immediately after entering the grand front entrance of wayne manor, anyone who chose to visit would be beholden to two massive curved staircases leading to the upper levels. they framed a small hearth nestled proudly between them and upon the mantle rested an extraordinary portrait of thomas and martha wayne, and above that was the wayne family crest. it gave the overall impression to anyone who dared enter that they should be properly cowed becaue waynes were vicious, powerful, and hedo-fucking-nistic.
of course, clark himself had always felt a sense of fond indulgence upon entering wayne manor, because usually he took about three steps into the house before a shrill cry of glee ruptured the air, and he was faced with a hurdle of energy in the body of a sixty-pound boy sliding halfway down the staircase before throwing himself in the air.
"catch me!" dick would always shout.
and clark, whether lunging to tuck him securely in his arms, floating upwards so he could latch onto his back, or simply letting dick fling himself onto clark like a koala, would never fail to catch him.
---
in hindsight, perhaps clark's good-natured teasing about little birds leaving the nest early had been a bit too on the mark. then again, the titans were in new york, only a little over 200 miles from gotham. bruce was sulking and growling and staring wistfully out of a window like dick had decided to move halfway across the globe and told bruce he'd never return. in truth, it was more like a rather dangerous month-long summer camp, a perfectly normal experience for most fifteen-year-olds, as clark readily assured bruce.
and it wasn't like the justice league wasn't allowed to visit. the titans—robin included—grew a tad snappish whenever one of the league showed up during a mission to either provide backup, support, or supervision, which superman understood. but as clark, overlarge glasses and trucker cap and all, dick welcomed the company.
"i think it's going pretty well, uncle clark!" dick said, grinning up at clark. his domino was on, and the tactical leggings under his hoodie suggested he was mostly suited-up, but his stance was lax.
"glad to hear it," clark said. "didn't have a single doubt." the two of them swung their feet over the edge of the skyscraper, and as dick systematically devoured an entire bagful of churros, clark tilted his chin up towards the clouds, resplendent, reveling in the wind.
"you should see our reports filing," dick boasted. "vic and i took b's reports system, combined it with the jl system, and made a couple improvements of our own. it's a thing of beauty, supes."
"i'm sure it is," clark chuckled, tickled pink by the childish flush on dick's cheeks, eager as hell to share his achievements. and the thing was, clark believed dick, one-hundred-percent. sure, he was a little excitable and moody at times, but he was brilliant, and so was his team. clark had little doubt dick and the titans had already come up with something revolutionary, and if he knew his best friend at all, bruce would integrate it into his own systems, spilling at the seams with pride.
dick, chirping sun that he was, kept talking. "and i know something b was most worried about was my training, but we came up with a training schedule together, and we really are getting better!" a quick brush of his hands sent crumbs flying down the side of the building, and dick jumped to a crouch on the ledge. "i'll have a couple tricks that'll put b in the ground next time i see him."
"i'm, uh, pretty certain of that," clark said, eyeing the ledge dick was balancing. he knew dick's balance was better than his own, but the wind was whistling and the fall was plunging. "but—"
"i'll give you a sneak peek," dick grinned, lustrous, a velveteen jacket, a fucking riot. then, he dived off the edge of the building, already reaching for the grapple tucked in his belt. "catch me if you can!"
clark, tugging his cap off and his buttoned shirt open to reveal the suit beneath, couldn't have done anything but followed.
---
gotham was always appropriately dramatic, a frankenstein's monster of a city, always ripping lightning out of the air, always turning the darkness into bared canines and fear. bludhaven, though? was just dull. smog smothered the air in endless monotony, indistinguishable from flotsam roofs and old shipping depots.
though that wasn't all there was, despite a first glance. the sun rose slowly over the water, light skittering over the waves and sparkling ever-so-slightly. stickers clung resolutely concrete and brick, spray paint swooping along the sides of buildings all bold and beautiful, a chorus in aluminum paint and air. planters hanging off balconies, children reaching up to ring the bus bell, a battered newsletter for a trash clean-up along the docks, this—this was blüdhaven as dick saw it, this was coaxed him into staying.
"it's beautiful in the mornings," clark said, gently touching down next to dick, careful to land perfectly on the ledge, careful not to upset dick's balance. it was still there, like it always was, but it was looking....precarious.
dick hummed, scooting over in an invitation for clark to join him. his legs were still, toes pointed towards the lapping waves. "it is, isn't it?" dick murmured. "sometimes, when the sun hits the water just right as it comes up, it turns everything rosy and pink."
"sounds beautiful," clark said.
"it was pink today, a couple minutes ago. you missed it."
shifting a little closer to dick, clark settled into a tense sitting position. "sorry i missed it," clark apologized, "but i'm here now."
at that, dick huffed out an incredulous laugh. "jesus, uncle clark, don't be dramatic," the words came out a tinge mocking, but there was sincerity threaded all through clark's name, just as there had always been. "i'm fine."
"dick," clark said carefully. "you're sitting on the top of a bridge, and the only thing under you is the blüdhaven harbour."
dick sighed, and repeated, "i'm fine. not gonna jump. just thinking."
"you maybe wanna think a little closer to home?"
"i don't have a home anymore," dick mumbled, tucking his legs close to his chest. "my apartment was—the whole building was destroyed. everyone in there, they....." he cut himself off at his voice's first waver.
clark felt something inside him crumble, the dried edges of a flower falling apart. "dick...." he said softly. "fuck. come to my house, stay as long as you need—"
"no, it's fine," dick interrupted. "there's somewhere i need to go. someone who's, uh, waiting, i think. for me."
clark said nothing, the ache in his chest pounding ever-louder. dick was curled up, defensive, hurt. something had happened, something that clashed with dick's apartment burning in the worst sort of way.
"besides," dick said, finally looking up and offering clark a weak, watered-down version of his usual grin. "if i fall, you'll catch me, right?"
"always," clark responded, instantly, readily, truthfully. but watching the sun throw highlights on dick's hair, he was left wondering if dick had already toppled down.
---
clark would never say it aloud, but he'd admitted it to himself a while ago: bruce was right. motorcycles really were cool.
having dick behind him was strange, his reduced strength having to work overtime to adjust the bike to the extra weight. all the same, he felt safer with dick at his back, probably safer than he'd ever felt since his life collapsed into shambles. (not since lois had—purple shadows and heavy lids and clark's clench-jawed heartbreak, pained, so fucking pained—not since lois.)
clark had watched dick grow from a bobbing, flickering, undying flame in the depths of gotham to someone incandescent, and though he knew he'd never look at dick with the same pride and torn-lipped love that bruce did, that was still, in some ways, his kid too. the amount of people clark trusted as much as dick were possibly, waveringly few.
now, the motorcycle (lana the third) eating up pavement with a rip-roaring vengeance, the two of them staring down a wild-eyed desmond with nothing but a well-full of determination and a half baked plan, dick asked, "you trust me?"
clark, without a second thought, said, "of course. i know you'll catch me."
and dick grinned, feckless and wild, before diving straight over desmond's head. clark waited until a second before collision, then followed, jumping up with as much force as he could muster. the motorcycle (god rest lana the third in peace) crashed into desmond, a crumpled heap of fire and scarring metal.
dick, whose timing and aim were perfect as always, had swung up onto a traffic pole. "time to fly, superman," he said, catching clark securely with his thighs before swinging upward and throwing him into the air. "up, up, and all that!"
with the added boost, clark leapt cleanly over the remaining wreckage before turning into a landing, arms out and ready to catch dick as he vaulted into the air.
---
dick grayson week 2022, day 4: "catch me"
