Fic: Looking For Love
The Greatest Gift, a Superman/Batman fanzine, is now complete and ready for download. Here's the story I wrote for it (no download necessary). A special thank you to Djinn and
maragfor their beta of the story. labuenaventura
did an amazing job on the artwork for this. You can view it by downloading the fanzine or by visiting the original post at
wfslash.
Summary: When Lois ends her engagement to Clark Kent, a certain Dark Knight is there to pick up the pieces.
Rated: Mature Content
Cliches: First Time Romance/Sex, Holidays
Story Type: Slash
Universe: Comicverse Comicverse
Word count: 7583
The headquarters of the Justice League seemed suddenly small as Clark rounded the corridor on his way to monitor duty. What he really wanted-needed-was miles and miles of endless sky to soar through at the speed of light. To clear his mind. To forget that Lois had broken off their engagement.
And Christmas was only a couple of weeks away.
Clark still carried the ring she'd given back to him-the kind of modest diamond a reporter from The Daily Planet could afford. She hadn't seemed to mind the size and even cried happily when he'd given it to her. She'd known his identity for a while, and this had just seemed like the next logical step. But it hadn't taken long for her to become disillusioned when his personality didn't magically alter into the man she'd imagined for so many years.
It was probably for the best. That was what Lois had said. Clark was inclined to agree but his ego wouldn't allow it. Not yet.
He took a breath before walking into the monitor room where he found Bruce going through the checklist that would end his shift. He was only halfway done.
"You're early."
"And you're complaining?" Clark didn't mean to sound terse, and he wasn't fool enough to think Bruce hadn't noticed, even if Bruce gave no sign that he had.
"These sectors show spots of potential activity," Bruce said as he pointed to the flashing yellow lights on the monitors.
Bruce stood, and Clark plopped down into the chair, logged onto the computer, and gave the sectors Bruce pointed out a cursory glance. Then he wondered if Bruce had ever had a broken heart-had ever been in love.
"Lois left me." Clark immediately regretted saying anything when Bruce didn't even seem to hear him. "It's for the best, really. It's not like we have a lot in common. Yeah, we're both reporters, and we both work for The Daily Planet, and Superman does have to rescue her a lot."
The ability to shut up was suddenly beyond Clark's control. And worse, Bruce just looked at him with that damned stoic expression he seemed to prefer, making it impossible to read anything from it one way or the other. Clark made a living out of reading others' expressions and body language, but where Bruce was concerned, most of the time Clark was clueless.
Without a word, Bruce turned and headed for the door, but before he walked out of the room, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at Clark. "Would you like to go for a drink?"
The shift in Bruce's posture was almost indecipherable, but Clark noticed it. Clark just didn't know what it meant. "What?"
"I thought maybe you wanted to…talk." Bruce smirked in the way that Clark always found unnerving. Bruce probably practiced it in the mirror.
"You mean more than I already have?"
Bruce shrugged.
"This is a joke, right?" Clark shook his head. "Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. Sure. A drink sounds good. Where do we meet?"
* * * * *
Clark sat in a corner booth in an uptown Gotham bar, sipped his soda, and looked around the place. It was decorated for the holidays in white lights and red and green ornaments. He looked down at his plaid shirt and khakis and felt woefully underdressed among all the suits and cocktail dresses.
Bruce walked in, handed the maître d' his coat, and Clark relaxed when he saw that Bruce was dressed casually, too. It wasn't plaid and khakis, but at least a black pullover sweater and slacks wasn't a suit and tie.
"Have you been waiting long?" Bruce asked as he slid into the booth.
"Not too long. This is a nice place."
A waiter arrived at their table, and Bruce ordered something that all sounded Greek to Clark, but the waiter must have understood as he said, "Good choice, sir," and left with a grin. The waiter hadn't grinned when Clark ordered his soda.
Bruce turned to Clark, and it looked like he wanted to say something, but he must have decided against it because he leaned back, draped his arm against the back of the seat, and opted to stare at Clark instead.
Clark could've waited Bruce out, but he was never one for awkward silences. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to ramble on about Lois like that. This whole thing just took me by surprise."
"Did it?"
Clark shrugged. "No. I guess not. Doesn't make it any easier, though. Although one thing between us is bound not to change."
"What's that?"
"She'll still find trouble, and I'll still have to rescue her."
Bruce laughed, and Clark grinned when he realized that he'd never heard Bruce laugh before. It was nice, in an eerie sort of way.
"Why did you ask me here, anyway?"
"To talk, remember?"
"Really?"
"Don't look so surprised, Clark. I've been known to converse from time to time."
"You have?"
Bruce glared, causing Clark to break down in a fit of giggles. Then Bruce smiled, and Clark realized it wasn't that half grin, half smirk thing Bruce always did, but a genuine smile that transformed Bruce's face from stern and scary to warm, caring, and very handsome. Not that it mattered how good-looking Bruce was.
"I didn't say I did it often."
"I do appreciate it." Clark took a sip of his drink.
"Which cliché do you want to hear first?" Bruce asked.
"Cliché?"
"You can do better. It's her loss. Time heals all wounds." In a softer voice Bruce added, "She never understood you."
The voice was the same, but the tone was…Clark wasn't sure what the tone was. It made him want to press the back of his hand against Bruce's forehead to check for a fever. He cleared his throat instead. "Are these clichés supposed to work?"
"No, but they're all I've got."
"Well in that case, I think I'd go for the last one."
The waiter returned to the table and handed Bruce a bottle of wine for his inspection.
"That'll do. I'll take it with me."
"Yes sir." The waiter disappeared into a back room. He returned a short while later, handing Bruce the wine in a brown bag.
"Let's get out of here."
"Anyplace in particular?" Clark asked as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Bruce looked up, and Clark followed his gaze to the top of what looked like the tallest building in Gotham: Wayne Enterprises.
Clark grinned.
* * * * *
"Clark, I didn't know…"
"That I'd be alone for Christmas? Surely you knew that, Lois."
"I thought you'd go to Smallville to be with your family."
"We bought them that holiday cruise, remember? We were supposed to spend the holidays with your father."
Clark's words obviously fell on deaf ears as Lois's attention was directed to something or someone behind him. Clark turned around to see Bruce heading their way.
"Lois." Bruce kissed her cheek then turned to Clark with an outstretched hand. "Clark."
"So what brings the big boss to our neck of the woods?" Lois asked.
Clark rolled his eyes. Pleasantries were lost on Lois. She'd told him that in the time it took to conduct small talk, someone else was scooping a story. But Bruce owned The Daily Planet. He didn't need a reason to be here.
"A little of this, a little of that. By the way, Clark, Alfred insists you stay at the Manor for the ball."
"Ball?" Lois looked surprised. She knew Clark, or rather Superman, associated with Batman. She didn't know that Bruce and Clark had become friends-although that was a new occurrence, one that Clark found he liked.
"The annual Wayne Foundation Christmas Charity Ball. Surely you've heard of it. It's the event of the season." Bruce set his briefcase on top of Clark's desk, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and stood like someone who had power and knew how to use it.
Lois's lips pressed together in a hard, thin line. Clark knew she'd give her eyeteeth to attend such an event-to mingle with the rich and famous, sniffing out potential stories.
Clark suddenly felt less pitiable and sat taller in his chair. "I can stay at a hotel. I don't want to give Alfred more trouble than he already has, organizing this thing."
"You'll offend him if you don't stay and you know it. Besides, Dick will be there, too. He's looking forward to seeing you." Bruce grabbed his briefcase and walked to Perry White's office, but Perry was nowhere in sight. Bruce stood at the door and turned to Lois, displaying his perfect pearly whites in an amazing smile. Clark wondered if Bruce practiced that smile in the mirror, too. "Tell Perry I'm looking for him, will you, Lois?"
Clark laughed. He didn't know what was funnier, Lois's expression at having to play the part of secretary, or the look that Perry was sure to have when he found Bruce making himself at home behind Perry's desk. Clark placed his hands behind his back, propped his feet up on the desk, and smiled at Lois. "I think Perry's downstairs in imaging."
She kicked the bottom of his chair, causing it to roll backward, and Clark to scramble clumsily in order to maintain his balance. She grinned, turned on her heel, and left.
* * * * *
The Wayne Foundation Christmas Charity Ball was in full force in a lavishly decorated room at Wayne Manor. Clark entertained himself by surveying the sea of glamorous eveningwear and listening intently, as only one with superhuman hearing could do, as Gotham's aristocrats danced, joked, gossiped, and generally tried to better each other in everything from the most expensive dress to political and business dealings and contacts. It was the most entertainment Clark had had in a long time.
"I hate these things," Dick said, then smiled broadly and raised his glass in a mock toast to a somewhat older woman across the room. She looked like she could devour Dick with a single glance. His grin never faltered as he leaned toward Clark and spoke without moving his lips. "Follow me."
Clark placed his ginger ale on the table and followed Dick into Bruce's study. Closing the door behind him, Clark laughed at Dick, who exhaled loudly and flung himself onto the couch.
"Have a seat. This shindig's bound to last a few more hours," Dick said, pulling his tie loose.
"Bruce looked like he was enjoying himself."
"That was Bruce Wayne." Dick made quote signs with his hands at the name. "Bruce hates these things almost as much as I do."
Clark understood. "What we go through to maintain our public image, huh?"
"I'm just lucky it's time for patrol."
"Need help?" Clark looked toward the door, looked much farther with his x-ray vision into the ballroom on the opposite side of the house. Dick was right; this party wasn't going to end any time soon. Then he watched as Bruce gave his gaggle of adoring female fans the slip and headed their way.
