Belated fic for Bruce's birthday!
Title: Thaw
Author: Northernwalker
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Drabbly Bruce Pov
Batman Begins/Superman Returns
Word Count: 1,320
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody. Too bad, the boys would be happier...
Cold, he was so cold…
Bruce didn’t think he’d ever be warm again. The chill settled into his bones as he knelt next to the bodies of his parents. He couldn’t stop shivering as the policeman found them. He vaguely noticed the horror in the man’s voice, but all he really knew was cold. The policeman was kind, wrapping Bruce in his father’s coat as they sat in the police station. The cold wasn’t external, though- it was in his heart.
The day they buried his parents cemented the glacial feeling. Bruce felt as if he was moving through an icy fog as he went to Alfred for comfort, the frost numbing his nerve endings.
His high school and college years helped lock him solidly into that icy case. He studied hard, not yet knowing what he was going to do with his education, but feeling that something would come.
When Bruce heard that Joe Chill was going to be freed, he was furious. It wasn’t the hot rage he’d felt as a child, but something older, deeper and more dangerous. He acquired a gun under circumstances that he’d not want to admit to in front of Alfred. His arrival home did nothing to dispel that frigid passion. The hearing, Chill’s death, his arguments with Rachel and Falcone all combined to send him deeper into his arctic mood. He passed his heavy coat off to someone else- he wouldn’t need it where he was going.
His wanderings led him to the brutal cold of Tibet. He actually felt comfortable there in the snow and ice- it fit his interior landscape. Until he had to kill his mentors and destroy Ra's al Ghul’s mountain aerie, of course.
Bruce’s return to Gotham brought him back to the murky, inhospitable soup he’d escaped from seven years before. The chill felt right to him. His first stint as Batman had left him feeling drained. The loss of the manor had hurt him in a way he hadn’t thought he could still feel.
He’d felt a flash of warmth when Rachel kissed him, standing in the sunlight. But then she left, saying he didn’t really exist and the chill was back again. He sank deeper into the ice of justice.
The approach by members of the Justice League had pleased him, as much as he could still recognize pleasure. He agreed to join them, arriving at their headquarters and attending his first meeting on a frosty winter day. He shook hands with the Amazon Princess, the Green Arrow and all the rest, finally turning to meet Superman for the first time. He could never remember what he’d said to the man. He was much too busy fighting off the urge to reel at the warmth he felt. Touching his hand felt like walking inside after a long day in the snow. His smile was sunlight. It was very unsettling, but not exactly unpleasant.
The unsettling feeling continued. When his decel line snapped in a fight, Superman caught him, landing him gently on a rooftop before plunging back into action. Part of Batman was furious. The rest of him was absorbing the imprint of Superman’s body as it seared along his skin.
Batman found himself circling Superman’s warmth like a wary wolf who couldn’t decide whether to come to the fire or bolt deeper into the woods. It wasn’t simply the physical warmth, it was mental too. Arguments with Superman over tactics were almost enjoyable because of his intelligence and quickness. Superman was gentler than he was, but perfectly capable of making the same tough calls Batman did. Bruce found himself trying to make jokes, just to see the other man smile.
He managed to keep Superman at a distance until the day a mission ended abruptly, leaving Batman outside the theater where his parents had died, hovering over the alley. It was night time and a sudden flash of light illuminated the dark. He started to shake.
Bruce.
It's okay.
Don't be afraid.
He was going to shatter like a thin sheet of ice and they’d never be able to put him back together, he thought dazedly. Suddenly he wasn’t alone. Kal was there, holding him in a gentle, unbreakable embrace. He didn’t utter any useless words, didn’t try to make things better. He simply held Bruce, rocking him gently, letting the warmth penetrate the ice and rebuild him.
Bruce avoided Kal for a time after that. He didn’t know what to say about his meltdown and didn’t want to have meaningful conversations and bare his soul. He hadn’t expected Kal’s reaction when they next met- nothing. Kal didn’t try to make him talk about it, he didn’t ask questions or pull some amateur therapist crap. Instead, he treated Bruce as he always had. Somehow, that was very comforting. A stakeout in the frigid dawn had Superman sharing his cape’s warmth with Batman. When the fight started and they were moving again, he still didn’t feel the cold. However, the heat had localized in a rather uncomfortable area.
Batman retreated from Kal yet again, not knowing what else to do. The World’s Greatest Detective couldn’t solve this particular problem. He could endanger his mission with these feelings. This…warmth.
