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This here is a follow-up to and he never lies. Still in the Superman Returns universe, still OT3-y, still no warnings. Brief cameo appearance by Bruce Wayne.
"So, the hair thing. How does that work?"
It was a question Richard could only have asked in the dark. He and Clark were sitting on the back porch, looking out over the water. Lois was working late, and Jason was asleep, or at least supposed to be.
"What hair thing?"
Richard tried not to pester Clark about his powers. It was just one of those things they didn't talk about. But he'd tried to figure this one out on his own, and now it was eating his brain and he just had to ask.
Still, he blushed as he explained. "You know," he said awkwardly, gesturing towards his own forehead even as he kept his eyes glued firmly to the water. "The … curl thing. How do you get it to do that?"
"Oh … uh, well … It's kind of … complicated."
Richard glanced sideways, and then back to the ocean. It had never been formally acknowledged who knew what, but around the house, Clark never pulled the bumbling klutz act. The earnestness, though, seemed authentic, as did his discomfort whenever the conversation focused on him.
Richard counted nineteen boats before Clark spoke again. "I don't know, exactly. It sort of … does it on its own, when I think about … you know. I just … expect it to be that way, and it is. Like the suit."
Now, the suit was a whole different set of questions, so Richard was going to let that comment go. Because … "Are you saying you have thought-controlled hair?"
"Uh -- yes? Sort of?" Clark was practically squirming in his seat by that point.
Richard leaned back against the porch swing, setting it into motion. "That is so cool."
***************************
It was hours later when Lois finally arrived home. Richard was asleep, sprawled out on the swing. Clark had moved to the porch steps, but he stood up when Lois poked her head through the back door.
"Hi Lois."
"Don't you 'hi Lois' me," she snapped. Richard, who had opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening, hastily closed them again. There was something weird going on between those two, something more than what he'd been able to figure out. Maybe this was his chance -- and either way, he did not want to get involved.
"Lois …"
"No. I'm sick of this. You do not get to just waltz back into my life -- into all our lives -- without a little more than an 'I'm sorry.'"
There was an abortive sound from Clark's direction, but Lois cut him off. "Because I've done this before, haven't I? But this time it's not just me, Clark. It's Jason, and Richard. What's going to happen to us when we get too close, when you decide you can't handle it anymore? What are you going to do then? Are you going to kiss all of us?"
Whoa, hold on there. Kissing? Not that Clark wasn't cute, but what the hell was Lois talking about?
Clark's voice was soft, and Richard had to strain to hear the words. "It wasn't -- I didn't -- I was trying to keep you safe."
"That's bullshit, and you know it. Newsflash, Clark, I was getting myself into -- and out of -- trouble, long before I met you. You didn't make me forget to keep me safe, you did it to keep you safe. You never trusted me to keep your secrets."
"That's not it." Richard wished Clark would speak up. "I'm just …"
"Not used to thinking about other people's feelings? Not able to believe someone else might have a different perspective on things? It was my life too, Clark, and I deserved to have a say in it. If you can't realize that -- if you can't stop making decisions for me, instead of with me, you will not be welcome in this house."
There was silence. And then …
"… Okay."
*************************************
Jason frowned as his mom handed him more vitamins. He didn't like vitamins. They tasted gross, and once he'd almost choked when he'd tried to swallow all of them at the same time. To distract himself, he looked at Clark.
"Why do you wear glasses?"
"Well, Jason -- people wear glasses because it helps them to see better," Clark said slowly. Jason nodded. Like his mom -- she always put on her glasses when she was reading stuff.
Clark's smile faded at Jason's next statement. "But you already see the best. You don't need to see better."
Jason drank some of his juice while the grown-ups looked at each other. He wondered if they could talk to each other without opening their mouths. That would make it a lot harder to listen in on what they were saying.
Clark didn't say anything for a long time. Jason fidgeted in his chair.
"I don't know." Jason frowned again. That wasn't a very good answer.
"It's a -- well, it's like -- Superman has a special outfit, right?"
Jason nodded. "Yeah."
"Yes," his mom corrected.
"Yes," Jason repeated, and his mom smiled at him.
"And it's important that Superman wears his special outfit, right? So people know who he is?"
That made sense, so Jason nodded again. If someone didn't recognize Superman, how would they know it was okay to let him rescue them?
