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mithenTitle: Unbreakable
Relationship: Clark/Bruce
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Guy Gardner, Edward Nygma
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion (click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 2600
Summary: A lucky break in the middle of a match gives Clark fifteen minutes of fame before they return to Philadelphia.
[Promoter] Paul Heyman would rather climb a tree and lie than stay on the ground and tell the truth. --Jim Cornette.
The audience roared as Slipknot threw his "unbreakable ropes" over Country Clark Kent's shoulders and under his arms, tying him to the turnbuckle with a dramatic "x" of ropes criss-crossing his chest. "No one has ever escaped from my bonds, treated with chemicals only my genius can comprehend! You will never get free now, Kent!" Laughing maniacally, Slipknot began to kick viciously at the helplessly bound Clark. As usual a fair number of the kicks actually connected, sending twinges of pain through his body.
"Sorry," whispered Weiss after one particularly inept shot.
"No problem," Clark muttered, although he gritted his teeth and glared at Slipknot as if he were seething with fury. It wasn't that hard to do.
Slipknot retreated to the far corner to gloat and prepare for his next move, a dropkick with a running start. It was supposed to connect with Clark's solar plexus and set up the next set of moves that would give Slipknot the win. Clark took a deep breath, then winced as pain stabbed through his chest. It was worse than usual, and it took him a moment to get his breath. As Slipknot whipped the audience into a frenzy, Clark started straining against his bonds as if he were desperately struggling to get free. He clenched his fists and lunged against the ropes, preparing himself for the feet to the stomach.
And the ropes groaned, gave way, and snapped.
Clark staggered forward a couple of steps before he could stop himself, looking down stupidly at Slipknot's ultra-special "unbreakable" ropes.
Oops.
He heard the crowd go totally silent for a heartbeat, and then pandemonium broke out in the little high school gym as every spectator (all sixty-odd of them) leapt to their feet simultaneously, screaming. Clark looked up at Weiss, who gave him the slightest of shrugs and a wry smile before jumping forward and connecting with the kick that would send Clark down for the count.
"You need to take better care of your gear," Guy said later, back in the locker room to a sheepish Weiss. "Kind of ruins your gimmick if someone can bust your unbreakable ropes."
Weiss lifted the frayed rope and sighed. "Maybe it's time for a new gimmick anyway. Having to use ropes in everything kind of limits my options, you know?"
"Sorry," said Clark.
"No problem. Hey, it was an awesome moment, wasn't it? Did you hear that pop you got from the crowd?" Weiss seemed so honestly pleased with the match that Clark could almost forgive the bruises up and down his sides and the pain in his chest whenever he inhaled.
"Guys?" Eddie hoisted his laptop. "Check this out. Clark's on Youtube."
"There's always video of matches floating around Youtube," Guy said.
"Yeah? How many of them have three thousand hits two hours after being uploaded?" Eddie read out loud: "Amazing Feat of Strength. Apparently some fan tonight was impressed," he mused. "And apparently some other people are too."
By the time they got back to the hotel room, the hit counter was high enough that Clark felt uncomfortable looking at it. "Clark, you're a phenom," Guy said, and punched his ribs lightly.
Clark sucked in a breath of pain that became a gasp as that hurt too, and Bruce's head came up from the book he was reading, a frown darkening his face.
"Are you wrestling injured, you idiot?"
"Okay, I admit it, Weiss got me pretty bad tonight," Clark said.
"Take your shirt off," said Bruce.
Clark hesitated for a moment, then peeled off his shirt.
Eddie and Guy whistled out loud, and Bruce's frown sharpened. Putting down the book, he sat down next to Clark on the bed and reached out to touch Clark's chest. "I won't bite," he said softly as Clark winced before he could touch him, then ran his hands very lightly across Clark's ribcage. "How deeply can you breathe before it hurts?"
Clark took a careful breath, then stopped, grimacing. Bruce's hands brushed along his ribs in a way that would have been distractingly pleasant if he weren't in pain, and he bit his lip at the thought.
"Look over your shoulder," Bruce said.
"Ow," Clark said as he turned.
"Good."
"Good?"
"A broken rib doesn't usually hurt more when you twist your torso," Bruce said. "And I don't see any unusual protrusions. So not broken. But bruised, definitely. You're going to have to tell Waller you can't wrestle at the next show."
"I can't do that," Clark groaned. He gestured at Eddie's laptop. "Look at that hit counter! I can't skip the next show and lose all my momentum." Eddie sang out a new number and Clark winced again.
Bruce hissed a breath through his teeth. "At least tell her you need to have a lighter match."
"I'll tell her, but she might not listen. This has got to be good news for her promotion."
