Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, Dick/Roy, Hal Jordan, Ollie/Dinah, Alfred Pennyworth (mention of various JLA’ers)
Genres: Fluff, Humor
Summary: A party at the Manor goes awry.
Date Of Completion: June 4, 2008
Date Of Posting: June 15, 2008
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1101
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Written for my 2008 DCU Mood Ring Fic Request Meme for svgurl . Pairing: Clark/Bruce. Prompt: Energetic. :)
Bruce groaned as he came awake, his head throbbing. Damn, what had been in that Martian brandy that J’onn had provided? A few sips and he’d been down for the count.
Ruefully he looked around at all the slumbering bodies draped over furniture or sprawled or huddled on the floor.
How did Dinah and Diana persuade me to host this party at the Manor instead of the Watchtower?
All the JLA’ers and their significant others were drunk as skunks and now looking like refugees from a late ‘60s orgy, for crying out loud.
Bruce winced at the mess: spilled drinks, kernels of popcorn scattered on the rug, an overturned lamp…
God, what did we do last night?
Suddenly, panic hit.
Oh, crap! He sat up, the room spinning. If Alfred comes home…
His butler was away for the weekend, but due back later today.
He looked around. Dick was lying on the floor, curled around a slumbering Roy. He started to shake him awake (after all, Dick had plotted with Dinah and Diana to persuade him to host this bacchanal) but his boy looked so happy in Roy’s arms.
Huffing, Bruce stumbled as he tried to find Clark. If he didn’t get this place cleaned up, Alfred would kill him!
Trying to remember despite his headache, Bruce went over last night’s events. Wouldn’t Clark have been by his side? Where the hell was he?
A moan from behind the couch brought him to his knees as he peered over the back.
“Clark, what are you doing down there?”
Clark groaned, “J’onn should be shot.”
“Agreed.” Bruce climbed down and helped Clark off the floor and onto the couch. “He came up with a drink that affected you?”
Clark started to nod but thought better of it. “That stuff packs a real punch. Even with my powers, I wound up behind your couch.”
Bruce eyed Clark’s disheveled clothes. He hoped that he’d been the only one to rumple that shirt and pants.
“Can you recover from this hangover fast? Alfred’s due back by four o’clock.”
Clark’s eyes widened. He winced, then asked, “What time is it?”
Bruce squinted at the ornate clock on the mantel. “Three o’clock.”
The room was dark, all the drapes still drawn.
“Help me to a window,” Clark said.
Bruce brought his lover over to a window and pulled back the drapes, sunlight flooding in.
“Burning off your hangover?”
Clark winced. “My headache’s getting worse, but I feel more energetic.”
Ten minutes later, Clark was zipping around at super-speed, Bruce getting people up. Groans filled the Manor as people awoke with headaches and nausea.
Eventually the JLA’ers started helping clean up, Clark’s speed only about half its usual intensity.
“Where the hell is J’onn?” grumbled Hal as his ring aided the effort.
“Hiding if he knows what’s good for him.” Ollie picked up several empty beer bottles.
“Hurry up!” Bruce swept all the debris off the coffee table and into a garbage bag.
& & & & & &
The clock struck four, and Bruce nervously did a quick inspection. Everything looked all right, but Alfred had the eyes of an eagle.
Everyone had gone except for Dick, his younger partner yelling, “Coward!” at the fleeing Roy as he went home with Dinah and Ollie.
Clark had stayed, trying to calm his nervous energy. He did a backflip in mid-air, Dick applauding and Bruce rolling his eyes.
The taxi came up the driveway, Bruce sprinting out to greet Alfred, closely followed by Clark and Dick.
“Welcome home, Alfred.” Bruce grabbed his old friend’s valise.
“Thank you, sir.” Alfred paid the driver, who drove off down the long driveway. “Good to see you, Master Dick, and you, too, Master Clark.”
“Always glad to see you home, Alfred.” Dick hugged the stately butler, who patted Dick’s back as he hugged back.
“Yes, always a pleasure.” Clark smiled.
“Come on in. We’ll brew up some tea and I know we have some cakes…”
Alfred raised an eyebrow at this uncharacteristically-babbling Bruce. They went inside, Dick heading for the kitchen and Clark taking the valise from Bruce to take upstairs.
“Go sit in the living room and we’ll serve high tea,” Bruce smiled.
Alfred headed for the living room while Bruce joined Dick in the kitchen. He took out the little frosted cakes and arranged them on a handpainted plate. Dick had already started the teakettle.
“Good thing for Clark’s super-speed.” Dick arranged rose-sprigged teacups on a silver tray. “Otherwise we’d be in hot water right now.”
Bruce grabbed a handful of linen napkins and folded them on the cake plate. “Super-speed has its advantages,” he smirked.
“Like the Energizer Bunny, eh?”
“Hmph. For someone with a boyfriend with the nickname ‘Speedy’, I’m not sure you should be making cracks.”
“’Course I should.” Dick winked. He took the kettle off as it began to whistle.
“Everything seems fine,” Clark said as he entered the kitchen.
“Miraculous,” Bruce said as Dick placed the now-full teapot on the tray. “Okay, let’s go.”
The three of them marched into the living room.
Alfred was standing at the window, his back to them, and Bruce cheerfully announced, “High tea is served.”
“Master Bruce, do you have something to tell me?”
“Just that these cakes are fresh as can be.”
Alfred turned, a bra hanging from his hand. “Are you sure…Master Bruce?”
& & & & & &
Clark laughed as he hugged a chagrined Bruce in their room. “Almost got away with it.”
“X-ray vision can’t locate a cotton bra stuffed behind a potted plant?”
Clark grinned as he nuzzled Bruce’s neck. “Sorry. Blame the hangover.”
“We should confiscate all the Chocos from the Watchtower,” Bruce grumbled.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Clark murmured as he started unbuttoning his lover’s shirt. “A side effect of my hangover seems to be an upsurge of, um, energy.”
“Energy, huh?” Bruce was copying Clark, unbuttoning the reporter’s shirt.
“Well, didn’t Dick call me the Energizer Bunny?” Clark slid Bruce’s shirt off.
“Man, you’ve got a nasty habit of eavesdropping.” Bruce yanked Clark’s shirt out of his pants.
“So, will you be okay with me as your personal Super-Bunny?” Clark wiggled his nose.
“I guess a living solar battery fits the name Super-Bunny.”
“Wanna see my cottontail?” This time Clark wiggled a different part of his anatomy.
Bruce shook his head as Clark pushed him down to the bed.
“I think you still have a hangover.”
Clark’s only reply was to laugh as he covered Bruce’s face with kisses, Bruce joining in as both demonstrated just how energetic they could be.