"Well, my glasses are part of my special Clark outfit. So people recognize me as Clark Kent."
Jason tilted his head to the side, and Clark seemed to guess what his next question was going to be. He took his glasses off.
"You look different." Clark was smiling, but he looked sad. Jason didn't want him to be sad. "But I still recognize you," he added quickly.
Clark didn't say anything, but his smile looked more happy. And then his mom was carrying his juice glass to the sink, and his dad was ruffling his hair, and he had to run and get his backpack from his room so he could go to school.
*************************************
Objectively speaking, Richard had known that eventually, one of them was going to run into trouble. Things had been relatively quiet since Superman had left the hospital, like even the villains were giving him a chance to recover, but he knew it couldn't last forever. Sooner or later, one of them was going to wind up in a situation they couldn't get themselves out of on their own. He just hadn't thought it would be him.
From a statistical point of view, it should have been Lois. She was the one who seemed drawn to trouble like a magnet. She was even spending the day investigating a group of businessmen that she suspected were selling illegal weapons components. That sounded dangerous, right?
Or Jason -- he was supposed to be in school, which was supposed to be safe -- but more and more Richard was realizing that "supposed to be" rarely applied when it came to Jason.
If there was one person who shouldn't have been in danger that day, it was Richard. All he had to do was cover the opening of the newest Gotham International Bank, and then interview the manager about how they planned to use micro-loans and flexible pay schedules to finance entrepreneurship in developing countries. See? Boring. Safe.
And apparently attended by a group of international terrorists. Richard didn't know how they'd gotten into the bank; he'd had to show three forms of I.D. and his press pass just to get past the first wave of security. But they'd done it, and now he was locked in a vault with the richest man in Gotham.
Bruce Wayne was a pacer, which was annoying, but at least he was doing it on the other side of the vault. Wayne's dislike of the press was well known, and Richard was trying to keep a low profile. If they'd been in any normal city, like Metropolis, the terrorists would have been listing their demands, or planting explosives, or at least have some kind of vaguely logical plan. But no -- this was Gotham, the city where all criminals seemed to be afflicted with some form of mental illness.
They were probably singing. Richard couldn't hear anything through the walls of the vault, but that's what they had been doing when they closed the door. Most of them, anyway. One had taken the time to tell Richard that he really should be honored, because he'd been chosen as a symbol of the corrupt press, and that his being imprisoned with the symbol of corporate greed in an institution of destructive capitalism was the first step in awakening people to the new reality.
Richard wasn't feeling very awakened. He was feeling hungry, and getting a lot more worried about what the second step was going to be. Honestly, this seemed like the perfect moment for Superman to swoop in and save the day. Surely the hostages that had been released had spread the word about what was happening, right?
Maybe it was different in Gotham than Metropolis. Wasn't Gotham Batman's city? Richard thought Batman only worked at night, which would mean a long wait, but maybe there was some kind of superhero etiquette.
Just then there was the sound of wrenching metal, and Superman stood where the door had just been, hands on his hips. "Is everyone all right?"
Richard nodded, and then watched in disbelief as Superman's smile turned into what could only be called a smirk when he turned towards Bruce Wayne.
Wayne scowled. "Was that really necessary?" he asked. "We're going to have to replace the whole door now."
"It was on a timer," Superman said, all innocence. "You know how those are."
Richard couldn't believe it. Was Superman engaging in witty banter? With Bruce Wayne?
"Yeah, well, I was working on it."
"I keep telling you, never underestimate the importance of a healthy breakfast," Superman said, in his best 'public service announcement' voice.
Wayne actually laughed. "You sound like Alfred." Then he nodded in Richard's direction. "This is White, right? I like him."
Richard's eyebrows rose involuntarily. What? All he'd done was sit in the corner -- they hadn't even spoken. But Superman nodded, and smiled again.
"Me too."
******************************
"He's involved in almost every major charity in Gotham." Jimmy nodded to emphasize his words. "A lot of the minor ones, too."
Where did Jimmy come up with information like that? Richard had always maintained that photographers must have a lot of extra time on their hands, if the amount of gossip Jimmy had access to was anything to go by. He'd come into Richard's office to run some photos by him for the bank hostage article, but had stayed to impart a seemingly endless barrage of facts about Bruce Wayne.
"Did you know that Wayne Industries actually designed the security system at that bank?"