: : :
As it turned out, Waller apparently felt it was better to give Country Clark Kent a light match than to risk injuring him so badly that he couldn't wrestle for the rest of his time with her. As a result, the next evening Country Clark cut a promo about his "amazing feat of strength," which gave Clark a chance to say "aw shucks, it wasn't nothing" and scratch the back of his head bemusedly until Slipknot jumped him from behind and knocked him out, leaving him dazed, angry--and deeply relieved that he hadn't had to wrestle a whole match.
After his appearance he went over to the makeshift tables set up for autographs and t-shirt sales and sat down next to Bruce, who was in the middle of selling one of his fake-tuxedo shirts. Not for the first time, Clark wished he could wear in public the Billionaire Brucie shirt he had surreptitiously purchased.
"Hey," said Bruce with a small wave. "I just got a box of stuff for you."
His voice was so studiously casual that Clark narrowed his eyes without thinking. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, it's nothing much," Bruce said, indicating two brown boxes stamped with "Express Mail" sitting next to the table. "Give them a look."
Clark opened the boxes and felt his jaw drop. Inside were...t-shirts. A stack of shirts in royal blue, with a design in red: a stylized image of himself caught in the moment of breaking Slipknot's ropes, his chest and biceps straining. Over his head was written "Man of Steel."
"Bruce--"
"There are only fifty," Bruce rode over his words, sounding apologetic and somehow flustered. "I know it's presumptuous of me, but I came up with the idea late that night, and I happen to have a sweet deal with a silkscreener, so I just decided it was easier to get forgiveness than permission and sent the design off to him and, well, here they are. If you'd let me help with your mortgage, I might not have done it," he said defensively at Clark's expression. "But you need a shirt, and--"
"Oh. My. God. Is that your shirt, Mr. Kent? Can I buy one? I've wanted you to have a shirt for ages." A young teenaged girl with her dark hair in cornrows was bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. "I'm such a big fan, my dad's in Pittsburgh on business and I convinced him to come to your show." She seized the shirt that Clark held out to her and clutched it to her chest, then opened it up to beam at it. "I saw your video on Youtube, with the ropes breaking--that was incredible! Man of Steel? That's an awesome motto!"
"Well, it's what I want to go by someday," Clark said, sneaking a glance at Bruce, who was managing to look both sheepish and smug at the same time.
"I love it. I love it!" She handed him a wrinkled bill, then held out her show program, biting her lip. "Could I get an autograph too?"
Clark smiled at her. This was a lot more fun than getting pummeled by Weiss. "My pleasure, Miss..."
"Irons," the girl said. "Natasha Irons. My dad's a big fan too, but he probably wouldn't admit it."
Clark grinned and signed the program: Dear Natasha, thanks for coming to the show! Yours truly, Country Clark Kent, then added, P.S. thanks to your dad too! and a smiley face.
She chortled as he handed it back. "Oh, he's going to love this," he said. "You're the best, you really are."
Clark ducked his head. "Thank you kindly, miss," he said, and she laughed again.
Bruce looked over from where had started posing for a photo with a little boy, pretending to hand him a twenty dollar bill and then pull it away. "Oh, the fake modesty again, Kent?"
Clark bit back a smile at the familiar bantering tone in his voice. "Come on, Mr. Wayne," he said, "Give it a rest for a little while."
"You think you're all hot stuff because you're some kind of 'Internet phenomenon,'" Bruce said, making the scare quotes with his fingers and pulling the bill away from the jumping, laughing boy once more. "Well, Hot Stuff, I can still lick you any day of the week."
"I'd like to see you try to lick me," said Clark, and gave Natasha an innocent look as she stifled a giggle in her hand.
"I'd like to see me try to lick you," Bruce shot back. "Name the time and place, Man of Steel, and we'll see what you're really made of."
"I don't think you should let him talk to you like that," Natasha stage-whispered.
Bruce folded up the twenty-dollar bill and slipped it into the kid's pocket, shooing him away as he sat back down. "Clark knows I only have his welfare at heart. Don't you, Clark?"
Clark nodded solemnly at Natasha. "He's a good friend. He's much nicer than he looks, actually."
"He looks pretty nice to me," Natasha blurted out, and ran off, clutching her program.
"Guess I need to work on my menacing glare more," Bruce said easily.
"How many fake twenties are you going to hand out tonight, anyway? You look like a spendthrift."
Bruce grinned and shrugged. "I prefer to call it looking magnanimous." He looked up at where the Riddler was delivering his Riddle-Me-This shoulder claw hold to the writhing Thinker. "I'd better hurry up and change, I've got a match with Slipknot in a few."
"Oh, Slipknot's getting a full match with you tonight?" Clark frowned. Waller had arranged a match between them? He didn't like that at all. "Be careful with him."
Bruce shot him a gleaming smile. "Oh, I'll be very careful with him," he said.
