april catch-all.

[beknight]

Who: bruce wayne (beknight) & various others.
What: shenanigans for april
When: throughout april
Where: everywhere
Warning(s): none yet, will add if needed.

Comments

CLARK | backdated to feb 29th.

[beknight]

[ February 29th. Serviceable, he supposes, since the real date and the real calendar are lost. The gift itself takes somewhat longer to think of, less time-consuming than the book, but equally valuable. Clark likes quality time, likes understanding, and it comes up against the strong undercurrent Bruce has of wanting to push people away. ]

[ He pings Clark with the GPS, and waits for him outside the training room. ]

[apricitous]

[ There's nothing back on the communicator. Instead, a few minutes later...]

One day, the coordinates will come with a message. I'm looking forward to that.

[ He walks up, dressed in his usual attire, clearly unaware that there'd be any reason he'd be getting something special. The tone is teasing, though, pleased to see Bruce and pleased to get the chance to see him. ]

[beknight]

[ It's a little much to wish for. Bruce shrugs minutely — casually dressed himself, coat collar turned up against the wind. What wind? It's inside, the training room having taken the atmosphere of the sprawling Wayne estate on a brisk autumn day, when the leaves are just beginning to change colour. It's a clear sky, windy enough. The Gotham skyline in the distance, and through the trees, the outline of the burnt out husk of Wayne Manor, its sprawling guts replicated down to the most minute detail. Everything in this room was deliberately made. ]

[ The door fades behind them, and Bruce just starts walking. ]

[apricitous]

[ Clark doesn't say anything else. He just smiles at the little shrug and walks forward, reaching out for Bruce's hand even if he won't take it. He'll leave Bruce to take it. He's looking around at the Manor, the lands around it, taking in the wind and the chill and the feel of it all.

After all, something in this is for him. He knows that. He knows this is Bruce being sweet and he's going to enjoy it for what it is. ]

[beknight]

[ He doesn't take it. But he stays close, in that careless, absent way people are when they don't mind someone near them. The wind whistles through the dying grass around the Manor, trees turning riots of colour closer to the lakehouse. There's laughter in the distance, two distinct voices, two boys. But they're out of sight — one is always with him, the other is a wraith. A third joins them, a girl. ]

[ They were never together like this in life. But it's a good story — he tells it. ]

[apricitous]

[ Clark nods, an acceptance, before walking beside him, watching the story play out. Or rather, listening. He watches the leaves and the trees, the manor, but mostly he watches Bruce. ]

[beknight]

[ Mostly, Bruce watches him, out of the corner of his eye. He's relaxed, curious, the questions might follow. Clark's a reporter — Bruce's relationship with the fourth estate is complicated at best. ]

[ For the moment he volunteers nothing. This is enough of a blazing display. ]

[apricitous]

[ It is. And him being a reporter, well... it's actually why he doesn't want to ask questions in this case. He asks questions when something's being withheld. Right now, Bruce is as open as he can be. And that's a gift.

He'll just listen and watch and be here. He's curious if more voices will join the three. ]

[beknight]

[ No more do. Bruce pauses by the doorway — they've walked up the path to the house — just listening. Then, once the door closes behind them, the noise abruptly ceases. The house is quiet, the world outside turned to dusk. ]

[ He leads the way in, through the sliding door. The Cave opens up in front of them, precisely cut glass, everything lit and arranged. The sound of water falling is a constant companion to his footsteps. There's a case at the bottom of the steps, with graffiti scrawled across the uniform. On the Batmobile, there's a plate with crumbs, left there for Alfred. There is no hologram of Superman — Bruce has left that memory in the privacy of his own mind. The only redemption is upstairs, outside, the sound of that laughter. ]

[apricitous]

[ He'll follow along, looking around with obvious curiousity. He has questions on his face, things he wants to know, but he's determined not to have the first thing out of his mouth be a judgement or a question. Finally- ]

I was curious about the echoes.

[beknight]

[ He looks around. ]

The previous installation was roomier.

[ And had real bats, something Clark would no doubt find amusing. ]

[apricitous]

[ He would. Also- ]

Why'd you move?

[beknight]

[ Acidly, ]

Because I burned my house down.

[ A lot follows. Now it's an even bigger eyesore, don't know what to do with that place anyway. He settles instead to press at the computer screen, for the illusion of doing something spontaneous. ]

[apricitous]

[ There's a variety of things he can think to say to that, but he's not sure which one is the best one. That's why he just makes a noncommittal noise and settles into another chair, scooting it over to sit with Bruce. It's a little bit calling his bluff but mostly just joining him. ]

[beknight]

[ Clark leaves very little distance between them — enough for shoulders to brush, to reach across. It's a little bit calling his bluff, but Bruce doesn't remark on it, nor does he intend to while away the afternoon in a mood that someone needs to mitigate. He just sits in his chair, absorbs the comfortable silence. ]

You must have questions.

[apricitous]

Of course.

[ Bruce wasn't wrong, after all. ]

But you don't sit in front of a full table and ask about dessert.

[beknight]

And you'd rather ask permission than forgiveness.

[ Something he already knew — or Clark would have taken that ship instead of leave it in the hands of S.T.A.R. Labs, amongst other things. It's fine. Bruce is here to do the opposite when it's necessary. More often than necessary. ]

[apricitous]

I'd rather not know something than make you feel as if you don't want to tell it to me.

[ A slight correction, but an important one. ]

[beknight]

[ A short sound: sharp, amused. Followed by a soft sigh — he scrubs his hand through his hair. He wants to laugh at this, honestly, he really does, but truthfully he's drawn to it, wants it constantly, and that's become a kind of tired resignation. Of knowing he's always going to be a little off-balance around Clark. ]

Do you like the car?

[ Trick question: the only answer is yes. ]

[apricitous]

[ The laugh, short as it sounds, makes him smile and the sigh just has him shrugging. It's just how he feels. As for the car: ]

Aesthetically or for practical matters?

[ It IS yes, but he's going to make him work for it a little. ]

[beknight]

[ With a faint air of fond exasperation, ]

Clark.

[ The answer is both. ]

[apricitous]

Do you want me to just say it's a very nice car?

[ He's trying not to be patronizing or a simple yes man.]

Yes, it's a lovely car.

[beknight]

[ He hums, soft and pleased. ]

Think you might like to drive it?

[apricitous]

I think...

[ How do you actually answer that?]

I have no idea what it'd be like to drive it. A lot different from a tractor. Or a Toyota.

[beknight]

You'll have to keep wondering, because there's no chance of it.

[ He punctuates with a quick, mischievous smirk. Even Dick, the clear favourite, had to wear him down to get into the driver's seat. ]