Richard mumbled a vague sort of neutral response -- once Jimmy got on a roll, he didn't really need any encouragement. Richard was only half listening anyway, but the conversation gave him an excuse to not be working. If he leaned just to the left of Jimmy, he had a perfect view of both Clark's and Lois' desks.
Clark kept staring at Lois. Lois knew it, and was pretending to ignore it. Every few minutes, she would 'accidentally' make eye contact, and ask for some random office supply, which -- of course -- he handed right over. Staplers, pens, post-it notes -- at the rate they were going, Clark's desk would be completely empty by the end of the day.
"Actually, it's sort of surprising that he was there for the opening; he usually tries to avoid stuff like that."
"Really?" Richard shifted in his chair so he could look around Jimmy on the other side. Clark had just gone for coffee -- and there he was, predictably carrying an extra mug as he walked back towards Lois' desk. Richard rolled his eyes. They were like two grade schoolers with a crush on each other.
"Boy, I bet he was pissed to be locked inside that vault."
It was Jimmy's emphasis on Wayne being upset that had Richard finally turning to look at him. "What?"
"Did he say anything to you? It must have been weird to have Superman rescue you -- talk about awkward."
Out in the newsroom, Clark walked into a filing cabinet. Not for the first time, Richard wondered just how many conversations the 'Man of Steel' could pay attention to at once. He thought about the odd exchange in the bank, thought about how in the world Clark Kent would know Bruce Wayne. Or how Superman would know … Oh. Really? Wayne? It would certainly explain his dislike of the press.
"I dunno, Jimmy," Richard said calmly. "It seemed like pretty much the standard Superman save and run to me." He noticed that Clark had managed to save both mugs of coffee. "Why would it be awkward?"
"Oh -- well, you know -- no reason, really." As expected, Jimmy started backpedaling as soon as he was questioned. "Hey, did you ever get some lunch? 'Cause you looked pretty hungry when you came in."
Richard stood up. "Food sounds great, Jimmy. You thinking Chinese? I could definitely go for some egg rolls right now."
*****************************
Five minutes later, they had take-out orders from half the newsroom. On his way past Lois' desk, Richard snitched Clark's pen and put it in his pocket. He grinned all the way to the elevators.
"So, the hair thing. How does that work?"
It was a question Richard could only have asked in the dark. He and Clark were sitting on the back porch, looking out over the water. Lois was working late, and Jason was asleep, or at least supposed to be.
"What hair thing?"
Richard tried not to pester Clark about his powers. It was just one of those things they didn't talk about. But he'd tried to figure this one out on his own, and now it was eating his brain and he just had to ask.
Still, he blushed as he explained. "You know," he said awkwardly, gesturing towards his own forehead even as he kept his eyes glued firmly to the water. "The … curl thing. How do you get it to do that?"
"Oh … uh, well … It's kind of … complicated."
Richard glanced sideways, and then back to the ocean. It had never been formally acknowledged who knew what, but around the house, Clark never pulled the bumbling klutz act. The earnestness, though, seemed authentic, as did his discomfort whenever the conversation focused on him.
Richard counted nineteen boats before Clark spoke again. "I don't know, exactly. It sort of … does it on its own, when I think about … you know. I just … expect it to be that way, and it is. Like the suit."
Now, the suit was a whole different set of questions, so Richard was going to let that comment go. Because … "Are you saying you have thought-controlled hair?"
"Uh -- yes? Sort of?" Clark was practically squirming in his seat by that point.
Richard leaned back against the porch swing, setting it into motion. "That is so cool."
***************************
It was hours later when Lois finally arrived home. Richard was asleep, sprawled out on the swing. Clark had moved to the porch steps, but he stood up when Lois poked her head through the back door.
"Hi Lois."
"Don't you 'hi Lois' me," she snapped. Richard, who had opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening, hastily closed them again. There was something weird going on between those two, something more than what he'd been able to figure out. Maybe this was his chance -- and either way, he did not want to get involved.
"Lois …"
"No. I'm sick of this. You do not get to just waltz back into my life -- into all our lives -- without a little more than an 'I'm sorry.'"
There was an abortive sound from Clark's direction, but Lois cut him off. "Because I've done this before, haven't I? But this time it's not just me, Clark. It's Jason, and Richard. What's going to happen to us when we get too close, when you decide you can't handle it anymore? What are you going to do then? Are you going to kiss all of us?"
