stands_for_hope | for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

[some time after the events here]

Superman and Batman were partners in more than a work sense. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent were an adorable (if mildly ridiculous) couple. Kal-El of Krypton and a man who defied any definition outside of the single letter 'B' made time on weekends, worked around world crises and teenage tempers, and occasionally fell into bed together when the stars aligned. Thankfully, they aligned relatively often.

Wayne Manor received a delivery of organic produce and baked goods once a week from a small, independent farm in the heartland. Lois Lane was a little less likely to agree with snide comments about the uselessness of Bruce Wayne, especially after seeing the utter madness that was Clark's desk after a few weeks. The texting habits of a certain blond teenager in Kansas rose sharply... and in parallel to that of a certain former street punk in Gotham.

Life was... well, it was good, even if it was also Life. Until it wasn't. Until everything changed.

They all had enemies, of course. But the problem with Superman's enemies was that they were coherent enough to decide to team up. And crazy enough to use the kind of weaponry that could make whole cars just vaporize into nothing.

Crazy enough to point that weapon at a somewhat-pinned Batman and a Wonder Woman who was digging him out from the rock. Crazy enough to point that weapon at Batman.

Bruce.

B.

Clark didn't even make the choice. His heart made it for him. The beam shot out of the Toyman's mechanical monstrosity and Clark flew, the pain of the beam itself nothing on the fact that he was leaving Bruce behind. That his vision of them as old men together would never happen. That he was leaving behind a world that needed him.

The guilt that, if it meant saving them, saving him, he didn't regret a thing.

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He recognized the difference and gave Bruce a warm smile for it. They always thought the other one could do better. Maybe that was just how love worked.

"Yes, dear," he said with mock fatigue. Which was kind of amazing considering how much actual fatigue he had to choose from.

Bruce took Clark's plate away when he was finished eating, and replaced it with the plate of pie and a fresh fork, then moved up to the head of the bed and sat there, knees up and leaned back against the headboard with his eyes closed.

What was he doing? Well if the unnatural evenness of his breathing and heart were anything to judge by, meditating. Or biofeedback. Or biofeedback through meditation.

Mostly, though, he was just being there.

Clark wasn't sure which kind of pie he ate, but it was delicious and finished relatively quickly. The plate was then deposited on the dresser. Once that was done, he was crawling up the bed to lean over and nudge Bruce's side. Then he settled against the other man, content for the moment to let him be as he wished.

A simple progression of actions. Simple.

"How're you doing?" he asked quietly as he let his head rest on the pillow.

It was an effective means, Bruce thought, of being there with Clark but not being an overwhelming presence. It also happened to be useful at stopping himself from having a stroke because his blood pressure had blown the top of his head off.

The encounter between Jason and Clark was not what he wanted.

It had been a long several weeks for him, too, if a less life threatening one.

When Clark nudged him he stretched out slowly and pushed himself down in the bed.

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine Clark. Would you rather be left alone to rest?"

He looked up at Bruce and his eyes were... almost clear.

"Do you need some alone time? Some time to process?"

Because Clark needed absolutely no alone time. He'd had all the alone time he could stomach for the time being.

Bruce looked mildly horrified at the thought, because he was and he didn't have a chance to catch it. "No," he answered, after a moment. "I don't want to be alone. I don't have anything to process."

Well, not really. Sort of? Nothing he needed to be alone to process.

He had to keep reminding himself that he'd never thought Clark was dead, and to convince himself to believe that Clark was back, but that was best done with Clark there, dammit.

"...I'm not sure I can handle the idea of you with a ponytail."

Clark reached up then and put his hand around Bruce's waist before he leaned over and kissed his side, mostly because it was there to kiss. He wasn't going anywhere. He didn't want to be alone.

"Then do you want to join me on a quick trip over to my apartment to get that crystal? I can't say I'm a fan of it either."

"Your trip would be faster without me." He stretched beside Clark and rubbed his hand through Clark's hair. "I'll come along, anyway. We can make it fast and grab anything else you want from there, while we're at it."

He just made a pleased and contented noise at the hands in his hair before looking over at the closet.

"I'll have to get dressed."

And he'd grab a couple of his uniforms. Because who knew when something could pop up, especially in a world where most people thought he was dead.

"So grab some clothes and put them on," Bruce said, rolling slowly out of the bed and to his feet. "I'll grab some shoes." He could go out like that. It might even suit his image, in a backward kind of way.

