mithen | Fic: Where the Lightning Strikes

Title: Where the Lightning Strikes
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Bruce
Rating: PG-13
Summary: While double-checking Fortress security, Batman hacks into Clark's diaries.
Word count: 4700
Notes: For the World's Finest Gift Exchange:  F08: Clark is feeling blue, and Bruce does something special for him.

"January twelve. Wednesday. Today was a good day at work--I even got a compliment from Perry for filing two stories early for a change. Plus I got to spend a little time with Jimmy over lunch. I haven't gotten to spend much time with him lately. Good kid. He mostly talked about how amazing Superman was, and I had a hard time keeping myself from rolling my eyes a bit. I did that once a while ago and seriously offended him. There's really no way to explain that I don't "disrespect the Man of Steel." Besides that, though, a good lunch. We had salads from the deli next door..."

Clark's voice continued to drone from the speakers, bouncing in odd echoes off the stone walls of the cave. Batman rested his chin in his hand and studied the monitor, which was showing a jumble of Kryptonian symbols--the writing direction of Kryptonian technical script varied between right-left, left-right, and down-up depending on the context and purpose, which was enough to give almost anyone a headache.

"Lois complimented my tie. I'm not sure if she was being sarcastic or not, to be honest. With Lois it can sometimes be hard to tell."

There was a long-standing agreement between Superman and Batman that the latter would attempt to hack the former's Fortress security and records at any time and report any weakness back to Kal-El. A few days ago, during a routine hacking run, Batman had found a highly-encrypted set of files, hundreds of them. Intrigued by the challenge, he had finally managed to break the coding to find a mix of sound files, video files, and text files which appeared to be...Superman's personal diaries.

Batman had been somewhat irked that Superman was keeping such records, even highly encrypted and locked under tight security. If the man were blabbing League secrets here...

"Wally made the coffee today. God, I hate when he's on coffee duty at the Watchtower. He makes the worst sludge..."

But Superman almost never seemed to talk or write about anything that could be considered a serious security risk, Batman concluded after listening to a few of the sound files at random. That meant the Kryptonian didn't merit a scolding. So Batman went back to doing the usual routine things of the day--metallurgy tests, fingerprint analysis, managing Bruce Wayne's schedule.

He wasn't exactly sure why he left the old sound files of Clark's diary playing in the background, to be honest. At first he told himself it was so he could keep checking for security risks. But by the end of the week, with Clark's voice still nattering about his favorite cereal and the nice sunrise he'd seen...it was becoming increasingly obvious there was no real reason to keep listening to them.

And yet he did.

If Clark had shown up in person to tell him he'd saved a cat with three legs or that so-and-so's new costume design was very striking for hours on end, Bruce would have shown him the door. But having Clark's voice resonating off the stalactites, just...there, was rather soothing somehow.

The recording currently playing--this one from a month ago--captured a long sigh and a sound of cracking joints. "Man," said Clark's voice. "I hate to whine, but I wish they'd finally figure out how to get some baths onto the Watchtower. I know the engineers have been working on how to get the system to work efficiently enough for years now, and it can hardly be top priority, but it would sure be nice to have a long hot soak after a mission instead of the dinky showers we have." A wry laugh.  "Listen to me bitch and moan. I guess that's why I have this, though. Spare everyone else the griping."

Batman stared down at his hands on the keyboard, caught off-guard somehow by the wistfulness in Clark's voice. Well. It wouldn't do anyone any serious harm to move the issue of better plumbing up on his itinerary, right? He dialed a number on the communicator: JSA headquarters.

"Michael? I was wondering if we could meet to talk about water filtration systems..."

: : :

"...and Mr. Terrific is next, with an update on new tech," said Superman, stepping aside for the other superhero.

Mr. Terrific pulled up some schemata of the Watchtower. "The only new innovation of mention this month is that we've finally got the bath system working." Wally whooped, then hushed himself at quelling glares from Diana and Bruce. "Sorry to leave everyone waiting so long; it took a while to figure out how best to recycle the water to cut back on waste. But there was a breakthrough last month and I'm pleased to say the baths should be operational within a few weeks. One for the men and one for the ladies, of course."

Superman took the floor again, unable to keep a grin from his face. He'd wanted the chance for a nice soak at the Watchtower for ages and now it finally looked like that would be a possibility in the near future. "No cannonballs in the bath, Wally," he said mock-sternly, and everyone laughed except Batman. But even the Dark Knight looked pleased. He was nearly smiling as he watched Superman pull up the monitor duty roster. Clark couldn't help but beam back at him.

Things were definitely looking up.

