(Upload) Unconventional Mechanics
Well, I had an unexpected free afternoon today (maybe not so free, as there's homework, but I have the laptop and internet access! I'm only human!), and I got the beta back from the kind hands of sasha_anu, so here's the sequel to 'Displacement'.
Edit: Thanks to tmelange for her suggestions!
Fandom: DC
Pairing: Bruce/Clark, mention of Bruce/Lex and Bruce/Mercy.
Rating: PG-13 (I guess…)
Summary: Everything happens for a reason. A continuation of ‘Displacement’.
Author’s note: There was a happy ending for this fic, where Clark pulls Bruce back to bed and they had sex as themselves. At the end, Bruce’s protocols were still in place, but he got what he wanted. This ending, of course, couldn’t be. The outline of said ending, and the final sentence of said draft, are the only things I could do before I had to admit there was no such thing as a happy ending for this story. On the other hand, I also got thinking into how Bruce is trying to stop Clark’s major villain but he’s not doing anything to stop, say, The Joker. But that lead to having sex with Joker and Harley, you know, for intel. So I decided I’m never speaking of this again. As an end note, before I got to this fic, all I could think about was a kinky Lex in bed, looking down on Bruce and calling him a whore with a snarl. I think it says a lot about me that I find that a very sexy image.
Started on May 13th 2006 at 3:30 pm
Finished on May 14th 2006 at 12:45 pm
Unconventional Mechanics
Bruce sits up and lets his legs hang off the edge of the bed. He feels empty and tired; he’s done deluding himself into thinking that having Clark like this is better than nothing. It’s obvious now that this is only another way of not having him, just a very sad form of rejection.
Clark is tangled in the white sheets, an arm covering his eyes despite the dimness of the room; the only source of light comes from the faint gleam of the stars in the emptiness of space. The Watchtower is rotating over its axis and the Earth is not visible from Superman’s quarters now. He stares at the dark sea outside, fighting nausea and the feelings of uneasiness that these encounters have brought forth lately.
He knows he’s prone to self-destructive behavior; he has been fighting against himself for far longer than he has fought others. This thing with Clark has to stop now; he isn’t a masochist, he doesn’t like being in pain, even if pain is sometimes necessary. He doesn’t fight crime out of anger or pain anymore and he doesn’t fight out of guilt. If he did, he would already be dead by now. Emotions make you vulnerable and reckless.
He fights because it’s the right thing to do, because the world is worth fighting for. He wants to do the right thing, “Be ashamed to die, until you have won some victory for humanity”: he has the means and he has the will; while he’s alive, he will stand in the way of insanity and tragedy and try to stop it.
He tries to do the right thing, but this no longer feels right. At some point, he allowed his feelings for Clark to impair his judgment. Slowly, though, the pieces have begun falling into place; the end of this cycle is near and he can feel it in his gut. Change is a frightening thing, but he knows he’ll come through. He always does, but he can’t say he likes the man he’s become.
But whether he likes it or not is meaningless, as long as he gets things done.
“Why do you do this?,” Clark breaks the silence, his voice firm and direct. Bruce is surprised, Clark never acknowledges him when they have sex. It is probably a sign of how near the end this pretense is.
Staring at his partner’s reflection in the glass, Bruce ponders the question. Clark’s arm is still covering his eyes, his body language equally shutting him out. He doesn’t want to see Bruce, he doesn’t want to touch him, he doesn’t want to be reminded of how Bruce is not the man he wants. It’s something that has always stung, but right now it doesn’t feel so out of place. Bruce no longer thinks Clark is the man he wants, even if the man he wants and Clark are one and the same.
Bruce doesn’t answer, his throat is dry and he’s tired. He doesn’t think Clark would like any of the answers he could give him, and Bruce doesn’t like to think about them.
“Why do you do this? This can’t possibly make you happy,” Clark asks again, still not looking at him. Bruce picks up the cowl and stares into its white eyes.
Clark is right; sleeping with Superman is not making Bruce happy. Sleeping with Superman is not helping Batman’s mission. Sleeping with Superman doesn’t feel right anymore, on any level.
