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crack_van2005-08-18 11:27 am
marag.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2005-08-18 11:27 am
Hell or High Water by Azurine (NC-17)
Fandom: DC COMICS
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent (aka Batman/Superman)
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
azurine
Author Website: Will Bite When Provoked
Why this must be read:
Even though I'm reading this fic for the fifth or sixth time, I'm still laughing my ass off. Bruce and Clark are so very very married (see comic series Superman/Batman for more evidence of this) and this is a hilarious story of these two old friends in a rather odd predicament. It also very neatly uses a DCfic cliché: Aliens made us do it.
Okay, new rule. The next time he found an alien pod-ship thing at the bottom of the ocean, Bruce was *not* touching it.
Not one finger.
Not even his pinky.
"Urrrgh. . ." he said, and then vomited up another couple gallons of sea water.
"I'd feel sorry for you, but this is all your fault," Clark said, somewhere above and to the left of Bruce's head. All Bruce could see of him was one soggy red boot.
"Uh guh…" said Bruce, and puked again.
"You're lucky you didn't drown when that thing scooped us up."
Even over his own retching, Bruce could hear the *tone*. The tone that said Clark possibly considered drowning a fitting punishment for getting them into this mess.
On his hands and knees, gut cramping, lungs aching, salt water streaming from his nose, Bruce contemplated depositing the next batch of ocean vomit on Clark's boot.
"You don't *touch things* that look like they came from outer space," Clark continued. The red boot took a step back, making a squishing noise and ruining Bruce's plan to barf on it.
"Clark. Shut up." Bruce crawled away from the puddle he'd made and leaned against the wall, listening to his stomach gurgle. He flexed his arms and legs gingerly, wincing when he hit a sore spot here and there. Getting Hoovered into a space ship with enough ocean water to float Shamu was very, *very* painful.
Actually, the Hoovering hadn't been the worst of it. The loss of the re-breather had been a bitch, but the water had been purged early on in the whole experience. What *had* hurt was when the pod-ship thing rocketed into space with them inside, bouncing around in something that looked a lot like a giant spaghetti strainer.
Drain the water, keep the superheroes. And one puzzled sea turtle.
He could practically see the late-night infomercials.
Hell or High Water
Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent (aka Batman/Superman)
Author on LJ:
azurineAuthor Website: Will Bite When Provoked
Why this must be read:
Even though I'm reading this fic for the fifth or sixth time, I'm still laughing my ass off. Bruce and Clark are so very very married (see comic series Superman/Batman for more evidence of this) and this is a hilarious story of these two old friends in a rather odd predicament. It also very neatly uses a DCfic cliché: Aliens made us do it.
Okay, new rule. The next time he found an alien pod-ship thing at the bottom of the ocean, Bruce was *not* touching it.
Not one finger.
Not even his pinky.
"Urrrgh. . ." he said, and then vomited up another couple gallons of sea water.
"I'd feel sorry for you, but this is all your fault," Clark said, somewhere above and to the left of Bruce's head. All Bruce could see of him was one soggy red boot.
"Uh guh…" said Bruce, and puked again.
"You're lucky you didn't drown when that thing scooped us up."
Even over his own retching, Bruce could hear the *tone*. The tone that said Clark possibly considered drowning a fitting punishment for getting them into this mess.
On his hands and knees, gut cramping, lungs aching, salt water streaming from his nose, Bruce contemplated depositing the next batch of ocean vomit on Clark's boot.
"You don't *touch things* that look like they came from outer space," Clark continued. The red boot took a step back, making a squishing noise and ruining Bruce's plan to barf on it.
"Clark. Shut up." Bruce crawled away from the puddle he'd made and leaned against the wall, listening to his stomach gurgle. He flexed his arms and legs gingerly, wincing when he hit a sore spot here and there. Getting Hoovered into a space ship with enough ocean water to float Shamu was very, *very* painful.
Actually, the Hoovering hadn't been the worst of it. The loss of the re-breather had been a bitch, but the water had been purged early on in the whole experience. What *had* hurt was when the pod-ship thing rocketed into space with them inside, bouncing around in something that looked a lot like a giant spaghetti strainer.
Drain the water, keep the superheroes. And one puzzled sea turtle.
He could practically see the late-night infomercials.
Hell or High Water
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