FIC: Some Heavenly Star-Spangled Night, WORLD'S FINEST, 3/?, PG-13
And continuing the Friday two-fer...
Here's the next installment of this one. I was hoping it would be a little longer but Lex Luthor mucked things up a bit. (Figures, huh? *g*) Anyway, everything after this is laid out nicely and should flow pretty swiftly onto the conclusion.
Title: Some Heavenly Star-Spangled Night
Fandom: worlds_finest
Pairing, characters: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Martian Manhunter, Lex Luthor (this part)
Continuity: DCU comicsverse, I guess.
Rating: PG-13 (some violence and language)
Disclaimer: DC owns them, I'm only playing in the not-for-profit sandbox.
SPOILERS: None I know of.
Warnings: Way too much time spent in Lex's head, and Batman gets a little scary; and Superman's a little emo.
Word count: 1,665 approx.
Summary: There was a battle at Mt. Olympus, as a reward, Aphrodite offered to give Clark his heart's desire. Shortly thereafter Bruce is doodling Superman and writing him bad poetry. Then there's dragons.
Reading the first installment here:
Some Heavenly Star-Spangled Night, Part 3 probably helps. :)
Part Three
Clark had been an idiot, avoiding Bruce these last couple of weeks just because he was embarrassed.
Nothing had changed between them. Clark hadn’t really believed they would. Or, only for a moment; allowing a tiny ember of hope to flicker to life until a wash of reality had snuffed it out. Aphrodite couldn’t give him Bruce. No one could - except Bruce, and Clark had long ago accepted that was never going to happen.
It was all right. It was more than all right. Spending time with Bruce, having his back, believing they had achieved a kind of friendship - that was tremendous.
All he’d been doing was denying himself those moments, those times when he felt truly connected to Bruce. At the end of a battle, both of them wrung out and banged up, sharing a look that said more than words, communicating the shared triumph of having survived - and the pain of knowing others hadn’t. Even better, most precious of all because they were so rare, those times when everything was still and quiet, just them in a moment out of time. Bruce would lower his guard just a fraction and Clark might even get a smile out of him. Clark had cataloged every one of those, storing them up like treasure. If fortune was truly smiling, there might be a touch - a comradely shoulder clasp, a handshake. Provided they were locked up in a dark, dank dungeon on Apokolips and near death, Bruce might even let Clark hold him for thirty seconds. It was never enough, and only made him desperately want more, but if that was all he could ever have Clark would take it and be thankful.
How many chances like that had he missed the last couple of weeks?
So - enough. He would get to Bruce and be there for him, at his side for another battle … in just another minute, he amended, sinking back on the loose shale and rock in the hills outside Metropolis.
Clark had actually had a plan this time; Bruce might even have given his growl of approval. He really thought it would have turned out as planned, too, if he’d been at a hundred percent. As it was, Clark hadn’t been able to pull out of his dive in time and the dragon had exploded around him, scorching him, showering him with sharp, sizzling shrapnel. A couple of pieces were still embedded in his back. He could feel them, a faint but constant stinging/throbbing pain that made him think the pieces were tainted with Kryptonite.
It was definitely in the oily black tendrils of smoke that had drifted out from the wreckage, almost as if seeking him out. He had stumbled, crawled as far away from it as he could, collapsing when he could go no further. Tumbled there in an ungainly sprawl, soaking up as much of the dwindling sunlight as he could, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.
But it would do. It had to.
Rolling over, Clark braced his hands against the rock, trying to ignore how the sharp rock dug into his flesh. Arms trembling, fingers tearing on the sharp stones, he pushed himself up - there, almost to his knees, just a little more … His hand slipped, slick with blood, his arm giving out on him, and he couldn’t keep from crying out in pain, in frustration, as he crumpled again. He pounded a fist against the rock, eyes stinging, as he tried to fight it off.
He bit his lip against the pain. He hurt so much… All these years and he could never get used to the pain, the shock of his body failing him. He felt ashamed, frightened of a paper cut, when Bruce bore up under so much more, every day, never bitching and moaning about it.
After another moment he tried again, dragging himself up the slope of the hill, reaching a ledge. Fingers digging into stone, pushing himself upright inch by agonizing inch until his feet were under him and he was practically hugging the rock wall, hanging on for all he was worth.
A few more precious seconds dragged by and, slowly, carefully, freezing in place for a terrifying instant as his foot slipped, scrabbling frantically for purchase in the loose shale, Clark turned, his back pressed to the rock as he turned his face up to the sun, trembling as its healing rays soaked into him.
He wished it was high noon, not a cloud in the sky. He wished a lot of things, but reality would have to do.