Batman decided to avoid dealing with the situation, though he knew that ignoring it wouldn’t make things go away. When the League sent him up to Superman’s Fortress for several days, he tried to pretend that everything was fine. The Fortress was so big that he wouldn’t be stuck working with Kal. Being close to him.
It was hell. Hell punctuated by delicious meals and the torture of sitting and talking to Kal. They were working in separate parts of the Fortress, but Kal’s presence was everywhere. Not too surprising, as this was his home. His real home, in a way that Metropolis and Earth weren’t.
The second evening they were there, he took a break to walk around a little. Kal had put several areas off-limits for safety’s sake, but had otherwise allowed him to go where he pleased. He wandered through the crystal halls, marveling at their otherworldly beauty. They didn’t feel cold, though.
Bruce abruptly stopped at the entrance to the great room. Kal stood in the center of the room, dressed in his Kryptonian garb. Bruce had never seen them before coming here. He had to admit they suited Kal in a way that his Clark Kent clothing never did. The moonlight flooded into the room through skylights, silvering on his white skin. His eyes were closed, his face tipped up to the northern sky. His eyes opened suddenly, focusing on the stars above. Bruce almost staggered at the wrenching pain he saw on Kal’s face. Somewhere out there were the ruins of a world he could barely remember and would be forever exiled from even if it could be rebuilt, for Superman was bound to Earth as surely as Batman was bound to justice.
He found himself moving to Kal’s side, lightly resting his hands on strong shoulders. Kal looked back at him, blue eyes huge and achingly sad. Bruce leaned forward, feathering his lips over Kal’s. The other man went inhumanly still for a moment, then Bruce lost control of the moment as Kal’s arms came up, pulling him in. The embrace was a wildfire, burning away reserve and fear and doubt, leaving only raw, burning need.
The world shifted and they were lying on a bed, clothing gone and Kal’s lips were tracing a scorching path along his skin, igniting every nerve ending. The heat spiraled up, finally exploding in a supernova of light…
When Bruce regained independent thought, he found himself draped across Kal’s broad chest. He finally worked up the energy to lift his head. Kal’s long lashes fluttered, opening to reveal a vast tenderness that Bruce knew was reflected in his own eyes.
Bruce wasn’t cold anymore.
Author: Northernwalker
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Drabbly Bruce Pov
Batman Begins/Superman Returns
Word Count: 1,320
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody. Too bad, the boys would be happier...
Cold, he was so cold…
Bruce didn’t think he’d ever be warm again. The chill settled into his bones as he knelt next to the bodies of his parents. He couldn’t stop shivering as the policeman found them. He vaguely noticed the horror in the man’s voice, but all he really knew was cold. The policeman was kind, wrapping Bruce in his father’s coat as they sat in the police station. The cold wasn’t external, though- it was in his heart.
The day they buried his parents cemented the glacial feeling. Bruce felt as if he was moving through an icy fog as he went to Alfred for comfort, the frost numbing his nerve endings.
His high school and college years helped lock him solidly into that icy case. He studied hard, not yet knowing what he was going to do with his education, but feeling that something would come.
When Bruce heard that Joe Chill was going to be freed, he was furious. It wasn’t the hot rage he’d felt as a child, but something older, deeper and more dangerous. He acquired a gun under circumstances that he’d not want to admit to in front of Alfred. His arrival home did nothing to dispel that frigid passion. The hearing, Chill’s death, his arguments with Rachel and Falcone all combined to send him deeper into his arctic mood. He passed his heavy coat off to someone else- he wouldn’t need it where he was going.
His wanderings led him to the brutal cold of Tibet. He actually felt comfortable there in the snow and ice- it fit his interior landscape. Until he had to kill his mentors and destroy Ra's al Ghul’s mountain aerie, of course.
Bruce’s return to Gotham brought him back to the murky, inhospitable soup he’d escaped from seven years before. The chill felt right to him. His first stint as Batman had left him feeling drained. The loss of the manor had hurt him in a way he hadn’t thought he could still feel.
He’d felt a flash of warmth when Rachel kissed him, standing in the sunlight. But then she left, saying he didn’t really exist and the chill was back again. He sank deeper into the ice of justice.
The approach by members of the Justice League had pleased him, as much as he could still recognize pleasure. He agreed to join them, arriving at their headquarters and attending his first meeting on a frosty winter day. He shook hands with the Amazon Princess, the Green Arrow and all the rest, finally turning to meet Superman for the first time. He could never remember what he’d said to the man. He was much too busy fighting off the urge to reel at the warmth he felt. Touching his hand felt like walking inside after a long day in the snow. His smile was sunlight. It was very unsettling, but not exactly unpleasant.
