SquidgeWorld Archive

"Where is he?"

The hospital lights were brighter then normal, the antiseptic color was everywhere combined with a smell, which could've of been worse. The odors drifted, it felt far away and nearby but underneath it smelled of old shit and blood.

People was laid in beds on the sides and every corner of the hospital's hallways and each had a personal space that didn't quite fit but all of them moaning to certain volumes. The few, low and inaudible to even each other to right out and out screaming where the doctors perscribed needles so they can find a place inside themselves, in sleep where no one can hear them for a time.

The floor below his feet were speckled with a white and brown pieces, embedded into the creamy laminated substructure. He saw them as little dots floating in suspension, trapped forever to never move again. Of course no one would look this closely, to see above that layer was a sickly sweet cherry flavor liquid cloudy and masked over, swept in fell swoops with a dirty mop that picked up the dirt of every person and creature that traipse the area onto that pitiable flooring.

Something, if you don't remember to not smell, was a likely better chance to throw up from. To only be wash away within the same bucket of dirty water and repeatable cherry liquid. A never ending cycle.

He hated to be here, he didn't want to be here, but he had no other place to go.

Do hospitals have a need to resemble a candy cane or is this a need to resemble blood and water. Perhaps something to wash away the pain, the misery of everything. And bleach, why do they used so much bleach? and ammonia? How can they stand the smell? It is so overwhelming.

Sometimes the nurses, doctors, patients and visitors are so slow, fast and slow again. If he wanted to watch closer, he could see each and every follicle strand move to the lightest of breezes from the fans on the ceiling, circulating the air and concentric circles.

How does no one notices these patterns?

It's so loud in his head and wonders how can they stand the noise. Even when they whisper, thinking they talk oh so softly, they are at their loudest... and the beeping of machines, regular, incessant and damn annoying.

It's too much noise, the smell is wrong, he sees too much and not enough. He can't understand them anymore, he never could understand them, to be honest he never did. It needs to stop, just stop everything, stop all of them...

"Mr. Kent?"

Clark arose from the hard brightly colored emergency room chairs, the coat wrinkled and stained from the coffee he couldn't reach in time to stop spilling on him. His favorite green tweed suit once lovingly press by Alfred this morning acted as if it came from the refuse pile of the local garbage dump. The only thing that survived Clark nervousness, his near breakdown, he conceded was the pair of silver rimmed glasses that stayed on his nose perfectly.

While shaking the doctor's hand, she gave him back a greeting. "Hello, My name is Dr. Bellows and I wished I came in earlier to speak with you but we had to situate Mr. Wayne..."

"Where is he? They said he was here?"

"Mr. Kent, Mr Wayne was in a car accident, but luckily there was minor damage concerning both parties involved. Mr. Wayne would have went upstairs but he insisted on knowledge of the other vehicle's predicament. We told him they were in the same condition and with rest and recuperation will be fine." The doctor looked at the frazzled man and quicken her steps. "Why don't I take you him."

Clark followed the frizzy red-headed bun the doctor wore through the busy emergency room and then into another quieter section. Clark ignored everyone and kept walking, shutting off all except the sound of the doctor's shoes hitting with light steps on the polished floor.

Another entrance awaiting them and Dr. Bellows opened the door holding for him. Clark noticed the absence of sounds immediately except the beeping of the hospital's machines and the building duct system blowing in cool fresh air. Casually glancing around, he looked up at the plaque embedded in the wall next to the door. He stood still to read it.

The doctor smiled in her white spotless coat. "Well it would seem odd if the man who built this wing couldn't used it."

Dedication to the Gotham General Hospital
From the Bruce Wayne Foundation
Established. 19--

Clark could only nod and the doctor was still waiting. He went inside the open door.

To keep his mind off, she continued, "We are still in the emergency room but this section acts as a station between there," pointing behind to the noisy and busier trauma center, "and upstairs. Besides providing extra space, it gives more time and care to critical patients while waiting to go surgery or any patient care areas above us."

Glancing over to him she quickly amended, "He's good condition." and walked over to the final room. Opening the door half way, the light was dim in the room and Clark saw Bruce sleeping quietly.

Fortunately another chair that was placed inside the room looked soft. Clark went over to the other side of Bruce's bed and dragged it closer, scraping it a little along the laminated floor. Before sitting down casually glance within the material small knots webbed inside the cloth. It was comfortable and Clark tried to relax then he watched Bruce and waited.

Bruce slumbered on, unaware and Clark started to worry, looking at the doctor. She smiled and explained. "We gave him a mild sedative. We thought it best as we didn't want his ribs or leg to move around too much. When he crashed, the bones broke in such a way that the surgeons took time to reset them delicately as well repair the small muscle tears." with a slight surprised eyebrows lift "You know when he came in the ambulance crew said he maintained strength, ability to move himself and was able to talk to them, I must admit that I'm impressed and scared at the same time. He must have a high pain threshold."

By this time Clark went back to staring at the man on the bed, his hand gliding unconsciously and listened with half an ear. "Yes, it's the same reason he likes extreme sports." Carefully listening to the hitch, he smiled but Clark was so very tired after this long day he'd tried to come up with some form of sincerity. "Do you mind... I mean if you leave... I meant if you could..."

The doctor smiled again, "Don't worry, I understand. I'm in the way." Dr. Bellows left closing the door behind her. Once Clark heard the door clicked he felt a hand slowing creeping over his own and pulling his hand toward the other. Clark knew in a building full of humans, this was the one heartbeat he was listening for.

