Fic: An Old Question | SR | Clark/Lois, Bruce | PG | 1/1
Title: An Old Question
Fandom: Superman Returns (/Nolanverse/STM)
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Lois, Bruce
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,580
Prompt: For the February Fic Grab at The Planet: Overwhelm
Summary: The last few months have been nothing but a blur.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Follows A Perfect Symphony and Amidst a Sea of Gray; Aftermath-verse.
An Old Question
Two weeks into Snowmageddon 2010, Clark was starting to feel punch-drunk with exhaustion, not that he actually had any clue what it felt like to be punch-drunk, but still. He'd been working almost non-stop since some time in December-the eighteenth? Nineteenth? He didn't remember anymore-and only the earthquake in Haiti had gotten him out of the northern US and unending white long enough to warm up and let his eyes heal from overuse of his heat vision. But even that had been one long, unbroken day, with only a few hours somewhere in the middle to get a short nap and a shower and hot meal.
Now, somewhere in upstate New York helping clear an interstate that had been closed for a week, that brief reprieve felt like it had been eons ago, and he was starting to wonder what a full night's sleep actually felt like, or if he'd even ever had one in his entire life.
“Blue, snap out of it!”
The sudden voice in his ear via the tiny comm unit jolted him from his sleep-deprivation-induced hypnosis, and he blinked hard and shook himself to clear the haze from his mind. “Um,” was all he could manage as he realized he'd been melting the snow and ice all the way up the hill from the highway and on into the tree line, almost setting a few pines ablaze. “Sorry, B. Thanks.”
A half-choked out laugh came through the comm in a quiet huff, and Bruce went on, “I think it's past time you took a break.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Clark agreed, turning to face the weak evening sunlight to try to get as much as he could before heading back into the work at hand. “I could probably use an hour to recharge.” And if that wasn't the understatement of the century, he didn't know what was; he wasn't that deluded, just not so inclined to shirk his responsibility.
“No, I mean a break,” Bruce insisted. “Actual time off. I'll get Lantern up there ASAP to take over, and pull Diana from Haiti for a day or so. Go home. Sleep. Eat. And don't come back out here until I clear you with Hamilton.”
“But-”
“Forget it,” Bruce cut him off. “You're done for the week. And don't even try to argue with me. You're too tired to function, and it shows. That's dangerous.”
Wincing, Clark knew there really was no argument to that. If he was tired enough to almost set the forest on fire, he was too tired to be of any use. Which really rankled; getting himself too run down to work wasn't exactly something he ever aspired to.
“Okay,” he finally sighed after a long moment spent tamping down his need to keep going, to keep doing his duty. “Okay. I'll check in with you later.”
“Three days minimum, and that's an order.”
“Right. Thanks, B.”
A low grumble was Bruce's only response before the comm line cut off, and with nothing else he could do out here, Clark took to the sky to head for home, despising his exhaustion with every mile that passed beneath him. Unable to deny that Bruce was right as he fought to keep himself aloft against the gravity that threatened to rip him right out of the air, he couldn't help the sense of relief that overwhelmed him at the sudden prospect of sleep. Just a few hundred miles, and he'd be home and in bed... if he could make it that far inside before collapsing.
~*~*~*~
Practically slamming the apartment door behind her as she got home for the evening, Lois flipped the light switch and shrugged her coat to hang it with her purse on the hooks on the wall, cursing under her breath the whole time. Two weeks it had been like this out there, not enough plows, snow upon snow upon snow, melting and refreezing, and no choice but to take the damn Metro everywhere, assuming she could get to and from the stations in the first place. And since the sidewalks were still barely passable, low snowbanks turning to pools and rivers of slush by midday, not even her snow boots had kept her socks from getting soaked through, the frigid water wicking up her pants legs so far that the slacks could be qualified as a wet-suit at this point.
It was absolutely infuriating.
But she was home, the kids were with Richard and Lana for the night, and she only had a short article to finish and email in before she could relax for the evening. She just had to get out of this sopping wet mess first, and-
A step toward the bedroom, and she finally noticed that the TV was on, tuned to a news station and muted, the way Clark always had it when he was sleeping. Her gaze slipped right, and the large form taking up the entire couch was unmistakable, her husband spread out over the cushions looking like he'd just managed to detach his cape and tug off his boots before hitting the nearest soft surface. Her heart jumped in her chest with a tiny spike of adrenaline as she processed the sight, Clark looking so rumpled and undone that it was probably a miracle he made it all the way home before falling asleep.
“Clark?” she said quietly as she changed course, stepping lightly over to him to lean down and brush his limp curl and errant locks of hair back from his face.
“Mmghrmph,” was all the answer he gave, his face scrunching up as he shifted on the couch, and really, Lois couldn't have expected anything more, considering how overworked he'd been the last few months. Too many disasters, not enough heroes; story of his life.