“It doesn’t,” he murmurs, his voice too low to distinguish Man from Bat.
Clark uncovers his eyes, and stares at him through the reflection in the glass. He didn’t expect an answer, just for Bruce to dress in silence and leave. But he got one, and now that he’s acknowledged his friend, he can’t pretend anymore.
Bruce doesn’t want to tell Clark that he was trying to make him happy, because that very thought is ridiculous. How could it make Clark happy to sleep with Bruce while he pretended to be Lex? If anything, it probably only made the yearning worse.
He doesn’t want to tell him he loves him, and he was willing to do whatever was necessary in order to be with him, because he has discovered that sleeping with a Superman that won’t look at him in the eye is not what he wanted at all.
He doesn’t want to tell him he hoped the experience would eventually exorcise Lex from Clark’s heart. Mercy no longer calls him, and he knows she regrets the loss of her feelings for Lex, but the loss is a manageable one. He doesn’t want to tell Clark he hoped it would do for him what it did for Mercy.
He doesn’t want to tell him he’s been fucking Lex and that he feels guilty. He especially doesn’t want to explain to anyone why he’s sleeping with Lex, because it’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t like himself much these days.
The eyes in the cowl stare back at him emptily, not much differently than the way he stares at people when he’s wearing it. They show no emotion, compassion or fear. They are the blind eyes of Justice, they know no exceptions or apologies. Humans can’t give True Justice, but True Justice is often heartless and cold.
Clark sits up and reaches out to touch him. Bruce looks at him through the reflection in the glass, and sees the way his hand wavers just before it lands on his naked shoulder. Clark and ‘Lex’ have been fucking for months, their movements are fluid and natural; but Clark and Bruce have always been awkward around each other, reaching out has always been a conscious act, maybe not fluid, but at least meaningful. A Superman that wouldn’t look him in the eye is definitely not what Bruce wanted at all.
“I’m sorry,” Clark whispers, a guilty look in his eyes.
Bruce smiles slightly and feels disgusted with himself. Here is Clark, sweet and kind Clark, offering apologies for something he didn’t start, and he’s just nodding along. The alternative to nodding along is too telling, though, and Bruce doesn’t think Clark should know about the new protocols right now.
Clark moves next to him, and sits on the edge of the bed; his powerful perfect physique right next to Bruce’s powerful but scarred one. His hand slowly travels from Bruce’s shoulder to rest in his own lap as he looks at the star-filled void in silence while Bruce continues to stare at the eyes of the cowl. Blind Judgment. He’s tired and empty; the cowl is looking back at him and burning holes into his soul.
“It looks so fragile,” Clark says, conversationally, like sitting naked in the bed with Batman spacing out is nothing out of the ordinary. Bruce is startled by Clark’s voice, but his eyes never leave the cowl.
“What does?’
“The Earth,” Clark answers and he points at the blue orb that is slowly coming into the field of view.
Bruce finally looks up, and frowns. “It’s tougher than it seems,” he gravels. It doesn’t take superpowers to destroy a beautiful thing, but it would take more than that to crush its spirit.
Clark looks back at him, thoughtful. “It is. You can’t take anything at face value in there. Microscopic things can kill you, roses have thorns, vicious beasts carefully raise their young and all men can surprise you.”
“Men are painfully predictable,” Bruce whispers, feeling Clark’s eyes on his face but refusing to meet his gaze. He knows what will happen if he does, and it’s a deviation from a pattern he has grown to hate. Here is a Superman that’s willing to meet his gaze, and it’s everything Bruce wanted. He doesn’t like feeling exposed under those alien blue eyes.
Clark chuckles, dispelling the sudden tension between them. “Maybe so,” he says as he takes the cowl away from his hands, looking at it just as intently as Bruce had moments before. “But you always surprise me.”
“I’m just a man,” Bruce says, making it sound almost like a confession.
“I’m glad,” Clark says with a smile, putting the cowl away and looking back at Bruce. “You’re a handful as it is.”
