Genres: A Touch of Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: Dick and Clark are concerned about an injured Bruce.
Date Of Completion: September 24, 2011
Date Of Posting: September 25, 2011
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 627
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author's Note: Happy Birthday, me_ya_ri! :) She requested: How about Clark/Bruce/Dick, some fluffy love after someone, possibly Bruce, gets hurt?
Dick’s body was burnished in the waning light of the afternoon as it stretched long fingers of gold across the room, his expression worried as he gazed down at the sleeping figure in the bed. He gently brushed a lock of hair back from Bruce’s forehead, listening to the sound of the grandfather clock out in the hall as it ticked solemnly. Bruises were dark on the older man’s face and chest, Dick laying a hand on his skin, biting his lip. Wind rattled the windowpanes as a storm was gathering on the horizon, the sea churning in anticipation.
“How is he?”
Dick looked up at Clark’s arrival, concern clearly on the other man’s face. He slipped on his glasses, eyes startlingly-blue, and put his hand on Bruce’s wrist, taking his pulse.
“I know.” Dick’s hand shook slightly. “That fall was a bad one. Damn the Penguin for cutting his line.”
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.”
“You can’t be everywhere.”
“I can try.”
Dick chuckled. “That’s a good idea. You’d probably pull it off if you don’t bother to sleep.”
“I don’t need much.”
Dick’s hand moved to touch Clark’s, their fingers entwining. Pure love shown from Dick’s sapphire-blue eyes.
“You would take care of us all if you could.”
Clark smiled as he sat down on the other side of the bed. “I would take care of you and Bruce.
“You already do,” Dick squeezed Clark’s hand. “Though we can take care of ourselves.”
Clark chuckled. “I never doubted that of the Dynamic Duo.”
A soft groan brought their attention to Bruce, whose eyelids fluttered open. “Wha…?”
“Your hard head saved your life,” said Dick.
“Glad it was good for something.”
Dick smirked as he leaned down to kiss Bruce, Clark squeezing Bruce’s shoulder. When Dick straightened up, Clark replaced him, a slight smile on Bruce’s face.
Dick was relieved. There was nothing worse than worrying about either Bruce or Clark. He hated feeling helpless, waiting to find out if everything was all right. It was a feeling that he disliked for anyone, but especially for these two. Clark was literally invulnerable, but he felt the same way about Bruce.
As he watched Clark fuss over Bruce, he supposed it was because Bruce had been larger-than-life to him when he was still just a kid. Despite knowing that he put his pants on just like any other man one leg at a time, Dick could not help but be a little in awe. After all, he was the Batman! And then there was his fanboying of Superman to add to the stew.
Smiling, Dick rested a hand on Bruce’s thigh and patted it. “I’ll get you some soup. Alfred cooked up a batch of chicken noodle.” His grin widened. “I’ll crumble Saltine crackers in it for you.”
“You spoil me,” Bruce said dryly.
Dick laughed and leaned down again to kiss him, suddenly gripping his shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” he whispered, trembling a little as he remembered the horror of watching Bruce fall, old nightmares whispering on the edges of his mind. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.
“So am I.” Bruce slipped his arms around Dick and hugged, understanding as he always did.
“I’ll third that,” said Clark cheerfully. “Time to be pampered, Bruce.” At his lover’s groan, Clark patted his cheek. “Ooh, you have it so tough.”
Bruce pushed his hand away while Dick laughed. The younger man hopped off the bed.
“I’ll go get that soup.”
As he left the bedroom, he paused by the door to listen to Clark scold Bruce for wanting to get out of bed, and Bruce’s protest.
All is well, Dick thought with a smirk. He went downstairs to get the soup.