: : :

"...it shouldn't bother me. It shouldn't bother me. I should be bigger than that." The echoes from the cave walls couldn't disguise the agitation in Clark's voice. "But being Clark Kent, being a good reporter--it's important to me. I hate letting them down at work. I hate it so much. But I'm not going to be able to get that story done for tomorrow. This is the first five minutes I've had to myself all week, and even now I'm doing League paperwork while I record this. Oh, and running tests on some aberrations in the teleporter system to see if the Fortress can catch them."   Clark's voice broke down into Kryptonian for a moment, as it tended to do when dealing with scientific matters. "Anyway," he continued in English after a few sentences about the teleporter glitches. "I know Perry's going to chew me out tomorrow in front of everyone, and I always feel so guilty, and I guess I deserve it, and I'm babbling. Got to focus on the zhilystarren pilorothadzh..." and it was back into Kryptonian.

The entry had been recorded just a few hours ago. Batman realized he was chewing on his lip a bit. It wasn't like this would be hard. Hell, everyone at the Planet would probably benefit. And since he owned the Planet, this was just good business sense.

Yes, good business sense.

: : :

"...and I promise--I promise, Chief--that I'll work all weekend until it's done."

Perry was smiling at him, which made Clark look nervously behind him in case Lois or Jimmy had sneaked up behind him while he wasn't paying attention. "That's okay, Clark. No problem. I'm sure it'll be a great story when you get it done."

Clark blinked. "You're in a...good mood this morning."

Perry brandished a small red box. "A gift from a secret admirer--'for all my good work at the paper,'" he read off the card attached. He opened the box and held it below his nose, inhaling the aroma of tobacco. "I mean, I don't smoke often anymore, but it just warms my heart to know I've got these for special occasions. In fact, I think today is a special occasion," he announced, pulling one stogie out of the box.

Clark hastily scanned the cigars with every form of vision he had, but they seemed to be exactly what they looked like: apparently sometimes a cigar was just a cigar. Perry was still admiring the one in his hand, brandishing it delicately in front of Clark as if it were a sacred relic. "A Fuente Fuente Opus X, Kent. The holy grail of cigars."

He was sighing over it in a rapture of anticipation as Clark eased himself out of the office. He didn't even remember to complain about Clark calling him "Chief."

The Planet bullpen was a much nicer place to be for a few days.

: : :

"You want me to help test what?"

Batman huffed in exasperation. "I'm working on some advanced sound buffers that should completely block almost all sound waves. And because there is no instrument in existence as sensitive as Kryptonian hearing, I'm requesting your help."

Superman held up the sound blockers, which looked rather like glass earmuffs. "So you need me to..."

"Wear those and go to the edge of the atmosphere, where you could usually hear sounds from all over the world. Then just wait there while I run some tests and tell me if you can hear anything. It should take about an hour or so."

Superman grimaced slightly. "You'll be able to cut in, right? I won't be completely isolated?"

"I promise I'll contact you immediately if there's any emergency that Kara, Power Girl, Green Lantern or Wonder Woman together can't deal with," said Batman, and was rewarded with an eye-roll.

Superman slipped the earphones on. "I'll activate them once you're in position," Batman said, and Superman nodded and lifted off in a swirl of red cape.

A few seconds later, Superman's voice came over the link: "Okay, I'm here. I can hear the usual sounds--" Batman flipped the switch and Clark fell silent. "Oh," he said after a moment. "Oh."

"What can you hear?" Batman said, calibrating the equipment slightly.

"Nothing," Superman said. "Well, nothing but your voice."

"Okay," Batman said abstractly. "Just stay there for a while and let me know if you hear anything." He did a few measurements, but mostly he was remembering the diary entry from last year.

"This is a ridiculous thing to bother me, but you know what makes me sad sometimes? That I never get to just enjoy how beautiful Earth is from space. It's so gorgeous, but I can never stop and really admire it for long. There's always some emergency, some crisis I can hear and have to rush to. Just once I'd like to be able to see the Earth from space and just...watch it and let its beauty fill my vision."

Twenty minutes went by in silence. Then Clark drew in a long, shaky breath, full of something close to awe. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" Batman said, keeping his voice brusque.

"Just...thank you," said Clark. "You have no idea what this means to me. It's so beautiful. So quiet."

"Hmph," said Batman. "Well, I need you to stay there a while longer."

"Okay," said Clark.

Bruce listened to his soft breathing over the comm link, letting it fill his ears. Only when he glanced at his clock did he realize he'd let forty minutes go by without taking a single measurement.