: : :
When the show ended, Clark had sold nearly ten shirts already and was feeling almost giddy despite the pain in his ribs. He hadn't been able to see Brucie's match with Slipknot very well between autographs, but Bruce was still walking when they left the ring, so that was a good sign. He put the boxes of shirts on a dolly--his ribs wouldn't allow him to hoist them--as the audience trickled out of the gym into the night and wandered to the locker rooms.
"Oh man," he heard Weiss groan to Vickers as he walked by, "You didn't warn me Wayne fought so stiff!"
"That's funny," said Vickers, "He's one of the best workers I've ever been paired with. I mean, he's a stunning bore and condescends like crazy, but I never feel a thing, fighting with him."
"Well, he was definitely off his game tonight," said Weiss. "I mean, look at this!"
He pulled off his sweatshirt and Clark stopped cold, staring at his torso, where a variety of bruises were already rising under the skin, a pattern of pain etched onto flesh.
A pattern that perfectly matched each and every bruise on Clark's own body.
"Um, looks painful," Clark said when Weiss looked his way. "He didn't, um, fracture your ribs or anything, did he?"
Weiss took a careful breath. "Nah, it's all just light damage," he said, and Clark breathed a small sigh of relief. "He needs to learn to pull his punches better, though!"
Vickers looked uncomfortable. "Speaking of that, buddy..." Clark walked off briskly before he could hear the end of the sentence, but looking back at Weiss's chagrined expression made it clear he was getting lectured about his rough style.
Bruce and Guy emerged from the showers shortly after, scrubbing at their hair. "I hear you finally got some shirts made," said Guy. "Let's see 'em!"
Clark unraveled one of the shirts and Guy made an appreciative noise. "Glad you finally gave in and got one made up, you need more PR like this." Clark glanced at Bruce, who was pulling on his jeans with a serene half-smile on his face, and decided not to enlighten Guy as to the source of the shirts.
Eddie came over from another conference with Carmichael. "Did you see my match? Wasn't it great?"
"It looked impressive," Clark agreed.
Eddie beamed. "How was your match with Weiss?" he asked, turning to Bruce. "Did you survive?"
Bruce's enigmatic smile widened slightly. "I think it was an excellent match," he said. "In fact, I enjoyed it quite a lot."
: : :
One week later
"Good luck, you guys," said Eddie, shaking each of their hands in turn.
"I hope Waller gives you a permanent contract soon," said Clark.
"We're in negotiations," said Eddie. "She drives a hell of a hard bargain, but I think it'll work out okay."
"Wish we could say the same," grumbled Guy, taking his hand. "Won't say I'll miss you, egghead."
"No, that's a different guy," Eddie said seriously, then grinned. "Man walks over, man walks under, In times of war he burns asunder. What is it?"
Guy groaned. "Do I care?"
"A bridge," said Bruce.
Eddie pointed at him. "Curses, foiled again," he chortled. "Don't burn your bridges, boys," he said, walking off with a wave.
"Weird dude," said Guy.
"I kind of liked him," said Clark.
"You didn't have to share a back seat across Pennsylvania with him." But despite his complaints, Guy was subdued as they loaded up the car and started back toward Philadelphia. All the top-40 radio Bruce could find couldn't induce him to sing, not even when "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" came on. "I just got a bad feeling," he muttered when Clark asked him if anything was wrong.
They arrived in Philadelphia in the early evening, and headed to JLI headquarters to check in and see if anyone was needed for tomorrow night's match.
"Oh," said L. Ron when they came through the doors. "You're back." He looked down at his hands. "The boss wants to see you."
"Sure thing, shrimp," said Guy, raising an eyebrow.
The halls were oddly quiet as they headed to Max's office. As the door swung open, the man behind the desk smiled widely and swung his feet off the polished wood, leaning forward and steepling his fingers in front of him.
"Welcome back, boys," said Lex Luthor.
Relationship: Clark/Bruce
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Guy Gardner, Edward Nygma
Continuity: Heroes of the Squared Circle, a DC/pro wrestling fusion (click for notes and all chapters).
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Word Count 2600
Summary: A lucky break in the middle of a match gives Clark fifteen minutes of fame before they return to Philadelphia.
[Promoter] Paul Heyman would rather climb a tree and lie than stay on the ground and tell the truth. --Jim Cornette.
The audience roared as Slipknot threw his "unbreakable ropes" over Country Clark Kent's shoulders and under his arms, tying him to the turnbuckle with a dramatic "x" of ropes criss-crossing his chest. "No one has ever escaped from my bonds, treated with chemicals only my genius can comprehend! You will never get free now, Kent!" Laughing maniacally, Slipknot began to kick viciously at the helplessly bound Clark. As usual a fair number of the kicks actually connected, sending twinges of pain through his body.
"Sorry," whispered Weiss after one particularly inept shot.
"No problem," Clark muttered, although he gritted his teeth and glared at Slipknot as if he were seething with fury. It wasn't that hard to do.