Bruce feels his own awkwardness ease a little as he chuckles, so he turns to meets his friend’s gaze for the first time. Clark’s smile is warm and open; it’s a better visual than the earlier sight of Clark pulling away from him.
Bruce knows Clark doesn’t love him, not the way he wishes him to, so he tries very hard not to read too much into his smile. He’s done fooling himself about Clark, he really is, but he really wishes things could be different.
Still, he knows things will change very soon. His agenda regarding Lex will soon become public, and then Clark will know. He won’t forgive him, or rather, he will in time, but their relationship will never be the same again. There will be no more late nights at the Watchtower, no awkward silences while he dresses up and leaves, and most likely the warm open smiles will disappear.
He’ll miss the last thing most of all, but then, he can’t put his desires before The Mission. The Mission is about helping people, stopping madness and crime and giving second chances to those who need them, which is everything Lex is not.
Bruce not only knows this, he can prove it. He’s had access to all Lex’s personal files, though Mercy never knew about it. He’s been monitoring him up close too, getting acquainted with his every little quirk and trait. There’s nothing Lex can hide from him, not when he’s so openly welcome in the man’s home and offices, where every device can be hacked and every move can be seen. Luthor is brilliant and has a good share of healthy, or not so healthy, paranoia (Bruce is willing to admit he’s hardly a good judge of that), but his ego is his biggest weakness. He enjoys having Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, industrialist and philanthropist at his beck and call; loves calling Bruce a whore, to make him beg. He won’t give Bruce up while the amusement lasts, but Bruce has other plans.
He knows what needs to be done, and will do it with surgical precision. Having a Bruce Wayne shaped blind spot clears the way for Batman, regardless of Bruce’s feelings on the matter.
Lex Luthor will be brought down for good and the world will be a better place for it. It doesn’t matter if Clark isn’t happy about it or if he gets angry with him. It doesn’t matter if Bruce’s days become bleaker once the friendly smiles disappear and the knowing eyes grow hurt and distant from betrayal.
So, for the time being, he smiles back at Clark and starts to get dressed. He will survive change, he always has. Even if he doesn’t always like the man he has become.
Edit: Thanks to tmelange for her suggestions!
Fandom: DC
Pairing: Bruce/Clark, mention of Bruce/Lex and Bruce/Mercy.
Rating: PG-13 (I guess…)
Summary: Everything happens for a reason. A continuation of ‘Displacement’.
Author’s note: There was a happy ending for this fic, where Clark pulls Bruce back to bed and they had sex as themselves. At the end, Bruce’s protocols were still in place, but he got what he wanted. This ending, of course, couldn’t be. The outline of said ending, and the final sentence of said draft, are the only things I could do before I had to admit there was no such thing as a happy ending for this story. On the other hand, I also got thinking into how Bruce is trying to stop Clark’s major villain but he’s not doing anything to stop, say, The Joker. But that lead to having sex with Joker and Harley, you know, for intel. So I decided I’m never speaking of this again. As an end note, before I got to this fic, all I could think about was a kinky Lex in bed, looking down on Bruce and calling him a whore with a snarl. I think it says a lot about me that I find that a very sexy image.
Started on May 13th 2006 at 3:30 pm
Finished on May 14th 2006 at 12:45 pm
Unconventional Mechanics
Bruce sits up and lets his legs hang off the edge of the bed. He feels empty and tired; he’s done deluding himself into thinking that having Clark like this is better than nothing. It’s obvious now that this is only another way of not having him, just a very sad form of rejection.
Clark is tangled in the white sheets, an arm covering his eyes despite the dimness of the room; the only source of light comes from the faint gleam of the stars in the emptiness of space. The Watchtower is rotating over its axis and the Earth is not visible from Superman’s quarters now. He stares at the dark sea outside, fighting nausea and the feelings of uneasiness that these encounters have brought forth lately.