Briefly, she considered prodding him enough to get changed out of his suit and into the bed, but when he only shifted again, his lips parting just enough for him to inhale a light snore, she knew it was a lost cause. Placing a soft kiss on his forehead, she pulled down the old afghan from the back of the sofa and draped it over him gently, then just stared at him for a moment. He was such a sight for sore eyes, considering she hadn't actually seen him in more than a week, had let Valentine's Day pass by unobserved as he'd worked his ass off out in the blizzard that had covered half the country without so much as a day off after handling the earthquake efforts in Haiti. Honestly, he deserved better. He-
When her cell phone rang from her pocket, startling her, she cursed it, then pulled it out and got up to head back to the bedroom, answering on the way as she saw who was calling. “You sent him home, didn't you?”
Bruce chuckled lowly from the other end. “He wouldn't have gone, otherwise. I take it you're there?”
“Just got in. I'll make sure he sleeps through the night, and I won't let him near a phone or the TV for at least a few days.”
“Good. He needs a serious vacation.”
At that, it was Lois's turn to chuckle. “Book us a trip to Hawaii, rich boy,” she teased, wiggling out of her wet slacks and socks, and holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, “or anyplace warm with lots of sun and zero emergencies. God knows we could both use it.”
“Done. I'll send the jet down in a few days.”
Lois stood up straight and grabbed the phone again. “Don't you dare. I was joking, Bruce.”
“I wasn't. You've more than earned it.”
“Yeah, we've earned it, but seriously, we'll go on our own dime, okay? Perry pays us more than enough.”
And with that, Bruce acquiesced. “All right, all right. But don't say I never offered.”
“You always offer,” she chuckled, and maybe she was more tired than she'd realized, too, because the laugh that escaped her then was somewhat crazed. “Thanks, Bruce.”
“Welcome. Just take care of Clark, got it?”
“I'm married to the only man in the world with any right to a Superman Complex; I think that's part of the job description,” she snarked back. “So of course I will. And I'll update you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow then.”
Shutting the phone and tossing it onto her dresser, Lois finished changing out of the rest of her wet clothes into pajamas, and stepped back out into the living room to turn off the TV for the foreseeable future, relieved and glad to finally have Clark home for a while. She smoothed a hand over his face, his expression so peaceful in sleep, even if it was a little drooling and completely exhausted, and then leaned close again to plant another kiss on his temple.
“Sweet dreams, Clark. I've got you.”
~*~*~*~
In a deep, dark place of rest, where, for a short time anyway, no one needed saving and nothing needed fixing, a sense of gratitude and absolute safety and security settled over Clark like one of his Ma's afghans, and an old question-the first and the only question that had ever mattered-was once again answered.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Superman Returns (/Nolanverse/STM)
Characters/Pairing: Clark/Lois, Bruce
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,580
Prompt: For the February Fic Grab at The Planet: Overwhelm
Summary: The last few months have been nothing but a blur.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Follows A Perfect Symphony and Amidst a Sea of Gray; Aftermath-verse.
An Old Question
Two weeks into Snowmageddon 2010, Clark was starting to feel punch-drunk with exhaustion, not that he actually had any clue what it felt like to be punch-drunk, but still. He'd been working almost non-stop since some time in December-the eighteenth? Nineteenth? He didn't remember anymore-and only the earthquake in Haiti had gotten him out of the northern US and unending white long enough to warm up and let his eyes heal from overuse of his heat vision. But even that had been one long, unbroken day, with only a few hours somewhere in the middle to get a short nap and a shower and hot meal.
Now, somewhere in upstate New York helping clear an interstate that had been closed for a week, that brief reprieve felt like it had been eons ago, and he was starting to wonder what a full night's sleep actually felt like, or if he'd even ever had one in his entire life.
“Blue, snap out of it!”
The sudden voice in his ear via the tiny comm unit jolted him from his sleep-deprivation-induced hypnosis, and he blinked hard and shook himself to clear the haze from his mind. “Um,” was all he could manage as he realized he'd been melting the snow and ice all the way up the hill from the highway and on into the tree line, almost setting a few pines ablaze. “Sorry, B. Thanks.”
A half-choked out laugh came through the comm in a quiet huff, and Bruce went on, “I think it's past time you took a break.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Clark agreed, turning to face the weak evening sunlight to try to get as much as he could before heading back into the work at hand. “I could probably use an hour to recharge.” And if that wasn't the understatement of the century, he didn't know what was; he wasn't that deluded, just not so inclined to shirk his responsibility.
“No, I mean a break,” Bruce insisted. “Actual time off. I'll get Lantern up there ASAP to take over, and pull Diana from Haiti for a day or so. Go home. Sleep. Eat. And don't come back out here until I clear you with Hamilton.”
“But-”
“Forget it,” Bruce cut him off. “You're done for the week. And don't even try to argue with me. You're too tired to function, and it shows. That's dangerous.”
Wincing, Clark knew there really was no argument to that. If he was tired enough to almost set the forest on fire, he was too tired to be of any use. Which really rankled; getting himself too run down to work wasn't exactly something he ever aspired to.
