Fic: The Aleph (Clark/Bruce) (5 of 36)
Title: The Aleph
Author: tmelange
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Fandom: Smallville/DCU
Rating: Adult
Tags: Plot-Intensive, Bruce in Smallville, Young Clark and Bruce, Memory Loss, First Time Meeting/Sex, Romance, Drama
Status: WIP
Warnings: Slash, m/m sex
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Clark Kent meets Bruce Wayne for the first time under very strange circumstances.
Previous chapters can be found HERE.
V.
Five days after Clark had returned from his class trip to Gotham City, Bruce visited the farm. He had phoned first, spoken to Clark's dad earlier in the week to make arrangements, instigating a family meeting to consider the shocking news of a nine-year-old turned adult overnight. Good thing Clark's parents were used to dealing with the unusual. After all, they were raising an alien from outer space-and doing a darn fine job of it, if Clark did say so himself. A simple matter of age regression was hardly enough to make the Kents blink, and if it wasn't for all of the other stuff-the fact that Bruce was Bruce Wayne, of Gotham City, and the Batman to boot-everything would have fallen into place again.
Even with the complications, Clark had to admit, he was glad to see how the news made his mom glow with happiness. It was clear from her reaction that her love for the child she had welcomed into her home hadn't changed one bit, and her unreserved response made Clark feel rather embarrassed for many of the things he had said to Bruce during their time together in Gotham, his lukewarm acceptance of their changed circumstances. What did it matter if Bruce was now older than him? He was still the same person…
An expensive black sports car turned into the driveway. Clark stopped work with the buzz saw, shut down the machine and straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans. His mom was out of the house in moments and across the driveway to pull Bruce into a hug as he exited his vehicle. Clark watched their reunion from a distance, refusing to expand his hearing to listen to what Bruce was whispering in her ear. It was enough to see her pull back with a tremulous smile and tears in her eyes; it was enough to watch her kiss Bruce on the cheek before going back into the house.
Then, Bruce turned in his direction, with the sun overhead and the whole of Kansas as merely a backdrop to his rather extraordinary appearance, and Clark suddenly realized he might never get over the fact that Bruce was now so completely different. The way he walked past his mom's sunflowers, smoothly stalking in his direction-different. His impeccable bearing; his serious demeanor-the confident way a black eyebrow went up when he reached spitting distance and his eyes appraised him…all different. It made Clark nervous, self-conscious. Brought to mind the kiss, the heat of their embrace and the inexplicable words that had accompanied those actions. Things that fell outside of Clark's experience, things he didn't want to think about-
Bruce was the same person, and he was a completely different person. And Clark had never been so confused in his entire life.
"Hope I'm not interrupting."
It was easy to smile when Bruce was so obviously anxious. "Of course not. We were expecting you."
Clark stepped closer, and after an awkward moment, he pulled Bruce in for a hug. He felt Bruce tense and then relax with an exhalation of breath.
"I wasn't sure-"
"Don't be stupid," Clark interrupted, moving from the shadows by the entrance to the barn out into the sunlight and over to the wooden fence that surrounded the smaller paddock. He leaned against it. "You know you're always welcome here."
"That's what your mom said." Bruce followed him, took up a position by his side.
"She's your mom, too, Bruce."
Clark could tell just from the neutral look on Bruce's face that he was indulgent of the sentiment but didn't really believe.
"You know, Mom has a big heart," Clark said. "She fell for you the first time she sang you to sleep. That's not something that changes just because you…" a sidelong glance, "grew up. You're stuck with her, so don't try to change the way she feels."
A crooked smile. "I wouldn't think of it."
"Good." Clark straightened. "How long can you stay?"
"Not long. Just through dinner."
"Dinner won't be ready for at least an hour."
The gleam in Bruce's eyes was amused, expectant. "Did you have something in mind to pass the time?"
"Well…I figured now that you're so tall, I won't feel so bad about kicking your ass in basketball."
Bruce was already rolling up his sleeves as Clark jogged over to the barn to retrieve the ball. "Right. There's something you should know, Clark."
Was there some other crazy fact about Bruce that needed to be revealed? "What?" Clark responded warily.
Bruce walked over to him and took the ball. "I don't lose. Ever."
Clark let out the breath he had been holding and scoffed. "Get over yourself! Don't think I'm going to let you win just to stroke your ego-"
They could only play a couple of games, but by the time they had to head into the house to clean up for dinner, Clark felt they had reached a place of equilibrium: the familiar banter, the laughter, the way they seemed to fit together as friends, falling into the easy dynamic of a familial relationship restored. It was a relief to find that Bruce's favorite things were still his favorite, and his dry humor and sharp wit were the same, except more fully developed, more refined. After dinner, there was more serious conversation in the living room, explanations and elaborations that allayed most of the Kents fears about Bruce's life as an adult. Before it got too late, he took his leave, explaining that Gotham City needed him, and he couldn't in good conscience spend any more time away. They all nodded, Clark's father, in particular, who understood the press of responsibility and obligation, and respected the need to take care of those things even at the expense of desire and comfort and convenience.