Closing his eyes and focusing, Clark sought out Bruce’s heartbeat, trying to isolate it amid all of the clamor. Fear spiked through him again when he couldn’t instantly locate it. “Bruce…” No. No, there it was. There it was, and he took the opportunity simply to focus on that steady beat, gradually expanding outward to pick up the quiet swish/swoosh as Bruce - as Batman - glided through the glass-and-steel canyons of Metropolis.
Where was Bruce headed? What was the plan? Whatever it was, Bruce would need backup, and Clark wasn’t about to let him down.
Another sound was intruding and he looked skyward, spotting the Javelin on the edge of the atmosphere - J’onn coming to rescue him.
*Not now, J’onn.*
*Superman, you are badly injured. Let me get you to the Watchtower, then I will return to assist Batman.*
*Not enough time. Go help Flash and Green Arrow. They need you more.*
*Superman--!*
Sending his mental regrets to the Martina Manhunter, Clark shifted position, standing straight and tall and ready for launch.
This was either going to be really humiliating, or - no, not humiliating, not at all, he thought, launching himself into the air and soaring into the sky, higher, higher, clearing the clouds, until he was basking in the yellow sun energy that sustained him. Suspended there, he zeroed in on Bruce’s position again. Alarm surging through him, he instantly plunged earthward, setting off a sonic boom, praying he could get to Bruce in time.
~*~
High atop his tower, Lex Luthor could hardly contain his glee as he peered through a pair of high-powered binoculars, following the battle. Everything was going even better than he had anticipated.
He had known something special had virtually fallen into his hands when his people found the crashed spacecraft. Its alien pilot - some winged lizard with eyes like faceted jewels - had survived long enough to impart the intent of its mission: offering the dragons as a gift to the people of Earth. The intended purpose of the mechanized dragons, it seemed, was to be of benign service. They could be programmed to fight raging wildfires, or control crop-damaging insect infestations, turn devastating flood waters into harmless vapor - or, after being reverse engineered so as to fully understand how they worked, designed to lay waste to the great cities of the world, unless Luthor’s demands were met.
Oh, and kill Superman.
Lex thought he might be especially partial to that phase of the plan.
He’d lost track of Batman but that was a minor concern. If the dragons didn’t polish him off this time, the next batch, unleashed on Gotham, would do the trick. Witnessing Superman’s demise, the dragon’s Kryptonite-fueled fiery breath burning him to cinders, nothing left but ashes scattered on the wind was his top priority now - just thinking about it practically gave him a hard on.
Locating the black dragon, circling the Daily Planet building now (and Lex smiled like a cat up to its whiskers in cream at the thought of the dragon frying Lois Lane), Lex pocketed the binoculars and started over to where his private helicopter waited. “Ready to go?” he called out to the pilot, rounding the tail of the ‘copter and practically walking straight into the black gauntleted fist that slammed into his jaw, sending him tumbling backward to slam into a concrete wall.
Lex was still sliding down the wall when Batman grabbed him by the feet, dragging him to the edge of the building even as Lex scrabbled frantically for some purchase, perfectly manicured nails breaking, fingers tearing. “You won’t kill me!” he shouted, spitting blood from his cut lip as Batman pulled him upright, right on the edge. “You’re bluffing! That’s why you never win, none of you! None of you has the balls!” Lex snarled at the soulless white lenses staring back at him.
For one split second, as he felt nothing but air under his dangling feet, Lex thought he might have miscalculated this time; Batman always was the wild card in this game.
“There are worse things than death, Luthor,” Batman said, voice a low and dangerous rumble. “Slow and insidious, eating you alive from the inside. But you know that, don’t you? That’s what terrifies you, keeps you awake at night, knowing it’s already inside you, gnawing away until one day you’re gone, gone and forgotten while Superman lives forever.” He did drop Lex then, tossing him down on the roof as if Lex wasn’t worth even a second more of his time.
“You think you’ve won?” Lex struggled, fought as Batman snapped cuffs on him, securing him to a piece of metal railing. “You think Superman’s going to fly in and save the day?” He laughed, picturing it, loving that picture. “I’m counting on it, asshole!” he screamed as Batman left him there, heading for the helicopter.
About to swing up into the pilot’s seat, Batman stared back at him, trying to work it out, probably wanting to stride back and try pounding it out of him. The black dragon’s roar splitting the sky, breathing out a burst of fire that engulfed the revolving globe atop the Daily Planet building pulled him away, though, climbing into the helicopter and leaving Lex there, handcuffed and pathetic.
Pathetic… Lex spit blood out of his mouth, managing a smile even now.
