Chapter 2 - Sigh
"Calm down," Clark ordered the moment the door shut.
"I'm calm," Bruce retorted. "But that kid – he makes me so angry I want to beat him into a million pieces and then put him back together just so I can do it again. The nerve he's got – daring to question my generosity –"
"He's young," Clark protested. "He wants to be out on his own, showing you that he can survive as an adult."
"He's ungrateful."
"No, he's upset that you keep doubting him. If he didn't care about you and what you think so much, he wouldn't make such a fuss. If he were an ordinary rich boy, he would take the money, maybe thank you, and then keep demanding more and more. But he's not a slacker, he's not a bum, and he's not a punk."
"Then what is he?" Bruce scowled, furious.
"He's a good kid, and he's your son, and he's going to be your son whether he lives here or somewhere else and whether the two of you learn to get along or not."
"You always take his side."
"Bruce," Clark's voice held a warning, "I don't take sides. And if I did, I wouldn't take your side or Dick's. I'd probably take Tim's."
"Tim's?" Bruce's frown grew. "What did he tell you? He's always sneaking around, stirring up trouble."
"No, that's you," Clark wanted to sigh, but he figured it was way too early in the weekend to start sighing. Bruce was in one of his moods – short, surly, and glaring at everyone for no reason. "You want to explain why you were yelling at Tim?"
"I wasn't yelling. I never yell at anyone."
"Bruce, do you really want to start lying to me again?"
"I don't yell," Bruce drew himself up tall and fixed Clark with his best Batman stare. "I give orders, and when those orders are ignored, there are consequences, dire consequences. I told Dick to drop it about the money, but he wanted to argue, so I had us go into the family room for a calm discussion. Tim was not part of it, so I told him to say out while I talked to the most ungrateful, irritating, stubborn boy ever to set foot in Gotham. If anyone should get in trouble, it should be Tim or Dick, not me. I know what I'm doing."
The sigh hovered at the back of Clark's throat, begging for release. Bruce was so stubborn, always having a back up plan and then a plan to back up that plan – always a plan to drive his poor boyfriend crazy. Clark could never reason through things with Bruce because he thought he was smarter than everyone so in the end Bruce plowed ahead with his decisions.
There was only way to cut through the nonsense with Bruce and not get pulled into his web of complex reasoning, ulterior motives, and second guessing.
"You're going to shape up," Clark pointed a finger at him, "or I'm putting you over my knee until you're ready to shape up."
"The kids are here," Bruce hissed, suddenly very contrite and quiet.
"Yeah, well, it's a big house," Clark retorted. "I don't want anymore arguing. It's been a long week and we're all tired. No, don't shake your head – I know you're tired."
"I am not!" Bruce insisted. "You can't come every weekend and think I'm tired. This is supposed to be give and take, not you ordering me around all the time."
"Annoying isn't it?" Clark smirked. "Think how the boys must feel around you, knowing that when they see you, you'll yell at him."
"It's for their own good!"
"And my putting you to bed is for your own good," Clark replied. He smiled inside, thinking it was nice to out-reason Bruce for a change. "Now, can we have a nice evening without bickering?"
"Fine," Bruce pulled his face back into a snarl. "I'll be . . . nice." He seemed to have trouble saying the last word.
"And try to say something encouraging to Tim. He's the youngest and he doesn't get much attention when Dick's here."
"Oh, I'll give Tim all the attention he wants," Bruce muttered. "Starting with a good knock upside the head."
"Bruce," Clark began, but his boyfriend had already charged back into the family room.
Dick was on the sofa, playfully pushing his arm against Tim. Tim was pushing back with his whole body, giggling and laughing as he leaned against Dick's rock-hard arm.
"Come on, you wimp," Dick teased. "Put some effort into it."
"Your arms are as big as my whole body," Tim laughed as he squirmed to push Dick off the sofa. "How many weights do you lift every morning?"
"Oh, enough to get by," Dick reached down to squeeze Tim's knee, making Tim howl with laughter.
"Boys, stop it," Bruce ordered. "Sit up and listen to me."
Immediately, Dick stiffened and looked straight at his adopted father. "What now?"
Tim took a moment to straighten up. He usually needed a little time to recover from Dick's tickle attacks – Dick knew just the right awful places to send him into hysterics, and Tim loved/hated being tickled though he forgot how bad tickling was every time until he wrestled with Dick. But Bruce's icy gaze was enough to sober Tim up, and a second later, he sat just as straight as his older brother.