“Okay,” he finally sighed after a long moment spent tamping down his need to keep going, to keep doing his duty. “Okay. I'll check in with you later.”
“Three days minimum, and that's an order.”
“Right. Thanks, B.”
A low grumble was Bruce's only response before the comm line cut off, and with nothing else he could do out here, Clark took to the sky to head for home, despising his exhaustion with every mile that passed beneath him. Unable to deny that Bruce was right as he fought to keep himself aloft against the gravity that threatened to rip him right out of the air, he couldn't help the sense of relief that overwhelmed him at the sudden prospect of sleep. Just a few hundred miles, and he'd be home and in bed... if he could make it that far inside before collapsing.
~*~*~*~
Practically slamming the apartment door behind her as she got home for the evening, Lois flipped the light switch and shrugged her coat to hang it with her purse on the hooks on the wall, cursing under her breath the whole time. Two weeks it had been like this out there, not enough plows, snow upon snow upon snow, melting and refreezing, and no choice but to take the damn Metro everywhere, assuming she could get to and from the stations in the first place. And since the sidewalks were still barely passable, low snowbanks turning to pools and rivers of slush by midday, not even her snow boots had kept her socks from getting soaked through, the frigid water wicking up her pants legs so far that the slacks could be qualified as a wet-suit at this point.
It was absolutely infuriating.
But she was home, the kids were with Richard and Lana for the night, and she only had a short article to finish and email in before she could relax for the evening. She just had to get out of this sopping wet mess first, and-
A step toward the bedroom, and she finally noticed that the TV was on, tuned to a news station and muted, the way Clark always had it when he was sleeping. Her gaze slipped right, and the large form taking up the entire couch was unmistakable, her husband spread out over the cushions looking like he'd just managed to detach his cape and tug off his boots before hitting the nearest soft surface. Her heart jumped in her chest with a tiny spike of adrenaline as she processed the sight, Clark looking so rumpled and undone that it was probably a miracle he made it all the way home before falling asleep.
“Clark?” she said quietly as she changed course, stepping lightly over to him to lean down and brush his limp curl and errant locks of hair back from his face.
“Mmghrmph,” was all the answer he gave, his face scrunching up as he shifted on the couch, and really, Lois couldn't have expected anything more, considering how overworked he'd been the last few months. Too many disasters, not enough heroes; story of his life.
Briefly, she considered prodding him enough to get changed out of his suit and into the bed, but when he only shifted again, his lips parting just enough for him to inhale a light snore, she knew it was a lost cause. Placing a soft kiss on his forehead, she pulled down the old afghan from the back of the sofa and draped it over him gently, then just stared at him for a moment. He was such a sight for sore eyes, considering she hadn't actually seen him in more than a week, had let Valentine's Day pass by unobserved as he'd worked his ass off out in the blizzard that had covered half the country without so much as a day off after handling the earthquake efforts in Haiti. Honestly, he deserved better. He-
When her cell phone rang from her pocket, startling her, she cursed it, then pulled it out and got up to head back to the bedroom, answering on the way as she saw who was calling. “You sent him home, didn't you?”
Bruce chuckled lowly from the other end. “He wouldn't have gone, otherwise. I take it you're there?”
“Just got in. I'll make sure he sleeps through the night, and I won't let him near a phone or the TV for at least a few days.”
“Good. He needs a serious vacation.”
At that, it was Lois's turn to chuckle. “Book us a trip to Hawaii, rich boy,” she teased, wiggling out of her wet slacks and socks, and holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, “or anyplace warm with lots of sun and zero emergencies. God knows we could both use it.”
“Done. I'll send the jet down in a few days.”
Lois stood up straight and grabbed the phone again. “Don't you dare. I was joking, Bruce.”
“I wasn't. You've more than earned it.”
“Yeah, we've earned it, but seriously, we'll go on our own dime, okay? Perry pays us more than enough.”
And with that, Bruce acquiesced. “All right, all right. But don't say I never offered.”
“You always offer,” she chuckled, and maybe she was more tired than she'd realized, too, because the laugh that escaped her then was somewhat crazed. “Thanks, Bruce.”
“Welcome. Just take care of Clark, got it?”
“I'm married to the only man in the world with any right to a Superman Complex; I think that's part of the job description,” she snarked back. “So of course I will. And I'll update you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow then.”
Shutting the phone and tossing it onto her dresser, Lois finished changing out of the rest of her wet clothes into pajamas, and stepped back out into the living room to turn off the TV for the foreseeable future, relieved and glad to finally have Clark home for a while. She smoothed a hand over his face, his expression so peaceful in sleep, even if it was a little drooling and completely exhausted, and then leaned close again to plant another kiss on his temple.
“Sweet dreams, Clark. I've got you.”
~*~*~*~
In a deep, dark place of rest, where, for a short time anyway, no one needed saving and nothing needed fixing, a sense of gratitude and absolute safety and security settled over Clark like one of his Ma's afghans, and an old question-the first and the only question that had ever mattered-was once again answered.
~*~*~*~