"Nope. I got it." Dick grinned in a way that screamed "I've got a secret," and Clark wondered what Dick was up to. Or Bruce.
"Something I should know about, Dick?"
Now Dick had the look of pure innocence. The boy was good. "Nothing at all. By the way, I hear you're staying with us for the holidays." He grinned again.
Clark opened his mouth to tell Dick that he was leaving in the morning, but Bruce was now standing at the door, distracting Clark by the slumped posture and lazy grin of Bruce's public persona.
"Clark's staying through Christmas." Bruce closed the door and looked at Clark, all traces of the playboy billionaire gone. "I've already made arrangements with Perry to give you time off for the holidays."
"I'm sure he took that well," Clark muttered, surprisingly not upset that Bruce had taken control of his holidays. "I guess being friends with the owner of The Daily Planet has its perks."
Bruce sat down. "And don't you forget it."
"Well, I'm off. See you in the morning, Clark." Dick moved to the grandfather clock and positioned the hands to open the secret entrance to the cave.
"Check in. I'll be in the cave shortly," Bruce said, and Dick stiffened.
"I thought you wanted the night off."
"I said check in."
Dick seemed to bristle over the command, then took a breath, lowered his head, and smiled. "Yes, daddy."
Clark waited anxiously for the all too familiar tension that usually flared between the two men, but Dick stepped inside the cave and sealed the entrance without another word.
"You actually wanted a night off?" Clark asked.
"Yet another thing that's been known to happen. Besides, I have to play host."
Clark looked to the ballroom again. "Looks like everyone's having a good time."
Bruce moved to the room's bar and opened a panel that hid a small refrigerator. He grabbed two bottled waters and threw one at Clark who caught it mid-air. "I was talking about you."
"You stayed home from patrol to entertain me? Who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne?"
"Holiday spirit and all that."
Then Clark had a thought that made his stomach lurch. "You're not doing this because you feel sorry for me?"
Bruce choked on his water. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yes, Clark. That's exactly why I'm doing this."
"Then why?"
"We're…friends. Isn't that what friends do?"
Clark suddenly felt rude for pressing the issue, but this was Bruce, and their relationship had always been friendly in a contentious sort of way.
"Batman and Superman are friends."
"Maybe I thought it was time Bruce and Clark got to know each other. But if you don't-"
"No. I mean, I'd like to be friends. It's just, I've never seen this side of you, is all."
Bruce shrugged. "Maybe I know what it's like, trying to find fulfillment in the wrong person. Trying to fit into the mold others expect of you."
Clark stiffened. "What mold would that be?"
Bruce took a pull from his water. "I think you know what mold."
Clark didn't know what surprised him most: that Bruce seemed to understand him so well or the feeling that Bruce was testing Clark's reaction.
Clark stood, decided that he wasn't ready for this conversation with anyone, especially Bruce. "You think Dick will be okay out there alone?"
Bruce leaned back, crossed his ankle over his thigh, and looked generally pleased with himself. Clark realized what he'd given Bruce with this change of topic: Assurance.
"Dick will be fine. He'll check in at midnight."
"Is that for your peace of mind?"
"I like to know what's going on in my city."
"You also like knowing that Dick's safe."
Bruce looked down. "He hates that I worry."
"It's not that. He thinks you don't trust him." Dick had confided in Clark when Dick had struck out on his own as Nightwing.
Bruce looked genuinely surprised. "If I didn't trust him, I wouldn't let him patrol alone. He knows that."
"Does he? Have you told him that?" Clark wondered if he crossed the line when Bruce didn't say anything. "I'm sorry. It's really none of my business. It's just that sometimes I forget to turn off the reporter in me."
Bruce was silent, took another sip of water. "That's what friends do, right? Keep each other in check?"
"Yeah. I guess they do." Clark breathed a sigh of relief.
"Come on. Let's go tell Dick he has Gotham to himself tonight," Bruce said as he pulled back the grandfather clock. "Then we can have Alfred bring us hot cocoa by the fire."
Clark laughed.
"What's so funny?" Bruce asked as they descended into the cave.
"I didn't take you for a cocoa drinker."
"It's cold outside, Clark. And the cave's damned frigid."
Clark laughed louder.
"What?"
"It's just…I've never heard you complain about a physical discomfort before. If anything, you've always gone out of your way to make everyone think you're invincible."
"Now you know my secret. I don't like being cold."
"And you're pampered."
Bruce grinned. "That, too."
* * * * *
Clark woke up early as usual. He knew better than to expect Bruce to be awake at this hour of the morning-Bruce was a creature of the night. If Clark hadn't known that before, he'd certainly realized it the first, and last, time he'd scheduled an early morning Justice League meeting. Clark had found out the hard way that Bruce wasn't his warm and fuzzy self until mid-afternoon. But Clark had grown up on a farm and old habits died hard as he still rose with the sun.
Clark stepped into the kitchen and found Alfred, dressed for the day, reading the newspaper. Alfred smiled and gestured to the seat next to him.
"I prefer tea in the morning but I suspect, like Master Bruce, you might require something stronger in the form of coffee."
"Coffee's good, Alfred, though I don't drink it for the caffeine. My metabolism isn't affected by it one way or the other."
"Ah. A true connoisseur, then." Alfred poured Clark a cup of coffee, placing the cream and sugar within Clark's reach, along with a basket of muffins. "This should tide you over until breakfast is prepared. The young masters aren't as early to rise as the two of us."
"I thought as much." Clark took a bite of blueberry muffin. "Thank you, Alfred. This is good."
"You are quite welcome." Alfred sat, folded his hands on top of the table.
"I am pleased you decided to remain with us through the holidays. I've always preferred it when friends unite with family this time of year. Though I must warn you, our little family is not…how shall I put it-"
"Normal?"
Alfred laughed. "To say the least. But regardless, we are a family." Alfred had a twinkle in his eye that told more about his affection for his family than anything he could ever put into words.
"Do you like the ballet, Mr. Kent?" Alfred asked, and Clark blinked at the sudden change of subject.
"Please call me Clark and I'm not sure. I've never been to the ballet. Why do you ask?"
"I was able to acquire tickets to Master Bruce's favorite childhood ballet, The Nutcracker. His parents used to take him every Christmas. I thought perhaps I'd suggest that you both go this evening, but I wasn't certain if it would be as enjoyable to you."
Clark wondered what Bruce had been like as a child, then realized that Bruce's family had been normal at one time in Bruce's life, not that Clark should have been surprised. But Bruce hadn't known normalcy since he was eight years old. Clark suddenly felt selfish for brooding about not being with his Ma and Pa for the holidays. "Sounds like fun. I'd love to go."
Alfred smiled, grasped Clark's shoulder, and squeezed gently. "Thank you. It would mean a lot to Master Bruce and to me personally."
"To you?"
"It would make Master Bruce happy. And that is of the utmost importance to me. I am glad that you are his friend."
"Morning," Bruce said as he shuffled into the room, obviously still half-asleep.
Alfred's eyebrows rose in apparent surprise. "Good morning, Master Bruce. We are certainly up bright and early this morning."
Bruce plopped into a chair. "Hmm. Coffee, please."
"By all means." Alfred looked at Bruce, beginning at the top of Bruce's unruly hair, then lingering for a moment with a frown at his bare feet.
"And I shall keep it coming."
"Did you sleep at all?" Clark asked.
"Some."
Clark took another bite of his muffin. "You don't need to play host every minute I'm here, you know. You can sleep as late as you want."
"Maybe I just can't sleep when you're here."
Clark opened his mouth to say something, then he realized the possible implications of what Bruce had just said. Or maybe Bruce was just really tired and wasn't making sense. Then Bruce grinned, and Clark berated himself for ever thinking that Bruce didn't know exactly what he was doing or saying at any given moment.
Bruce took the coffee Alfred handed him and sniffed it like it had the power to restore life. He closed his eyes, took one sip, then another. He acted as if he were waiting for some magical transformation to take place. Then he looked down at the table to see the envelope Alfred placed alongside the coffee. "What's this?"
"An early Christmas present."
Bruce reached into the envelope and pulled out two tickets to the Nutcracker ballet. For a moment he said nothing, just stared at the tickets as if reliving a distant memory. "It's…been a while, hasn't it?"
"I daresay too long. Maybe the tradition can resume this year."
Bruce looked up at Alfred and smiled. "Thank you." Then he turned to Clark. "I guess we're going to the ballet tonight."
* * * * *
Clark pulled at his collar with one finger, trying to loosen the tension he felt as he sat in a private box of the theatre alone. With Bruce. He distracted himself by watching the crowd below take their seats, but Clark knew without a shadow of doubt that he was in big trouble because of the way Bruce looked tonight--a black suit with a baby blue tie that Clark would swear was the same color as Bruce's eyes. Those eyes. Clark had to admit that he'd peeked through the opaque lenses of Bruce's mask with his enhanced vision just to look at those eyes. But it paled in comparison to seeing them now, uncovered, naked, and looking at Clark with an apparently curious slant.
Clark looked down at the night's program and cleared his throat, but he could see Bruce grin out of the corner of his eye. Clark tried to think of a safe topic. "This place is…nice." And unsurprisingly gothic like the rest of Gotham.
"It had to be rebuilt after the earthquake but they've kept to the original in almost every detail. It's exactly as I remember it at any rate."
Clark shifted uneasily in his seat. "Do you come here often?"