"Clark is here," Bruce announced sternly. "He says we're going to have a nice weekend, so you two better watch yourselves. Anymore arguing, and you're both grounded."
Dick rolled his eyes, but Tim leaned forward to say, "I wasn't arguing – honest, Bruce, I just –"
"You're arguing with me right now. I mean it, Tim. Pull yourself together or you'll spend the whole weekend in your bedroom. Dick, roll your eyes at me one more time, and you're going straight back to Bludhaven."
"Fine, I didn't want to come here anyway," Dick started to stand up.
"Yes, he did," Tim grabbed Dick's arm, trying to keep him sitting. "He wanted to come because we're going to the movies tomorrow."
"No movie," Bruce decided.
"Aw," Tim's face fell, "you promised."
"I did not. I swear, Tim, if you don't stop lying, I'm going to –"
"Tell you what," Clark stepped forward, "why don't we get some food and discuss it over supper? You guys want to order pizza?"
"Yeah!" Tim's eyes opened wide with excitement. He liked Alfred's cooking all right, but the English butler didn't cook pizza enough to satisfy Tim's craving for it.
"Dick, you want to call?" Clark tossed him his cellphone which Dick easily caught. "We're probably too far out for delivery. Do pick-up, and you and Tim can go pick it up while Bruce and I set the table. The number's in the phone."
"Sure," Dick scrolled down the list until he found the pizza place. "How many pizzas do you want?"
"Four," Clark smiled. "Bruce and I can split one, you can have your own, and that'll leave two for Tim."
"Boo-yeah!" Tim cheered.
"Very funny," Bruce retorted.
"Get four, and we can each chose our own toppings," Clark said, "Any leftovers we can have tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'd like to place a pick-up order for four medium pizzas," Dick said into the phone. "One with ground beef, and one with – Clark?"
"Pepperoni," Clark told him.
"One with pepperoni," Dick continued. "And one with – Bruce, you always get green peppers and sausage, right?"
"I do not always get green peppers and sausage," Bruce snapped. "I get other stuff. Yes, maybe I get that a few times, but –"
"Then what do you want?" Dick asked.
Bruce looked frustrated beyond belief, but he growled, "Green peppers and sausage."
"One with green peppers and sausage," Dick almost rolled his eyes again. "And – Tim?"
"Sausage, and pepperoni, and beef, and bacon, and more pepperoni, and more bacon –"
"And a meat lover's special," Dick grinned. "Forty minutes? Yeah, we'll be there. The name's Grayson."
"The name should be Wayne," Bruce said as Dick hung up the phone.
"Maybe next time," Dick shrugged.
"If you go now, it should be ready by the time you get there," Clark pulled out his wallet. "Let's see – it was a special two for twenty dollars so I should give you –"
"Oh, please," Bruce sneered, pulling out his own wallet. He took out a crisp hundred dollar bill and handed it to Dick. "Put gas in your car while you're out there."
"Bruce," Dick began, annoyed, but Clark stepped in.
"If you go by the gas station, you could get us all cokes," Clark suggested.
"Fine," Dick stood. "But I'm giving you back the change."
"I won't take it," Bruce declared.
"Then I'll give it to Tim and tell him to go get himself an earring."
"Really?" Tim looked excited. "I can get an earring?"
"It'll be the last thing you ever do," Bruce promised Tim.
"Just go," Clark urged the boys.
"You see?" Bruce said as he and Clark watched from the window as the boys went to Dick's car and drove off. "He's always challenging my authority, always trying to stick it to me. You can't ask him to do anything without getting an attitude. He hasn't done a thing I've asked in years. I don't know why I waste my time with him."
Clark looked at Bruce, and then quick as a flash, he spun Bruce around, tucked him against his hard side, and swatted Bruce's rear four times at super-speed.
"Hey!" Bruce howled as the pain registered. "What did I do?"
"You've got an attitude, too," Clark straightened him up, grabbing Bruce by the upper arms to ensure he had his boyfriend's full attention. "Consider that a warning. You need to be kind to those boys, or I'm taking you down to the Cave for a sound spanking after they go to bed. I mean it, Bruce, I don't know what happened this week or why you're feeling so bad, but it needs to stop. What's going on?"
"Nothing," Bruce looked away. "I'm not feeling bad."
"I've seen you short with them before, but this is pushing it."
"They annoy me – they don't do what they're supposed to, they don't take their jobs seriously, and they're always joking around when they should be paying attention."