And his mother-Clark could see it in her eyes: though she missed the child, she was very much impressed with the man Bruce had become.
The visit concluded, Clark walked Bruce to his car. The shadows were long with a bright moon overhead, and Bruce seemed to melt right into them as they said their goodbyes.
"I guess this is it."
Clark nodded, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I guess so. I'm glad you came. I tried to explain it all when I got back from Gotham but," he shrugged, "it's sort of easier to understand when they can see the change for themselves."
Bruce paused. He had one hand in his pocket and the other lightly touching the hood of his car. "I know things are different, but I hope not everything has changed."
"Some things will never change, brat. I'm still your big brother, even though you went and stole a few years on me."
"Good. I-" Bruce nodded. "Good."
"You were worried," Clark said, grinning. "Don't be. Just takes a little getting used to."
"I want you to do something for me," Bruce said, face falling serious. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Clark's arm. "I want you to stay away from Lex Luthor."
Clark frowned. "He's my friend-"
"He's dangerous-"
"Are you going to be doing this now?" Clark huffed. "Trying to tell me what to do? I don't need another dad-"
Bruce let Clark go, ran a hand through his hair and scowled. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Clark. You don't understand-it kills me to have to leave you here, by yourself. With no protection. I just want you to be safe. Lex Luthor-"
"Is my friend."
Bruce's face was set in the same stubborn lines that Clark knew so well from his time with Bruce the younger, but Clark could be stubborn, too. Mulishly so, his parents liked to say.
"Promise me you'll never tell him your secrets," Bruce finally capitulated with a sigh, ending their glaring stalemate.
"You sound like Dad."
"Promise me, Clark, or I'll take care of Luthor myself-"
"Fine," Clark said, turning away. "I don't go around telling people my secret anyway."
Silence pooled between them. Clark could feel Bruce staring at his back, but he refused to turn. Finally, he heard Bruce pull his keys out and open the car door. That turned Clark around in a hurry.
"I'm only a phone call away, if you need me."
"Wait."
Bruce paused, hand on the door, poised to get in.
"When-Can you come back for Thanksgiving? Mom would like that."
"And you-?"
"I'm asking."
"I'll make arrangements. Sometimes-a lot of the time-my work interferes with my plans, but I'll try to make it."
Clark nodded, ducked his head, let his hair fall into his eyes. "Maybe-I can come visit you in Gotham, if you can't get away…"
A pause. "No, Clark."
He looked up quickly, caught Bruce's eyes. "Why not?" He couldn't keep the consternation from his tone.
Bruce reached out, touched his face. "If I had you to myself, Clark, I wouldn't know how to let you go."
Author: tmelange
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Fandom: Smallville/DCU
Rating: Adult
Tags: Plot-Intensive, Bruce in Smallville, Young Clark and Bruce, Memory Loss, First Time Meeting/Sex, Romance, Drama
Status: WIP
Warnings: Slash, m/m sex
Word Count: 1,500
Summary: Clark Kent meets Bruce Wayne for the first time under very strange circumstances.
Previous chapters can be found HERE.
V.
Five days after Clark had returned from his class trip to Gotham City, Bruce visited the farm. He had phoned first, spoken to Clark's dad earlier in the week to make arrangements, instigating a family meeting to consider the shocking news of a nine-year-old turned adult overnight. Good thing Clark's parents were used to dealing with the unusual. After all, they were raising an alien from outer space-and doing a darn fine job of it, if Clark did say so himself. A simple matter of age regression was hardly enough to make the Kents blink, and if it wasn't for all of the other stuff-the fact that Bruce was Bruce Wayne, of Gotham City, and the Batman to boot-everything would have fallen into place again.
Even with the complications, Clark had to admit, he was glad to see how the news made his mom glow with happiness. It was clear from her reaction that her love for the child she had welcomed into her home hadn't changed one bit, and her unreserved response made Clark feel rather embarrassed for many of the things he had said to Bruce during their time together in Gotham, his lukewarm acceptance of their changed circumstances. What did it matter if Bruce was now older than him? He was still the same person…
An expensive black sports car turned into the driveway. Clark stopped work with the buzz saw, shut down the machine and straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans. His mom was out of the house in moments and across the driveway to pull Bruce into a hug as he exited his vehicle. Clark watched their reunion from a distance, refusing to expand his hearing to listen to what Bruce was whispering in her ear. It was enough to see her pull back with a tremulous smile and tears in her eyes; it was enough to watch her kiss Bruce on the cheek before going back into the house.
Then, Bruce turned in his direction, with the sun overhead and the whole of Kansas as merely a backdrop to his rather extraordinary appearance, and Clark suddenly realized he might never get over the fact that Bruce was now so completely different. The way he walked past his mom's sunflowers, smoothly stalking in his direction-different. His impeccable bearing; his serious demeanor-the confident way a black eyebrow went up when he reached spitting distance and his eyes appraised him…all different. It made Clark nervous, self-conscious. Brought to mind the kiss, the heat of their embrace and the inexplicable words that had accompanied those actions. Things that fell outside of Clark's experience, things he didn't want to think about-
Bruce was the same person, and he was a completely different person. And Clark had never been so confused in his entire life.