"I have season passes to the opera." Bruce must have noticed Clark's frown. "You don't like the opera, I presume."
"Not really. You must enjoy it, though."
"Alfred insists. I think he hopes I'll accidentally have a good time. And it's something Bruce Wayne would do."
Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Talk about yourself in the third person. I have an alter ego and I don't do that."
"Bruce Wayne's not someone I like to be associated with." Bruce looked at Clark and grinned.
Clark chuckled. "It was fun watching him mingle at your Christmas party, though."
"Just as I'm entertained watching Clark Kent, I'm sure."
At Bruce's look, Clark knew Bruce wasn't talking about the clumsy, simple persona of Clark's alter ego. It made the heat rise to Clark's face, blossoming into a full-blown blush, he'd bet. He decided to change the subject before Bruce noticed, but who was Clark kidding? Bruce noticed everything. "Do Dick and Tim come here, too?"
"Not if they can help it." Bruce grinned again. Clark was sure this was going to be a long night.
Bruce tossed his program to the empty seat on the other side of him, looked uneasy about something for a moment, then turned to Clark with an intensity that made Clark swallow hard. Clark hadn't felt this way since Joey Wycliffe in the tenth grade, not that he'd told anyone about those feelings. Ever. There'd been a few other crushes that had left Clark confused and feeling even more different than the usual super-powered alien from another planet thing he'd dealt with. It was why he'd dated Lana-he'd wanted to fit in. He had to admit he'd probably done the same thing with Lois. And now, long past the age of puberty, Clark felt like he was in high school again-a time in his life he'd rather not revisit.
"Thank you for coming here with me tonight, Clark. And staying for the holidays. I know our relationship hasn't always been…friendly," Bruce looked away. "I'm sorry for that."
"Now I know you must be running a fever. You're apologizing?" How was Clark supposed to ignore that? To pretend it meant nothing for someone like Bruce to be sincere. It made Clark's heart beat a little faster. "I'm sorry, too."
Clark suddenly felt Bruce's hand on top of his own, and Clark laced his fingers with Bruce's like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. And when Bruce stroked the palm of Clark's hand with his thumb, Clark couldn't ever remember feeling something this genuine.
Clark wished he didn't want this.
Ma and Pa would never understand.
Clark stood. "We can't do this."
"Why not?" Bruce's voice was low but harsh. Apparently he'd given this more thought than Clark had.
"I think you know why not."
Clark nearly ran out of the building, and Bruce followed. Clark could feel Bruce more than see him, hot on his heels. And when Clark rushed through the doors of the theatre, Bruce was at his side, signaling for the car. Bruce didn't give Clark time to think, to run away, as he gestured for Clark to get inside. Bruce drove off down the street, probably leaving tire burns in his wake.
Clark's feelings were too close to the surface for comfort. But that had always been his problem. A problem that had gotten him into more trouble than it was worth sometimes. Just like tonight.
Bruce was driving in the opposite direction of Bristol and Wayne Manor, finally pulling into the private entry of a high-rise building.
"Where are we?" Clark asked.
Bruce didn't answer, just pulled into a slot marked "Reserved," got out of the car, and made his way to the elevators. Clark didn't have to be told to follow; he just did, into the elevator and up to the penthouse suite. Bruce threw his keys onto an entryway table, walked straight to the other side of the room, flung open the set of French doors leading to the balcony, and stepped outside.
Clark followed, his head held low. He felt like a child knowing he was about to be scolded. He stood next to Bruce, buried his hands in his pockets, and wondered how he'd let things get to this point? How he'd broken a silent promise to live as normal a life as possible, Superman notwithstanding. It's what his parents wanted. Even with his special abilities they'd dreamed and planned for his future. A future with a wife and children-their grandchildren. What would they say if they knew the truth?
Clark stared out into the cold winter night, the city's lights cutting through the clouds enough to give it an eerie, ghostly appearance and tried to think of something to say that could somehow erase what had happened tonight.
"I'm sorry, Clark. I shouldn't have-"
"Sorry?" That was the last thing Clark expected Bruce to say. "I'm the one who's sorry, Bruce. You have every reason in the world to be angry."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Clark. I-"
"I ran away. I led you on, then I ran away."
"I made the first move." Bruce sighed. "Since you and Lois split, I've had a difficult time keeping myself in check. I thought maybe you understood, maybe even felt the same."
"Maybe," Clark muttered but it was more than he'd ever admitted about this part of himself.
"But it doesn't change things." Bruce sighed.
Clark found himself wishing it could change things. "I've never told anyone. Have you?"
Bruce shook his head, and suddenly Clark didn't feel so alone.
"Don't you ever get tired of hiding, pretending?" Bruce asked so softly, Clark had to use his super hearing to hear him.
"Lois provided a distraction for a while."
Bruce laughed. "I bet she did. Her penchant for finding trouble kept you busy. But what happened when it was just the two of you? Was it ever enough? Or did you wake up feeling lonelier than you ever felt in your entire life?"
It sounded like Bruce was reading Clark's mind. "It doesn't change anything. There are too many people I care about-"
"To disappoint?"
"Can you honestly say it will be easy to tell them?"
"It can't be any harder than living like this."
When had living in denial become easier than facing reality? Clark couldn't even remember a time when he hadn't denied who he was-both his powers and his sexuality. It had become second nature. Except when he was with Bruce.
"Have you ever been in love?" Bruce asked.
"I'm not sure."
"You haven't then. Or you'd be sure."
"Have you?"
Bruce shook his head. "There've been…interests." Bruce looked at Clark and must have seen the unasked question etched on Clark's face. "This is uncharted territory for me, too, Clark. There've been women, of course… I want more."
Bruce wanted passion. Clark knew it because Clark wanted it, too. No. It was more than that: Clark needed it, suddenly couldn't live without it. Suddenly understood what it might feel like.
Clark fell silent, thinking, wondering. He couldn't stop himself from wondering. And hoping. And denying. He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing here." But that was a lie. He'd known Bruce for a while now, fought by his side. Bruce was a constant that Clark had come to depend upon. After these last few days together with no wars to fight, no masks to hide behind, Clark didn't know if he could walk away.
"Maybe you're just captivated by my charm."
Clark laughed.
"Or maybe you're afraid you can't go back. I don't think I can go back, Clark."
But Clark was afraid. That's what it all boiled down to. Fear. Fear of what others might think. Fear of giving in to his desires.
Fear of being alone.
"You think highly of yourself," Clark said, and he was joking but he knew it to be true. He sometimes wished he had Bruce's confidence, then maybe it would be easier to give into the urge to fall into his arms.
Bruce grinned, but the grinned wavered. "Am I wrong?"
Clark shook his head. "I…don't even know who I am anymore."
"Because you never allowed yourself to be who you truly are. And neither have I."
"That's hard to believe. You're always so damned sure of yourself."
"Batman is."
Clark rolled his eyes at Bruce's penchant for compartmentalizing.
Clark took a breath. "It won't be easy. Coming out, I mean."
"I think we'll find that our families won't be as surprised as we imagine."
"They're not the only ones to consider. There's work, and-"
"They're the only ones who matter, Clark."
Clark nodded. "I don't want to disappoint them," he whispered.
"Clark, I doubt very much that you're capable of disappointing them, no matter what you do. Me, on the other hand-"
"Alfred loves you. And so do Dick and Tim."
"I know. But it doesn't mean that I haven't let them down in the past. Or that I won't let you down."
The silence stretched, and Clark prayed his parents would understand. They'd known he wasn't from this world and yet raised him as their own son. Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe being gay wouldn't faze them as much as Clark feared.
Maybe.
"So. Where do we go from here?"
Bruce evidently had had doubts about this turning out the way he'd apparently imagined because the look of relief on his face made Clark want to smile. "I think only time can tell us that. Maybe take it slow. Let things progress naturally for a change."
"That would be a nice change." Lois had been anything but natural-she'd been hard work.
Bruce shivered and turned to go inside. "It's cold."
"Wait." Clark never felt the cold, and if there was one thing that felt natural for him to do at the moment, it was this. Clark stood behind Bruce, wrapped his arms around him, and hugged him. Bruce stiffened, resisted. The idea of such intimacy seemed to horrify him. It was then Clark realized that Bruce was afraid, too. They would learn to lean on each other, and Bruce might as well know now that Clark was the touchy, feely type.
It took a moment for Bruce to relax, to lean into Clark. "You're so…warm."
Clark chuckled, his lips next to Bruce's ear. He felt Bruce shiver, but this time Clark was certain it wasn't because Bruce was cold.
"Lois used to complain about me being too hot," Clark said, waited for the familiar sting usually associated with thinking of Lois. It never came.
"I'll certainly never complain about that. I like hot."
Clark shivered when he realized what he'd said and chuckled. "I'm sure you'll find other things to complain about."
"Neither of us is perfect. We don't have to be. It's what makes things interesting."
Clark sighed, his cheek resting against Bruce's. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt content with someone. He decided he'd think about the ramifications of telling his parents later. For now, he would enjoy being with Bruce.
* * * * *
Christmas morning at Wayne Manor was an experience Clark wouldn't soon forget. The study was littered with torn Christmas paper, the tree leaning to a dangerous level. Outside the snow fell gently to the ground, a dramatic contrast to the storm called Dick and Tim that had passed inside this very room.
Clark shook his head. "I've never seen anyone tear through presents that quickly. Not even The Flash, and that's saying something."
Dick grinned, and Tim didn't seem to hear Clark as he fiddled with some electronic game Bruce had given him.
