FICLET: Sparks and Spikes
Title: Sparks and Spikes
Continuity: Comics
Characters: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Warnings: None
Summary: Clark decides to go to a costume ball dressed up as one of Bruce's early Batman designs.
Rating: R
Word Count: 950
Note: Follows up from Sharp Dressed Bat and Bat-Fashion Disaster. Also for
bradygirl_12's 2012 Halloween Challenge! Prompts: Costumes and Masquerade Balls.
As the elevator doors closed, Clark fussed with the shoulders of his costume. It was difficult to keep the points from drooping despite all of his care in choosing materials. The Fortress had refused to help, claiming that the costume design was "overly hazardous to sentient life," although Clark suspected the AI was just aesthetically offended. It had taken a lot of effort, but Clark was certain it would be worth it when he emerged into the ballroom and got a look at Bruce's face at the sight of him, decked out in full teenage-fantasy-spiky-Batman glory. He couldn't help a bit of a satisfied smirk at the thought of it--and why should he, as surely a smirk was an essential part of the ensemble, after all.
This was going to be the best Halloween masquerade Clark had ever--
The elevator stopped three floors short of the ballroom and a figure stepped in to join Clark.
An icy silence descended as Clark took in the trim, streamlined form, clad in a body-hugging electric-blue leotard with a bold, stylized silver-blue "S" zig-zagging across the front. Familiar eyes glinted at him from a--great Scott, the man had actually dyed his face and hair blue. As a final indignity, azure energy danced around the suit, filling the elevator with crackling power.
Clark hit the "stop elevator" button and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hand.
"What," said Bruce's voice from sapphire-tinted lips, "Did you really think I didn't anticipate your costuming choice?"
"That's not fair," Clark said with as much dignity as he could muster while wearing foot-tall shoulder spikes. "I didn't choose to look like that."
"On the other hand, you actually did look like this, while the costume you're wearing never got out of the planning stages," Bruce said cooly. "So which of us is the fashion disaster?"
"You can't go to a ball in that," Clark said, putting his hand out to feel electricity play across it. "You'll electrocute the guests if you dance with them."
"But it's okay if you shish-kebab Vicki Vale?"
"Apparently we're both too dangerous to civilians right now," Clark said, dabbling his fingers in the indigo spray of energy. "Besides which, I'm not sure I want to wait all night to find out whether or not you took the time to paint your entire body blue."
Bruce looked offended, tossing a lock of dark blue hair out of his eyes. "Clark, you've seen my notebooks, so you know I take costuming very seriously. Do you really think I would do a half-assed job?"
Clark shifted his touch to a sharp blue cheekbone; Bruce rubbed against it like a cat, leaving smudges on the black gauntlet. "I'm pretty sure whatever you do, you do whole-assed."
Bruce drew near, managing to avoid a variety of sharp edges on the elaborate bat-costume. "Oh, here's an extra spike I don't remember including," he said with satisfaction as his hands wandered down Clark's body. "I approve of the improvisation."
"Damn you," Clark said. Bruce's neck tasted like electricity and sweat. "You've got a room reserved on this floor and this is all a plan to keep me too busy to show up at the masquerade in this, isn't it?"
"Mm," Bruce said. "How's it working?"
"You're an evil genius," muttered Clark, mashing the "door open" button.
"It's not me," mumbled Bruce as they staggered down the hall, both doing their best to grope the other, "It's the costume. No one can resist the unearthly sexiness of Electric Blue Superman."
"You never told me you thought it was sexy." They banged against the door; Bruce dodged Clark's hands long enough to produce a key card from somewhere and get it open.
"What was I going to say? 'My valued teammate, your blue skin and incandescent eyes make me want to jump you even more than I usually do?'"
Oh Rao, he really had painted his whole body blue, Clark discovered to his delight. "I wouldn't have minded that a bit," he managed between kisses and licks. He probably looked like a refugee from an Avatar cosplay now, but he didn't care.
"Besides which, it was a vast improvement on the mullet," Bruce announced.
Clark groaned. "Will you never let me live that down? I had just come back from the dead, I'm allowed a small fashion mistake."
"Small? That mullet was anything but--" Bruce stopped talking when Clark did his best to kiss the memory of the mullet right out of him; unfortunately amnesia kisses were not part of his power set, whatever that unauthorized movie they'd made about him claimed. Still, when the kiss was over he'd stopped bringing up Clark's past hairstyles, and Clark was willing to settle for that.
"I promise never to mention the notebook again if you promise to drop some of my more unfortunate choices," Clark breathed against abs like carved turquoise.
"What would be the fun of that?" Bruce's hands were busy with buckles and straps, but eventually he snarled with frustration. "Enough! I'll just take you spikes and all."
"I thought that was my line," smirked Clark, but his smirk fell away with a gasp as Bruce's hands did something quite innovative and his lips followed suit.
Between the electricity and the jagged edges, the bed was quite a dangerous place, but that only seemed to make the challenge more worthwhile.
