kal didn't need many things. He didn't need food or drink. He barely needed oxygen.
He was a man of relatively simple needs.
As he moved to open a cache of crystals, he heard an arch voice in his ear. "Bruce, darling! How nice of you to make it to my party!" Kate Wentworth, heiress and socialite. "And where is your charming friend?"
"He couldn't make it this evening."
"So I have you all to myself?" The voice was a purr. "How nice!"
Small talk as Kal sorted through glittering crystals, the air cold and lucid around him. Bruce sounded like he was surrounded by a circle of people. The conversation turned to a recent space probe sent to Venus, and the new data collected about that planet.
"It would be quicker if Superman would just fly there with a camera, you know," said a man's voice.
"NASA asked him, I heard," said Kate. "He turned them down cold. Said he won't leave Earth again unless there's no other choice."
Murmurs of approval. "But that means we're stuck with unreliable probe data about Venus," complained the first man. "We haven't found out jack. The results are all totally inconclusive."
"That's not actually true," Bruce pointed out. "Clark was telling me just yesterday that from the analysis of the atmosphere we've ruled out several formerly-accepted theories about the planet." There was a pause and Kal could imagine the rest of the circle staring at the playboy, who coughed awkwardly. "Well, so Clark says."
There was a ripple of laughter. An unknown woman's voice: "Count on the Prince's pet geek to keep him up to speed on the latest developments in astrophysics!"
"Court jester, more like," murmured a man.
Bruce's voice was easy and unconcerned, even a touch flippant. "I happen to like them brainy. Beauty may fade, but good pillow talk is forever."
"Ooh," said Kate, "I'm sure his talk of star charts and spectrum analysis just sweeps you off your feet." A gust of appreciative laughter and a variety of rather raunchy jokes imagining discussions of black holes, red giants, and white dwarfs followed. Bruce laughed lightly along with it, even adding a quip here and there.
Underneath it, quietly, Kal could hear his teeth grinding.
As the laughing conversation continued, Kal held up a crystal against the starlight, checking for flaws. He tapped it lightly and it rang out, sweet and clear, pure as silver light. He cupped it in his hand as it sang.
In his ear he heard footsteps, a door opening. The sounds of the party faded slightly and Kal could hear wind in leaves, a night-bird chirping faintly. A veranda, perhaps.
A click of high heels approaching and Kate Wentworth's laughing voice: "Don't run away, Brucie! I hope we didn't offend you."
"I could never be offended by such a beautiful woman, Katherine."
Kate made a happy cooing noise. "You know we only tease you because we love you, dear. We want the best for you. The very best." A pause. "Oh, look what I brought!"
"Mistletoe. Of course," said Bruce. "I'm not sure it counts if Christmas is still five months away."
Kate's voice was very close. "You said you could never be offended...Bruce..." A long silence in which Kal tapped the crystal again, listening to it sing. Then a husky whisper, directly into Bruce's ear: "Can he possibly kiss you like that, dear?"
"No, he can't," said Bruce, his voice also a low whisper, silken, with something else running under it. "It feels nothing at all like that when Clark Kent kisses me. And that's why I'm with him."
The woman's voice sputtered and choked for a second. Then the sound of quickly retreating high heels was a counterpoint to the high, pure tone of the crystal Kal still held. He closed his hand gently around the crystal and the tone cut off as the veranda door clicked shut, leaving only the sound of Bruce's breath in his ear, warm and steady. A silken rope of sound leading back to Gotham.
: : :
Bruce rested his hands on the veranda railing, letting the hot July air wash over his face. He probably shouldn't have said those things to Kate Wentworth. But he was only human, after all.
As he stared out over the darkened garden, there was a whisper of Arctic-cool breeze by him, a motion almost too swift to register to human senses. Soft lips passed over his for the briefest of seconds and were gone.
Bruce closed his eyes, took a breath, and turned to go back to the party. He was smiling, the echo of the kiss still cool as starlight and silk on his mouth.
Pairing/Characters: Bruce/Kal
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: A stand-alone story in the series "Music of the Spheres." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: PG
Summary: Bruce is at a party while Kal listens in from the Fortress.
Word Count: 1,100
Spires of crystal towered around Kal-El as he worked steadily on the display. The Fortress was entirely unlit, but the Kryptonian's hands were sure and unerring, his vision keen beyond that of mortals. Starlight filtered down into the Fortress, caught and refracted by the crystals all around him, a web of dim light, glinting.
Kal ignored the starlight and listened to Bruce Wayne's voice in his ear.
At the moment, Bruce was at a "Christmas in July" party held by a major figure in the Gotham society circles. Clark Kent couldn't make this one--Kal had decided the Fortress needed calibrating, and Bruce had smiled wryly and let him get away with the excuse this time.