A beat more recognizable than his own.

Clark's head turned to the side, laying down where his hand already was and heard the familiar sound of his beloved, he closed his eyes and breathed in his scent. Underneath the antiseptic, sickly cheery liquid and the stale clean circulating air around them, he found him.

Bruce is caressing his hair, playing with the curl that amuses him so and soothing the muscles in the neck. The motions are relaxing as intended.

The only one who calms him. Clark knew there was something lurking beneath his exterior, a more primal creature that doesn't care what anybody think or understands about him. A person inside him that could insult or laugh at humans and their human inadequacies.

And it wonders if the sky won't fall on him if he drops a person once in a while...

Bruce was someone he never planned on meeting; most times they think differently, been stubborn with each other and even argued to the point of not talking but whatever form his relationship with this man assumed, he knew it was special. People looked up to Superman as the best and respected him but did they know that the special person in his life was better and Superman respected him.

Did they know that the other inside of him sometimes thought of what his beloved might say if he gave into these destructive tendecies? He knew that's what they were and he did control himself but Clark wondered if his enemies could figure out this small secret, then the planet could... well, the humans are very lucky.

Clark crawled onto the bed, calculating every minute facial and body expression for pain then below even that, observing the bones slowly building bridges, filling in the empty spaces so slowly. His fingers hover above Bruce's ribs, gliding, passing along the edges of the bandages of the chest and his leg.

Concentrating on the body beneath him, stop Clark from seeing the body under him. In the low gravel voice laced with pain, drugs and amusement. "Find me interesting?"

He paused in his examination and quirk a small grin. "Yes." Bruce watched Clark's eyes dilate and the blue becoming darker, easily settling, filling out both eyes.

Bruce pulled off the glasses and laid them down on the side table.

Before he finished the action Clark held his face and kissed him on the eyes, nose and then the mouth. To Bruce it felt like an invasion and while delightful he was disappointed that he couldn't keep up. Sleepy, horny and in pain apparently not a good mix. Sighing Bruce relented, "Sorry, we need to slow down before the nurses come in with the crash cart."

Clark moved from his mouth but latched on to the neck, "Is that better?"

Paused and felt the smile on his skin yielded, "Much."

Later on, comfortably mellow on the bed Bruce was mildly inquisitive, "Where were you?"

"I was in southeast Asia when I heard over the radio you were hurt. Alfred was already here when I came but I convinced him to go home," with a shaky laugh. "he was starting to look a little alien to me."

Bruce narrowing his eyes and really looked at him. "Clark, I'm fine."

He ignored him and continued. When I got home I needed to change and couldn't find my jeans, me who can find a gas leak inside a building 100 feet deep or more and I couldn't find my jeans."

Putting his hand on Clark's mouth, "Lock the door." noticed he wasn't listening, Bruce repeated again. Clark finally got up and locked the door and stood by the bed waiting.

"Take your jacket and shoes off and come back." Again he complied.

Coming back towards the bed and taking off the tie as well, Clark spoke again. "The only thing I could get was the suit out of the closet. I was supposed to wear this for Perry's meeting on Wednesday."

Before he continued to ramble on Bruce interrupted, "Clark look at me."

He lifted his eyes at Bruce and it was clear again. The pupils and irises were back to his normal shade of blue.

"Now lay by me."

Clark positioned himself and was surprised by Bruce laughing. "What?"

"Good thing I told you to lock the door, before you embed into me and now..." Bruce guided Clark to the problem, a good two inches was between them. "It would of been interesting for someone to see you on top of me in my..." a small lift at the corner of his mouth "delicate condition. However they would of be more amazed by the man floating above more."

"I'm afraid..."

"I'm not." Bruce moved him around and Clark picked up the leg and moved it slightly over to not hurt him further. Working on it until they were both comfortable, Clark posed on one half of Bruce. His head went back carefully on Bruce's chest and snuggled in. He felt a hand rubbing his neck again.

"Do you still need to talk?"

Clark delicately poked the skin near his face and thought Bruce's skin was too pale and thin, it needed to be thicker and harder. "You know I been almost everywhere and I can't find another like you." Closing his eyes thinking that will stop the pain in his own chest. "What am I going to do when you're really gone. Away from me forever. I don't know how..."

"Clark... I still don't have an easy answer for you. I am only human in the end..." Bruce tried again, "I can't solve this one thing and it does hurt me how I can't fixed this..."

Lifting his head up and tenderly touched his face, his smile was sad and his eyes were heartbroken. "Nevermind, it something for another day. Right now... right now just let me rest for a while." Bruce could do nothing to ease this pain away and nodded.

Clark settled back down. There was nothing else they could say to each other because everything else would be a lie.

A little later in the evening Clark looked around the room and it was an ordinary room with a comfy chair, decent lights and bathroom. The beeps of the machine surrounding them both were at best: rhythmic, dull and able to ignore. The linen sheets they both laid on were just nice.

No need to see below any surface anymore.

Everything was normal again. In his universe, they both were together and Bruce was on the mend and safe from further harm. Thinking back, he never felt the need to attach himself to someone so quickly before but there was always something about Bruce. Even from their first moments.

"Like calls to like."

"Like calls to like, well in our case like calls to annoy, to irritate, to be quiet stubborn..."

"As I said, 'like calls to like.'"

He was safe so Clark closed his eyes and slept to Bruce's soothing hands in his hair.