Slipknot retreated to the far corner to gloat and prepare for his next move, a dropkick with a running start. It was supposed to connect with Clark's solar plexus and set up the next set of moves that would give Slipknot the win. Clark took a deep breath, then winced as pain stabbed through his chest. It was worse than usual, and it took him a moment to get his breath. As Slipknot whipped the audience into a frenzy, Clark started straining against his bonds as if he were desperately struggling to get free. He clenched his fists and lunged against the ropes, preparing himself for the feet to the stomach.
And the ropes groaned, gave way, and snapped.
Clark staggered forward a couple of steps before he could stop himself, looking down stupidly at Slipknot's ultra-special "unbreakable" ropes.
Oops.
He heard the crowd go totally silent for a heartbeat, and then pandemonium broke out in the little high school gym as every spectator (all sixty-odd of them) leapt to their feet simultaneously, screaming. Clark looked up at Weiss, who gave him the slightest of shrugs and a wry smile before jumping forward and connecting with the kick that would send Clark down for the count.
"You need to take better care of your gear," Guy said later, back in the locker room to a sheepish Weiss. "Kind of ruins your gimmick if someone can bust your unbreakable ropes."
Weiss lifted the frayed rope and sighed. "Maybe it's time for a new gimmick anyway. Having to use ropes in everything kind of limits my options, you know?"
"Sorry," said Clark.
"No problem. Hey, it was an awesome moment, wasn't it? Did you hear that pop you got from the crowd?" Weiss seemed so honestly pleased with the match that Clark could almost forgive the bruises up and down his sides and the pain in his chest whenever he inhaled.
"Guys?" Eddie hoisted his laptop. "Check this out. Clark's on Youtube."
"There's always video of matches floating around Youtube," Guy said.
"Yeah? How many of them have three thousand hits two hours after being uploaded?" Eddie read out loud: "Amazing Feat of Strength. Apparently some fan tonight was impressed," he mused. "And apparently some other people are too."
By the time they got back to the hotel room, the hit counter was high enough that Clark felt uncomfortable looking at it. "Clark, you're a phenom," Guy said, and punched his ribs lightly.
Clark sucked in a breath of pain that became a gasp as that hurt too, and Bruce's head came up from the book he was reading, a frown darkening his face.
"Are you wrestling injured, you idiot?"
"Okay, I admit it, Weiss got me pretty bad tonight," Clark said.
"Take your shirt off," said Bruce.
Clark hesitated for a moment, then peeled off his shirt.
Eddie and Guy whistled out loud, and Bruce's frown sharpened. Putting down the book, he sat down next to Clark on the bed and reached out to touch Clark's chest. "I won't bite," he said softly as Clark winced before he could touch him, then ran his hands very lightly across Clark's ribcage. "How deeply can you breathe before it hurts?"
Clark took a careful breath, then stopped, grimacing. Bruce's hands brushed along his ribs in a way that would have been distractingly pleasant if he weren't in pain, and he bit his lip at the thought.
"Look over your shoulder," Bruce said.
"Ow," Clark said as he turned.
"Good."
"Good?"
"A broken rib doesn't usually hurt more when you twist your torso," Bruce said. "And I don't see any unusual protrusions. So not broken. But bruised, definitely. You're going to have to tell Waller you can't wrestle at the next show."
"I can't do that," Clark groaned. He gestured at Eddie's laptop. "Look at that hit counter! I can't skip the next show and lose all my momentum." Eddie sang out a new number and Clark winced again.
Bruce hissed a breath through his teeth. "At least tell her you need to have a lighter match."
"I'll tell her, but she might not listen. This has got to be good news for her promotion."
: : :
As it turned out, Waller apparently felt it was better to give Country Clark Kent a light match than to risk injuring him so badly that he couldn't wrestle for the rest of his time with her. As a result, the next evening Country Clark cut a promo about his "amazing feat of strength," which gave Clark a chance to say "aw shucks, it wasn't nothing" and scratch the back of his head bemusedly until Slipknot jumped him from behind and knocked him out, leaving him dazed, angry--and deeply relieved that he hadn't had to wrestle a whole match.
After his appearance he went over to the makeshift tables set up for autographs and t-shirt sales and sat down next to Bruce, who was in the middle of selling one of his fake-tuxedo shirts. Not for the first time, Clark wished he could wear in public the Billionaire Brucie shirt he had surreptitiously purchased.
"Hey," said Bruce with a small wave. "I just got a box of stuff for you."
His voice was so studiously casual that Clark narrowed his eyes without thinking. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, it's nothing much," Bruce said, indicating two brown boxes stamped with "Express Mail" sitting next to the table. "Give them a look."
