Fic: Save a horse... (1/2)
Title: Save a horse… (Part 1/2?)
Author: chauve_sourit
Characters: Bruce, Clark, Martha Kent, Jonathan Kent
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff
Warning: not beta-ed - point and I’ll rush to correct
Disclaimer: the boys aren’t mine, the story is
Words: 1037
Summary: 2 cowboys and nothing but countryside… Brokeback Mountain, anyone?
This is for hitokaji ’s birthday (which has already started in her time zone ;)). I hadn’t planned to write a story because I thought I didn’t have enough time, so I didn’t ask for a prompt. Turns out my muse wanted to wish you a happy birthday!
[Epilogue-ish]
“Tell me again… why are we doing this?”
“Because it’s fun, Bruce. And unless you get at least a slight grasp on the basics of how to ride a horse, we’ll never be able to make it out into the countryside on a horseback.”
“So… tell me again, Clark… why were we going to do that?”
“Because it’ll be even more fun. You know, nature, freedom, independence.” Clark gave his lover a good-natured grin that said he didn’t care if Bruce wanted to continue pouting.
“Right. I almost forgot.”, Bruce muttered sarcastically and stared forward, straight through the ears of the black stallion who walked leisurely through the sand of the small hippodrome. He wondered, not for the first time today, how he had gotten himself into this.
------------
Bruce had to admit that Clark hadn’t hidden his plans from him.
After becoming serious about their relationship, they had created a little tradition in which they took turns in planning their weekend activities, often involving introducing the other a bit more into each other’s world.
So in a way, Bruce had known what to expect when the e-mail he had gotten Friday morning said
“Hey! You think you can get your hand on some horseback riding gear? We’re flying out to Kansas tonight and I’d like to show you something over the weekend. C”
Why yes, riding gear, why wouldn’t he have that in his closet?
Luckily, one of the benefits of having an English butler was that he’d know what to wear on the back of a horse, Bruce figured. Wasn’t Great Britain the nation of horseback riding?
If Alfred had wondered what his boss intended to do with the new set of white jodhpurs, black boots, white shirt and shiny black helmet, he didn’t show his interest but merely wished a pleasant weekend and asked to send his regards to Clark and his parents.
Bruce wasn’t all convinced that horseback riding was all that high on the list of things he had wanted to do before he’d die, but part of their little routine was not to ask questions and not to criticize before the fact. Clark had accompanied him to casinos and balls without so much as batting an eye and never losing the smile on his face, so now it would be Bruce’s turn to be a good spurt.
They had arrived quite late on Friday night and after a hearty countryside meal and tea on the Kent’s veranda, the boys decided to call it all night. Clark couldn’t help but hint to the fact that they would need the energy for the next day.
“You thoroughly enjoy this, right? You planning things and me having to comply with what your sneaky Kryptonian mind thought out?”, Bruce had teased gently.
Clark had given him a lop-sided grin. “I do. But I’ll enjoy tomorrow more.”
The next day, Bruce had woken up to a note next to his head, saying that Clark had gone help his dad with some chores and they would meet for breakfast. For a moment Bruce lingered over this little sign of appreciation and love from a son for his father. For a moment he wondered if this admiration he felt for his father now would have been the same if Thomas Wayne hadn’t died. He could only hope that his father would be as proud of him now as he is of all his dad had done for him.
As Bruce had glanced at the watch on the nightstand, he had realized that there was no time for further musings. It was close to 9 and while the Kents usually postponed their breakfast when their son and son-in-law, as they had started calling him, were visiting, he was clearly late by now.
Arriving in the homey kitchen to the smells of bacon, eggs and coffee, Bruce had quickly stolen a kiss from Clark before sitting down with a muttered apology for his lateness.
“Must be the city that’s spoiling you young folks.”, came from behind a newspaper and Bruce had tried to figure out if the farmer’s voice was teasing or mocking.
“Oh, let them be, Jonathan. I want to see you fly through the air to fight crime, write for one of this country’s best newspapers or lead a multi-million company and get up at 5 am every morning. I don’t blame them one bit.”, Martha had smiled mildly at her son’s partner.
Bruce had glanced from the hostess to Clark who had seemed either oblivious to or had chosen to ignore the questioning look on his face.
After the breakfast, Clark had announced that he would go to prepare today’s activities and asked Bruce to quickly change so that they would be able to make as much out of the day.
10 minutes later Bruce, clad in the proper outfit Alfred had provided him with, had come back down to the yard from where he had heard the clatter of hoofs.
As Clark had looked up from cleaning a pinto’s tail, he started to break out in resounding laughter.
“Where...did you get... this outfit?”, he managed under a burst of giggles.
“Hey, this was your idea right? You ask for riding gear, I get you riding gear. What did you expect me to wear?”, Bruce asked defensively, although looking at his friend’s faded blue jeans, red flannel shirt and brown cowboy hat he knew exactly what he had meant.
“Well, shoes or boots that don’t cost an average American’s monthly salary, for instance.”, Clark grinned. “The helmet is good, though. Inopportune, but good.”
“You know, I can leave if you want me to, it’s not a huge deal. I did what you want me to but if that’s somehow not appropriate enough for you…”, Bruce’s voice trailed off, realizing that he couldn’t actually leave, given that they had come to Kansas via the Superman Express.
“It’s okay, really.”, Clark tried to appease his upset friend. “You’ll match perfectly with your… steed.”
Bruce followed the gaze away from the pinto standing next to them to the beautiful black horse in front of the barn.
“Meet your new friend, Bruce. This is Aslan.”