"You'd tear through presents pretty quickly too, if you had a billionaire for a dad," Dick said, stacking his bounty on one side of the room.
Alfred stood at the doorway and cleared his throat. "Master Dick, Master Tim, Master Bruce would like to see you outside."
Dick looked up at Alfred. "He didn't. Did he?"
"I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." By the smile on Alfred's face, he apparently did.
Dick and Tim jumped to their feet, and after a brief game of push and shove when they both reached the doorway at the same time, ran out the door. Alfred and Clark exchanged amused grins and followed.
Outside, Bruce stood in between two of the most amazing custom choppers Clark had ever seen, keys dangling from either hand. Dick and Tim ran up to Bruce and made to hug him, but Bruce grasped the keys in a tight fist and glared. "Touch me and I lose the keys."
Dick and Tim stopped abruptly, no doubt knowing better than to think Bruce was joking. When Bruce was apparently satisfied that his boys wouldn't include him in a group hug, he handed each a set of keys. It didn't take long before Dick and Tim left only a trail of dust behind them.
"Don't be gone too long. Dinner is almost ready," Alfred said to Bruce with a grin before walking back inside the Manor.
"We going somewhere?"
Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out another set of keys, throwing them to Clark.
"What's this?" Clark asked.
Bruce walked around the side of the house, and Clark followed to find two more motorcycles with red bows on the handlebars.
"That one's yours," Bruce said, indicating the one painted red. Bruce mounted the one that was black.
Clark looked at the keys, then at the bike, then to Bruce. "You…bought me a bike?"
"I bought us bikes. I thought it'd be fun. But if you don't like it…."
Clark hopped onto his bike and smiled. "Are you kidding? Let's go."
* * * * *
Bruce stood at the fire with a cup of hot cocoa while Clark sat in a chair and watched him. Clark didn't even try to hide that he watched Bruce. He couldn't even if he wanted to. And he didn't want to. Clark liked looking at Bruce, and tonight, Clark was mesmerized.
Clark grinned when he noticed a soft blush on Bruce's face.
"So. Have a good Christmas?" Bruce asked.
"Very good. Thank you again for the bike. I hope you like what I gave you." A book that had been given to Clark by Tibetan monks for saving their lives during an earthquake. They'd had it in their possession for centuries. Clark didn't have a need for a martial arts book, even if it was written by Sensei that Bruce had said was the greatest that ever lived. Clark was just happy that Bruce had liked his gift.
"You know I did."
Clark smiled. "You really go all out for Christmas."
"It makes Dick and Tim happy."
"It makes you happy, too, you big softy."
"Maybe." Bruce took a sip of his drink.
"Where's Alfred?"
"Bed. He's had a long day."
"Hm. I can imagine. That was some dinner."
Bruce nodded.
"Dick, Tim?" Clark asked.
Bruce shook his head. "Not sure. They haven't made it back yet."
"You don't think-"
"They're fine. Just playing with their new toys."
"Ah." Clark stood, moved next to Bruce by the fire. "So. We're alone."
Clark loved that the shoe was finally on the other foot as Bruce's blush grew brighter.
Clark stroked Bruce's cheek, and Bruce leaned into the touch. He leaned forward, saw Bruce close his eyes before Clark closed his own. Clark wasn't sure what he expected when he kissed Bruce, but it wasn't this tenderness that surged between them, heating Clark from the inside out. Then Bruce's lips parted, and Clark tasted him. Tenderness mixed with passion until Clark pulled back, a little nervous.
Bruce had made the first move, now Clark had to make, wanted to make, this move. "I want more, Bruce."
"I know."
"Not just-"
Bruce kissed Clark hard, then whispered in his ear, "I know. I want that, too."
Bruce took Clark's hand, led him down the hall, up the stairs, and into Bruce's bedroom.
Bruce closed the door, hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." But Clark was scared, too.
Bruce stepped closer, kissed him, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of Clark's shirt. Bruce's hand rested on Clark's bare skin, skin that Clark would swear burned at the touch.
"This changes everything." Bruce's gaze was intense as if willing Clark to understand.
Clark did understand. "I want this. Tonight and tomorrow and-"
"And wherever else this will lead us."
Clark nodded, pulled Bruce to him, and kissed him hard. He fumbled clumsily at the buttons of Bruce's shirt, felt as Bruce did the same with his shirt. Then Clark took a breath, felt the need to slow down, to taste, to enjoy. And he did so by sliding his mouth away from Bruce's, nibbling at his ear, brushing kisses against his neck and throat. Clark could feel Bruce's breath, hot and shallow against his skin, and Bruce's callused hands as they rubbed his bare back, moving lower until Clark shivered when his hands slid down to grab hold of his ass. Clark cursed the fabric that stood between them.
Bruce pulled their remaining clothes off in graceful, fluid motions, then pushed Clark onto the bed while he climbed on top. Clark moaned, and Bruce seemed energized by the sound. Clark understood because with each one of Bruce's moans and grunts, he wanted to scream and shout victory. Instead, he rolled on top of Bruce and trailed kisses over his body. The trail led Clark lower, lower until he stopped.
Clark had never touched another man there before. But he wanted to touch Bruce. He did, tentatively at first, feeling the satiny texture, the rigidity of Bruce's arousal.
This was the point of no return.
Clark didn't hesitate but took him in his mouth in one steady plunge. Bruce groaned, his hands threaded in Clark's hair. Clark felt a primal satisfaction in bringing out those sounds in him. So he did it again and again until Bruce collapsed on the bed.
Bruce shifted, grabbed something off the nightstand, and gave it to Clark. Clark looked down at it then up at Bruce, then back down again. His stomach fluttered and his groin tightened.
"You sure?"
"Very."
Clark opened the tube then looked at Bruce, kissed him, loved him like Clark had never loved anyone before. Clark set the pace, and Bruce followed until the pace quickened, became reckless, and he collapsed on top of Bruce in a sweaty heap. Bruce held him tight, and Clark didn't have to wonder what passion felt like any longer. It felt like Bruce.
* * * * *
Clark typed the last sentence of his story and hit the enter key. A story that Perry was anxiously waiting for and that Lois was spitting nails over-Clark had scooped her but good on this one. He looked over at Lois and grinned.
"All done, Smallville?"
"Yep."
"Well, I guess I can't stay mad at you forever over this. How about-"
The phone rang, and Clark held up a hand to Lois. "Hello."
"How does lunch sound?"
Clark couldn't help the smile that spread across his face or the blush he was sure Lois noticed as she leaned closer to his desk, no doubt trying to listen in on his call. "You in town?"
"I'll be there in an hour. See you then."
"Can't wait." Clark hung up the phone. Things had progressed nicely between him and Bruce. Clark had to admit that even coming out to his parents had gone much more smoothly than he'd ever imagined. Bruce had been right-they weren't surprised. And they weren't disappointed, either. Neither were Alfred, Dick, and Tim, who found the whole thing amusing.
"You're seeing someone, aren't you?"
Clark wasn't sure if Lois was happy for him or angry. Sometimes you really couldn't tell with her.
"Maybe."
"Anyone I know?"
Clark shrugged, and Lois's eyes grew wide. Was she really surprised that Clark could find someone besides her?
She took a breath, stood, and grabbed her bag. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Come on, I'm buying."
Lois had been back to her somewhat friendly self since after the holidays. Clark wasn't sure what to make of it, but at least it helped keep tensions to a minimal on the job.
"I have lunch plans. Rain check?"
"Lunch plans or a lunch date?" Lois was anything but subtle.
"If you want to know who I'm seeing, Lois, just ask me."
"Just trying to make small talk. It's not like I care what you do or who you do it with. Tell Perry I'm at lunch, will you?"
Clark thought Lois tried to sound nonchalant but she barely pulled it off.
"Sure thing."
* * * * *
Clark was wrapping up a few loose ends before Bruce arrived. He figured lunch with Bruce could extend to the rest of the afternoon. At least Clark hoped it would.
"Date stand you up for lunch?" Lois put her bag away in her desk and plopped down. She looked awfully pleased with herself.
As if on cue the elevator doors opened and Bruce sauntered through.
"Nope. There he is now."
Bruce's grin was wide and natural. Lois looked from one man to the other, and Clark wished he had a camera to capture the moment.
"Hello, Lois." Bruce leaned closer, studying her face. "Are you all right?"
"I'm not sure."
Bruce gave her a wink then turned to Clark. "Clark. You ready?"
Clark nodded and stood, moved to Bruce's side. He touched Clark's arm briefly, affectionately, and the touch wasn't lost on Lois who no longer looked shocked but sad. Very sad.
Bruce frowned, entered the elevator stiffly, and punched the button to the first floor harder than needed. He looked angry. No, that wasn't right. He looked worried. Clark just wasn't sure about what.
"What is it?"
"Do you still love her?"
"Who? Lois?"
Bruce looked at Clark like the question should have been obvious.
"I told you I was never in love with her," Clark stroked Bruce's back.
"You said you weren't sure if you were ever truly in love. And she wants you back."
Clark sighed. "She thinks she does. But it doesn't matter. I don't want her."
"Don't you?"
"Nope. Because I was never in love with Lois. And, I happen to be in love with this guy who lives in Gotham. Didn't you know that?"
Bruce seemed to struggle for a moment but he composed himself quickly, leaned over, and hit the button to start the elevator again. He stood straight, his gaze leveled on the doors. "Good. Because I happen to be in love with this guy from Metropolis."
Clark mirrored Bruce stance, looking at the same closed elevator doors. "Any other questions?"
