Suki Blue Fiction
Infinite Patience
Dick winced at the two hard thuds
signalling Clark’s feet descending from the bed to the floor.
It was after ten and that meant only one thing. That it wasn’t before ten. Okay,
so maybe it meant two things. It wasn’t before ten and it was also way later
than Clark usually awoke.
There was a reason for this. A heavy night of bashing bullies followed by
several good hard fucks – with Dick, not the bad guys, although there was a
little role-play involved - meant that Clark was exhausted. Normally wholesome,
good-natured and definitely a morning person, when exhausted and probably sore
from the potato he often insisted on using, Clark could sometimes be a big ol’
bear.
“Morning, sleepy.”
“Grrr,” was what the reply sounded like.
“How d’you want your eggs?”
Clark stood in the doorway, naked as the day he was born. His response was a
little delayed and accompanied by an expression that could only be called
gormless. “Since when do you cook?”
“Since I learned that I starve if I don’t. So, you want?”
“Want what?”
“Eggs.”
“Grrr.” Meaning yes.
Dick interpreted correctly. “How do you want them?” he asked again. If Clark
didn’t answer him this time, he was going to serve them to him a la forehead.
Clark padded – thudded like a damn dinosaur – over to the kitchen table and
plopped himself down in one of the chairs.
Dick winced again at the cracking sound. That chair was soon going to pass over
to the other side.
“Roasted,” Clark finally decided.
Dick translated the request as ‘same as you, love of my life’. “Great.
Scrambled, it is.”
Clark grinned as much as he could, considering that most of his facial muscles
weren’t yet working. “Grrr.” He discovered he had use of his right arm and
lovingly patted his lover’s rear. “You’re too good to me.”
Dick picked himself up from the floor and thanked his lucky stars he’d
instinctively put his Kevlar back on this morning. “Uh, yeah.”
“Paper?” Clark grunted. He didn’t mean to sound impolite and wasn’t even aware
that he did. Dick also knew this and therefore Clark did not end up on the
receiving end of a hissy fit.
“On the table.”
Clark reached out blindly. His eyes were not quite functioning within normal
parameters. Or, in other words, they were shut.
“Little to the left.”
Clark reached left.
“Left,” Dick corrected. “Left.” Jesus Christ. “LEFT! Oh, wait, no, I
meant right. Or…what’s the one in-between?”
Clark cracked opened his eyes and found the blurry, fuzzy, wobbling paper. It
was an effort, but it was better than subjecting his Dick to the trauma of
figuring out his left from his right. Clark wasn’t sure quite how Dick had
developed this problem, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with Bruce
not knowing his ass from his elbow. These things were passed down in the genes.
Could adoptive sons catch genes?
Whoa. That was too many thoughts at the best of times, never mind first thing in
the morning. Best just read the paper and wait for his roasted scrambles.
“Got any plans for today?” Dick asked as he fished pieces of eggshell out of the
pan. Cooking was hard. And eggs were scary. Dick hadn’t been able to fully look
an egg in the eye since the Half-Developed Chick Crisis.
“Work later.”
Clark had been fired from the Daily Planet a month ago. He’d been on assignment
to obtain an interview from a local hero – also the owner of a hotel. But Clark
had become suspicious of the man’s cool, pale skin and odd sleeping habits. So,
he had set out to expose him. And accidentally exposed himself. The Senior
Partners had been greatly displeased.
Now Clark worked in a jar opening factory. It was boring and a little mundane,
but, boy, was the cafeteria something special. He could get three cartons of
milk on his lunch card. Wow.
“I might fly, first. Wanna come?”
“Uh, maybe later. I gotta go see Bruce. He’s developing a new computer program
that can detect the whereabouts of any stray sock at any given moment.”
Clark turned in his seat and gave his boyfriend a sleepy, quizzical look. “Huh?”
“Don’t you remember the Sock Crisis a few years back? All the JLA, JSA, the
Outsiders, Teen Titans, the SPL, they all ran out of socks! It was terrible!”
“And where was I?”
“Ummm, dead, I think.”
“Oh, well, that would explain why I don’t remember. SPL?”
“Sausage Protection League. They’re in England. They help battered sausages,
apparently.”
Clark stared blankly.
“They do a lot of good work, I hear,” Dick continued. “And they never put a
healthy sausage down.”
“That’s…good?”
Dick put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Clark. “I guess. I think you have
to be British to get it.”
“Hey, guys.” The voice of Barbara Gordon. “Not interrupting anything,
am I?”
Clark looked down at his pile of eggs. “Oracle? Is that you in there?”
“In where?”
“By all the gods! Dick! Quick! We have to get her out!” Clark pawed furiously at
the eggs. “It’s okay, Barbara. I’m coming for you!”
”Uh, Dick? What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry, Babs. Clark isn’t totally awake yet. Feel free to ignore him.
Anyway, what’s up?”
“We’ve had another sighting of the X-Men.”
Clark stopped scrabbling at his breakfast and leaned closer to it so that
Barbara could hear him. “Cyclops?”
”No, not them. The other X-Men. The men shaped like X’s.”
“They are a marvel,” Dick mused. “Come on then, Clark. Your eggs and my missing
socks will have to wait. It’s time to rock and roll.”
Clark stood, stretched and yawned. “Sorry, Oracle. Gotta fly. I’ll come back and
rescue you later.”
“Okaaay, whatever you say. Head towards the Comfort Inn. You can’t miss them.
X marks the spot, guys.”
Clark snatched Dick into his arms and flew out of the window faster than a
speeding train that was functioning in an extra speedy capacity.
“Um, Clark? Not that I don’t appreciate the lift, but…”
“Oh, am I holding you too tight?”
“No, it’s just…”
“Oh, did I get scrambled egg on you?”
“No…well, actually, yes, but that I can cope with. You’re still naked.”
Clark looked down at himself. “Damn.”
“And you’re poking me.”
“Gods, Dick, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just turn me over so I can poke you back, big boy.”
Clark grinned from ear to ear and then back again. His Dick was wonderful. Lois
would never have enjoyed naked flying. She just didn’t have the balls. It was
probably a good thing that she was dead. He wouldn’t have to dump her. See? Some
good did come out of Lois falling from the tallest building in Metropolis and
landing in the back of a pick-up that drove her to a penguin farm where she was
trampled by one particularly upset penguin that wanted to know when the weather
was going to turn more clement.
Ah, it was a funny old life.
He loved Dick very much. Dick was much more flexible than Lois and, most of all,
he had better hair.
“I love you, Dick, Nightwing, Former Boy Wonder. You’re the only one for me.”
“I love you, too.” Dick held Clark tightly. Not because of the Hallmark Moment,
but because Clark had suddenly nodded off and was liable to let go at any
second. Thank god for autopilot, at least.
Yes, being with Clark took an infinite amount of patience, but at the end of the
day Clark was muscular and looked hot in a pair of tights.
What more could a guy ask for?
The End.