Bruclark Week Day 7: Free Space
Alternative title: The Unspoken Thing
WE DID IIIIIIIIT AND ON TIME TOO. Dear God, remind me to plan stuff like this better next time, alright? Anyway, here’s that merbruce thing I was going to write. It’s loosely based on a piece of art by @katsuyacrimson - I’ve been graciously allowed to post the picture with my fic. The art is at the end :)
Bruce’s tail is amazing. It’s an odd mixture of purple and iridescent; so large that the fins could probably cover a small child if Bruce wanted to. Not that he has that kind of control yet obviously, seeing as he’s been a mermaid for less than five minutes at this point. Still, Clark can’t help but stare as Bruce moves the huge tail around experimentally; like he’s trying to get a feel for it despite it being a part of himself. The blues in his tail become visible when he moves it, and they complement his eyes so beautifully. Some are warm, some colder. Some almost violet while others are bright blue, so light they can almost rival Bruce’s eyes in beauty. Almost.
Clark watches as Bruce holds up a hand – his fingertips replaced with sharp little claw-like tips, purple and scale-y just like his tail. So far that’s the only parts of him that have changed but judging from the way his jaw is tightening by the second, it’s more than enough.
He does look rather strange with half the batsuit on and the only exposed parts of him – except his face – being brightly colored. Purple does suit the darkness of the batsuit though, Clark thinks. Not that that’s what he should be focusing on right now, and he is most certainly not going to tell Bruce that that’s what he’s thinking about. He quickly lands on the ground next to Bruce and crouches down. It’s odd, having to sit down to look Bruce in the eyes.
“I’m sorry, I am so sorry,” Clark exclaims for what feels like the hundredths time in the last thirty minutes. He really should have been faster, should have protected Bruce somehow. He’s supposed to be the strong, invulnerable one.
“You’re just as susceptible to magic as the rest of us,” Bruce mutters like that’s an excuse. It sort of is but not a very good one.
“Yes, but-” Clark feels incredibly guilty despite Bruce having thrown himself in front of the beam of his own volition. It doesn’t make him feel any better that Bruce would sacrifice himself for Clark, believe it or not. There’s a reason Superman is on the team. He can handle himself and take a hit.
“Kal, just-” Bruce takes a deep breath and nearly pokes a lens out of his cowl when he tries to pinch the bridge of his nose with his mer-claws. He drops both arms in his lap. Or, where his lap is supposed to be. Is it still called a lap if it’s on a tail? “Shut up.”
