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Title: Family Christmas
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Bruce/Clark, Barbara/Lois, Tim/Kon/Cass (kinda), Dick, Alfred, Jim.
Wordcount: 1855
Summary: Like the title says. Christmas with family.
Notes: Rai asked for silent snow, and the warmth of bodies. I hope this fits. Oh, and my brain is a little fuzzy at the minute, so I hope I haven't made too many appalling blunders.
Family Christmas
She was huddled close to the tower door as he alighted on the roof, her back pressed to the chill metal as if she could somehow pull the heat of the building out through it, her hands pulled close to her chest inside her sleeves, her head bowed and buried up to her ears in the red scarf he'd given her for Christmas. Her feet stamped impatiently in the slush as she grumbled impatiently under her breath, her lips so numb not even he could make out the words. She never even heard him approach, so wrapped up in cold and misery was she, and Clark felt a flash of guilt for being even a minute late.
And then Lois looked up through the snow, her bright eyes shining out at him from the depths of her hood, and pulled her cheeks free of the scarf enough to smile at him until the guilt dropped like melting ice from the warmth in his heart. He smiled back, warm and sheepish, and she shook her head in exasperation, black hair brushing through the melting snow on her cheeks.
"Your sense of timing needs a little work," she mumbled, as he wrapped powerful arms around her, feeling her shiver through the coat and holding her close against it. "You know Bruce will be annoyed when we're late." Clark chuckled as she curled in close to his chest, tucking her legs up into his grasp as their feet left the roof and they drifted up through the snow.
"Bruce will wait," he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear, bringing a blush of warmth back to her frozen cheek. "He always waits for me. And you know she'll wait for you the same."
"Mmmm," Lois murmured, smiling into his neck as they picked up speed, soaring out over Metropolis, the city wheeling in silence below them, quieted by the gentle touch of snow. His heart ached, looking at it, at the silent, shining splendor, the warmth that his Fortress had never had. He loved his city in the snow, loved her to the core of his being. She was so very beautiful, like this. His Metropolis, waving a warm goodbye as he soared above her, as he flew out into the dark, snow-filled evening with Lois cradled in his arms, wishing him well as he flew home for Christmas, as he flew towards her sister.
He wondered, sometimes, if Metropolis cared for Gotham as much as he cared for Bruce. Her dark and wounded sister, lying still beneath the snow on Christmas Eve, staring forlorn at the skies. He pulled Lois close against the thought, as if by wrapping his friend in shared warmth he could lessen the chill everywhere, lessen the frozen ache of a world and a city wrapped in ice.
But Gotham surprised him. As she often did. As she surprised everyone. Instead of lying cold and silent beneath their soaring forms, she laughed raucously at the skies, lit up like a vibrant jewel, her towers sending warm lights spearing towards the stars. The wheel of joy had not passed her by, and the chill blanket of white could do nothing against her determined liveliness. Gotham would celebrate Christmas in her own inimitable fashion, with joy and glitter and a stubborn refusal to succumb to the night and the cold. Clark watched her, snared by the warmth of her lights and the determination of her laughter, feeling Lois smiling down at her beside him.
They had such cause to love this city, the pair of them, such reason to adore her stubborn warmth. Because for all her cruel fickleness, that warmth held close and sustained their loved ones, gave back to those who spent their all in her defense, a gift given to her guardians not from a sense of debt, but from the twisted kindness that lived in her heart. Gotham was cruel, but she was home.
And on the heels of the thought, his eyes rose, to the house on the hill, and the candles burning in the windows to guide them home. Alfred's touch, that, but the sentiment ... it belonged to all of them, he knew. All the family. No matter how far they travelled, those who belonged to this house would always find their way home, by the light of the candles kept burning in their hearts. Always.
There was a figure waiting by the door as he carried Lois down over the drive, his hand raised to shield her face from the chill wind as they sped close to the ground. Wrapped in the golden glow of the hall lights, the rich red of his waistcoat gleaming warmly, Bruce watched them approach, and maybe Clark imagined it, but he thought the glow in those blue eyes was more than mere reflection. Drifting haloed in warmth, the light in his eyes shining through the silent curtain of snow, Bruce waited, ever patient, ever ready. His Bruce. Struck suddenly by the sight, by a surge of warmth in his chest, Clark stopped, landing in the snow meters away, his heart and his eyes caught somewhere no chill could touch as Bruce blinked in surprise, and smiled.