Whoa, hold on there. Kissing? Not that Clark wasn't cute, but what the hell was Lois talking about?
Clark's voice was soft, and Richard had to strain to hear the words. "It wasn't -- I didn't -- I was trying to keep you safe."
"That's bullshit, and you know it. Newsflash, Clark, I was getting myself into -- and out of -- trouble, long before I met you. You didn't make me forget to keep me safe, you did it to keep you safe. You never trusted me to keep your secrets."
"That's not it." Richard wished Clark would speak up. "I'm just …"
"Not used to thinking about other people's feelings? Not able to believe someone else might have a different perspective on things? It was my life too, Clark, and I deserved to have a say in it. If you can't realize that -- if you can't stop making decisions for me, instead of with me, you will not be welcome in this house."
There was silence. And then …
"… Okay."
*************************************
Jason frowned as his mom handed him more vitamins. He didn't like vitamins. They tasted gross, and once he'd almost choked when he'd tried to swallow all of them at the same time. To distract himself, he looked at Clark.
"Why do you wear glasses?"
"Well, Jason -- people wear glasses because it helps them to see better," Clark said slowly. Jason nodded. Like his mom -- she always put on her glasses when she was reading stuff.
Clark's smile faded at Jason's next statement. "But you already see the best. You don't need to see better."
Jason drank some of his juice while the grown-ups looked at each other. He wondered if they could talk to each other without opening their mouths. That would make it a lot harder to listen in on what they were saying.
Clark didn't say anything for a long time. Jason fidgeted in his chair.
"I don't know." Jason frowned again. That wasn't a very good answer.
"It's a -- well, it's like -- Superman has a special outfit, right?"
Jason nodded. "Yeah."
"Yes," his mom corrected.
"Yes," Jason repeated, and his mom smiled at him.
"And it's important that Superman wears his special outfit, right? So people know who he is?"
That made sense, so Jason nodded again. If someone didn't recognize Superman, how would they know it was okay to let him rescue them?
"Well, my glasses are part of my special Clark outfit. So people recognize me as Clark Kent."
Jason tilted his head to the side, and Clark seemed to guess what his next question was going to be. He took his glasses off.
"You look different." Clark was smiling, but he looked sad. Jason didn't want him to be sad. "But I still recognize you," he added quickly.
Clark didn't say anything, but his smile looked more happy. And then his mom was carrying his juice glass to the sink, and his dad was ruffling his hair, and he had to run and get his backpack from his room so he could go to school.
*************************************
Objectively speaking, Richard had known that eventually, one of them was going to run into trouble. Things had been relatively quiet since Superman had left the hospital, like even the villains were giving him a chance to recover, but he knew it couldn't last forever. Sooner or later, one of them was going to wind up in a situation they couldn't get themselves out of on their own. He just hadn't thought it would be him.
From a statistical point of view, it should have been Lois. She was the one who seemed drawn to trouble like a magnet. She was even spending the day investigating a group of businessmen that she suspected were selling illegal weapons components. That sounded dangerous, right?
Or Jason -- he was supposed to be in school, which was supposed to be safe -- but more and more Richard was realizing that "supposed to be" rarely applied when it came to Jason.
If there was one person who shouldn't have been in danger that day, it was Richard. All he had to do was cover the opening of the newest Gotham International Bank, and then interview the manager about how they planned to use micro-loans and flexible pay schedules to finance entrepreneurship in developing countries. See? Boring. Safe.
And apparently attended by a group of international terrorists. Richard didn't know how they'd gotten into the bank; he'd had to show three forms of I.D. and his press pass just to get past the first wave of security. But they'd done it, and now he was locked in a vault with the richest man in Gotham.
Bruce Wayne was a pacer, which was annoying, but at least he was doing it on the other side of the vault. Wayne's dislike of the press was well known, and Richard was trying to keep a low profile. If they'd been in any normal city, like Metropolis, the terrorists would have been listing their demands, or planting explosives, or at least have some kind of vaguely logical plan. But no -- this was Gotham, the city where all criminals seemed to be afflicted with some form of mental illness.
They were probably singing. Richard couldn't hear anything through the walls of the vault, but that's what they had been doing when they closed the door. Most of them, anyway. One had taken the time to tell Richard that he really should be honored, because he'd been chosen as a symbol of the corrupt press, and that his being imprisoned with the symbol of corporate greed in an institution of destructive capitalism was the first step in awakening people to the new reality.