"Yes. Can you take the rest of the day off?"
Clark grinned. "I already have."
finis
maragfor their beta of the story. labuenaventura
did an amazing job on the artwork for this. You can view it by downloading the fanzine or by visiting the original post at
wfslash.
Summary: When Lois ends her engagement to Clark Kent, a certain Dark Knight is there to pick up the pieces.
Rated: Mature Content
Cliches: First Time Romance/Sex, Holidays
Story Type: Slash
Universe: Comicverse Comicverse
Word count: 7583
The headquarters of the Justice League seemed suddenly small as Clark rounded the corridor on his way to monitor duty. What he really wanted-needed-was miles and miles of endless sky to soar through at the speed of light. To clear his mind. To forget that Lois had broken off their engagement.
And Christmas was only a couple of weeks away.
Clark still carried the ring she'd given back to him-the kind of modest diamond a reporter from The Daily Planet could afford. She hadn't seemed to mind the size and even cried happily when he'd given it to her. She'd known his identity for a while, and this had just seemed like the next logical step. But it hadn't taken long for her to become disillusioned when his personality didn't magically alter into the man she'd imagined for so many years.
It was probably for the best. That was what Lois had said. Clark was inclined to agree but his ego wouldn't allow it. Not yet.
He took a breath before walking into the monitor room where he found Bruce going through the checklist that would end his shift. He was only halfway done.
"You're early."
"And you're complaining?" Clark didn't mean to sound terse, and he wasn't fool enough to think Bruce hadn't noticed, even if Bruce gave no sign that he had.
"These sectors show spots of potential activity," Bruce said as he pointed to the flashing yellow lights on the monitors.
Bruce stood, and Clark plopped down into the chair, logged onto the computer, and gave the sectors Bruce pointed out a cursory glance. Then he wondered if Bruce had ever had a broken heart-had ever been in love.
"Lois left me." Clark immediately regretted saying anything when Bruce didn't even seem to hear him. "It's for the best, really. It's not like we have a lot in common. Yeah, we're both reporters, and we both work for The Daily Planet, and Superman does have to rescue her a lot."
The ability to shut up was suddenly beyond Clark's control. And worse, Bruce just looked at him with that damned stoic expression he seemed to prefer, making it impossible to read anything from it one way or the other. Clark made a living out of reading others' expressions and body language, but where Bruce was concerned, most of the time Clark was clueless.
Without a word, Bruce turned and headed for the door, but before he walked out of the room, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at Clark. "Would you like to go for a drink?"
The shift in Bruce's posture was almost indecipherable, but Clark noticed it. Clark just didn't know what it meant. "What?"
"I thought maybe you wanted to…talk." Bruce smirked in the way that Clark always found unnerving. Bruce probably practiced it in the mirror.
"You mean more than I already have?"
Bruce shrugged.
"This is a joke, right?" Clark shook his head. "Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. Sure. A drink sounds good. Where do we meet?"
* * * * *
Clark sat in a corner booth in an uptown Gotham bar, sipped his soda, and looked around the place. It was decorated for the holidays in white lights and red and green ornaments. He looked down at his plaid shirt and khakis and felt woefully underdressed among all the suits and cocktail dresses.
Bruce walked in, handed the maître d' his coat, and Clark relaxed when he saw that Bruce was dressed casually, too. It wasn't plaid and khakis, but at least a black pullover sweater and slacks wasn't a suit and tie.
"Have you been waiting long?" Bruce asked as he slid into the booth.
"Not too long. This is a nice place."
A waiter arrived at their table, and Bruce ordered something that all sounded Greek to Clark, but the waiter must have understood as he said, "Good choice, sir," and left with a grin. The waiter hadn't grinned when Clark ordered his soda.
Bruce turned to Clark, and it looked like he wanted to say something, but he must have decided against it because he leaned back, draped his arm against the back of the seat, and opted to stare at Clark instead.
Clark could've waited Bruce out, but he was never one for awkward silences. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to ramble on about Lois like that. This whole thing just took me by surprise."
"Did it?"
Clark shrugged. "No. I guess not. Doesn't make it any easier, though. Although one thing between us is bound not to change."
"What's that?"
"She'll still find trouble, and I'll still have to rescue her."
Bruce laughed, and Clark grinned when he realized that he'd never heard Bruce laugh before. It was nice, in an eerie sort of way.
"Why did you ask me here, anyway?"
"To talk, remember?"
"Really?"
"Don't look so surprised, Clark. I've been known to converse from time to time."
"You have?"
Bruce glared, causing Clark to break down in a fit of giggles. Then Bruce smiled, and Clark realized it wasn't that half grin, half smirk thing Bruce always did, but a genuine smile that transformed Bruce's face from stern and scary to warm, caring, and very handsome. Not that it mattered how good-looking Bruce was.
"I didn't say I did it often."
"I do appreciate it." Clark took a sip of his drink.
"Which cliché do you want to hear first?" Bruce asked.
"Cliché?"
"You can do better. It's her loss. Time heals all wounds." In a softer voice Bruce added, "She never understood you."
The voice was the same, but the tone was…Clark wasn't sure what the tone was. It made him want to press the back of his hand against Bruce's forehead to check for a fever. He cleared his throat instead. "Are these clichés supposed to work?"
"No, but they're all I've got."
"Well in that case, I think I'd go for the last one."
The waiter returned to the table and handed Bruce a bottle of wine for his inspection.
"That'll do. I'll take it with me."
"Yes sir." The waiter disappeared into a back room. He returned a short while later, handing Bruce the wine in a brown bag.
"Let's get out of here."
"Anyplace in particular?" Clark asked as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Bruce looked up, and Clark followed his gaze to the top of what looked like the tallest building in Gotham: Wayne Enterprises.
Clark grinned.
* * * * *
"Clark, I didn't know…"
"That I'd be alone for Christmas? Surely you knew that, Lois."
"I thought you'd go to Smallville to be with your family."
"We bought them that holiday cruise, remember? We were supposed to spend the holidays with your father."
Clark's words obviously fell on deaf ears as Lois's attention was directed to something or someone behind him. Clark turned around to see Bruce heading their way.
"Lois." Bruce kissed her cheek then turned to Clark with an outstretched hand. "Clark."
"So what brings the big boss to our neck of the woods?" Lois asked.
Clark rolled his eyes. Pleasantries were lost on Lois. She'd told him that in the time it took to conduct small talk, someone else was scooping a story. But Bruce owned The Daily Planet. He didn't need a reason to be here.
"A little of this, a little of that. By the way, Clark, Alfred insists you stay at the Manor for the ball."
"Ball?" Lois looked surprised. She knew Clark, or rather Superman, associated with Batman. She didn't know that Bruce and Clark had become friends-although that was a new occurrence, one that Clark found he liked.
"The annual Wayne Foundation Christmas Charity Ball. Surely you've heard of it. It's the event of the season." Bruce set his briefcase on top of Clark's desk, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and stood like someone who had power and knew how to use it.
Lois's lips pressed together in a hard, thin line. Clark knew she'd give her eyeteeth to attend such an event-to mingle with the rich and famous, sniffing out potential stories.
Clark suddenly felt less pitiable and sat taller in his chair. "I can stay at a hotel. I don't want to give Alfred more trouble than he already has, organizing this thing."
"You'll offend him if you don't stay and you know it. Besides, Dick will be there, too. He's looking forward to seeing you." Bruce grabbed his briefcase and walked to Perry White's office, but Perry was nowhere in sight. Bruce stood at the door and turned to Lois, displaying his perfect pearly whites in an amazing smile. Clark wondered if Bruce practiced that smile in the mirror, too. "Tell Perry I'm looking for him, will you, Lois?"
Clark laughed. He didn't know what was funnier, Lois's expression at having to play the part of secretary, or the look that Perry was sure to have when he found Bruce making himself at home behind Perry's desk. Clark placed his hands behind his back, propped his feet up on the desk, and smiled at Lois. "I think Perry's downstairs in imaging."
She kicked the bottom of his chair, causing it to roll backward, and Clark to scramble clumsily in order to maintain his balance. She grinned, turned on her heel, and left.
* * * * *
The Wayne Foundation Christmas Charity Ball was in full force in a lavishly decorated room at Wayne Manor. Clark entertained himself by surveying the sea of glamorous eveningwear and listening intently, as only one with superhuman hearing could do, as Gotham's aristocrats danced, joked, gossiped, and generally tried to better each other in everything from the most expensive dress to political and business dealings and contacts. It was the most entertainment Clark had had in a long time.
"I hate these things," Dick said, then smiled broadly and raised his glass in a mock toast to a somewhat older woman across the room. She looked like she could devour Dick with a single glance. His grin never faltered as he leaned toward Clark and spoke without moving his lips. "Follow me."
Clark placed his ginger ale on the table and followed Dick into Bruce's study. Closing the door behind him, Clark laughed at Dick, who exhaled loudly and flung himself onto the couch.
"Have a seat. This shindig's bound to last a few more hours," Dick said, pulling his tie loose.
"Bruce looked like he was enjoying himself."
"That was Bruce Wayne." Dick made quote signs with his hands at the name. "Bruce hates these things almost as much as I do."
Clark understood. "What we go through to maintain our public image, huh?"
"I'm just lucky it's time for patrol."
"Need help?" Clark looked toward the door, looked much farther with his x-ray vision into the ballroom on the opposite side of the house. Dick was right; this party wasn't going to end any time soon. Then he watched as Bruce gave his gaggle of adoring female fans the slip and headed their way.