The sounds in Kal's ear were inconsequential: party chatter, Bruce complimenting someone's dress, the clink of glasses. The comlinks between Bruce and Clark weren't automatically open, and Bruce almost always closed his when he was out in public. Hearing Clark's voice in his ear, he said, made it hard to be either Batman or Brucie.
The words were always said gruffly, but with a smile that made the meaning clear: Hard to be anything but what I truly am, with you.
Bruce never asked specifically, but he seemed to assume that Clark often turned his comlink off as well, shut Bruce's voice out of his head. Clark let him think that.
But he didn't.
Kal shifted the array of crystals about like a puzzle, making it glow first blue, then purple, then back to white. The party noise was an undercurrent in his ear, Bruce's mild voice a line binding him to Gotham, to warmth and conversation.
Kal had turned off the comlink maybe twice in the year and a half since they got them. Waking and sleeping, Bruce's voice, his breathing, the sound of his movements, they were always there.
Kal didn't need many things. He didn't need food or drink. He barely needed oxygen.
He was a man of relatively simple needs.
As he moved to open a cache of crystals, he heard an arch voice in his ear. "Bruce, darling! How nice of you to make it to my party!" Kate Wentworth, heiress and socialite. "And where is your charming friend?"
"He couldn't make it this evening."
"So I have you all to myself?" The voice was a purr. "How nice!"
Small talk as Kal sorted through glittering crystals, the air cold and lucid around him. Bruce sounded like he was surrounded by a circle of people. The conversation turned to a recent space probe sent to Venus, and the new data collected about that planet.
"It would be quicker if Superman would just fly there with a camera, you know," said a man's voice.
"NASA asked him, I heard," said Kate. "He turned them down cold. Said he won't leave Earth again unless there's no other choice."
Murmurs of approval. "But that means we're stuck with unreliable probe data about Venus," complained the first man. "We haven't found out jack. The results are all totally inconclusive."
"That's not actually true," Bruce pointed out. "Clark was telling me just yesterday that from the analysis of the atmosphere we've ruled out several formerly-accepted theories about the planet." There was a pause and Kal could imagine the rest of the circle staring at the playboy, who coughed awkwardly. "Well, so Clark says."
There was a ripple of laughter. An unknown woman's voice: "Count on the Prince's pet geek to keep him up to speed on the latest developments in astrophysics!"
"Court jester, more like," murmured a man.
Bruce's voice was easy and unconcerned, even a touch flippant. "I happen to like them brainy. Beauty may fade, but good pillow talk is forever."
"Ooh," said Kate, "I'm sure his talk of star charts and spectrum analysis just sweeps you off your feet." A gust of appreciative laughter and a variety of rather raunchy jokes imagining discussions of black holes, red giants, and white dwarfs followed. Bruce laughed lightly along with it, even adding a quip here and there.
Underneath it, quietly, Kal could hear his teeth grinding.
As the laughing conversation continued, Kal held up a crystal against the starlight, checking for flaws. He tapped it lightly and it rang out, sweet and clear, pure as silver light. He cupped it in his hand as it sang.
In his ear he heard footsteps, a door opening. The sounds of the party faded slightly and Kal could hear wind in leaves, a night-bird chirping faintly. A veranda, perhaps.
A click of high heels approaching and Kate Wentworth's laughing voice: "Don't run away, Brucie! I hope we didn't offend you."
"I could never be offended by such a beautiful woman, Katherine."
Kate made a happy cooing noise. "You know we only tease you because we love you, dear. We want the best for you. The very best." A pause. "Oh, look what I brought!"
"Mistletoe. Of course," said Bruce. "I'm not sure it counts if Christmas is still five months away."
Kate's voice was very close. "You said you could never be offended...Bruce..." A long silence in which Kal tapped the crystal again, listening to it sing. Then a husky whisper, directly into Bruce's ear: "Can he possibly kiss you like that, dear?"
"No, he can't," said Bruce, his voice also a low whisper, silken, with something else running under it. "It feels nothing at all like that when Clark Kent kisses me. And that's why I'm with him."
The woman's voice sputtered and choked for a second. Then the sound of quickly retreating high heels was a counterpoint to the high, pure tone of the crystal Kal still held. He closed his hand gently around the crystal and the tone cut off as the veranda door clicked shut, leaving only the sound of Bruce's breath in his ear, warm and steady. A silken rope of sound leading back to Gotham.
: : :
Bruce rested his hands on the veranda railing, letting the hot July air wash over his face. He probably shouldn't have said those things to Kate Wentworth. But he was only human, after all.
As he stared out over the darkened garden, there was a whisper of Arctic-cool breeze by him, a motion almost too swift to register to human senses. Soft lips passed over his for the briefest of seconds and were gone.
Bruce closed his eyes, took a breath, and turned to go back to the party. He was smiling, the echo of the kiss still cool as starlight and silk on his mouth.