(Untitled)

[truthjusticeetc]

WHO: Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne
WHAT: Meals on wheels!
WHERE: Bruce's place.
WHEN: After Batsy's solo log.
WARNINGS: Entirely too much awesome for any two individuals? Other than that, not much. :b
SUMMARY: Alfred's gone. Clark has no intention of letting Bruce subsist on Ramen and lunchmeat.

Comments

[a_dark_crusader]

[ The neglect was not total, at least. After undressing, he set to the arduous task of cleaning and suturing his wounds, difficult to say the least when the injured party was the one performing the task. From his recessed, makeshift cave, Bruce glances up at the screen imaging the camera concealed outside his door, twine in his mouth as he stitches a bullet wound in his shoulder. No costume was bulletproof at close range.

It takes him a moment to get to the door, but he spends a moment regarding Clark with an even, reserved expression. ]

Polite to a fault, even when you can see exactly where I am from outside the door. Come in, Clark.

[truthjusticeetc]

And when I can see the camera, for that matter, but I wasn't going to go barging in.

[He stepped inside, shooting Bruce a slight smile.]

So how empty is your kitchen at this point? I'm making you dinner.

[a_dark_crusader]

[ They came in twos, didn't they? First Diana, then Clark. He had half expected Clark any day now, and here he was, after all. Bruce closes the door behind him and follow Clark to the counter where he sets the groceries, a touch annoyed already. He doesn't like having to convince people that he's doing alright, or to talk about how he's feeling, and he doesn't feel like doing it now either.

It's been a long night. He doesn't feel like arguing with Clark about how he doesn't have to do this, or bother telling him a lie about having eaten already that he'll already see right through anyway. Instead, he takes a seat at a stool by the large island in the kitchen and continues dressing his wound. ]

Hnn.

[truthjusticeetc]

[Clark swept the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator with a quick, almost perfunctory glance before efficiently putting the groceries away and setting up a workspace on the countertop.]

Stir fry all right, or would you prefer pork chops?