"Hope I'm not interrupting."
It was easy to smile when Bruce was so obviously anxious. "Of course not. We were expecting you."
Clark stepped closer, and after an awkward moment, he pulled Bruce in for a hug. He felt Bruce tense and then relax with an exhalation of breath.
"I wasn't sure-"
"Don't be stupid," Clark interrupted, moving from the shadows by the entrance to the barn out into the sunlight and over to the wooden fence that surrounded the smaller paddock. He leaned against it. "You know you're always welcome here."
"That's what your mom said." Bruce followed him, took up a position by his side.
"She's your mom, too, Bruce."
Clark could tell just from the neutral look on Bruce's face that he was indulgent of the sentiment but didn't really believe.
"You know, Mom has a big heart," Clark said. "She fell for you the first time she sang you to sleep. That's not something that changes just because you…" a sidelong glance, "grew up. You're stuck with her, so don't try to change the way she feels."
A crooked smile. "I wouldn't think of it."
"Good." Clark straightened. "How long can you stay?"
"Not long. Just through dinner."
"Dinner won't be ready for at least an hour."
The gleam in Bruce's eyes was amused, expectant. "Did you have something in mind to pass the time?"
"Well…I figured now that you're so tall, I won't feel so bad about kicking your ass in basketball."
Bruce was already rolling up his sleeves as Clark jogged over to the barn to retrieve the ball. "Right. There's something you should know, Clark."
Was there some other crazy fact about Bruce that needed to be revealed? "What?" Clark responded warily.
Bruce walked over to him and took the ball. "I don't lose. Ever."
Clark let out the breath he had been holding and scoffed. "Get over yourself! Don't think I'm going to let you win just to stroke your ego-"
They could only play a couple of games, but by the time they had to head into the house to clean up for dinner, Clark felt they had reached a place of equilibrium: the familiar banter, the laughter, the way they seemed to fit together as friends, falling into the easy dynamic of a familial relationship restored. It was a relief to find that Bruce's favorite things were still his favorite, and his dry humor and sharp wit were the same, except more fully developed, more refined. After dinner, there was more serious conversation in the living room, explanations and elaborations that allayed most of the Kents fears about Bruce's life as an adult. Before it got too late, he took his leave, explaining that Gotham City needed him, and he couldn't in good conscience spend any more time away. They all nodded, Clark's father, in particular, who understood the press of responsibility and obligation, and respected the need to take care of those things even at the expense of desire and comfort and convenience.
And his mother-Clark could see it in her eyes: though she missed the child, she was very much impressed with the man Bruce had become.
The visit concluded, Clark walked Bruce to his car. The shadows were long with a bright moon overhead, and Bruce seemed to melt right into them as they said their goodbyes.
"I guess this is it."
Clark nodded, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I guess so. I'm glad you came. I tried to explain it all when I got back from Gotham but," he shrugged, "it's sort of easier to understand when they can see the change for themselves."
Bruce paused. He had one hand in his pocket and the other lightly touching the hood of his car. "I know things are different, but I hope not everything has changed."
"Some things will never change, brat. I'm still your big brother, even though you went and stole a few years on me."
"Good. I-" Bruce nodded. "Good."
"You were worried," Clark said, grinning. "Don't be. Just takes a little getting used to."
"I want you to do something for me," Bruce said, face falling serious. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Clark's arm. "I want you to stay away from Lex Luthor."
Clark frowned. "He's my friend-"
"He's dangerous-"
"Are you going to be doing this now?" Clark huffed. "Trying to tell me what to do? I don't need another dad-"
Bruce let Clark go, ran a hand through his hair and scowled. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Clark. You don't understand-it kills me to have to leave you here, by yourself. With no protection. I just want you to be safe. Lex Luthor-"
"Is my friend."
Bruce's face was set in the same stubborn lines that Clark knew so well from his time with Bruce the younger, but Clark could be stubborn, too. Mulishly so, his parents liked to say.
"Promise me you'll never tell him your secrets," Bruce finally capitulated with a sigh, ending their glaring stalemate.
"You sound like Dad."
"Promise me, Clark, or I'll take care of Luthor myself-"
"Fine," Clark said, turning away. "I don't go around telling people my secret anyway."
Silence pooled between them. Clark could feel Bruce staring at his back, but he refused to turn. Finally, he heard Bruce pull his keys out and open the car door. That turned Clark around in a hurry.
"I'm only a phone call away, if you need me."
"Wait."
Bruce paused, hand on the door, poised to get in.
"When-Can you come back for Thanksgiving? Mom would like that."
"And you-?"
"I'm asking."
"I'll make arrangements. Sometimes-a lot of the time-my work interferes with my plans, but I'll try to make it."
Clark nodded, ducked his head, let his hair fall into his eyes. "Maybe-I can come visit you in Gotham, if you can't get away…"
A pause. "No, Clark."
He looked up quickly, caught Bruce's eyes. "Why not?" He couldn't keep the consternation from his tone.
Bruce reached out, touched his face. "If I had you to myself, Clark, I wouldn't know how to let you go."