[to be continued…]
Author: chauve_sourit
Characters: Bruce, Clark, Martha Kent, Jonathan Kent
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: G
Genre: Fluff
Warning: not beta-ed - point and I’ll rush to correct
Disclaimer: the boys aren’t mine, the story is
Words: 1037
Summary: 2 cowboys and nothing but countryside… Brokeback Mountain, anyone?
This is for hitokaji ’s birthday (which has already started in her time zone ;)). I hadn’t planned to write a story because I thought I didn’t have enough time, so I didn’t ask for a prompt. Turns out my muse wanted to wish you a happy birthday!
[Epilogue-ish]
“Tell me again… why are we doing this?”
“Because it’s fun, Bruce. And unless you get at least a slight grasp on the basics of how to ride a horse, we’ll never be able to make it out into the countryside on a horseback.”
“So… tell me again, Clark… why were we going to do that?”
“Because it’ll be even more fun. You know, nature, freedom, independence.” Clark gave his lover a good-natured grin that said he didn’t care if Bruce wanted to continue pouting.
“Right. I almost forgot.”, Bruce muttered sarcastically and stared forward, straight through the ears of the black stallion who walked leisurely through the sand of the small hippodrome. He wondered, not for the first time today, how he had gotten himself into this.
------------
Bruce had to admit that Clark hadn’t hidden his plans from him.
After becoming serious about their relationship, they had created a little tradition in which they took turns in planning their weekend activities, often involving introducing the other a bit more into each other’s world.
So in a way, Bruce had known what to expect when the e-mail he had gotten Friday morning said
“Hey! You think you can get your hand on some horseback riding gear? We’re flying out to Kansas tonight and I’d like to show you something over the weekend. C”
Why yes, riding gear, why wouldn’t he have that in his closet?
Luckily, one of the benefits of having an English butler was that he’d know what to wear on the back of a horse, Bruce figured. Wasn’t Great Britain the nation of horseback riding?
If Alfred had wondered what his boss intended to do with the new set of white jodhpurs, black boots, white shirt and shiny black helmet, he didn’t show his interest but merely wished a pleasant weekend and asked to send his regards to Clark and his parents.
Bruce wasn’t all convinced that horseback riding was all that high on the list of things he had wanted to do before he’d die, but part of their little routine was not to ask questions and not to criticize before the fact. Clark had accompanied him to casinos and balls without so much as batting an eye and never losing the smile on his face, so now it would be Bruce’s turn to be a good spurt.
They had arrived quite late on Friday night and after a hearty countryside meal and tea on the Kent’s veranda, the boys decided to call it all night. Clark couldn’t help but hint to the fact that they would need the energy for the next day.
“You thoroughly enjoy this, right? You planning things and me having to comply with what your sneaky Kryptonian mind thought out?”, Bruce had teased gently.
Clark had given him a lop-sided grin. “I do. But I’ll enjoy tomorrow more.”
The next day, Bruce had woken up to a note next to his head, saying that Clark had gone help his dad with some chores and they would meet for breakfast. For a moment Bruce lingered over this little sign of appreciation and love from a son for his father. For a moment he wondered if this admiration he felt for his father now would have been the same if Thomas Wayne hadn’t died. He could only hope that his father would be as proud of him now as he is of all his dad had done for him.
As Bruce had glanced at the watch on the nightstand, he had realized that there was no time for further musings. It was close to 9 and while the Kents usually postponed their breakfast when their son and son-in-law, as they had started calling him, were visiting, he was clearly late by now.
Arriving in the homey kitchen to the smells of bacon, eggs and coffee, Bruce had quickly stolen a kiss from Clark before sitting down with a muttered apology for his lateness.
“Must be the city that’s spoiling you young folks.”, came from behind a newspaper and Bruce had tried to figure out if the farmer’s voice was teasing or mocking.
“Oh, let them be, Jonathan. I want to see you fly through the air to fight crime, write for one of this country’s best newspapers or lead a multi-million company and get up at 5 am every morning. I don’t blame them one bit.”, Martha had smiled mildly at her son’s partner.
Bruce had glanced from the hostess to Clark who had seemed either oblivious to or had chosen to ignore the questioning look on his face.
After the breakfast, Clark had announced that he would go to prepare today’s activities and asked Bruce to quickly change so that they would be able to make as much out of the day.
10 minutes later Bruce, clad in the proper outfit Alfred had provided him with, had come back down to the yard from where he had heard the clatter of hoofs.
As Clark had looked up from cleaning a pinto’s tail, he started to break out in resounding laughter.
“Where...did you get... this outfit?”, he managed under a burst of giggles.
“Hey, this was your idea right? You ask for riding gear, I get you riding gear. What did you expect me to wear?”, Bruce asked defensively, although looking at his friend’s faded blue jeans, red flannel shirt and brown cowboy hat he knew exactly what he had meant.
“Well, shoes or boots that don’t cost an average American’s monthly salary, for instance.”, Clark grinned. “The helmet is good, though. Inopportune, but good.”
“You know, I can leave if you want me to, it’s not a huge deal. I did what you want me to but if that’s somehow not appropriate enough for you…”, Bruce’s voice trailed off, realizing that he couldn’t actually leave, given that they had come to Kansas via the Superman Express.
“It’s okay, really.”, Clark tried to appease his upset friend. “You’ll match perfectly with your… steed.”
Bruce followed the gaze away from the pinto standing next to them to the beautiful black horse in front of the barn.
“Meet your new friend, Bruce. This is Aslan.”
[to be continued…]