The unsettling feeling continued. When his decel line snapped in a fight, Superman caught him, landing him gently on a rooftop before plunging back into action. Part of Batman was furious. The rest of him was absorbing the imprint of Superman’s body as it seared along his skin.
Batman found himself circling Superman’s warmth like a wary wolf who couldn’t decide whether to come to the fire or bolt deeper into the woods. It wasn’t simply the physical warmth, it was mental too. Arguments with Superman over tactics were almost enjoyable because of his intelligence and quickness. Superman was gentler than he was, but perfectly capable of making the same tough calls Batman did. Bruce found himself trying to make jokes, just to see the other man smile.
He managed to keep Superman at a distance until the day a mission ended abruptly, leaving Batman outside the theater where his parents had died, hovering over the alley. It was night time and a sudden flash of light illuminated the dark. He started to shake.
Bruce.
It's okay.
Don't be afraid.
He was going to shatter like a thin sheet of ice and they’d never be able to put him back together, he thought dazedly. Suddenly he wasn’t alone. Kal was there, holding him in a gentle, unbreakable embrace. He didn’t utter any useless words, didn’t try to make things better. He simply held Bruce, rocking him gently, letting the warmth penetrate the ice and rebuild him.
Bruce avoided Kal for a time after that. He didn’t know what to say about his meltdown and didn’t want to have meaningful conversations and bare his soul. He hadn’t expected Kal’s reaction when they next met- nothing. Kal didn’t try to make him talk about it, he didn’t ask questions or pull some amateur therapist crap. Instead, he treated Bruce as he always had. Somehow, that was very comforting. A stakeout in the frigid dawn had Superman sharing his cape’s warmth with Batman. When the fight started and they were moving again, he still didn’t feel the cold. However, the heat had localized in a rather uncomfortable area.
Batman retreated from Kal yet again, not knowing what else to do. The World’s Greatest Detective couldn’t solve this particular problem. He could endanger his mission with these feelings. This…warmth.
Batman decided to avoid dealing with the situation, though he knew that ignoring it wouldn’t make things go away. When the League sent him up to Superman’s Fortress for several days, he tried to pretend that everything was fine. The Fortress was so big that he wouldn’t be stuck working with Kal. Being close to him.
It was hell. Hell punctuated by delicious meals and the torture of sitting and talking to Kal. They were working in separate parts of the Fortress, but Kal’s presence was everywhere. Not too surprising, as this was his home. His real home, in a way that Metropolis and Earth weren’t.
The second evening they were there, he took a break to walk around a little. Kal had put several areas off-limits for safety’s sake, but had otherwise allowed him to go where he pleased. He wandered through the crystal halls, marveling at their otherworldly beauty. They didn’t feel cold, though.
Bruce abruptly stopped at the entrance to the great room. Kal stood in the center of the room, dressed in his Kryptonian garb. Bruce had never seen them before coming here. He had to admit they suited Kal in a way that his Clark Kent clothing never did. The moonlight flooded into the room through skylights, silvering on his white skin. His eyes were closed, his face tipped up to the northern sky. His eyes opened suddenly, focusing on the stars above. Bruce almost staggered at the wrenching pain he saw on Kal’s face. Somewhere out there were the ruins of a world he could barely remember and would be forever exiled from even if it could be rebuilt, for Superman was bound to Earth as surely as Batman was bound to justice.
He found himself moving to Kal’s side, lightly resting his hands on strong shoulders. Kal looked back at him, blue eyes huge and achingly sad. Bruce leaned forward, feathering his lips over Kal’s. The other man went inhumanly still for a moment, then Bruce lost control of the moment as Kal’s arms came up, pulling him in. The embrace was a wildfire, burning away reserve and fear and doubt, leaving only raw, burning need.
The world shifted and they were lying on a bed, clothing gone and Kal’s lips were tracing a scorching path along his skin, igniting every nerve ending. The heat spiraled up, finally exploding in a supernova of light…
When Bruce regained independent thought, he found himself draped across Kal’s broad chest. He finally worked up the energy to lift his head. Kal’s long lashes fluttered, opening to reveal a vast tenderness that Bruce knew was reflected in his own eyes.
Bruce wasn’t cold anymore.