Uniforms should go in the cave. That would be... nice, at least for a while.

Clark nodded and headed over, stripping off the pajamas and sliding on a pair of dark brown pants that felt almost as soft before reaching in and grabbing a deep turquoise shirt from the variety available. Bright colors. There were shoes in there, but Clark was content to go without them mostly because he didn't need them and he could pick up his own while they were there.

"The food was good," Clark noted with a little smile as he buttoned his shirt. "Compliments to the chef."

Bruce needed to go to his room or the cave for shoes. Clark not putting his own left Bruce a little hesitant about managing that, but ultimately decided on his room and moved that way - once Clark was more or less dressed.

"You're making me uncomfortable by proxy, Clark. Stop."

That got a laugh out of him, though.

"What can I say? It's good food. I like good food. And this whole..." he gestured to the room and to the manor, "this is more than I'm used to. I can't help but appreciate it."

He'd take all of Clark laughing he could get. All day, every day. That was a sound he'd missed.

"Appreciate quietly," he said, moving across the hall and popping the door open to a room that was less... lavish than Clark's, as well as more cluttered than you'd expect from him. Pretty much everything he considered a personal belonging was in that space, and that space was originally given to him when he was three.

"Not outloud where the emotionally repressed and socially awkward have to find a response."

Clark stayed in his doorway, leaning against one side of the frame with a crooked smile.

"I'd say your response can always be to kiss me, but I don't think that's the reinforcement you're looking for. 'Good' works, though."

Bruce found a pair of socks from his drawer and shoes from his closet and sat down on the made bed to put them on.

"Or you could just accept that feeding you comes with the territory, and the room is as much for me as you, and neither one is worth gratitude."

Clark walked in, his movements entirely silent (another change, usually Clark made a point of being obvious in his movements) as he sat beside Bruce on the bed.

"Sorry," Clark said, starting to sound like his old self, "I'm always grateful."

He left off there, but his arm against Bruce's side said that Bruce was one of those things he was grateful for.

The silence might ultimately make Bruce twitchy, but for now he was just too relieved to have Clark there and willing to engage in stupid arguments.

He looked at Clark for a moment, as he put on his second shoe, and then gave a snort. "Good?"

That was what Clark had suggested he say, right?

It pulled a warm smile out of him and earned him a kiss to the shoulder before Clark sat up and stretched his neck a little.

"By the way," he asked, satisfied enough to shift to a new topic, "what would you say is the best exit and entrance for flight in the house?"

Bruce was starting to get used to Clark being affectionate. Or, well, glad enough to have him back to enjoy it for the time being, without any real risk of him becoming 'touched out' any time soon.

Or possibly any time ever.

"Pick a balcony," he said, somewhat dryly. "Let us know which one you pick, and we'll make sure to leave a window open. This wing's a bit more difficult. The most convenient and largest balcony is just off my parent's room." And that one wasn't being used, thank you.

"Then that one sounds good," Clark said, clearly having settled out some from everything earlier. Or at least very very good at brushing it aside for the moment. There was nothing fake or put on about the smile on his face, but it was gentle enough that it was clear he wasn't entirely solid yet.

"I'm sure once I've been here for a bit, we'll have figured out the best option. Proximity isn't necessarily necessary, after all."

He should probably start singing let it go to himself about now, but. He didn't love anyone that much. "My parents room is in this wing. And you can't use that balcony. Or room. That's why it's difficult. Maybe one of the ones off a ballroom? They're all amply large, if you don't mind doing a bit of walking through the house first."

He blinked a little and tilted his head just the once. He hadn't realized Bruce had been referencing the one that was actually attached TO his parents room. He'd never assumed that Bruce would ever mention anything of theirs in such a context. But after a moment, he nodded.

"That's fine. And the ballroom would probably be best unless we're in a hurry. Like coming in the front door."

"If we're in a hurry the fastest exit and entrances are probably the cave," he mused. "Or just walking in the front door, yes. It really depends on context and what needs accomplished. I'll take you on a tour and let you see the outside perimeter and you can make your own judgements."

Bruce was... weird about his parents space, when he mentioned them and when he didn't. Not Clark's fault.

"Just one of the silly little things we get to figure out while I move in here," Clark said as cheerfully as he'd said anything since he'd been back.

He stretched a bit, clearly getting used to muscles that no longer ached or pulled or gave him difficulty again.

"I don't even think I know your wifi password."

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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