An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014)
General / No Archive Warnings Apply / 1179 words (complete)
Characters: Axel Walker, Hartley Rathaway, brief Leonard Snart, brief Lashawn "Shawna" Baez, Mentioned Mick Rory
Additional Tags: jumping, falling, Head Injury, gunfire
Summary: There was probably another solution, but everyone seemed to be in a hurry.
For the notion that @secondratevillain picked.
(This one, I figure, is brief but can absolutely count for the Flash Rogues square on my increasingly belated bingo card. Yes, that is a square marked off by a gleefully falling cat.)
Why not the Hedgehog Portent of Doom? The Unhelpful Giraffe of Algebra? The...the Ungulate of Awkward Conversation?
About out of steam, Bruce yanked off his third necktie, displeased with all of them, and left his collar open. This was no day to be concerned with four-in-hands or half-windsors. The goose was here. The goose was here, and it was too goddamn late.
He had made peace with it a long time ago. That kind of match, the kind his parents had found, wasn’t in the cards for him. It wasn’t so bad. If Selina...Talia...others weren’t the one, they were still good company, and he had no regrets when he looked back. He’d put the idea from his mind, convinced himself the goose really was an urban myth, one of the more ludicrous ones at that, and had been one hundred percent fine with that.
Right up to the moment Clark Kent appeared on his radar and made that conviction crumble like a sandcastle smashed by a tsunami.
Would anything have changed if the goose had appeared the first time they met? He’d thought about that, later, when Clark was gone and everything involving him was a brutal moot point. Maybe, if the goose had appeared at the gala and gone after Luthor, he and Clark might have bonded over that. He couldn’t see any other opportunity for the goose to have intervened. Later, when Bruce had been blinded by anger, only thirsting to mete out vigilante justice on Superman--later would have been too late.
If it was meant to be, where the hell was the goose when Clark came back? Like it couldn’t have waddled out of the Russian landscape and done its job?
And all right, that may not have been the ideal time, but there had been other opportunities. Half the reason Bruce was at the farm that day, watching the movers unload the truck, watching Clark come over to join him, was because he’d thought this could be it, this could be the time. Even while he admitted to buying the bank, he had kept an eye out for the goose. It was a farm. Farmers raised geese, right, sometimes? When could there ever be a better time for it show up?
There had been chickens scratching in the yard, and as they had all sat on the porch late into the evening Bruce would swear he’d heard a duck quack somewhere nearby. No goose, though. Not one solitary honk in the night.
So that was that. If the goose couldn’t track him down on a farm in Kansas, it wasn’t meant to happen. End of story and back to reality. Wanting Clark--that was reaching far too high. Any idiot could have told him that. The one in the mirror should have known that going in, right from the start.
Clark and Lois--that was the match of the century, any century. And, all right, maybe they were going through a rough patch right now but it would work itself out in the end. Couples broke up and got back together all the time, and they didn’t need a goose to help them get there.
Mind made up to carry on as usual, Bruce grabbed a coat and decided a walk up to the manor would be just the thing to banish these thoughts and the mood that went with them. The restoration was making good progress, and the Justice League headquarters would be good to go soon. That was something real. That was something he could manage and direct.
Alfred was preoccupied with something in the kitchen--looking up how to cook a goose, Bruce hoped--and only nodded to him in passing. There was no sign of the goose, actually, not a feather to be found. Already in a better mood he let himself out of the lake house and set out for the manor at a brisk pace.
It was a good day for a walk. Quiet, with crisp notes of autumn in the air. He didn’t miss the humid heat of summer, and was not looking forward to the bitter cold of winter. These few weeks of autumn, though, were as close to perfect as anything could get. Fallen leaves, crimson and gold, rustled underfoot, and he paused to watch the breeze gather up a batch and whirl them along the footpath. He turned up his coat collar against the chill in that breeze and cast a look at the sky. It was gray and overcast, but any chance of rain was supposed to be remote. His feelings wouldn’t be hurt if it held off indefinitely. Patrolling in a thunderstorm wasn’t one of his favorite things, either.
Picking up his pace, he was in view of the manor now. The constructions workers had cleared off for the weekend, leaving the crane and other equipment behind. Once the restoration was complete, he and Alfred would see to the interior--well, perhaps enlisting some help to speed things along. He couldn’t really see Arthur getting into the spirit of the thing, and Diana would mostly likely appoint herself overseer, but Barry and Victor might like to pitch in. And Clark…
Great: he so did not need that image popping into his head. There it was all the same, his imagination whipping up a picture of Clark, in nothing but skintight jeans and a hardhat, swinging a sledgehammer.
Damn it to hell…
A rustle of dry leaves provided a welcome distraction and he glanced around, trying to isolate the sound, fingers slipping into a pocket of his coat and curling around a batarang. Probably a squirrel or something, he had about decided, muscles relaxing, just as the goose stepped into view and screamed at him.