They’d see who was pathetic. The whole goddamn world would see.
to be continued
Here's the next installment of this one. I was hoping it would be a little longer but Lex Luthor mucked things up a bit. (Figures, huh? *g*) Anyway, everything after this is laid out nicely and should flow pretty swiftly onto the conclusion.
Title: Some Heavenly Star-Spangled Night
Fandom: worlds_finest
Pairing, characters: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Martian Manhunter, Lex Luthor (this part)
Continuity: DCU comicsverse, I guess.
Rating: PG-13 (some violence and language)
Disclaimer: DC owns them, I'm only playing in the not-for-profit sandbox.
SPOILERS: None I know of.
Warnings: Way too much time spent in Lex's head, and Batman gets a little scary; and Superman's a little emo.
Word count: 1,665 approx.
Summary: There was a battle at Mt. Olympus, as a reward, Aphrodite offered to give Clark his heart's desire. Shortly thereafter Bruce is doodling Superman and writing him bad poetry. Then there's dragons.
Reading the first installment here:
Some Heavenly Star-Spangled Night, Part 3 probably helps. :)
Part Three
Clark had been an idiot, avoiding Bruce these last couple of weeks just because he was embarrassed.
Nothing had changed between them. Clark hadn’t really believed they would. Or, only for a moment; allowing a tiny ember of hope to flicker to life until a wash of reality had snuffed it out. Aphrodite couldn’t give him Bruce. No one could - except Bruce, and Clark had long ago accepted that was never going to happen.
It was all right. It was more than all right. Spending time with Bruce, having his back, believing they had achieved a kind of friendship - that was tremendous.
All he’d been doing was denying himself those moments, those times when he felt truly connected to Bruce. At the end of a battle, both of them wrung out and banged up, sharing a look that said more than words, communicating the shared triumph of having survived - and the pain of knowing others hadn’t. Even better, most precious of all because they were so rare, those times when everything was still and quiet, just them in a moment out of time. Bruce would lower his guard just a fraction and Clark might even get a smile out of him. Clark had cataloged every one of those, storing them up like treasure. If fortune was truly smiling, there might be a touch - a comradely shoulder clasp, a handshake. Provided they were locked up in a dark, dank dungeon on Apokolips and near death, Bruce might even let Clark hold him for thirty seconds. It was never enough, and only made him desperately want more, but if that was all he could ever have Clark would take it and be thankful.
How many chances like that had he missed the last couple of weeks?
So - enough. He would get to Bruce and be there for him, at his side for another battle … in just another minute, he amended, sinking back on the loose shale and rock in the hills outside Metropolis.
Clark had actually had a plan this time; Bruce might even have given his growl of approval. He really thought it would have turned out as planned, too, if he’d been at a hundred percent. As it was, Clark hadn’t been able to pull out of his dive in time and the dragon had exploded around him, scorching him, showering him with sharp, sizzling shrapnel. A couple of pieces were still embedded in his back. He could feel them, a faint but constant stinging/throbbing pain that made him think the pieces were tainted with Kryptonite.
It was definitely in the oily black tendrils of smoke that had drifted out from the wreckage, almost as if seeking him out. He had stumbled, crawled as far away from it as he could, collapsing when he could go no further. Tumbled there in an ungainly sprawl, soaking up as much of the dwindling sunlight as he could, he knew it wouldn’t be enough.
But it would do. It had to.
Rolling over, Clark braced his hands against the rock, trying to ignore how the sharp rock dug into his flesh. Arms trembling, fingers tearing on the sharp stones, he pushed himself up - there, almost to his knees, just a little more … His hand slipped, slick with blood, his arm giving out on him, and he couldn’t keep from crying out in pain, in frustration, as he crumpled again. He pounded a fist against the rock, eyes stinging, as he tried to fight it off.
He bit his lip against the pain. He hurt so much… All these years and he could never get used to the pain, the shock of his body failing him. He felt ashamed, frightened of a paper cut, when Bruce bore up under so much more, every day, never bitching and moaning about it.
After another moment he tried again, dragging himself up the slope of the hill, reaching a ledge. Fingers digging into stone, pushing himself upright inch by agonizing inch until his feet were under him and he was practically hugging the rock wall, hanging on for all he was worth.
A few more precious seconds dragged by and, slowly, carefully, freezing in place for a terrifying instant as his foot slipped, scrabbling frantically for purchase in the loose shale, Clark turned, his back pressed to the rock as he turned his face up to the sun, trembling as its healing rays soaked into him.
He wished it was high noon, not a cloud in the sky. He wished a lot of things, but reality would have to do.