: : :

After that it became a challenge, and then something close to an obsession. Bruce combed Clark's audio diaries, and then the reams of print diaries, poring over the Kryptonian script looking for ideas, little things that would brighten Clark's day without him even noticing. By picking entries from months or even years back, he kept Clark from noticing any pattern to the serendipitous events. There were a lot that were so small and easy they took almost no effort at all. Others required a little more work. A casual reference to missing an old Schwinn bike he had as a kid led to Bruce Wayne needing to clean out "some junk from the garage, if anyone in the League would like something." When he'd opened up the garage for them to pick through, Clark's eyes had lit up at the sight of the old bicycle strategically placed near the front.

Bruce had "accidentally" tripped Wally as he went for the bike.

He'd even started tapping into the video diaries, although it made him uncomfortable to have Clark apparently addressing him earnestly from his computer monitor, sharing all the details of his day. Sometimes Clark would wander around the Fortress, chatting at the diary as the floating camera followed him around, watching him do chores, run tests. It was distressingly like hanging out with Clark. Bruce got less work done when checking the video diaries, somehow. He had a tendency to pause the recording, study Clark's face intently. Was that smile forced? Were those worry lines around the blue eyes? He'd said he wasn't tired, but was he lying to his own diary?

"...need to get back to work." A blur of motion and the recording came to an end. Bruce moved on to the next one, from about a year ago.

Clark blinked onto the screen, rubbing his shoulders tiredly. "Rough week," he said with an apologetic grin. He talked for a while about the battle the League had fought that day against Mirror Master. Bruce remembered that one. "...and then I broke away, but I was too late. The other hologram had gotten a good hit in on Batman." Clark sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Bruce," he said, his voice muffled. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Bruce heard himself say reflexively.

Clark looked up again, his face haggard. "Dr. Mid-Nite says he'll be okay, and he's already bitching and complaining about being out of action. But I--" he paused and closed his eyes for a moment. "--I heard his arm break. That one noise, in the middle of all the battle. I heard it."

He sat silently for a very long time, gazing out from the screen, his eyes far away. Bruce found himself staring back. Clark rarely spoke of Batman in these diaries, except dryly and factually. Bruce had expected him to be constantly complaining about Batman, so he wasn't sure exactly why Clark's silence on the topic made him feel vaguely...dissatisfied.

On the screen, Clark shook his head as if pushing away a nightmare vision. "Anyway," he said, standing up. "The important thing is he'll be okay." He unfastened the cape and draped it over a chair, every move slow, cautious, crying out of exhaustion. He'd strained some muscles in that battle himself, Bruce remembered.

Clark sighed and pulled his shirt over his head. Bruce blinked in surprise at the sight of a great deal of bare skin. "Gotta remember to get Jimmy a birthday present," Clark muttered, slurring his words a bit with weariness. "Maybe we could go sightseeing in Kandor again, he liked that before." He pulled off one red boot, then another, letting them fall to the ground with a thump. He hooked his thumbs into the blue tights and started to work them down bit by bit.

Bruce looked around the cave nervously, but there was no sign of Alfred or the boys. He didn't want them to see Clark like this--he glanced back at the screen--gloriously and totally nude.

Clark stretched, a long ripple of muscles, and Bruce felt his mouth go dry. The stretch turned into a jaw-cracking yawn, and Clark turned to pad toward the bedroom, his eyes already half-closed, asleep on his feet. The camera followed him, and Bruce was slightly alarmed at the way the camera kept following the trim, taut curves of the Kryptonian's backside, until he realized it wasn't the camera keeping such a tight focus, it was his own gaze.

Clark tumbled onto the silvery bed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, asleep before he landed. He rolled onto his back, pulling a blanket over himself with a soft murmur. He slept with his limbs spread out in every direction, taking up most of the bed.

He'd be a pain to share a bed with, Bruce thought.

Waiting for the command to stop recording that never came, the camera continued to linger on Clark's face, pale in the dim crystalline light.

Bruce watched over him through the night, guarding his sleep just as if the recording weren't a year old.

: : :

"You'd think an eidetic memory would be really useful, but I've been trying to remember a story I read when I was a kid for ages now and no luck. It's right on the tip of my tongue, too! It was a science fiction story about two policemen who had to escort a pair of alien political refugees back to their home planet, the aliens are lovers...damn it. I loved that story. If I could just remember any of the characters' names...damn it!"

Clark entered the Watchtower kitchen whistling. "You're in a good mood," Diana noted, looking up from her coffee. Next to her, Batman was scowling over a notepad and Wally was consuming a very large sandwich.

"I guess I am," Clark said. "I don't know, things just have been going my way recently." He poured a glass on milk and sat down at an empty table. There was a book sitting on the table, a collection of stories: A Saucerful of Loneliness, by Theodore Sturgeon. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out to flip through it, excitement prickling through him. "I think...this is...Oh my God!" He waved the book at his teammates, hearing his voice crack upward. "I was just thinking about this story, this one, 'The World Well Lost,' I couldn't remember it and this is it!"