Clark opened the boxes and felt his jaw drop. Inside were...t-shirts. A stack of shirts in royal blue, with a design in red: a stylized image of himself caught in the moment of breaking Slipknot's ropes, his chest and biceps straining. Over his head was written "Man of Steel."
"Bruce--"
"There are only fifty," Bruce rode over his words, sounding apologetic and somehow flustered. "I know it's presumptuous of me, but I came up with the idea late that night, and I happen to have a sweet deal with a silkscreener, so I just decided it was easier to get forgiveness than permission and sent the design off to him and, well, here they are. If you'd let me help with your mortgage, I might not have done it," he said defensively at Clark's expression. "But you need a shirt, and--"
"Oh. My. God. Is that your shirt, Mr. Kent? Can I buy one? I've wanted you to have a shirt for ages." A young teenaged girl with her dark hair in cornrows was bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. "I'm such a big fan, my dad's in Pittsburgh on business and I convinced him to come to your show." She seized the shirt that Clark held out to her and clutched it to her chest, then opened it up to beam at it. "I saw your video on Youtube, with the ropes breaking--that was incredible! Man of Steel? That's an awesome motto!"
"Well, it's what I want to go by someday," Clark said, sneaking a glance at Bruce, who was managing to look both sheepish and smug at the same time.
"I love it. I love it!" She handed him a wrinkled bill, then held out her show program, biting her lip. "Could I get an autograph too?"
Clark smiled at her. This was a lot more fun than getting pummeled by Weiss. "My pleasure, Miss..."
"Irons," the girl said. "Natasha Irons. My dad's a big fan too, but he probably wouldn't admit it."
Clark grinned and signed the program: Dear Natasha, thanks for coming to the show! Yours truly, Country Clark Kent, then added, P.S. thanks to your dad too! and a smiley face.
She chortled as he handed it back. "Oh, he's going to love this," he said. "You're the best, you really are."
Clark ducked his head. "Thank you kindly, miss," he said, and she laughed again.
Bruce looked over from where had started posing for a photo with a little boy, pretending to hand him a twenty dollar bill and then pull it away. "Oh, the fake modesty again, Kent?"
Clark bit back a smile at the familiar bantering tone in his voice. "Come on, Mr. Wayne," he said, "Give it a rest for a little while."
"You think you're all hot stuff because you're some kind of 'Internet phenomenon,'" Bruce said, making the scare quotes with his fingers and pulling the bill away from the jumping, laughing boy once more. "Well, Hot Stuff, I can still lick you any day of the week."
"I'd like to see you try to lick me," said Clark, and gave Natasha an innocent look as she stifled a giggle in her hand.
"I'd like to see me try to lick you," Bruce shot back. "Name the time and place, Man of Steel, and we'll see what you're really made of."
"I don't think you should let him talk to you like that," Natasha stage-whispered.
Bruce folded up the twenty-dollar bill and slipped it into the kid's pocket, shooing him away as he sat back down. "Clark knows I only have his welfare at heart. Don't you, Clark?"
Clark nodded solemnly at Natasha. "He's a good friend. He's much nicer than he looks, actually."
"He looks pretty nice to me," Natasha blurted out, and ran off, clutching her program.
"Guess I need to work on my menacing glare more," Bruce said easily.
"How many fake twenties are you going to hand out tonight, anyway? You look like a spendthrift."
Bruce grinned and shrugged. "I prefer to call it looking magnanimous." He looked up at where the Riddler was delivering his Riddle-Me-This shoulder claw hold to the writhing Thinker. "I'd better hurry up and change, I've got a match with Slipknot in a few."
"Oh, Slipknot's getting a full match with you tonight?" Clark frowned. Waller had arranged a match between them? He didn't like that at all. "Be careful with him."
Bruce shot him a gleaming smile. "Oh, I'll be very careful with him," he said.
: : :
When the show ended, Clark had sold nearly ten shirts already and was feeling almost giddy despite the pain in his ribs. He hadn't been able to see Brucie's match with Slipknot very well between autographs, but Bruce was still walking when they left the ring, so that was a good sign. He put the boxes of shirts on a dolly--his ribs wouldn't allow him to hoist them--as the audience trickled out of the gym into the night and wandered to the locker rooms.
"Oh man," he heard Weiss groan to Vickers as he walked by, "You didn't warn me Wayne fought so stiff!"
"That's funny," said Vickers, "He's one of the best workers I've ever been paired with. I mean, he's a stunning bore and condescends like crazy, but I never feel a thing, fighting with him."
"Well, he was definitely off his game tonight," said Weiss. "I mean, look at this!"
He pulled off his sweatshirt and Clark stopped cold, staring at his torso, where a variety of bruises were already rising under the skin, a pattern of pain etched onto flesh.
A pattern that perfectly matched each and every bruise on Clark's own body.
"Um, looks painful," Clark said when Weiss looked his way. "He didn't, um, fracture your ribs or anything, did he?"