And then a hand tugged at his hair, and he blinked, shaken free of the moment. He looked down, at the smile hidden behind the exasperated gleam of Lois' eyes, and shook his head, the laugh bubbling up through him. Her lips quirked, delicate as the snowflakes that kissed them, as the microscopic crystals that dressed her lashes. He stared at them for a second, his eyes refining it down on fascinated instinct, but all the frozen beauty of snow was nothing to the gleam of warmth in her eyes, or the languid impatience of a woman chilled to the bone, despite his efforts. He set her down, gently as he knew how, and laughed silently as she huffed at the snow, accepting the courteous extension of Bruce's arm with obvious gratitude.
He watched them, for the shortest of seconds, watched the most precious people in the universe as they helped each other through the snow to the waiting warmth of Wayne Manor, and the gentle kindness of Alfred's aged hands. He watched as Lois was handed delicately into the older man's considerate care, as she smiled back out at him while practiced hands eased her out of her damp, chilled clothes, and Bruce turned once more to face him, one eyebrow quirked in wry question, and eyes soft with some deeper humour, some deeper caring. He watched them, watched the care and love and expectation, and no chill in the universe could challenge the warmth that shone through him. He stepped forward, singing with it, and reached out to take Bruce's hand in the doorway, to feel his warmth join with another's as naturally as breathing. Bruce smiled, and pulled him close, into the warmth of the hall and the family.
There was a silence in his head as he followed them, followed Alfred and Lois and Bruce, the kind of silence where there is no need for thoughts. There was no planning in this, no considerations, no wary guessing. This was home, and these were his family, in every sense of the word. So his head was silent, and the heat in his chest expanded until it cradled all of him, radiating out to touch them all. To touch Alfred, Lois, Barbara and Jim, Dick and Cassandra and Tim and Kon. All the family, gathered close in the drawing room, wrapped around the warmth of the fire and each other's regard. To touch Bruce.
They opened up to welcome them, space cleared and warmth shared instantly. Jim budged to one side of his couch, a hand reaching up to guide Lois down, something warm and adoring in his worn face as he saw his daughter's eyes light up when they met Lois', as he saw the smiles grace their faces, and the care as Lois wrapped her arm around her lover's shoulder and tugged her head close. Wisps of red hair met and tangled with the damp black, and Lois sank into the embrace, cradled against all cold. The others smiled at them, deep and content, even Tim, wrapped between Kon's arm around his waist, and Cass' weight across his knees. Dick just grinned, all wry delight and gentle sadness, and shifted in his perch to make room on the seat beneath him, and Clark knew instantly that the place was Alfred's, before ever the old man sank gratefully into it.
This time was for family. No-one stood on ceremony, not now. Not after everything. That time had passed, finally.
He started, a little, as a hand reached suddenly to touch his hair, and he looked down to meet Bruce's wry blue eyes as strong fingers curled in the damp at his temple. Snow slid gently down his face, melted and chill, and he hadn't even felt it. He never did. Bruce shook his head in exasperation, smiling gently at the sheepish look in Clark's eyes, and reached up gently with a towel to wipe at the moisture dripping into them. Clark blinked at it, realising distantly that his husband had been carrying it since they entered the house, and smiled helpless as he let Bruce dry his hair and rub the soft cloth tenderly over his face. He burrowed his cheek into the caress, feeling the chill seeping into his lover's hands from the wet, and laughing suddenly against the ache in his chest. Reaching up to take Bruce's hands in his own, he held them close and brought them to his lips, breathing warmth back into them as Bruce watched, smiling.
He wasn't conscious of the motion that brought them closer still, wasn't aware of the impulse that replaced hands with lips, or the thought that pressed the warmth of a mouth to his, and the beat of another heart to his own chest. Dizzy, laughing, he felt them turn, felt Bruce pressing close to him as they spun in the center of the floor, at the heart of their family, and at his back the fire crackled, and at his chest Bruce's heart thumped solidly, and before him the silent snows stretched beyond the windows to the lights of Gotham, and Metropolis beyond her, and the world beyond her, and his heart leapt inside him. Because in that moment, he saw it. In that moment, he understood.
For all the world, in silence dark and frozen, spun around the endless warmth of a human heart, and at the center of all that vast cruelty pulsed the life and love of a family who would never, ever be broken. In all the chill of a cruel universe, the light of a single candle in the heart of a man who cared could guide them all home, everyone who lived and breathed and suffered beyond those panes of glass.
He laughed, deep and clear, his arms tight around Bruce, and opened his heart to them, cradled by the love of his family and the man by his side, and felt it's warmth reach out to fill a world.