Diana smiled politely; Wally continued working on his sandwich; Bruce grunted.

Clark leafed through the story, feeling the half-remembered words come flooding back, recalling his boyish tears at the ending. It was even better than he had remembered. "Whose book is this?" he asked, his voice shaking a little.

"Dunno," said Wally. "It was there when I came in." The other two shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," Clark said. "Now that I know what it is, I can buy my own copy." Impulsively, he hugged the book to his chest for a second. "I don't know," he said at the astonished glances from his teammates, "I just feel like I've got a guardian angel looking out for me lately." He shrugged, embarrassed. "I know it's silly."

Diana finished her coffee, rose and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm glad things are going well for you," she said as she headed out.

Wally grinned. "Guardian angel," he laughed, and was gone.

Bruce was still looking at his notepad; he seemed to be making some kind of flow chart. "Do you mind if I stay here and read this story again? I want to savor it," Clark said. "Don't worry," he added hastily, "I won't interrupt you with any more unseemly displays of emotion."

"I don't mind," said Bruce.

: : :

Monitor Duty was slow, which gave Bruce a chance to pat himself on the back a little about his latest achievements. After his shift was over, Brucie was appearing at a fund-raiser that would net Metropolis Children's Hospital a new phase-sensitive inversion recovery MRI--Clark had been worried about the hospital's dearth of cutting-edge MRI recently. And on top of that--

"Bruce, Bruce, you won't believe it!" Superman charged onto the observation deck at what had to be near top speed.

"Try me," said Batman.

"Gray Ghost is finally out on DVD!"

"Really?" Bruce allowed interest to color his voice. It had taken a lot of work to cut through the red tape that had been holding up production of the DVDs for nearly a decade. "That's good news."

"Oh come on, Bruce," Clark laughed. "You're the only person I know who's a bigger Gray Ghost fanboy than I am. Stop playing it so cool, you're as thrilled as I am."

His enthusiasm was infectious and Bruce found himself smiling back at Clark. "Okay, okay, I'll be looking forward to seeing them."

"How about tonight? With me?"

"Ton--what?"

Clark bounced on the balls of his feet, weightless. "I bought them already, Bruce. We can have a Gray Ghost marathon together." He grinned, boyishly happy. "We can argue about which episodes are best, eat some popcorn."

Batman looked down at the monitors and adjusted some of the cameras to hide his sudden consternation. Arranging reality so it suited Clark Kent was one thing; actually sitting next to him on a couch for hours, listening to him laugh, sharing popcorn, having him just an arms'-length away...this was an entirely different thing. An unnerving thing. So much less safe.

Besides, he reminded himself, there was this MRI to get funded.

"I...wish I could," he said. "But there's a charity function I have to attend, and then it's a double patrol with Robin off with the Titans..."

He half-expected--half-hoped--Clark would insist, but the other man only smiled and swatted his shoulder. "No problem. I can always watch them again with you later if you find the time." He was whistling the theme song to Gray Ghost as he wandered off, leaving the Watchtower a great deal emptier.

Later, in the cave once again, Bruce finished up some fingerprint analysis and started to run some statistics through the computer. The cave was nearly silent except for the eerie yet familiar rustling of the bats. There were still a few months' worth of audio diaries he hadn't gone through yet. He typed in the string of commands that would break through Fortress security and into the diary files.

There was a new video diary, recorded just an hour ago.

Bruce stared at it for a long time. Maybe Clark would talk about his new DVDs. It would be pleasant to hear him happy, to see him smile.

He opened the file.

But Clark didn't look happy as his image filled the screen. He looked...wistful. A little rueful. "I've never talked about this here," he said without preamble. "Well, I've never talked about it anywhere. It would make it all seem...too real. But..." He grimaced slightly. "...but I can't lie to myself about it any longer."

He leaned forward, looking at the camera like a confidant and lowering his voice as if there was a soul in the Arctic wasteland that could hear him. "I asked him out on a date today," Clark said. "I didn't really mean to. But I was feeling so happy, and I guess I was hoping my lucky streak would hold out, or my guardian angel was still watching over me." He laughed a little, with a self-deprecating edge. "No such luck, apparently. But the rest of the day was great..."