"They're kids. Tim's fourteen, right? And Dick is twenty-four, twenty-five? Boys don't listen at that age, and considering what they've been through, we're lucky they're not in some cell in Arkham, especially with you as a mentor."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce demanded.
"Nothing," Clark insisted. "You're very good to them. And to me."
He placed a hand on the back of Bruce's neck to draw him in for a kiss. Bruce resisted for a second – he did not like when someone else got the last word in during a fight. But Clark was insistent, pulling his boyfriend in and kissing his lips.
Bruce met his lips, but pulled back immediately, a sign that he wanted to keep quarrelling. Sighing on the inside, Clark lowered his mouth to Bruce's neck, kissing the skin just below Bruce's left ear while kneading the back of his tense neck. Clark began working that skin with his teeth, nibbling and nuzzling and sucking until he felt the tension leave Bruce.
With a smile, Clark leaned his head to the other side and gave the same attention below Bruce's right ear, focusing on all the erogenous zones in boyfriend's neck. Despite all his insistence of steely resolve, Bruce was shamelessly easy to manipulate if one just knew the right buttons to push.
Another few seconds of hard kissing, and Bruce groaned.
"Clark, I'm – I'm trying to tell you how I – I, Clark, just let me finish."
"I plan to finish you," Clark agreed, "but until later tonight once the boys are asleep. And then I'll finish you over and over again, until you beg me to stop."
There was not much Bruce could do after that except kiss back just as hard. Clark picked him up, holding him around the waist, and took him to the sofa so they could make out properly.
By the time Dick's car came back, and the boys clamored up to the front door with all the pizzas, Clark had to run at super-speed to set the table. Bruce stood up shakily from the sofa, buttoning his collar and retying his tie in hopes that the boys would not notice the gnaw marks all over his neck. Clark knew how to shatter him into pieces, irritating Boy Scout.
He was all ready to go have pizza with the guys and be nice and kind and everything Clark liked, when Bruce's sharp eyes caught a movement outside the window. It was barely more than a flicker, but he knew that black shape, knew that long tail.
"Selina," he growled under his breath. He stormed towards the window, planning to open it and tell her to get lost.
Little did he know at the time, but it was the worst decision he had made that evening.
"I'm calm," Bruce retorted. "But that kid – he makes me so angry I want to beat him into a million pieces and then put him back together just so I can do it again. The nerve he's got – daring to question my generosity –"
"He's young," Clark protested. "He wants to be out on his own, showing you that he can survive as an adult."
"He's ungrateful."
"No, he's upset that you keep doubting him. If he didn't care about you and what you think so much, he wouldn't make such a fuss. If he were an ordinary rich boy, he would take the money, maybe thank you, and then keep demanding more and more. But he's not a slacker, he's not a bum, and he's not a punk."
"Then what is he?" Bruce scowled, furious.
"He's a good kid, and he's your son, and he's going to be your son whether he lives here or somewhere else and whether the two of you learn to get along or not."
"You always take his side."
"Bruce," Clark's voice held a warning, "I don't take sides. And if I did, I wouldn't take your side or Dick's. I'd probably take Tim's."
"Tim's?" Bruce's frown grew. "What did he tell you? He's always sneaking around, stirring up trouble."
"No, that's you," Clark wanted to sigh, but he figured it was way too early in the weekend to start sighing. Bruce was in one of his moods – short, surly, and glaring at everyone for no reason. "You want to explain why you were yelling at Tim?"
"I wasn't yelling. I never yell at anyone."
"Bruce, do you really want to start lying to me again?"
"I don't yell," Bruce drew himself up tall and fixed Clark with his best Batman stare. "I give orders, and when those orders are ignored, there are consequences, dire consequences. I told Dick to drop it about the money, but he wanted to argue, so I had us go into the family room for a calm discussion. Tim was not part of it, so I told him to say out while I talked to the most ungrateful, irritating, stubborn boy ever to set foot in Gotham. If anyone should get in trouble, it should be Tim or Dick, not me. I know what I'm doing."
The sigh hovered at the back of Clark's throat, begging for release. Bruce was so stubborn, always having a back up plan and then a plan to back up that plan – always a plan to drive his poor boyfriend crazy. Clark could never reason through things with Bruce because he thought he was smarter than everyone so in the end Bruce plowed ahead with his decisions.
