Last Page LITE

by Chicago

Disclaimer: Characters belong to DC Comics, borrowed for fun and not for profit.

Note: Written for Darklady's "Last Page" challenge, which demanded the final page of an unwritten novel length story. Not sure the novel implied here would be worth the cost of paper, but fortunately the challenge only demanded this little bit.

Pairing: Dick/Clark

Warnings: sweetness pushing the OOC envelope, but intended to be light.

Rating: G, maybe, unless slash automatically qualifies for PG



carried the scent of fresh mown hay, sweet and pungent. Through the screen door, he could hear Martha Kent cleaning up the supper dishes; he had offered to help, but she had shooed him out to the porch swing, insisting he was a guest. Clark and Jonathan rejected his help on a similar excuse, although Clark had added a comment about the city mouse being out of his element in the barn...

The screen door opened, and Martha gave him a smile. "Nice night," she remarked, handing him a cup of coffee.

"Yes," he agreed, accepting the mug. "Thanks."

Martha settled in a rocker on the porch with her own coffee. "I should be thanking you. All you've done-"

He waved her off. "It's no more than anyone else would, given the means and the ability."

She smiled at him. "Just being neighborly?"

He nodded, letting his eyes drift out to where Clark and Jonathan were moving to another outbuilding from the barn. He was startled when Martha's voice came again, "Or being a good son-in-law?"

His eyes shot to her, and he narrowly avoided spilling his coffee. "You know?" he spluttered.

She smiled and waved indulgently in the direction the Kent men had disappeared. "Oh, Clark's always had a weakness for dashing billionaires," she dismissed. "I'm pleased to see that his taste and judgment have improved."

Bruce shook his head ruefully, thinking of all the worry he had harbored for the stolid Midwestern morality of Smallville, Kansas. He should have known, should have realized, instead of letting it be one more excuse to hide his feelings. He took another sip of coffee. "You make an excellent cup of coffee, Mrs. Kent," he complimented sincerely.

Martha laughed lightly. "I love your manners, Bruce," she replied, "but please - you can call me Ma."

Bruce blinked and felt a smile grow on his face. "Okay," he agreed easily. Another sip of coffee and he settled back more comfortably in the porch swing to wait for his friend - his lover, he corrected with a feeling of warmth - to come in from his chores.

The End