He knows he’s prone to self-destructive behavior; he has been fighting against himself for far longer than he has fought others. This thing with Clark has to stop now; he isn’t a masochist, he doesn’t like being in pain, even if pain is sometimes necessary. He doesn’t fight crime out of anger or pain anymore and he doesn’t fight out of guilt. If he did, he would already be dead by now. Emotions make you vulnerable and reckless.
He fights because it’s the right thing to do, because the world is worth fighting for. He wants to do the right thing, “Be ashamed to die, until you have won some victory for humanity”: he has the means and he has the will; while he’s alive, he will stand in the way of insanity and tragedy and try to stop it.
He tries to do the right thing, but this no longer feels right. At some point, he allowed his feelings for Clark to impair his judgment. Slowly, though, the pieces have begun falling into place; the end of this cycle is near and he can feel it in his gut. Change is a frightening thing, but he knows he’ll come through. He always does, but he can’t say he likes the man he’s become.
But whether he likes it or not is meaningless, as long as he gets things done.
“Why do you do this?,” Clark breaks the silence, his voice firm and direct. Bruce is surprised, Clark never acknowledges him when they have sex. It is probably a sign of how near the end this pretense is.
Staring at his partner’s reflection in the glass, Bruce ponders the question. Clark’s arm is still covering his eyes, his body language equally shutting him out. He doesn’t want to see Bruce, he doesn’t want to touch him, he doesn’t want to be reminded of how Bruce is not the man he wants. It’s something that has always stung, but right now it doesn’t feel so out of place. Bruce no longer thinks Clark is the man he wants, even if the man he wants and Clark are one and the same.
Bruce doesn’t answer, his throat is dry and he’s tired. He doesn’t think Clark would like any of the answers he could give him, and Bruce doesn’t like to think about them.
“Why do you do this? This can’t possibly make you happy,” Clark asks again, still not looking at him. Bruce picks up the cowl and stares into its white eyes.
Clark is right; sleeping with Superman is not making Bruce happy. Sleeping with Superman is not helping Batman’s mission. Sleeping with Superman doesn’t feel right anymore, on any level.
“It doesn’t,” he murmurs, his voice too low to distinguish Man from Bat.
Clark uncovers his eyes, and stares at him through the reflection in the glass. He didn’t expect an answer, just for Bruce to dress in silence and leave. But he got one, and now that he’s acknowledged his friend, he can’t pretend anymore.
Bruce doesn’t want to tell Clark that he was trying to make him happy, because that very thought is ridiculous. How could it make Clark happy to sleep with Bruce while he pretended to be Lex? If anything, it probably only made the yearning worse.
He doesn’t want to tell him he loves him, and he was willing to do whatever was necessary in order to be with him, because he has discovered that sleeping with a Superman that won’t look at him in the eye is not what he wanted at all.
He doesn’t want to tell him he hoped the experience would eventually exorcise Lex from Clark’s heart. Mercy no longer calls him, and he knows she regrets the loss of her feelings for Lex, but the loss is a manageable one. He doesn’t want to tell Clark he hoped it would do for him what it did for Mercy.
He doesn’t want to tell him he’s been fucking Lex and that he feels guilty. He especially doesn’t want to explain to anyone why he’s sleeping with Lex, because it’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t like himself much these days.
The eyes in the cowl stare back at him emptily, not much differently than the way he stares at people when he’s wearing it. They show no emotion, compassion or fear. They are the blind eyes of Justice, they know no exceptions or apologies. Humans can’t give True Justice, but True Justice is often heartless and cold.
Clark sits up and reaches out to touch him. Bruce looks at him through the reflection in the glass, and sees the way his hand wavers just before it lands on his naked shoulder. Clark and ‘Lex’ have been fucking for months, their movements are fluid and natural; but Clark and Bruce have always been awkward around each other, reaching out has always been a conscious act, maybe not fluid, but at least meaningful. A Superman that wouldn’t look him in the eye is definitely not what Bruce wanted at all.
“I’m sorry,” Clark whispers, a guilty look in his eyes.