Officially done with this, Bruce growled, “You want a piece of me? Well bring it on,” as the goose came at him. He flung the batarang at it. It dodged, circled behind him, wings flapping, darting in to bite at his leg. He shook it off, grabbed another batarang. It flew right at him, forcing him to stumble and faceplant in a pile of leaves. He pushed up on his arms, kicked out at the goose as it danced around him, flapping its wings and honking. He didn’t come close to connecting. He rolled away, came up in a crouch, and waved the bird to come at him. “Come on, you bastard, come and get me.” It darted forward, he saw his chance and went for it, and got both arms around it, beak facing away from him as he held it tight against his body. “You’re the Soulmate Goose of Enforcement? Good for you. I’m the goddamn Batman.”
“Bruce? What are you doing?”
Oh for the love of… He looked up to see Clark--Clark, fully clothed, right down to that plaid jacket--walking toward him from the manor. The goose, seizing the moment’s distraction, squirmed free and scooted over to greet Clark with a plaintive honk. Frowning, Clark scooped the goose up into his arms and cradled it to him, soothing its ruffled feathers as he petted it and spoke to it. Bruce had had no idea a goose could look smug, but there was no other description for its expression as it looked over at him right then.
Taking a moment to brush leaves off his coat, and snag the useless batarangs, Bruce shoved his hands in his coat pockets and went over to join Clark--and the goose. “How much did you see?”
“Enough.” Satisfied the goose was unharmed, Clark set it down. It settled down to preen, evidently intent on nothing more than getting every feather back exactly so. “You’ve got twigs in your hair,” he said, reaching over to pluck at them.
Bruce stood still and endured Clark touching his hair, finding a leaf stuck in his collar and removing that as well. He was tempted to say it hadn’t been what it looked like, but he was pretty sure it had looked like he was trying to strangle a goose, so… “Why are you here?”
Head cocked to the side a bit, eyebrows drawn toward each other, Clark contemplated him for a moment before giving those broad shoulders a shrug. “We’re not going to talk about the goose?”
“What do you want to know about the goose?”
Another shrug, then, “Do you have some grievance against geese?”
“I’m fine with geese. They’re delicious.”
Clark and the goose chastised him with a look.
Nothing else happened. Bruce didn’t know why, for just a split second there, he had thought it might. “It was stalking me.”
Clark gave him an unreadable look, unreadable except for a glimmer of something that suggested Bruce might be in need of a trip to Arkham. “Okay,” was all he said, however.
They walked on in silence for awhile--Bruce, Clark, and the goose--and Bruce hoped that meant they were done with the subject. “Did you want something?” he asked as they neared the manor. Ordinarily he didn’t mind Clark just dropping by, but just at this moment it felt a lot like his face was being rubbed in what he could never have.
An unusual diffidence radiated from Clark. It was in his voice, a cautious note, as though he was crossing into dangerous territory. “I wondered if you had plans. Maybe we could,” there was something uncertain in his shrug this time, “have a movie night. Or something.”
A movie night. Or something. Thoughts racing at warp speed, Bruce fought not to let any of it show as he asked, “What about Lois?”
“What about Lois?” Clark stopped and turned to face him, one hand catching him by the shoulder. “Lois broke up with me. I told you that.”
Just to see, Bruce tried to move away. Clark exerted just enough force to keep him there. “You’ll get back together. You’re meant to be with her, Clark.”
“Lois doesn’t think so, and I agree with her, with all her reasons. So does the goose,” Clark finished, jerking his chin at it.
So did the… Bruce shook his head, as though that might jostle things together so they made sense and nobody stood around talking about how a goose concurred with developments. It didn’t work. “Clark, it’s just a goose.” And damn it, he refused to acknowledge it had just rolled its eyes at him.
“It is not just a goose, Bruce. I knew that when it came up to me on the ferry.”
When it-- “You’ve seen it before?”
“Just today, on the ferry. I followed it out here but then it took off.”
“You...know what it is?”
“Believe it or not, we have heard of the Soulmate Goose of Enforcement even in Kansas. I never saw it with Lois, though, and wondered why. Now I know,” he said, brave like Superman now as he looked at Bruce, hope shining in his eyes.
Only a monster would want to crush out that hope, and Bruce found he didn’t have it in him to do that. Not today. He looked at the goose, took in its smug self-satisfaction. “If you’ve fucked this up,” he warned it, “you’re going to be Christmas dinner.”
“Bruce, quit picking on the goose and kiss me.”
“For the last time, I am not picking on the damn goo--” Clark tugged him close and shut him up with a kiss.
Well, that worked, too.
~~~
Taking a moment’s break from chopping wood, Alfred glanced over at the footpath to the manor. Movement caught his eye, and he watched as the goose waddled into view. Passing him, it looked over once as if in acknowledgement, before proceeding on down to the lake.
Alfred watched it drift off, vanishing into the mist rising off the water. Dare he hope? he wondered, holding his breath as he looked back up the path, and letting it out with a soft whoosh of relief as Bruce and Master Kent came into view. As he watched, the two younger gentlemen stopped and Bruce turned to Master Kent--even from this distance, Alfred would swear Bruce was smiling--and drew Master Kent into a rather passionate embrace.
Well. Alfred looked away, struggling to maintain his composure. “Well done, goose, well done,” he murmured, smiling to himself as he gathered up the wood and disappeared back into the house.