Weiss took a careful breath. "Nah, it's all just light damage," he said, and Clark breathed a small sigh of relief. "He needs to learn to pull his punches better, though!"
Vickers looked uncomfortable. "Speaking of that, buddy..." Clark walked off briskly before he could hear the end of the sentence, but looking back at Weiss's chagrined expression made it clear he was getting lectured about his rough style.
Bruce and Guy emerged from the showers shortly after, scrubbing at their hair. "I hear you finally got some shirts made," said Guy. "Let's see 'em!"
Clark unraveled one of the shirts and Guy made an appreciative noise. "Glad you finally gave in and got one made up, you need more PR like this." Clark glanced at Bruce, who was pulling on his jeans with a serene half-smile on his face, and decided not to enlighten Guy as to the source of the shirts.
Eddie came over from another conference with Carmichael. "Did you see my match? Wasn't it great?"
"It looked impressive," Clark agreed.
Eddie beamed. "How was your match with Weiss?" he asked, turning to Bruce. "Did you survive?"
Bruce's enigmatic smile widened slightly. "I think it was an excellent match," he said. "In fact, I enjoyed it quite a lot."
: : :
One week later
"Good luck, you guys," said Eddie, shaking each of their hands in turn.
"I hope Waller gives you a permanent contract soon," said Clark.
"We're in negotiations," said Eddie. "She drives a hell of a hard bargain, but I think it'll work out okay."
"Wish we could say the same," grumbled Guy, taking his hand. "Won't say I'll miss you, egghead."
"No, that's a different guy," Eddie said seriously, then grinned. "Man walks over, man walks under, In times of war he burns asunder. What is it?"
Guy groaned. "Do I care?"
"A bridge," said Bruce.
Eddie pointed at him. "Curses, foiled again," he chortled. "Don't burn your bridges, boys," he said, walking off with a wave.
"Weird dude," said Guy.
"I kind of liked him," said Clark.
"You didn't have to share a back seat across Pennsylvania with him." But despite his complaints, Guy was subdued as they loaded up the car and started back toward Philadelphia. All the top-40 radio Bruce could find couldn't induce him to sing, not even when "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" came on. "I just got a bad feeling," he muttered when Clark asked him if anything was wrong.
They arrived in Philadelphia in the early evening, and headed to JLI headquarters to check in and see if anyone was needed for tomorrow night's match.
"Oh," said L. Ron when they came through the doors. "You're back." He looked down at his hands. "The boss wants to see you."
"Sure thing, shrimp," said Guy, raising an eyebrow.
The halls were oddly quiet as they headed to Max's office. As the door swung open, the man behind the desk smiled widely and swung his feet off the polished wood, leaning forward and steepling his fingers in front of him.
"Welcome back, boys," said Lex Luthor.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-25 03:23 pm (UTC)*screams along with the crowd* WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Clark opened the boxes and felt his jaw drop. Inside were...t-shirts. A stack of shirts in royal blue, with a design in red: a stylized image of himself caught in the moment of breaking Slipknot's ropes, his chest and biceps straining. Over his head was written "Man of Steel."
"Bruce--"
"There are only fifty," Bruce rode over his words, sounding apologetic and somehow flustered. "I know it's presumptuous of me, but I came up with the idea late that night, and I happen to have a sweet deal with a silkscreener, so I just decided it was easier to get forgiveness than permission and sent the design off to him and, well, here they are. If you'd let me help with your mortgage, I might not have done it," he said defensively at Clark's expression. "But you need a shirt, and--"
The shirt is PERFECT, and flustered!Bruce is LOVE. This is fantastic.
"Irons," the girl said. "Natasha Irons. My dad's a big fan too, but he probably wouldn't admit it."
SQUEEEEE! Natasha!
"How many fake twenties are you going to hand out tonight, anyway? You look like a spendthrift."
...hm. ARE they fake?
He pulled off his sweatshirt and Clark stopped cold, staring at his torso, where a variety of bruises were already rising under the skin, a pattern of pain etched onto flesh.
A pattern that perfectly matched each and every bruise on Clark's own body.
BRUCE!
...I probably shouldn't find this as romantic as I do. ^_^;;; But good god, the control, the absolute genius it would take to pull that off...
"No, that's a different guy," Eddie said seriously, then grinned. "Man walks over, man walks under, In times of war he burns asunder. What is it?"
Guy groaned. "Do I care?"
"A bridge," said Bruce.
Eddie pointed at him. "Curses, foiled again," he chortled. "Don't burn your bridges, boys," he said, walking off with a wave.
Okay, this was also PERFECT. <3<3<3
"Welcome back, boys," said Lex Luthor.
SQUEE! Wait, I mean, "BOO! Luthor!" But holy shit, things are getting exciting, now. Luthor! As the boss! You set this up perfectly, by the way. It had a terrific impact.