Bruce smiles slightly and feels disgusted with himself. Here is Clark, sweet and kind Clark, offering apologies for something he didn’t start, and he’s just nodding along. The alternative to nodding along is too telling, though, and Bruce doesn’t think Clark should know about the new protocols right now.
Clark moves next to him, and sits on the edge of the bed; his powerful perfect physique right next to Bruce’s powerful but scarred one. His hand slowly travels from Bruce’s shoulder to rest in his own lap as he looks at the star-filled void in silence while Bruce continues to stare at the eyes of the cowl. Blind Judgment. He’s tired and empty; the cowl is looking back at him and burning holes into his soul.
“It looks so fragile,” Clark says, conversationally, like sitting naked in the bed with Batman spacing out is nothing out of the ordinary. Bruce is startled by Clark’s voice, but his eyes never leave the cowl.
“What does?’
“The Earth,” Clark answers and he points at the blue orb that is slowly coming into the field of view.
Bruce finally looks up, and frowns. “It’s tougher than it seems,” he gravels. It doesn’t take superpowers to destroy a beautiful thing, but it would take more than that to crush its spirit.
Clark looks back at him, thoughtful. “It is. You can’t take anything at face value in there. Microscopic things can kill you, roses have thorns, vicious beasts carefully raise their young and all men can surprise you.”
“Men are painfully predictable,” Bruce whispers, feeling Clark’s eyes on his face but refusing to meet his gaze. He knows what will happen if he does, and it’s a deviation from a pattern he has grown to hate. Here is a Superman that’s willing to meet his gaze, and it’s everything Bruce wanted. He doesn’t like feeling exposed under those alien blue eyes.
Clark chuckles, dispelling the sudden tension between them. “Maybe so,” he says as he takes the cowl away from his hands, looking at it just as intently as Bruce had moments before. “But you always surprise me.”
“I’m just a man,” Bruce says, making it sound almost like a confession.
“I’m glad,” Clark says with a smile, putting the cowl away and looking back at Bruce. “You’re a handful as it is.”
Bruce feels his own awkwardness ease a little as he chuckles, so he turns to meets his friend’s gaze for the first time. Clark’s smile is warm and open; it’s a better visual than the earlier sight of Clark pulling away from him.
Bruce knows Clark doesn’t love him, not the way he wishes him to, so he tries very hard not to read too much into his smile. He’s done fooling himself about Clark, he really is, but he really wishes things could be different.
Still, he knows things will change very soon. His agenda regarding Lex will soon become public, and then Clark will know. He won’t forgive him, or rather, he will in time, but their relationship will never be the same again. There will be no more late nights at the Watchtower, no awkward silences while he dresses up and leaves, and most likely the warm open smiles will disappear.
He’ll miss the last thing most of all, but then, he can’t put his desires before The Mission. The Mission is about helping people, stopping madness and crime and giving second chances to those who need them, which is everything Lex is not.
Bruce not only knows this, he can prove it. He’s had access to all Lex’s personal files, though Mercy never knew about it. He’s been monitoring him up close too, getting acquainted with his every little quirk and trait. There’s nothing Lex can hide from him, not when he’s so openly welcome in the man’s home and offices, where every device can be hacked and every move can be seen. Luthor is brilliant and has a good share of healthy, or not so healthy, paranoia (Bruce is willing to admit he’s hardly a good judge of that), but his ego is his biggest weakness. He enjoys having Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, industrialist and philanthropist at his beck and call; loves calling Bruce a whore, to make him beg. He won’t give Bruce up while the amusement lasts, but Bruce has other plans.
He knows what needs to be done, and will do it with surgical precision. Having a Bruce Wayne shaped blind spot clears the way for Batman, regardless of Bruce’s feelings on the matter.
Lex Luthor will be brought down for good and the world will be a better place for it. It doesn’t matter if Clark isn’t happy about it or if he gets angry with him. It doesn’t matter if Bruce’s days become bleaker once the friendly smiles disappear and the knowing eyes grow hurt and distant from betrayal.
So, for the time being, he smiles back at Clark and starts to get dressed. He will survive change, he always has. Even if he doesn’t always like the man he has become.