Richard wasn't feeling very awakened. He was feeling hungry, and getting a lot more worried about what the second step was going to be. Honestly, this seemed like the perfect moment for Superman to swoop in and save the day. Surely the hostages that had been released had spread the word about what was happening, right?
Maybe it was different in Gotham than Metropolis. Wasn't Gotham Batman's city? Richard thought Batman only worked at night, which would mean a long wait, but maybe there was some kind of superhero etiquette.
Just then there was the sound of wrenching metal, and Superman stood where the door had just been, hands on his hips. "Is everyone all right?"
Richard nodded, and then watched in disbelief as Superman's smile turned into what could only be called a smirk when he turned towards Bruce Wayne.
Wayne scowled. "Was that really necessary?" he asked. "We're going to have to replace the whole door now."
"It was on a timer," Superman said, all innocence. "You know how those are."
Richard couldn't believe it. Was Superman engaging in witty banter? With Bruce Wayne?
"Yeah, well, I was working on it."
"I keep telling you, never underestimate the importance of a healthy breakfast," Superman said, in his best 'public service announcement' voice.
Wayne actually laughed. "You sound like Alfred." Then he nodded in Richard's direction. "This is White, right? I like him."
Richard's eyebrows rose involuntarily. What? All he'd done was sit in the corner -- they hadn't even spoken. But Superman nodded, and smiled again.
"Me too."
******************************
"He's involved in almost every major charity in Gotham." Jimmy nodded to emphasize his words. "A lot of the minor ones, too."
Where did Jimmy come up with information like that? Richard had always maintained that photographers must have a lot of extra time on their hands, if the amount of gossip Jimmy had access to was anything to go by. He'd come into Richard's office to run some photos by him for the bank hostage article, but had stayed to impart a seemingly endless barrage of facts about Bruce Wayne.
"Did you know that Wayne Industries actually designed the security system at that bank?"
Richard mumbled a vague sort of neutral response -- once Jimmy got on a roll, he didn't really need any encouragement. Richard was only half listening anyway, but the conversation gave him an excuse to not be working. If he leaned just to the left of Jimmy, he had a perfect view of both Clark's and Lois' desks.
Clark kept staring at Lois. Lois knew it, and was pretending to ignore it. Every few minutes, she would 'accidentally' make eye contact, and ask for some random office supply, which -- of course -- he handed right over. Staplers, pens, post-it notes -- at the rate they were going, Clark's desk would be completely empty by the end of the day.
"Actually, it's sort of surprising that he was there for the opening; he usually tries to avoid stuff like that."
"Really?" Richard shifted in his chair so he could look around Jimmy on the other side. Clark had just gone for coffee -- and there he was, predictably carrying an extra mug as he walked back towards Lois' desk. Richard rolled his eyes. They were like two grade schoolers with a crush on each other.
"Boy, I bet he was pissed to be locked inside that vault."
It was Jimmy's emphasis on Wayne being upset that had Richard finally turning to look at him. "What?"
"Did he say anything to you? It must have been weird to have Superman rescue you -- talk about awkward."
Out in the newsroom, Clark walked into a filing cabinet. Not for the first time, Richard wondered just how many conversations the 'Man of Steel' could pay attention to at once. He thought about the odd exchange in the bank, thought about how in the world Clark Kent would know Bruce Wayne. Or how Superman would know … Oh. Really? Wayne? It would certainly explain his dislike of the press.
"I dunno, Jimmy," Richard said calmly. "It seemed like pretty much the standard Superman save and run to me." He noticed that Clark had managed to save both mugs of coffee. "Why would it be awkward?"
"Oh -- well, you know -- no reason, really." As expected, Jimmy started backpedaling as soon as he was questioned. "Hey, did you ever get some lunch? 'Cause you looked pretty hungry when you came in."
Richard stood up. "Food sounds great, Jimmy. You thinking Chinese? I could definitely go for some egg rolls right now."
*****************************
Five minutes later, they had take-out orders from half the newsroom. On his way past Lois' desk, Richard snitched Clark's pen and put it in his pocket. He grinned all the way to the elevators.
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PS: "Clark? Why do you have all these Superman office supplies?" "...I don't know?"