"Nope. I got it." Dick grinned in a way that screamed "I've got a secret," and Clark wondered what Dick was up to. Or Bruce.
"Something I should know about, Dick?"
Now Dick had the look of pure innocence. The boy was good. "Nothing at all. By the way, I hear you're staying with us for the holidays." He grinned again.
Clark opened his mouth to tell Dick that he was leaving in the morning, but Bruce was now standing at the door, distracting Clark by the slumped posture and lazy grin of Bruce's public persona.
"Clark's staying through Christmas." Bruce closed the door and looked at Clark, all traces of the playboy billionaire gone. "I've already made arrangements with Perry to give you time off for the holidays."
"I'm sure he took that well," Clark muttered, surprisingly not upset that Bruce had taken control of his holidays. "I guess being friends with the owner of The Daily Planet has its perks."
Bruce sat down. "And don't you forget it."
"Well, I'm off. See you in the morning, Clark." Dick moved to the grandfather clock and positioned the hands to open the secret entrance to the cave.
"Check in. I'll be in the cave shortly," Bruce said, and Dick stiffened.
"I thought you wanted the night off."
"I said check in."
Dick seemed to bristle over the command, then took a breath, lowered his head, and smiled. "Yes, daddy."
Clark waited anxiously for the all too familiar tension that usually flared between the two men, but Dick stepped inside the cave and sealed the entrance without another word.
"You actually wanted a night off?" Clark asked.
"Yet another thing that's been known to happen. Besides, I have to play host."
Clark looked to the ballroom again. "Looks like everyone's having a good time."
Bruce moved to the room's bar and opened a panel that hid a small refrigerator. He grabbed two bottled waters and threw one at Clark who caught it mid-air. "I was talking about you."
"You stayed home from patrol to entertain me? Who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne?"
"Holiday spirit and all that."
Then Clark had a thought that made his stomach lurch. "You're not doing this because you feel sorry for me?"
Bruce choked on his water. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yes, Clark. That's exactly why I'm doing this."
"Then why?"
"We're…friends. Isn't that what friends do?"
Clark suddenly felt rude for pressing the issue, but this was Bruce, and their relationship had always been friendly in a contentious sort of way.
"Batman and Superman are friends."
"Maybe I thought it was time Bruce and Clark got to know each other. But if you don't-"
"No. I mean, I'd like to be friends. It's just, I've never seen this side of you, is all."
Bruce shrugged. "Maybe I know what it's like, trying to find fulfillment in the wrong person. Trying to fit into the mold others expect of you."
Clark stiffened. "What mold would that be?"
Bruce took a pull from his water. "I think you know what mold."
Clark didn't know what surprised him most: that Bruce seemed to understand him so well or the feeling that Bruce was testing Clark's reaction.
Clark stood, decided that he wasn't ready for this conversation with anyone, especially Bruce. "You think Dick will be okay out there alone?"
Bruce leaned back, crossed his ankle over his thigh, and looked generally pleased with himself. Clark realized what he'd given Bruce with this change of topic: Assurance.
"Dick will be fine. He'll check in at midnight."
"Is that for your peace of mind?"
"I like to know what's going on in my city."
"You also like knowing that Dick's safe."
Bruce looked down. "He hates that I worry."
"It's not that. He thinks you don't trust him." Dick had confided in Clark when Dick had struck out on his own as Nightwing.
Bruce looked genuinely surprised. "If I didn't trust him, I wouldn't let him patrol alone. He knows that."
"Does he? Have you told him that?" Clark wondered if he crossed the line when Bruce didn't say anything. "I'm sorry. It's really none of my business. It's just that sometimes I forget to turn off the reporter in me."
Bruce was silent, took another sip of water. "That's what friends do, right? Keep each other in check?"
"Yeah. I guess they do." Clark breathed a sigh of relief.
"Come on. Let's go tell Dick he has Gotham to himself tonight," Bruce said as he pulled back the grandfather clock. "Then we can have Alfred bring us hot cocoa by the fire."
Clark laughed.
"What's so funny?" Bruce asked as they descended into the cave.
"I didn't take you for a cocoa drinker."
"It's cold outside, Clark. And the cave's damned frigid."
Clark laughed louder.
"What?"
"It's just…I've never heard you complain about a physical discomfort before. If anything, you've always gone out of your way to make everyone think you're invincible."
"Now you know my secret. I don't like being cold."
"And you're pampered."
Bruce grinned. "That, too."
* * * * *
Clark woke up early as usual. He knew better than to expect Bruce to be awake at this hour of the morning-Bruce was a creature of the night. If Clark hadn't known that before, he'd certainly realized it the first, and last, time he'd scheduled an early morning Justice League meeting. Clark had found out the hard way that Bruce wasn't his warm and fuzzy self until mid-afternoon. But Clark had grown up on a farm and old habits died hard as he still rose with the sun.
Clark stepped into the kitchen and found Alfred, dressed for the day, reading the newspaper. Alfred smiled and gestured to the seat next to him.
"I prefer tea in the morning but I suspect, like Master Bruce, you might require something stronger in the form of coffee."
"Coffee's good, Alfred, though I don't drink it for the caffeine. My metabolism isn't affected by it one way or the other."
"Ah. A true connoisseur, then." Alfred poured Clark a cup of coffee, placing the cream and sugar within Clark's reach, along with a basket of muffins. "This should tide you over until breakfast is prepared. The young masters aren't as early to rise as the two of us."
"I thought as much." Clark took a bite of blueberry muffin. "Thank you, Alfred. This is good."
"You are quite welcome." Alfred sat, folded his hands on top of the table.
"I am pleased you decided to remain with us through the holidays. I've always preferred it when friends unite with family this time of year. Though I must warn you, our little family is not…how shall I put it-"
"Normal?"
Alfred laughed. "To say the least. But regardless, we are a family." Alfred had a twinkle in his eye that told more about his affection for his family than anything he could ever put into words.
"Do you like the ballet, Mr. Kent?" Alfred asked, and Clark blinked at the sudden change of subject.
"Please call me Clark and I'm not sure. I've never been to the ballet. Why do you ask?"
"I was able to acquire tickets to Master Bruce's favorite childhood ballet, The Nutcracker. His parents used to take him every Christmas. I thought perhaps I'd suggest that you both go this evening, but I wasn't certain if it would be as enjoyable to you."
Clark wondered what Bruce had been like as a child, then realized that Bruce's family had been normal at one time in Bruce's life, not that Clark should have been surprised. But Bruce hadn't known normalcy since he was eight years old. Clark suddenly felt selfish for brooding about not being with his Ma and Pa for the holidays. "Sounds like fun. I'd love to go."
Alfred smiled, grasped Clark's shoulder, and squeezed gently. "Thank you. It would mean a lot to Master Bruce and to me personally."
"To you?"
"It would make Master Bruce happy. And that is of the utmost importance to me. I am glad that you are his friend."
"Morning," Bruce said as he shuffled into the room, obviously still half-asleep.
Alfred's eyebrows rose in apparent surprise. "Good morning, Master Bruce. We are certainly up bright and early this morning."
Bruce plopped into a chair. "Hmm. Coffee, please."
"By all means." Alfred looked at Bruce, beginning at the top of Bruce's unruly hair, then lingering for a moment with a frown at his bare feet.
"And I shall keep it coming."
"Did you sleep at all?" Clark asked.
"Some."
Clark took another bite of his muffin. "You don't need to play host every minute I'm here, you know. You can sleep as late as you want."
"Maybe I just can't sleep when you're here."
Clark opened his mouth to say something, then he realized the possible implications of what Bruce had just said. Or maybe Bruce was just really tired and wasn't making sense. Then Bruce grinned, and Clark berated himself for ever thinking that Bruce didn't know exactly what he was doing or saying at any given moment.
Bruce took the coffee Alfred handed him and sniffed it like it had the power to restore life. He closed his eyes, took one sip, then another. He acted as if he were waiting for some magical transformation to take place. Then he looked down at the table to see the envelope Alfred placed alongside the coffee. "What's this?"
"An early Christmas present."
Bruce reached into the envelope and pulled out two tickets to the Nutcracker ballet. For a moment he said nothing, just stared at the tickets as if reliving a distant memory. "It's…been a while, hasn't it?"
"I daresay too long. Maybe the tradition can resume this year."
Bruce looked up at Alfred and smiled. "Thank you." Then he turned to Clark. "I guess we're going to the ballet tonight."
* * * * *
Clark pulled at his collar with one finger, trying to loosen the tension he felt as he sat in a private box of the theatre alone. With Bruce. He distracted himself by watching the crowd below take their seats, but Clark knew without a shadow of doubt that he was in big trouble because of the way Bruce looked tonight--a black suit with a baby blue tie that Clark would swear was the same color as Bruce's eyes. Those eyes. Clark had to admit that he'd peeked through the opaque lenses of Bruce's mask with his enhanced vision just to look at those eyes. But it paled in comparison to seeing them now, uncovered, naked, and looking at Clark with an apparently curious slant.
Clark looked down at the night's program and cleared his throat, but he could see Bruce grin out of the corner of his eye. Clark tried to think of a safe topic. "This place is…nice." And unsurprisingly gothic like the rest of Gotham.
"It had to be rebuilt after the earthquake but they've kept to the original in almost every detail. It's exactly as I remember it at any rate."
Clark shifted uneasily in his seat. "Do you come here often?"
"I have season passes to the opera." Bruce must have noticed Clark's frown. "You don't like the opera, I presume."
"Not really. You must enjoy it, though."