Written for the @dctvbingo project for the prompt Drunken Shenanigans.
“I can’t believe that you all went out and got drunk! That’s it, you are all grounded. Nothing for the next two weeks. No poker, no movies and no drinking.” There was a chorus of annoyed groans throughout the room.
“You can’t ground us we are grownups.” This mark came from professor Stein who looked indignant at being looped in with the rest of the Legends. The look that Rip shot him was completely unbelieving.
“Do I need to recount what exactly it was you were doing while drunk Professor?” Stein winced.
They had started at a bar in the middle of London. None of them were entirely sure what the date was, even what the year was but they were there. Stein had managed to strike up a conversation with a fellow scientist. The two of them seemed to hit it off in the beginning. It wasn’t to last though.
Soon they were having an argument about something to do with elements and acids. Before long they were shouting. The next thing anyone knew Stein through a punch and knocked the guy onto the floor. The rest of the Legends stared in amazement as the normally calm professor began to whale on the guy.
“That was just the beginning. You let Jax drink.” The man in question winced as his own actions were brought to light.
After Stein had gotten into a fist fight the three of them had stumbled out into the night. The bartender decided that nobody was going to fight in her bar and that they had to go. They had continued on through the streets looking for another place to go drinking.
It was then that Jax had seen the park and they had stumbled into it. some of them were beginning to look down for the count but the rest of them were ready to make trouble. Jax suggested that they take turns climbing the trees in ridiculous ways.
When it came to his turn he was the indisputable winner when he stripped completely naked and begun to climb the tree. The rest of the Legends cheered him on as he did so. It was the arrival of the cops that necessitated their quick escape.
“Ray I am most surprised at you of all people. You are normally so straight and narrow. How could you?”
Their drunken walking had brought them to a small commercial area of London. There were plenty of shops around but most of them were closed. This was a little disappointing. Not super surprising consider it was about 2 AM.
They were wandering along when Ray had gasped. There in front of him was a bookstore. One that contained the entire Sherlock Holmes series. He made an unhappy noise at the fact that it was closed. He really wanted that book.
The rest of the Legends wandered over to where he was. Sara suggested that they just break in and take a copy, leave the money on the counter. None of them seemed to see the flaw with this logic so Ray did exactly that.
“I can’t say that I’m surprised at you Mr. Rory. Although I have to say that you did go just a little far.”
After retrieving Ray’s book they continued along their way. Still mostly drunk and anytime they felt like they might be sobering up Mick would pull out another bottle from somewhere and pass it around. That was keeping them pretty well drunk at the moment.
It was sometime after the third bottle had been produced from his coat that Mick had come across a wife crying silently to herself on the street. They had asked her what was wrong and she said that her husband was cheating on her with a whore up in their house right then and she didn’t know what to do.
So like any gentleman, Mick lit her house on fire with her husband and his mistress in it. It was just a little one to scare the bastard anyway.
“And you Kendra. Really? Really? You couldn’t have restrained yourself just a little. You should know better. You are thousands of years old and were a mother.”
They continued on their way to the residential area that was closest. They knew that their time was limited because either at some point they would be arrested for this stuff, or Rip would show up and do his ‘disappointed in you’ routine.
That was why they knew they had to keep moving. They were on the 6th bottle of alcohol that Mick had pulled out of his coat. That meant they were still fairly sloshed. Which was the reason that when they came across a man beating his wife that Kendra went into a blood rage.
By the time she was done with him he was bloody and terrified, the police now all believed in demons and no man in that neighborhood would ever lay hands on a woman again.
“Finally, last but certainly not least, Sara. You are supposed to be the grown-up. You know that. I put you in charge for a reason. That is why I am stunned at what happened.”
It was nearing the end of their time and they all knew it. It was just not going to happen. So when they came across a mobster giving an old man a shake down in his own store, they knew that they had to do something.
It was Sara’s idea. By the time they were through with that guy he thought that he was being punished by God and that he needed to spend some quality time in church. It had made all of them utterly delighted and felt like a perfect end to their evening. They were all still laughing when they came across their words nightmare.
An angry Rip Hunter who was ready to murder them all for the nights antics.
“I simply can’t believe the recklessness of you all. How could you be so careless?”
“And how could you have all that fun without me there? You know I have to stay in bed for at least three more days. Couldn’t you have waited?”
“You. Are. Not. Helping. Mr. Snart. Besides, you should be resting, not listening to me chastise your teammates. Go back to bed!” Len gave a pout but slowly made his way back to his bed. They had decided to have their dressing-down in the infirmary. It wasn’t his fault they had come in during his mandated gentle walking time.
“Don’t worry boss, we can do it again once you are up and about.”
I present to you my bingo card for the @dcbingo ! Which, admittedly, was sent to me like a week ago, but I just got down to posting it... sorry about that. Basically I haven’t written anything in a while because life has kept me busy, but now that I finally have some free time I can get back to it :) I was lucky enough to stumble into this challenge before the sign ups closed and now here I am. I’m so excited to start completing this little bingo card. It might take me a bit to post something cause I’m a little rusty, but I’ve got so many ideas since I first saw the card prompts, so I guess that’s a good start(?)