Closing his eyes and focusing, Clark sought out Bruce’s heartbeat, trying to isolate it amid all of the clamor. Fear spiked through him again when he couldn’t instantly locate it. “Bruce…” No. No, there it was. There it was, and he took the opportunity simply to focus on that steady beat, gradually expanding outward to pick up the quiet swish/swoosh as Bruce - as Batman - glided through the glass-and-steel canyons of Metropolis.
Where was Bruce headed? What was the plan? Whatever it was, Bruce would need backup, and Clark wasn’t about to let him down.
Another sound was intruding and he looked skyward, spotting the Javelin on the edge of the atmosphere - J’onn coming to rescue him.
*Not now, J’onn.*
*Superman, you are badly injured. Let me get you to the Watchtower, then I will return to assist Batman.*
*Not enough time. Go help Flash and Green Arrow. They need you more.*
*Superman--!*
Sending his mental regrets to the Martina Manhunter, Clark shifted position, standing straight and tall and ready for launch.
This was either going to be really humiliating, or - no, not humiliating, not at all, he thought, launching himself into the air and soaring into the sky, higher, higher, clearing the clouds, until he was basking in the yellow sun energy that sustained him. Suspended there, he zeroed in on Bruce’s position again. Alarm surging through him, he instantly plunged earthward, setting off a sonic boom, praying he could get to Bruce in time.
~*~
High atop his tower, Lex Luthor could hardly contain his glee as he peered through a pair of high-powered binoculars, following the battle. Everything was going even better than he had anticipated.
He had known something special had virtually fallen into his hands when his people found the crashed spacecraft. Its alien pilot - some winged lizard with eyes like faceted jewels - had survived long enough to impart the intent of its mission: offering the dragons as a gift to the people of Earth. The intended purpose of the mechanized dragons, it seemed, was to be of benign service. They could be programmed to fight raging wildfires, or control crop-damaging insect infestations, turn devastating flood waters into harmless vapor - or, after being reverse engineered so as to fully understand how they worked, designed to lay waste to the great cities of the world, unless Luthor’s demands were met.
Oh, and kill Superman.
Lex thought he might be especially partial to that phase of the plan.
He’d lost track of Batman but that was a minor concern. If the dragons didn’t polish him off this time, the next batch, unleashed on Gotham, would do the trick. Witnessing Superman’s demise, the dragon’s Kryptonite-fueled fiery breath burning him to cinders, nothing left but ashes scattered on the wind was his top priority now - just thinking about it practically gave him a hard on.
Locating the black dragon, circling the Daily Planet building now (and Lex smiled like a cat up to its whiskers in cream at the thought of the dragon frying Lois Lane), Lex pocketed the binoculars and started over to where his private helicopter waited. “Ready to go?” he called out to the pilot, rounding the tail of the ‘copter and practically walking straight into the black gauntleted fist that slammed into his jaw, sending him tumbling backward to slam into a concrete wall.
Lex was still sliding down the wall when Batman grabbed him by the feet, dragging him to the edge of the building even as Lex scrabbled frantically for some purchase, perfectly manicured nails breaking, fingers tearing. “You won’t kill me!” he shouted, spitting blood from his cut lip as Batman pulled him upright, right on the edge. “You’re bluffing! That’s why you never win, none of you! None of you has the balls!” Lex snarled at the soulless white lenses staring back at him.
For one split second, as he felt nothing but air under his dangling feet, Lex thought he might have miscalculated this time; Batman always was the wild card in this game.
“There are worse things than death, Luthor,” Batman said, voice a low and dangerous rumble. “Slow and insidious, eating you alive from the inside. But you know that, don’t you? That’s what terrifies you, keeps you awake at night, knowing it’s already inside you, gnawing away until one day you’re gone, gone and forgotten while Superman lives forever.” He did drop Lex then, tossing him down on the roof as if Lex wasn’t worth even a second more of his time.
“You think you’ve won?” Lex struggled, fought as Batman snapped cuffs on him, securing him to a piece of metal railing. “You think Superman’s going to fly in and save the day?” He laughed, picturing it, loving that picture. “I’m counting on it, asshole!” he screamed as Batman left him there, heading for the helicopter.
About to swing up into the pilot’s seat, Batman stared back at him, trying to work it out, probably wanting to stride back and try pounding it out of him. The black dragon’s roar splitting the sky, breathing out a burst of fire that engulfed the revolving globe atop the Daily Planet building pulled him away, though, climbing into the helicopter and leaving Lex there, handcuffed and pathetic.
Pathetic… Lex spit blood out of his mouth, managing a smile even now.
They’d see who was pathetic. The whole goddamn world would see.
to be continued