There was only way to cut through the nonsense with Bruce and not get pulled into his web of complex reasoning, ulterior motives, and second guessing.
"You're going to shape up," Clark pointed a finger at him, "or I'm putting you over my knee until you're ready to shape up."
"The kids are here," Bruce hissed, suddenly very contrite and quiet.
"Yeah, well, it's a big house," Clark retorted. "I don't want anymore arguing. It's been a long week and we're all tired. No, don't shake your head – I know you're tired."
"I am not!" Bruce insisted. "You can't come every weekend and think I'm tired. This is supposed to be give and take, not you ordering me around all the time."
"Annoying isn't it?" Clark smirked. "Think how the boys must feel around you, knowing that when they see you, you'll yell at him."
"It's for their own good!"
"And my putting you to bed is for your own good," Clark replied. He smiled inside, thinking it was nice to out-reason Bruce for a change. "Now, can we have a nice evening without bickering?"
"Fine," Bruce pulled his face back into a snarl. "I'll be . . . nice." He seemed to have trouble saying the last word.
"And try to say something encouraging to Tim. He's the youngest and he doesn't get much attention when Dick's here."
"Oh, I'll give Tim all the attention he wants," Bruce muttered. "Starting with a good knock upside the head."
"Bruce," Clark began, but his boyfriend had already charged back into the family room.
Dick was on the sofa, playfully pushing his arm against Tim. Tim was pushing back with his whole body, giggling and laughing as he leaned against Dick's rock-hard arm.
"Come on, you wimp," Dick teased. "Put some effort into it."
"Your arms are as big as my whole body," Tim laughed as he squirmed to push Dick off the sofa. "How many weights do you lift every morning?"
"Oh, enough to get by," Dick reached down to squeeze Tim's knee, making Tim howl with laughter.
"Boys, stop it," Bruce ordered. "Sit up and listen to me."
Immediately, Dick stiffened and looked straight at his adopted father. "What now?"
Tim took a moment to straighten up. He usually needed a little time to recover from Dick's tickle attacks – Dick knew just the right awful places to send him into hysterics, and Tim loved/hated being tickled though he forgot how bad tickling was every time until he wrestled with Dick. But Bruce's icy gaze was enough to sober Tim up, and a second later, he sat just as straight as his older brother.
"Clark is here," Bruce announced sternly. "He says we're going to have a nice weekend, so you two better watch yourselves. Anymore arguing, and you're both grounded."
Dick rolled his eyes, but Tim leaned forward to say, "I wasn't arguing – honest, Bruce, I just –"
"You're arguing with me right now. I mean it, Tim. Pull yourself together or you'll spend the whole weekend in your bedroom. Dick, roll your eyes at me one more time, and you're going straight back to Bludhaven."
"Fine, I didn't want to come here anyway," Dick started to stand up.
"Yes, he did," Tim grabbed Dick's arm, trying to keep him sitting. "He wanted to come because we're going to the movies tomorrow."
"No movie," Bruce decided.
"Aw," Tim's face fell, "you promised."
"I did not. I swear, Tim, if you don't stop lying, I'm going to –"
"Tell you what," Clark stepped forward, "why don't we get some food and discuss it over supper? You guys want to order pizza?"
"Yeah!" Tim's eyes opened wide with excitement. He liked Alfred's cooking all right, but the English butler didn't cook pizza enough to satisfy Tim's craving for it.
"Dick, you want to call?" Clark tossed him his cellphone which Dick easily caught. "We're probably too far out for delivery. Do pick-up, and you and Tim can go pick it up while Bruce and I set the table. The number's in the phone."
"Sure," Dick scrolled down the list until he found the pizza place. "How many pizzas do you want?"
"Four," Clark smiled. "Bruce and I can split one, you can have your own, and that'll leave two for Tim."
"Boo-yeah!" Tim cheered.
"Very funny," Bruce retorted.
"Get four, and we can each chose our own toppings," Clark said, "Any leftovers we can have tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'd like to place a pick-up order for four medium pizzas," Dick said into the phone. "One with ground beef, and one with – Clark?"
"Pepperoni," Clark told him.
"One with pepperoni," Dick continued. "And one with – Bruce, you always get green peppers and sausage, right?"
"I do not always get green peppers and sausage," Bruce snapped. "I get other stuff. Yes, maybe I get that a few times, but –"
"Then what do you want?" Dick asked.
Bruce looked frustrated beyond belief, but he growled, "Green peppers and sausage."