I love this series SO MUCH.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-26 02:00 am (UTC)This chapter is definitely the "Bruce has Inappropriate Boundaries and Kind of Knows It" chapter. *hugs him*
...hm. ARE they fake?
Good question! I think they are much of the time, but the kids with particularly threadbare clothes or a hungry look find themselves with some extra pocket change... :)
...I probably shouldn't find this as romantic as I do. ^_^;;; But good god, the control, the absolute genius it would take to pull that off...
This is probably the most Battish moment in the series so far, and I SO loved writing it. And yeah, I found it swooningly romantic and then kind of rolled my eyes at myself and slapped my forehead, but...BRUCE.
Luthor holds all of their destinies now, muahaha! One of the less actively evil versions of Luthor, thank goodness, but still enough to make their lives interesting... I find him really hard to write but such an interesting challenge, I hope I can do him justice!
Eeee, thank you for the awesome comment, I'm in heaven!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-25 06:11 pm (UTC)I love it because I knew it was going to happen somehow. And the moment Clark was so hurt, it hurt to breathe? I knew things had come to a head.
And the matching bruises is absolutely, positively Batman. It's 'I paid attention' and 'You will feel this and reconsider your life'. And just...
*SMILE*
Bruce and the T-shirts? Still smiling too hard for my brain to do much more than go 'Wheee'.
Giggling about Natasha.
Trying to visualize what the emblem looks like and right now it's hard not to try and make it look like the S-Shield. So y'know, gonna give my brain time to stop going WHEEEE.
I just... yeah, Bruce and giving little kids extra spending money is just... So. Bruce.
Pshh. I only use this account to comment with (very long story). But I'm considering a 'I'm a yap about B, and possibly B & S' journal, cause thoughts. I has them. And I don't actually want to go to tumblr.
But Bruce and Twenty Dollar Bills.
And me imagining Alfred making Clark's t-shirts (even though it could obviously just be a rush job from anyone in Gotham. I'm still gonna imagine it's Alfred for a bit).
LL at the end is very unexpected and yet, wrestling wise? Not.
Also - precog Guy moment. **squee**
Huh, am babbling a lot for 'Brain Too Busy Smiling'
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-26 07:05 am (UTC)Yes, OMG, exactly that sort of "Please think about your life choices to now" and "There are seven things I could do to him from this move." :) I couldn't write it in well because poor Slipknot was so staggered, but he hit him twice in each place. The first time didn't hurt and then the second did. Just to prove it can be done. *grin*
I just... yeah, Bruce and giving little kids extra spending money is just... So. Bruce.
You know some parents realize later and some of them assume, "Oh, that wrestler accidentally gave us a real bill," and they try to return it. And those people somehow manage to end up with something extra...
Pshh. I only use this account to comment with (very long story). But I'm considering a 'I'm a yap about B, and possibly B & S' journal, cause thoughts. I has them. And I don't actually want to go to tumblr.
I'm still very grudging and reluctant about Tumblr, but I'm there as missmithen if you want to give it a try...
And me imagining Alfred making Clark's t-shirts (even though it could obviously just be a rush job from anyone in Gotham. I'm still gonna imagine it's Alfred for a bit).
IT IS SO ALFRED. He's got a silkscreener set up in the Manor (yes, probably in the basement) and Bruce emailed him a design in the middle of the night with a note saying "CAN YOU PRINT ME FIFTY OF THESE AND MAIL THEM EXPRESS TOMORROW PLS" Poor Alfred, long-suffering in any universe...
Luthor! I...I don't know if I can do him justice, to be honest, he and Joker are two of the hardest characters for me to write. But maybe when he's just a super-sharky businessman, minus the genocide and such, I can have some fun with him...
Yippie new chapter!
Date: 2013-05-25 11:58 pm (UTC)I smell some Bruce sabotage....although, upon re-reading. Hm. I'm not sure Bruce's need to protect Clark outweighs his distaste at interfering with his career like that.
Clark sucked in a breath of pain that became a gasp as that hurt too, and Bruce's head came up from the book he was reading, a frown darkening his face.
I LOVE that Bruce is peripherally always paying attention to Clark and monitoring him. So Battish.
So not broken. But bruised, definitely.
Bruce is an expert. *nods*
Waller apparently felt it was better to give Country Clark Kent a light match than to risk injuring him so badly that he couldn't wrestle for the rest of his time with her.
Thank God.
Not for the first time, Clark wished he could wear in public the Billionaire Brucie shirt he had surreptitiously purchased.
SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
His voice was so studiously casual that Clark narrowed his eyes without thinking.
I love the familarity they have established.
a stylized image of himself caught in the moment of breaking Slipknot's ropes
O_o Wow. That was fast! "Man of Steel." YAY!
Bruce rode over his words, sounding apologetic and somehow flustered.
