Brain: Wouldn't it be funny if Bruce and Clark argued? And not in a face-punchy way?
Me: Bruce let *anyone* get to him like that? And in front of the kids? Doubt it. *scribbles anyway*
Brain: And wouldn't it be funny if Tim, Kon and Bart listened in and drew some conclusions?
Me: I don't think they ever hung out at the Manor. Plus only a handful of people are in on who Batman and Superman really are. *scribbles anyway*
Brain: And wouldn't it even be funnier if they might be slightly guilty of the same thing they're assuming?
Me: No, that would be sad. *scribbles anyway*
Just so many steers-a-sharp-left from canon and character issues and puréeing of canons, but who cares? I amuse myself. With dialogue. Mostly just dialogue.
“Man, listen to that,” Bart said, standing by the door and shaking his head, laughing. “The ‘rents are at it again. They are so married, it’s not even funny.”
“Huh?” Kon said, looking up from a mess of CD’s he had spread out on the floor.
“Dude, how many times is Clark over?” He looked over at Tim, who sat cross-legged on the bed. “Come on, Tim, help me out here.”
“He’s not here that much,” Tim said, shrugging, leaning back on his hands.
“Whatever,” Bart said, still leaning against the door. “Helping them keep it on the down-low, am I right?”
“Right about what?” Kon insisted.
But Bart just turned away from the door, plopped down on the floor, smiled. “Clark’s so the mom in that thing they got going, muscle boy.”
“Superman does not take it up the ass!” CD cases flew all around the room.
Bart held up one that zoomed by his ear, fiddled with it. “Ka-ching! Somebody just bought a clue.” He rolled onto an elbow. “Anyway, are you saying that Batman does?”
“No! There is no ass-taking! Nada! Zilch!”
“Okay, maybe they just blow each other.” Bart said, apparently not having moved, but the CD’s were all back in a nice little pile.
“Thank you,” Tim said. “I don’t think he would have gotten to it. You’ve got him pretty wound up.”
Kon just glared. “Yeah, what’re you yanking my chain for, huh? What’s up with that? Why does everything have to be gay with you?”
“Why do you have a problem with it?” Bart said.
“Problem? There’s no problem! You’re just lucky that Bruce doesn’t come up here and kick your scrawny ass for talking shit.”
“What? For talking shit about your mom? Yeah, he probably would.”
CD cases flew all around the room again. “Clark is not a girl!” He leapt forward onto nothing. “Sit still! You obviously want me to beat the crap out of you!”
“Knock it off,” Tim said, command-voice. “Now.”
“I hate it when you do that.” Kon mumbled, sprawled face-down on the floor.
“Sorry, man, he’s just too easy, you know?” Bart leaned against the bed, arms folded, but the CD’s were back in a nice little pile.
“Besides,” Tim said, running his hand through his hair, “Clark’s married.”
“Exactly!” Kon managed to raise his head, glare over at Bart. But he paused. “Wait, when you say it like that, do you mean...?”
“Clark’s married,” Tim said again.
“Okay, so are you saying that Speedy Gonzales here is full of crap because these two are straight?” And when Bart made a ‘ha!’ sound, Kon said, “And they so are!” Turning back to Tim, he said, “Or that they’d be getting all rabbitty with each other if that weren’t the case?
“Clark’s married,” Tim said a third time.
Kon rolled to his back, blinked at the ceiling. Finally, he put his hands over his eyes and let out a muffled scream. “My brain! Now every time the two of them go at it, I’m going to be thinking ‘sexual repression!’. Just...just fuck you two oh so very much.”
“They don’t always fight,” Tim said. “They get along most of the time.”
“Yeah, cause Bruce is such an open-hearted guy with a shit-load of friends he hangs with. There’s Clark, and well, just Clark.” Kon groaned again. “Tender man-love images! Oh God no! Stop!”
“Sorry I started it, dude, seriously,” Bart said, lying down next to him. “You know what would be cool, Tim, if you like had those glow-in-the-dark stars pasted on your ceiling. We could make our own constellations.”
“I had those when I was six.”
“Yeah, well I’m six then. Still would be cool.”
“I could get some, if you want.”
“That’d be nice. We could be all Masters of the Universe, creating our own star systems...He’d probably think we’re up here getting stoned though if we did that. You put up the ceiling art and then the 'Just Say No' pamphlets show up in your lunch box and your underwear drawer looks like it’s had the Russian Secret Police go through it.”
“I think Dick had that problem more than me,” Tim said, flopping down on the bed.
“No way! Seriously? He’s a pot-head?”
“No, he just hung out with Roy.”
“What’s the story behind that anyway? That’s like the Titan mystery of all time.”
“I guess...” Kon said, hands still over his eyes, “If Bruce was going to fag out over someone, it’d be Clark.”
Bart just looked at him. “Are we still on this?”
“Apparently,” Tim said.
“Dude, I get my good looks from somewhere!”
“Someone thinks entirely too much of himself,” Bart said, grinning. “And what’s with the Cult of Clark? You trash-talk him half the time.”