"One with green peppers and sausage," Dick almost rolled his eyes again. "And – Tim?"
"Sausage, and pepperoni, and beef, and bacon, and more pepperoni, and more bacon –"
"And a meat lover's special," Dick grinned. "Forty minutes? Yeah, we'll be there. The name's Grayson."
"The name should be Wayne," Bruce said as Dick hung up the phone.
"Maybe next time," Dick shrugged.
"If you go now, it should be ready by the time you get there," Clark pulled out his wallet. "Let's see – it was a special two for twenty dollars so I should give you –"
"Oh, please," Bruce sneered, pulling out his own wallet. He took out a crisp hundred dollar bill and handed it to Dick. "Put gas in your car while you're out there."
"Bruce," Dick began, annoyed, but Clark stepped in.
"If you go by the gas station, you could get us all cokes," Clark suggested.
"Fine," Dick stood. "But I'm giving you back the change."
"I won't take it," Bruce declared.
"Then I'll give it to Tim and tell him to go get himself an earring."
"Really?" Tim looked excited. "I can get an earring?"
"It'll be the last thing you ever do," Bruce promised Tim.
"Just go," Clark urged the boys.
"You see?" Bruce said as he and Clark watched from the window as the boys went to Dick's car and drove off. "He's always challenging my authority, always trying to stick it to me. You can't ask him to do anything without getting an attitude. He hasn't done a thing I've asked in years. I don't know why I waste my time with him."
Clark looked at Bruce, and then quick as a flash, he spun Bruce around, tucked him against his hard side, and swatted Bruce's rear four times at super-speed.
"Hey!" Bruce howled as the pain registered. "What did I do?"
"You've got an attitude, too," Clark straightened him up, grabbing Bruce by the upper arms to ensure he had his boyfriend's full attention. "Consider that a warning. You need to be kind to those boys, or I'm taking you down to the Cave for a sound spanking after they go to bed. I mean it, Bruce, I don't know what happened this week or why you're feeling so bad, but it needs to stop. What's going on?"
"Nothing," Bruce looked away. "I'm not feeling bad."
"I've seen you short with them before, but this is pushing it."
"They annoy me – they don't do what they're supposed to, they don't take their jobs seriously, and they're always joking around when they should be paying attention."
"They're kids. Tim's fourteen, right? And Dick is twenty-four, twenty-five? Boys don't listen at that age, and considering what they've been through, we're lucky they're not in some cell in Arkham, especially with you as a mentor."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce demanded.
"Nothing," Clark insisted. "You're very good to them. And to me."
He placed a hand on the back of Bruce's neck to draw him in for a kiss. Bruce resisted for a second – he did not like when someone else got the last word in during a fight. But Clark was insistent, pulling his boyfriend in and kissing his lips.
Bruce met his lips, but pulled back immediately, a sign that he wanted to keep quarrelling. Sighing on the inside, Clark lowered his mouth to Bruce's neck, kissing the skin just below Bruce's left ear while kneading the back of his tense neck. Clark began working that skin with his teeth, nibbling and nuzzling and sucking until he felt the tension leave Bruce.
With a smile, Clark leaned his head to the other side and gave the same attention below Bruce's right ear, focusing on all the erogenous zones in boyfriend's neck. Despite all his insistence of steely resolve, Bruce was shamelessly easy to manipulate if one just knew the right buttons to push.
Another few seconds of hard kissing, and Bruce groaned.
"Clark, I'm – I'm trying to tell you how I – I, Clark, just let me finish."
"I plan to finish you," Clark agreed, "but until later tonight once the boys are asleep. And then I'll finish you over and over again, until you beg me to stop."
There was not much Bruce could do after that except kiss back just as hard. Clark picked him up, holding him around the waist, and took him to the sofa so they could make out properly.
By the time Dick's car came back, and the boys clamored up to the front door with all the pizzas, Clark had to run at super-speed to set the table. Bruce stood up shakily from the sofa, buttoning his collar and retying his tie in hopes that the boys would not notice the gnaw marks all over his neck. Clark knew how to shatter him into pieces, irritating Boy Scout.
He was all ready to go have pizza with the guys and be nice and kind and everything Clark liked, when Bruce's sharp eyes caught a movement outside the window. It was barely more than a flicker, but he knew that black shape, knew that long tail.
"Selina," he growled under his breath. He stormed towards the window, planning to open it and tell her to get lost.
Little did he know at the time, but it was the worst decision he had made that evening.