"Alfred insists. I think he hopes I'll accidentally have a good time. And it's something Bruce Wayne would do."
Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Talk about yourself in the third person. I have an alter ego and I don't do that."
"Bruce Wayne's not someone I like to be associated with." Bruce looked at Clark and grinned.
Clark chuckled. "It was fun watching him mingle at your Christmas party, though."
"Just as I'm entertained watching Clark Kent, I'm sure."
At Bruce's look, Clark knew Bruce wasn't talking about the clumsy, simple persona of Clark's alter ego. It made the heat rise to Clark's face, blossoming into a full-blown blush, he'd bet. He decided to change the subject before Bruce noticed, but who was Clark kidding? Bruce noticed everything. "Do Dick and Tim come here, too?"
"Not if they can help it." Bruce grinned again. Clark was sure this was going to be a long night.
Bruce tossed his program to the empty seat on the other side of him, looked uneasy about something for a moment, then turned to Clark with an intensity that made Clark swallow hard. Clark hadn't felt this way since Joey Wycliffe in the tenth grade, not that he'd told anyone about those feelings. Ever. There'd been a few other crushes that had left Clark confused and feeling even more different than the usual super-powered alien from another planet thing he'd dealt with. It was why he'd dated Lana-he'd wanted to fit in. He had to admit he'd probably done the same thing with Lois. And now, long past the age of puberty, Clark felt like he was in high school again-a time in his life he'd rather not revisit.
"Thank you for coming here with me tonight, Clark. And staying for the holidays. I know our relationship hasn't always been…friendly," Bruce looked away. "I'm sorry for that."
"Now I know you must be running a fever. You're apologizing?" How was Clark supposed to ignore that? To pretend it meant nothing for someone like Bruce to be sincere. It made Clark's heart beat a little faster. "I'm sorry, too."
Clark suddenly felt Bruce's hand on top of his own, and Clark laced his fingers with Bruce's like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. And when Bruce stroked the palm of Clark's hand with his thumb, Clark couldn't ever remember feeling something this genuine.
Clark wished he didn't want this.
Ma and Pa would never understand.
Clark stood. "We can't do this."
"Why not?" Bruce's voice was low but harsh. Apparently he'd given this more thought than Clark had.
"I think you know why not."
Clark nearly ran out of the building, and Bruce followed. Clark could feel Bruce more than see him, hot on his heels. And when Clark rushed through the doors of the theatre, Bruce was at his side, signaling for the car. Bruce didn't give Clark time to think, to run away, as he gestured for Clark to get inside. Bruce drove off down the street, probably leaving tire burns in his wake.
Clark's feelings were too close to the surface for comfort. But that had always been his problem. A problem that had gotten him into more trouble than it was worth sometimes. Just like tonight.
Bruce was driving in the opposite direction of Bristol and Wayne Manor, finally pulling into the private entry of a high-rise building.
"Where are we?" Clark asked.
Bruce didn't answer, just pulled into a slot marked "Reserved," got out of the car, and made his way to the elevators. Clark didn't have to be told to follow; he just did, into the elevator and up to the penthouse suite. Bruce threw his keys onto an entryway table, walked straight to the other side of the room, flung open the set of French doors leading to the balcony, and stepped outside.
Clark followed, his head held low. He felt like a child knowing he was about to be scolded. He stood next to Bruce, buried his hands in his pockets, and wondered how he'd let things get to this point? How he'd broken a silent promise to live as normal a life as possible, Superman notwithstanding. It's what his parents wanted. Even with his special abilities they'd dreamed and planned for his future. A future with a wife and children-their grandchildren. What would they say if they knew the truth?
Clark stared out into the cold winter night, the city's lights cutting through the clouds enough to give it an eerie, ghostly appearance and tried to think of something to say that could somehow erase what had happened tonight.
"I'm sorry, Clark. I shouldn't have-"
"Sorry?" That was the last thing Clark expected Bruce to say. "I'm the one who's sorry, Bruce. You have every reason in the world to be angry."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Clark. I-"
"I ran away. I led you on, then I ran away."
"I made the first move." Bruce sighed. "Since you and Lois split, I've had a difficult time keeping myself in check. I thought maybe you understood, maybe even felt the same."
"Maybe," Clark muttered but it was more than he'd ever admitted about this part of himself.
"But it doesn't change things." Bruce sighed.
Clark found himself wishing it could change things. "I've never told anyone. Have you?"
Bruce shook his head, and suddenly Clark didn't feel so alone.
"Don't you ever get tired of hiding, pretending?" Bruce asked so softly, Clark had to use his super hearing to hear him.
"Lois provided a distraction for a while."
Bruce laughed. "I bet she did. Her penchant for finding trouble kept you busy. But what happened when it was just the two of you? Was it ever enough? Or did you wake up feeling lonelier than you ever felt in your entire life?"
It sounded like Bruce was reading Clark's mind. "It doesn't change anything. There are too many people I care about-"
"To disappoint?"
"Can you honestly say it will be easy to tell them?"
"It can't be any harder than living like this."
When had living in denial become easier than facing reality? Clark couldn't even remember a time when he hadn't denied who he was-both his powers and his sexuality. It had become second nature. Except when he was with Bruce.
"Have you ever been in love?" Bruce asked.
"I'm not sure."
"You haven't then. Or you'd be sure."
"Have you?"
Bruce shook his head. "There've been…interests." Bruce looked at Clark and must have seen the unasked question etched on Clark's face. "This is uncharted territory for me, too, Clark. There've been women, of course… I want more."
Bruce wanted passion. Clark knew it because Clark wanted it, too. No. It was more than that: Clark needed it, suddenly couldn't live without it. Suddenly understood what it might feel like.
Clark fell silent, thinking, wondering. He couldn't stop himself from wondering. And hoping. And denying. He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing here." But that was a lie. He'd known Bruce for a while now, fought by his side. Bruce was a constant that Clark had come to depend upon. After these last few days together with no wars to fight, no masks to hide behind, Clark didn't know if he could walk away.
"Maybe you're just captivated by my charm."
Clark laughed.
"Or maybe you're afraid you can't go back. I don't think I can go back, Clark."
But Clark was afraid. That's what it all boiled down to. Fear. Fear of what others might think. Fear of giving in to his desires.
Fear of being alone.
"You think highly of yourself," Clark said, and he was joking but he knew it to be true. He sometimes wished he had Bruce's confidence, then maybe it would be easier to give into the urge to fall into his arms.
Bruce grinned, but the grinned wavered. "Am I wrong?"
Clark shook his head. "I…don't even know who I am anymore."
"Because you never allowed yourself to be who you truly are. And neither have I."
"That's hard to believe. You're always so damned sure of yourself."
"Batman is."
Clark rolled his eyes at Bruce's penchant for compartmentalizing.
Clark took a breath. "It won't be easy. Coming out, I mean."
"I think we'll find that our families won't be as surprised as we imagine."
"They're not the only ones to consider. There's work, and-"
"They're the only ones who matter, Clark."
Clark nodded. "I don't want to disappoint them," he whispered.
"Clark, I doubt very much that you're capable of disappointing them, no matter what you do. Me, on the other hand-"
"Alfred loves you. And so do Dick and Tim."
"I know. But it doesn't mean that I haven't let them down in the past. Or that I won't let you down."
The silence stretched, and Clark prayed his parents would understand. They'd known he wasn't from this world and yet raised him as their own son. Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe being gay wouldn't faze them as much as Clark feared.
Maybe.
"So. Where do we go from here?"
Bruce evidently had had doubts about this turning out the way he'd apparently imagined because the look of relief on his face made Clark want to smile. "I think only time can tell us that. Maybe take it slow. Let things progress naturally for a change."
"That would be a nice change." Lois had been anything but natural-she'd been hard work.
Bruce shivered and turned to go inside. "It's cold."
"Wait." Clark never felt the cold, and if there was one thing that felt natural for him to do at the moment, it was this. Clark stood behind Bruce, wrapped his arms around him, and hugged him. Bruce stiffened, resisted. The idea of such intimacy seemed to horrify him. It was then Clark realized that Bruce was afraid, too. They would learn to lean on each other, and Bruce might as well know now that Clark was the touchy, feely type.
It took a moment for Bruce to relax, to lean into Clark. "You're so…warm."
Clark chuckled, his lips next to Bruce's ear. He felt Bruce shiver, but this time Clark was certain it wasn't because Bruce was cold.
"Lois used to complain about me being too hot," Clark said, waited for the familiar sting usually associated with thinking of Lois. It never came.
"I'll certainly never complain about that. I like hot."
Clark shivered when he realized what he'd said and chuckled. "I'm sure you'll find other things to complain about."
"Neither of us is perfect. We don't have to be. It's what makes things interesting."
Clark sighed, his cheek resting against Bruce's. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt content with someone. He decided he'd think about the ramifications of telling his parents later. For now, he would enjoy being with Bruce.
* * * * *
Christmas morning at Wayne Manor was an experience Clark wouldn't soon forget. The study was littered with torn Christmas paper, the tree leaning to a dangerous level. Outside the snow fell gently to the ground, a dramatic contrast to the storm called Dick and Tim that had passed inside this very room.
Clark shook his head. "I've never seen anyone tear through presents that quickly. Not even The Flash, and that's saying something."
Dick grinned, and Tim didn't seem to hear Clark as he fiddled with some electronic game Bruce had given him.
"You'd tear through presents pretty quickly too, if you had a billionaire for a dad," Dick said, stacking his bounty on one side of the room.