He was still talking, but Bruce's mind was already furiously at work, making plans despite his shock at hearing the male pronoun being used. Who exactly would have the gall to turn down a date with Superman? And more importantly, how could Batman get him to see the error of his ways? If it was Kyle, it would be easy--he'd just need a confidence boost to make up for how overwhelmed he probably was at the mere idea. If it was someone like Hal or Ollie it might be tougher, especially since Bruce wasn't sure they were interested in men. But some judicious schedule arrangement would give Clark time alone with them, and--well, there was certainly no one in the world who wouldn't find Clark appealing, given enough time with him.

There was a part of him, buried deep below the scheming and planning, that seemed somehow inconsolably desolate. But there was no need to dwell on that part right now, when there was work to be done. Batman pulled up the JLA duty roster, eyeing it critically, as Clark continued:

"...and the end of the day wasn't even that bad, really. Awkward for me, but that's about all the damage, I think.  I'm...not even sure he realized I was asking him on a date, actually. I was pretty shocked I even had the nerve to do it. But he smiled at me, and I just...I wanted to just lean in and kiss that smile so much, it's so rare and so damn beautiful...and the next thing I knew I was asking him out." Clark rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "He didn't say 'hell no' or anything, just that he was busy. Some charity function he had to attend."

Bruce's hands froze on the duty roster he'd been arranging.

On the screen, Clark ran his hands through his hair and made an exasperated noise. "So I don't know if he realized I was hitting on him or not, but if he did he was really polite. And if he didn't I'm really relieved, because I'd hate to have one of my closest friends realize I've been perving on him like a fiend since the moment I met him." He was blushing now. "Oh man, I don't want to get started detailing my torrid sexual bat-fantasies in this diary, because there'd be no end. And I--" he broke off, swallowed. "I love him too much, as a friend and a comrade, to screw up everything by letting him know much I...how much more I feel in other ways."

Bruce couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Clark's face, flushed and half-smiling, talking about--talking about--

"I'm so glad I found that Sturgeon book, because I finally have that quote that I almost remembered. It'd been driving me crazy," Clark said. "Why must we love where the lightning strikes, and not where we choose?" He smiled, a full smile this time, bright and joyous. "But I'd choose it anyway. I would. I don't need him to love me back. All I want is to make him a little bit happier somehow. As a friend is just as good as a lover. Just to see him smile now and then." He sighed, his eyes far away, seeing something beautiful that Bruce couldn't, couldn't see.

Then he went on to some other detail of the day, something about work. Bruce reached out with fingers gone numb with shock and rewound the recording until he was looking at the moment Clark smiled, as if he were looking at something precious. For a very long time he sat in the silent cave, just watching the still image, twining his hands tightly together so they wouldn't shake.

Then he tapped on the communicator and called Clark.

"What is it?" The voice on the other end of the line was crisp, businesslike. Superman's voice.

"You know," said Bruce, still watching the frozen image on his monitor, "I don't know what I was thinking. My charity function tonight--it's in Metropolis. And I bet I can slip out early. Is that invitation still open to watch Gray Ghost?"

Superman's voice collapsed into Clark's. "Really? That would be awesome! I mean, yes, yes of course it's still open!" The smile in his voice matched the one on the screen.

"In fact," Bruce added, willing his voice just a shade lower, trying to keep any tremor out of it, "If we're going to make it a marathon, I'll bring my pajamas and make it a sleepover if you like."

There was a very short pause, although long enough for Bruce to abruptly imagine forty-seven different, equally humiliating scenarios for how this conversation might end. Then: "I'd--I'd like that," said Clark. "When will you be free?"

"I'll be at the Children's Hospital, a fundraiser to get them a new MRI--"

"--Oh, that's great," Clark broke in. "They really need one of those."

"I should be able to get out by nine or so. Will you be ready for me by then?"

"Yes. Oh. Yes." Clark sounded a little stunned, and more than a little delighted.

"I'm looking forward to it," Bruce murmured, trying to weight every syllable with lascivious promise.

There was an inarticulate sound on the other end. "Me too," Clark said.

After he hung up the phone, Bruce looked for a while longer at Clark's face on the screen. Then he informed the Fortress computer that these files were no longer to be accessed remotely in the future under any contingency, sealing up the loophole.

The files disappeared from his screen, and Bruce smiled slightly.

From now on he was planning on finding out more directly what would make Clark Kent happy.

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From:

fictionalknight.livejournal.com

heeee! This was so, so awesome. :) Totally made my morning!

I love Clark when he's like this - when just little nothings can make him so happy, and he gets all excited over anything and everything. He's soooo cute. :) And Bruce, oh, Bruce. *squee* He's perfect like this! Scheming and manipulating to make Clark just a little happier - makes me want to hug him and squeeze him (which, I'm sure, he would probably *hate*! haha!!).

You turned this prompt into something really wonderful. :D

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