Holiday (Christmas/Hannuka/Kwansa/New Year’s/etc)
Clint/Bruce
Clint doesn’t understand the deal with lighting candles every night.
Clint leans over the back of the couch arms resting on the top of the couch and body mostly slumped otherwise as he watches Bruce light the candles. He never would have expected Bruce to be religious. Seriously with half the shit he has been through who could believe in a god after all that? Well they both know a literal god but still to have that faith seems ridiculous to him if not stupid worship.
“Ok I gotta know. It’s been bugging me.”
Bruce laughs nearly blowing out the last candle, “meaning it’s been bothering you for five minutes,” he says turning around to look at Clint before blowing out the match stick and laying it on the metal tray.
“Yeah, yeah whatever. You got me,” he says turning around in the couch as Bruce comes back towards the main room not stuck lighting candles by the window. It’s weird how he only lite one with a match and the other with the main candle? Why not just light them all with the match?
“Anyway, why do you light them,” he asks bluntly. Bruce makes a confused face. “You know why light something for something that doesn’t exist? I mean shit Bruce you’ve had a shitty life until I came into in,” he grins. “Like I just don’t get how you can believe in something or someone that doesn’t do shit for you? Like if someone oh so powerful allows that to happen to someone who believes in him seems like a dick right?”
Bruce smiles sitting on the chair opposite of Clint. “You mean why believe in something when I’ve been dealt a bad hand?”
“Yeah man. Like why waste your time lighting candles for him if he’s not doing you any favors,” he says sitting up on the couch.
“I’m not lighting candles for him,” he sighs sitting back in the chair before adjusting his glasses. “But I guess that’s not what you are asking. I guess it is odd for me to believe in something or someone greater than myself with all that has happened. And the best answer I have is it’s a comfort?”
“But how?” Clint nearly whines.
“Well I already have a few voices in my head,” he chuckles, “so it’s nice to feel like I’m talking to someone about my problems or life when I don’t have anyone or feel lonely. Even if nothing good happens from talking or praying to him it makes me feel better that at least I told someone even if they do nothing. I guess I vent more than pray now,” he rubs his head. “But this holiday is special to me in more than one way.”
He takes a moment to gather himself as Clint changes position on the couch again. Clint can’t sit still unless it’s for a mission or something that requires patience. He hates those type of missions.
“My mother celebrated it with me when she was alive and after she died, I wasn’t allowed to celebrate it. Jennifer’s family, my cousin, her family took me in and they didn’t want to celebrate any of that nonsense,” he laughs bitterly. He still remembers when he asked them to take him to the synagogue and they said no he would be going to church just like the rest of them.
He shakes his head of the memory. “I was stubborn and almost burnt down their house because I lit the candles too close to the curtains. It would have been better if they just let me use the Menorah, but they wanted nothing to do with it and I wanted to celebrate something my mother had made special for me, so it is what it is.”
“Wow even your cousin’s family sounds horrible. I thought I had it bad with a drunk dad and orphanage hopping.” He says laying his head on the arm of the couch looking up at Bruce. “Ok so bag of dicks family made you stop your religion?”
“Jennifer was nice…well I mean they weren’t horrible…they didn’t mean to be anyway. They weren’t expecting another kid and Jennifer was their daughter, so I was just an outsider. They just had different beliefs and didn’t know what to do?” And wow even that sounds lame against his own ears. They did give him food and shelter when they could have sent him to an orphanage like Clint. He should be grateful for the small things, right?
“More like didn’t want to know. Ok shitty parents or guardians checked off the list,” he says drawing Bruce from his memories. “So, what’s the deal with lighting the candles. And why does it last eight nights? I mean it sounds cool getting eight days of gifts but there has to be a catch.”
Bruce smiles softly, “well it is more than that.” He pauses thinking how to explain. “Hmm short version is Judaism was outlawed, our temple was seized by a monarchy who was forcing us to change to their beliefs or die. We didn’t enjoy that, so we fought them and gained control over our temple and it had to be spiritually cleansed. There wasn’t enough oil to cleanse it but somehow the oil lasted eight days and eight nights hence why we light eight candles.”
It doesn’t go unnoticed the parallels between what Bruce faced with his adopted family.
“Holy shit…ok tell me the long version cause no one thinks of lighting candles as a badass remembrance of slaughtering a monarchy.” He leans over on the arm rest of the couch excited.
Bruce smiles at the interest and is not sure what to do. He clears his throat and starts, “well ok so…”