Fic: Time And Place (3/4)
Title: Time And Place (3/4)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce o:p>
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Down through the years, across time and space, Clark and Bruce’s love endures.
All chapters can be found here.
Word Count: 1047
Date Of Completion: January 5, 2007
Date Of Posting: January 5, 2007
Chapter Three
The Bronze Age
New Year’s Eve, 1975
Earth-One
Bruce watched the celebrations on the monitors: London, Paris, Seoul, Bangkok, Moscow,
Toronto, Metropolis, Gotham. The Monitor Room in the JLA HQ was stark and utilitarian,
the glamour of New Year’s Eve conspicuously absent. That suited him just fine. He
wasn’t exactly in a festive mood.
He crossed his arms, staring at the monitors without really seeing them. Why were
people so hot to celebrate a new year? Did they really think tearing a page off a
calendar from December 31st to January 1st made any difference?
The sound of the teleporter in the next room alerted him to a new arrival.
“Bruce.”
He turned to see Clark, a slight smile on his handsome face.
“Clark.” His heart beat a little faster. “You’re a little subdued tonight.”
“Well, I don’t see any party hats and horns.”
Despite himself Bruce smiled. “Sorry.”
Clark shrugged as he smiled, joining Bruce at the console. “I’m perfectly happy with a
quiet ringing in of the New Year.”
“Quiet’s the right word for it.” Bruce sighed as he uncrossed his arms.
“Bruce, why so pensive?”
Bruce thought of the struggles of the past several years, that despite his and Dick’s
best efforts, crime seemed to be mushrooming in Gotham as it was across the nation.
Violence was rising and the victims were piling up. People were more pessimistic and
distrusted not just government but each other, the toll that Vietnam and Watergate had
taken. His own natural cynicism was threatening to take over his entire outlook despite
Clark and Dick’s natural optimism trying to pull him back.
Shrugging, Bruce replied, “Looks like my natural pessimism is re-asserting itself.
Looking back on the old year is usually a good trigger.” A wry smile twisted his lips.
“It’s also counterproductive.”
“You can’t learn from your mistakes?”
“Who said I make mistakes?”
Clark laughed at the dry humor, then glanced at the monitors. “Looks like the world is
ready to celebrate, anyway.”
“The human race is nothing if not resilient.”
Clark cocked his head. “Bruce, did you have a fight with Dick?”
Bruce shook his head. “No, in fact he said he’s going to stop by after midnight.”
“Are the Titans doing it up big at the Tower this year?”
“Yes.” Pride tinged Bruce’s voice. “Dick’s done a wonderful job with that team.”
Clark nodded. “He’s a natural leader.”
“He didn’t get it from me.”
Clark laughed again, then said, “Maybe a New Year will bring us better times.”
Bruce rubbed a finger between his eyes. “I’d say the country could use some better times.”
His fist clenched. “It’s been a helluva ride.”
“Contemplative, Bruce?”
“I just…” Bruce felt tired. The man he loved was with him, ready to celebrate, and he
couldn’t even muster a positive thought. “It’s been one thing after another. The whole
damned country came apart at the seams for the last dozen years after so much promise…”
“I know.” Clark’s smile was sad. “I couldn’t save JFK that day in Dallas, or his brother
five years later, or Martin Luther King, or any of the lost souls who lost their lives
or minds these past dozen years…so many I couldn’t save.”
Bruce looked at the face of his lover and mentally kicked himself. Way to go, Bruce!
You’re the life of the party all right.
“Clark…”
“It’s okay.” Clark took a deep breath. “I really think the Bicentennial is coming at a
perfect time, Bruce. Maybe celebrating what’s good about the country for a change will
help the healing start.”
“Aah.” Bruce nodded. “You’re so apple pie, farmboy. You do know that this whole year
of 1976 will be just endlessly kitschy? Every hustler out to make a buck will be
peddling red-white-and-blue?”
Clark’s eyes sparkled like one of those damned disco balls that were all the rage.
“Isn’t that the American way?”
Bruce snorted. “As American as Abe Lincoln or the Statue of Liberty…or P.T. Barnum.”
This time Clark laughed as he moved closer, running his hands up and down Bruce’s arm.
“I’m just a cornfed, red-blooded American boy.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “I guess we can count ourselves lucky that your rocket didn’t
land in Siberia.”
“I think the Cold War would be a little different.” Clark’s lips nuzzled Bruce’s ear.
“Somehow I’m not sure…” he rained feather-light kisses on Bruce’s neck “…that Truth,
Justice, and the Soviet Way has the same ring to it.”
Bruce’s hands began to roam the well-loved body. “I guess your costume would be red.”
“You’d still be Batman in any world.”
Their embrace was tight, their lips meeting as the monitors flickered silently.
When they broke apart, Bruce smiled. “My friend, it’s been a long, strange trip.”
Clark chuckled as he pulled Batman’s cowl down. “I couldn’t do it without you Bruce.”
Mischief danced in his blue eyes. “Maybe I should get you a mood ring.”
“Dick would say that’s perfect because I’m so moody.”
“An intelligent young man.” Clark brushed dark hair out of Bruce’s eyes. “I know it
hasn’t been easy as the promise has died so often. The early ‘60s was a special time,
and then things got dark and muddled, but through it all, we had each other.” Love
shone in Clark’s eyes, his fingers lightly cupping Bruce’s face.
“We were a lot younger then.”
Clark nodded. “We’re older and wiser but my love for you has never wavered.”
Bruce’s hand reached up and curled his glove-clad fingers around Clark’s. “Down through
the years…”
The kiss was passionate, their hands exploring as they stumbled out of the Monitor Room
and down the hall, ending up in Clark’s room. Tumbling gently onto the bed, their
bodies molded together as years of loving each other gave them intimate knowledge, a
symphony of memories that played out as the world inched toward midnight. Costumes
were peeled off and dropped to the floor, mouths tasting each other as strong bodies
entwined.
Desire was as strong as the first time, the years slipping away.
The Monitor Room. A switch flipped.
Countdown.
“10…”
“I love you.” Clark’s voice was breathless.
“…9…”
Bruce covered Clark’s mouth with his own.
“…8…”
Clark thrust upward, Bruce groaning his words.
“…7…”
“Mmm, love you, too.”
“…6…”
“Forever…”
“…5…”
“…and…”
“…4…”
“…a day,”
“…3…”
“all through…”
“…2…”
“…the years.”
“…1!”
“Happy 1976, Clark.”
“Happy 1976, Bruce.”