Continuity: Comics
Characters: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Warnings: None
Summary: Clark decides to go to a costume ball dressed up as one of Bruce's early Batman designs.
Rating: R
Word Count: 950
Note: Follows up from Sharp Dressed Bat and Bat-Fashion Disaster. Also for
bradygirl_12's 2012 Halloween Challenge! Prompts: Costumes and Masquerade Balls.
As the elevator doors closed, Clark fussed with the shoulders of his costume. It was difficult to keep the points from drooping despite all of his care in choosing materials. The Fortress had refused to help, claiming that the costume design was "overly hazardous to sentient life," although Clark suspected the AI was just aesthetically offended. It had taken a lot of effort, but Clark was certain it would be worth it when he emerged into the ballroom and got a look at Bruce's face at the sight of him, decked out in full teenage-fantasy-spiky-Batman glory. He couldn't help a bit of a satisfied smirk at the thought of it--and why should he, as surely a smirk was an essential part of the ensemble, after all.
This was going to be the best Halloween masquerade Clark had ever--
The elevator stopped three floors short of the ballroom and a figure stepped in to join Clark.
An icy silence descended as Clark took in the trim, streamlined form, clad in a body-hugging electric-blue leotard with a bold, stylized silver-blue "S" zig-zagging across the front. Familiar eyes glinted at him from a--great Scott, the man had actually dyed his face and hair blue. As a final indignity, azure energy danced around the suit, filling the elevator with crackling power.
Clark hit the "stop elevator" button and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hand.
"What," said Bruce's voice from sapphire-tinted lips, "Did you really think I didn't anticipate your costuming choice?"
"That's not fair," Clark said with as much dignity as he could muster while wearing foot-tall shoulder spikes. "I didn't choose to look like that."
"On the other hand, you actually did look like this, while the costume you're wearing never got out of the planning stages," Bruce said cooly. "So which of us is the fashion disaster?"
"You can't go to a ball in that," Clark said, putting his hand out to feel electricity play across it. "You'll electrocute the guests if you dance with them."
"But it's okay if you shish-kebab Vicki Vale?"
"Apparently we're both too dangerous to civilians right now," Clark said, dabbling his fingers in the indigo spray of energy. "Besides which, I'm not sure I want to wait all night to find out whether or not you took the time to paint your entire body blue."
Bruce looked offended, tossing a lock of dark blue hair out of his eyes. "Clark, you've seen my notebooks, so you know I take costuming very seriously. Do you really think I would do a half-assed job?"
Clark shifted his touch to a sharp blue cheekbone; Bruce rubbed against it like a cat, leaving smudges on the black gauntlet. "I'm pretty sure whatever you do, you do whole-assed."
Bruce drew near, managing to avoid a variety of sharp edges on the elaborate bat-costume. "Oh, here's an extra spike I don't remember including," he said with satisfaction as his hands wandered down Clark's body. "I approve of the improvisation."
"Damn you," Clark said. Bruce's neck tasted like electricity and sweat. "You've got a room reserved on this floor and this is all a plan to keep me too busy to show up at the masquerade in this, isn't it?"
"Mm," Bruce said. "How's it working?"
"You're an evil genius," muttered Clark, mashing the "door open" button.
"It's not me," mumbled Bruce as they staggered down the hall, both doing their best to grope the other, "It's the costume. No one can resist the unearthly sexiness of Electric Blue Superman."
"You never told me you thought it was sexy." They banged against the door; Bruce dodged Clark's hands long enough to produce a key card from somewhere and get it open.
"What was I going to say? 'My valued teammate, your blue skin and incandescent eyes make me want to jump you even more than I usually do?'"
Oh Rao, he really had painted his whole body blue, Clark discovered to his delight. "I wouldn't have minded that a bit," he managed between kisses and licks. He probably looked like a refugee from an Avatar cosplay now, but he didn't care.
"Besides which, it was a vast improvement on the mullet," Bruce announced.
Clark groaned. "Will you never let me live that down? I had just come back from the dead, I'm allowed a small fashion mistake."
"Small? That mullet was anything but--" Bruce stopped talking when Clark did his best to kiss the memory of the mullet right out of him; unfortunately amnesia kisses were not part of his power set, whatever that unauthorized movie they'd made about him claimed. Still, when the kiss was over he'd stopped bringing up Clark's past hairstyles, and Clark was willing to settle for that.
"I promise never to mention the notebook again if you promise to drop some of my more unfortunate choices," Clark breathed against abs like carved turquoise.
"What would be the fun of that?" Bruce's hands were busy with buckles and straps, but eventually he snarled with frustration. "Enough! I'll just take you spikes and all."
"I thought that was my line," smirked Clark, but his smirk fell away with a gasp as Bruce's hands did something quite innovative and his lips followed suit.
Between the electricity and the jagged edges, the bed was quite a dangerous place, but that only seemed to make the challenge more worthwhile.