“It’s the image,” Tim said. “Sometimes it’s hard to see a real person in there. How you’re supposed to live up to that.”
“Huh,” Bart flipped onto his stomach. “I think I get that. You and me, we’re like fourth gen. Kinda sucks.”
“Kon has less wiggle-room. There’s only the one.”
“What about Power Girl and Supergirl? Don’t they count?”
“Can I just have my freak-out in peace? Fuck!”
“Yes, me and Tim should just leave you alone in his room. What the fuck?”
“I mean, if they are, then why’d it have to be Luthor?”
“Okay, Tim, translate. You speak Kon better than anyone.”
“Everyone wants to be conceived in love,” Tim said softly. “To exist because two people love each other.”
“Oh,” Bart said. “Sorry, man, sucks to be you.”
“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a SuperBat ass-baby?”
Kon laughed. “You want to be buried or cremated?”
“Just trying to give your identity crisis here a little perspective. Seriously, the closest you’re ever going to have a little Wayne in you is if Drake here decides to give you some.”
“Oh my God! Why are you trying to gay up this room? Why?”
“Hey, I’m not the one with two daddies crying over not being an ass-baby.”
“I get it. You feel left out.”
“Two sex-ass dudes downstairs putting on the Marvin Gaye, two sex-ass dudes in here,” he said, pointing to himself and Tim. “Do the math.”
“You been hitting the pipe?”
“Let’s get it on, let’s get it on... Come on, sing it with me now.”
“Get off...! Are you humping my leg? Tim!”
“Yeah, come on, Tim. Get his other leg.”
“You’re perfectly capable of getting away,” Tim said.
“Just messing with you, little guy,” Kon said. “If me and Tim ever decide to gay it up, we’ll let you be the jam in our sandwich. Deal?”
“Off!” Bart said, vibrating away, to stand sulking by the door. “Like I’d let the two of you tag-team me.” And then he laughed. “Hey, Tim, Kon here just called you sex-ass. Am I like interfering with your private time? Just say the word, and I’m...”
“It was a joke,” Tim said, looking pointedly at Kon still kneeling on the floor.
“Are you fishing?” Kon made a small cast and reel gesture. “Because I’m so fine with my own marvelous masculinity I have no problem saying you’ve got the cool, dangerous and mysterious going for you.”
Tim looked away. Kon just raised his eyebrows, looked over at Bart, who also looked away. “Ho-kay,” he said, “Who wants to go down to Amusement Mile, score some corn dogs?”
“You’re on!” Bart said, leaping for his backpack.
“Half of it’s shut down for repairs.” But he reached over the side of the bed, found his shoes.
“Just means the chicks are less spread out.” Kon grabbed his jacket. “The glass is always half-full, always.” He zipped up, shook his head. “Still trying to wrap my head around the whole Bruce and Clark thing.”
“Two words for you, dude. Ass. Baby. Get over it.”
“I don’t think they talk about it,” Tim said quietly, lacing up.
“It’s there, but they don’t talk about it. Bruce respects Clark’s marriage. Clark respects Bruce’s privacy.”
“Jesus,” Kon said, “When you say it like that, it sounds kind of tragic and beautiful...” He coughed. “In a fucked-up gay way.”
Tim just smiled, got his jacket. “Bruce isn’t gay.”
“I thought you said the ladies were just a front?”
“Not all of them.”
Kon just stared at him, blinked. “Like how many?”
Bart shook his head, backpack slung over his shoulder. “You’re just sad, you know that? Why do I hang with you?”
“Because I’m gorgeous and you can’t live without me? Hey, details, Drake! Come on, spill!”
Tim said nothing, still smiling, and opened the door.
“Okay, that mysterious thing I said earlier? Now is not the time. Give a guy something.”
Bart shoved into him, pushing him out the door. “Jesus, do you even pause long enough to listen to yourself?”
Kon shoved back, grinning. “Pause? I got your pause right here.”
Bart jumped on his back when they were all in the corridor, wrapped his legs around his waist, arms around his neck. “Ride! C’mon, giddy-up!”
“What, too heavy for you, Super-lite?”
“Kidding me? What’re you, all of fifty pounds?”
“Yeah, fifty pounds in my balls.”
“Grow a pair of tits, then we’ll talk. Hey, watch the hair!” Kon said as Bart giggled and ruffled it. “Got an arm free,” he said, extending his right arm and wiggling his fingers toward Tim. “Hop on.”
But Tim just stood there, looked at the two of them.
“What?” Kon said. “Not going to drop you.” But when Tim still didn’t move, he sighed. “Seriously, I can handle both you and feather-weight here.”
Bart squeezed his neck, giggled again. “You have absolutely no clue, do you?”
“Not helping,” Kon hissed. “Just shut the fuck up.”
“Oooh, okay, maybe you do.”
“Hop on, Drake. Just take the ride.”
Tim hesitated, but then sprinted, leapt, and Kon leapt too, caught him mid-air.
“Airplane!” Bart squealed as Kon didn’t touch down.
“Yep, let’s jet on out of here.”
They flew down the stairs.