*squishes Bruce*
I happen to have a sweet deal with a silkscreener
Uh huh. Sweet deal with Alfred more likely.
so I just decided it was easier to get forgiveness than permission
the bat-principle revealed
If you'd let me help with your mortgage, I might not have done it," he said defensively at Clark's expression. "But you need a shirt, and--"
Oh Bruuuuuce. I love you.
Dear Natasha, thanks for coming to the show! Yours truly, Country Clark Kent, then added, P.S. thanks to your dad too! and a smiley face.
Oh God you are really making up for beating Clark up in the last chapter. A smiley face! *Is dead*
nitpick: where had started posing for a photo with a little boy There's a "he" missing there
"Well, Hot Stuff, I can still lick you any day of the week."
I bet you could and would.
Bruce folded up the twenty-dollar bill and slipped it into the kid's pocket
Awww
"He looks pretty nice to me," Natasha blurted out, and ran off, clutching her program.
"Guess I need to work on my menacing glare more," Bruce said easily. "How many fake twenties are you going to hand out tonight, anyway? You look like a spendthrift."
Bruce grinned and shrugged. "I prefer to call it looking magnanimous."
I BET they aren't fake!
"Oh, I'll be very careful with him," he said.
YAY! Revenge!
"Oh man," he heard Weiss groan to Vickers as he walked by, "You didn't warn me Wayne fought so stiff!"
Ha! Get a taste of your own medicine!
A pattern that perfectly matched each and every bruise on Clark's own body.
Oh, Bruce! Obsessive compulsive sneaky subtle ... man. ARGH!
Vickers looked uncomfortable. "Speaking of that, buddy..." Clark walked off briskly before he could hear the end of the sentence, but looking back at Weiss's chagrined expression made it clear he was getting lectured about his rough style.
FINALLY
"A bridge," said Bruce.
*pets Bruce * He can't resist, can he?
"Curses, foiled again,"
That sounds silver age to me? Am I right? I like the light hearted rivalry..
The halls were oddly quiet as they headed to Max's office. As the door swung open, the man behind the desk smiled widely and swung his feet off the polished wood, leaning forward and steepling his fingers in front of him.
"Welcome back, boys," said Lex Luthor.
EEK! I heard his animated voice in my head there. And saw his eyebrow of doooooooom. :-)
Great chapter! And now for the newn player. I am excited to find out how they will react to this turn of events.
Re: Yippie new chapter!
Date: 2013-05-26 12:01 am (UTC)I like how the matching bruises reveal that Bruce has been watching Clark like a hawk!
Re: Yippie new chapter!
Date: 2013-05-26 09:52 am (UTC)Ah, you're the only person to catch that possibility and mention it so far! *grin* I confess I felt like you, that it was both in and out of character for Bruce, so I left it vague. But...who exactly uploaded the video to Youtube, I wonder? :)
I LOVE that Bruce is peripherally always paying attention to Clark and monitoring him. So Battish.
This chapter is one of the most Battish so far for Bruce, isn't it? Like you say below, the fact that he's keeping such close watch on Clark is so very Bruce...
Uh huh. Sweet deal with Alfred more likely.
You just know Alfred has a silkscreening machine (yes, in the basement with the training equipment) and can turn out some shirts in no time...
Thank you for the typo catch! And indeed, those bills are very often not fake (depending on how much the kid looks like they might need it...)
Oh, Bruce! Obsessive compulsive sneaky subtle ... man. ARGH!
GOD, doesn't he drive me crazy! When I realized what he'd done here I was just... o_O Oh, Bruce...
That sounds silver age to me? Am I right?
It's actually oddly older than that, it's from old movie melodramas, what the villain was supposed to say when defeated by the hero. :) It does sound very old-school comics, though...
EEK! I heard his animated voice in my head there. And saw his eyebrow of doooooooom. :-)
Yesssss, SO animated Lex, my absolute favorite. *grin* I'm so glad you enjoyed, I JUST finished the next chapter and will hope to have it betaed soon!
Re: Yippie new chapter!
Date: 2013-05-26 06:29 pm (UTC)*claps hands* Bruuuuuce, you slay me.
he's keeping such close watch on Clark is so very Bruce...
Although in canon, he probably is more in denial about the reasons. Security and all that. Now that reminds me of your fic The Joy of Mekzh where he justifies massaging a known erogenous zone with tactical considerations. :-) I really loved that fic by the way and re-read it often.
SO animated Lex, my absolute favorite.
Right after Smallville Lex, but then again I haven't watched anything past season 3 (I'm afraid - I know bad things will happen and destroy my second favourite pairing).
Re: Yippie new chapter!
Date: 2013-05-27 11:50 am (UTC)The Joy of Mekzh is one of my favorites as well, I confess it! It was such fun to play with a sort of "pure" sexiness, in a way...