Alfred stood at the doorway and cleared his throat. "Master Dick, Master Tim, Master Bruce would like to see you outside."
Dick looked up at Alfred. "He didn't. Did he?"
"I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." By the smile on Alfred's face, he apparently did.
Dick and Tim jumped to their feet, and after a brief game of push and shove when they both reached the doorway at the same time, ran out the door. Alfred and Clark exchanged amused grins and followed.
Outside, Bruce stood in between two of the most amazing custom choppers Clark had ever seen, keys dangling from either hand. Dick and Tim ran up to Bruce and made to hug him, but Bruce grasped the keys in a tight fist and glared. "Touch me and I lose the keys."
Dick and Tim stopped abruptly, no doubt knowing better than to think Bruce was joking. When Bruce was apparently satisfied that his boys wouldn't include him in a group hug, he handed each a set of keys. It didn't take long before Dick and Tim left only a trail of dust behind them.
"Don't be gone too long. Dinner is almost ready," Alfred said to Bruce with a grin before walking back inside the Manor.
"We going somewhere?"
Bruce reached into his pocket and pulled out another set of keys, throwing them to Clark.
"What's this?" Clark asked.
Bruce walked around the side of the house, and Clark followed to find two more motorcycles with red bows on the handlebars.
"That one's yours," Bruce said, indicating the one painted red. Bruce mounted the one that was black.
Clark looked at the keys, then at the bike, then to Bruce. "You…bought me a bike?"
"I bought us bikes. I thought it'd be fun. But if you don't like it…."
Clark hopped onto his bike and smiled. "Are you kidding? Let's go."
* * * * *
Bruce stood at the fire with a cup of hot cocoa while Clark sat in a chair and watched him. Clark didn't even try to hide that he watched Bruce. He couldn't even if he wanted to. And he didn't want to. Clark liked looking at Bruce, and tonight, Clark was mesmerized.
Clark grinned when he noticed a soft blush on Bruce's face.
"So. Have a good Christmas?" Bruce asked.
"Very good. Thank you again for the bike. I hope you like what I gave you." A book that had been given to Clark by Tibetan monks for saving their lives during an earthquake. They'd had it in their possession for centuries. Clark didn't have a need for a martial arts book, even if it was written by Sensei that Bruce had said was the greatest that ever lived. Clark was just happy that Bruce had liked his gift.
"You know I did."
Clark smiled. "You really go all out for Christmas."
"It makes Dick and Tim happy."
"It makes you happy, too, you big softy."
"Maybe." Bruce took a sip of his drink.
"Where's Alfred?"
"Bed. He's had a long day."
"Hm. I can imagine. That was some dinner."
Bruce nodded.
"Dick, Tim?" Clark asked.
Bruce shook his head. "Not sure. They haven't made it back yet."
"You don't think-"
"They're fine. Just playing with their new toys."
"Ah." Clark stood, moved next to Bruce by the fire. "So. We're alone."
Clark loved that the shoe was finally on the other foot as Bruce's blush grew brighter.
Clark stroked Bruce's cheek, and Bruce leaned into the touch. He leaned forward, saw Bruce close his eyes before Clark closed his own. Clark wasn't sure what he expected when he kissed Bruce, but it wasn't this tenderness that surged between them, heating Clark from the inside out. Then Bruce's lips parted, and Clark tasted him. Tenderness mixed with passion until Clark pulled back, a little nervous.
Bruce had made the first move, now Clark had to make, wanted to make, this move. "I want more, Bruce."
"I know."
"Not just-"
Bruce kissed Clark hard, then whispered in his ear, "I know. I want that, too."
Bruce took Clark's hand, led him down the hall, up the stairs, and into Bruce's bedroom.
Bruce closed the door, hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." But Clark was scared, too.
Bruce stepped closer, kissed him, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of Clark's shirt. Bruce's hand rested on Clark's bare skin, skin that Clark would swear burned at the touch.
"This changes everything." Bruce's gaze was intense as if willing Clark to understand.
Clark did understand. "I want this. Tonight and tomorrow and-"
"And wherever else this will lead us."
Clark nodded, pulled Bruce to him, and kissed him hard. He fumbled clumsily at the buttons of Bruce's shirt, felt as Bruce did the same with his shirt. Then Clark took a breath, felt the need to slow down, to taste, to enjoy. And he did so by sliding his mouth away from Bruce's, nibbling at his ear, brushing kisses against his neck and throat. Clark could feel Bruce's breath, hot and shallow against his skin, and Bruce's callused hands as they rubbed his bare back, moving lower until Clark shivered when his hands slid down to grab hold of his ass. Clark cursed the fabric that stood between them.
Bruce pulled their remaining clothes off in graceful, fluid motions, then pushed Clark onto the bed while he climbed on top. Clark moaned, and Bruce seemed energized by the sound. Clark understood because with each one of Bruce's moans and grunts, he wanted to scream and shout victory. Instead, he rolled on top of Bruce and trailed kisses over his body. The trail led Clark lower, lower until he stopped.
Clark had never touched another man there before. But he wanted to touch Bruce. He did, tentatively at first, feeling the satiny texture, the rigidity of Bruce's arousal.
This was the point of no return.
Clark didn't hesitate but took him in his mouth in one steady plunge. Bruce groaned, his hands threaded in Clark's hair. Clark felt a primal satisfaction in bringing out those sounds in him. So he did it again and again until Bruce collapsed on the bed.
Bruce shifted, grabbed something off the nightstand, and gave it to Clark. Clark looked down at it then up at Bruce, then back down again. His stomach fluttered and his groin tightened.
"You sure?"
"Very."
Clark opened the tube then looked at Bruce, kissed him, loved him like Clark had never loved anyone before. Clark set the pace, and Bruce followed until the pace quickened, became reckless, and he collapsed on top of Bruce in a sweaty heap. Bruce held him tight, and Clark didn't have to wonder what passion felt like any longer. It felt like Bruce.
* * * * *
Clark typed the last sentence of his story and hit the enter key. A story that Perry was anxiously waiting for and that Lois was spitting nails over-Clark had scooped her but good on this one. He looked over at Lois and grinned.
"All done, Smallville?"
"Yep."
"Well, I guess I can't stay mad at you forever over this. How about-"
The phone rang, and Clark held up a hand to Lois. "Hello."
"How does lunch sound?"
Clark couldn't help the smile that spread across his face or the blush he was sure Lois noticed as she leaned closer to his desk, no doubt trying to listen in on his call. "You in town?"
"I'll be there in an hour. See you then."
"Can't wait." Clark hung up the phone. Things had progressed nicely between him and Bruce. Clark had to admit that even coming out to his parents had gone much more smoothly than he'd ever imagined. Bruce had been right-they weren't surprised. And they weren't disappointed, either. Neither were Alfred, Dick, and Tim, who found the whole thing amusing.
"You're seeing someone, aren't you?"
Clark wasn't sure if Lois was happy for him or angry. Sometimes you really couldn't tell with her.
"Maybe."
"Anyone I know?"
Clark shrugged, and Lois's eyes grew wide. Was she really surprised that Clark could find someone besides her?
She took a breath, stood, and grabbed her bag. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Come on, I'm buying."
Lois had been back to her somewhat friendly self since after the holidays. Clark wasn't sure what to make of it, but at least it helped keep tensions to a minimal on the job.
"I have lunch plans. Rain check?"
"Lunch plans or a lunch date?" Lois was anything but subtle.
"If you want to know who I'm seeing, Lois, just ask me."
"Just trying to make small talk. It's not like I care what you do or who you do it with. Tell Perry I'm at lunch, will you?"
Clark thought Lois tried to sound nonchalant but she barely pulled it off.
"Sure thing."
* * * * *
Clark was wrapping up a few loose ends before Bruce arrived. He figured lunch with Bruce could extend to the rest of the afternoon. At least Clark hoped it would.
"Date stand you up for lunch?" Lois put her bag away in her desk and plopped down. She looked awfully pleased with herself.
As if on cue the elevator doors opened and Bruce sauntered through.
"Nope. There he is now."
Bruce's grin was wide and natural. Lois looked from one man to the other, and Clark wished he had a camera to capture the moment.
"Hello, Lois." Bruce leaned closer, studying her face. "Are you all right?"
"I'm not sure."
Bruce gave her a wink then turned to Clark. "Clark. You ready?"
Clark nodded and stood, moved to Bruce's side. He touched Clark's arm briefly, affectionately, and the touch wasn't lost on Lois who no longer looked shocked but sad. Very sad.
Bruce frowned, entered the elevator stiffly, and punched the button to the first floor harder than needed. He looked angry. No, that wasn't right. He looked worried. Clark just wasn't sure about what.
"What is it?"
"Do you still love her?"
"Who? Lois?"
Bruce looked at Clark like the question should have been obvious.
"I told you I was never in love with her," Clark stroked Bruce's back.
"You said you weren't sure if you were ever truly in love. And she wants you back."
Clark sighed. "She thinks she does. But it doesn't matter. I don't want her."
"Don't you?"
"Nope. Because I was never in love with Lois. And, I happen to be in love with this guy who lives in Gotham. Didn't you know that?"
Bruce seemed to struggle for a moment but he composed himself quickly, leaned over, and hit the button to start the elevator again. He stood straight, his gaze leveled on the doors. "Good. Because I happen to be in love with this guy from Metropolis."
Clark mirrored Bruce stance, looking at the same closed elevator doors. "Any other questions?"
"Yes. Can you take the rest of the day off?"
Clark grinned. "I already have."
finis