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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Clark didn't startle at the snarl and the grab because he'd expected it. He didn't fight it.

"Sorry," but the apology was mild and easily forgotten, "and I had a feeling you'd prefer this to wildman chic."

One of the most comforting (or threatening, depending - for Clark, comforting) things in the world for Bruce was to be truly known by someone and in that first moment after waking that feeling of being known and accepted was nearly overwhelming.

"I've sported that look once or twice myself. I didn't mind the beard, but the hair gets annoying, fast."

"Not conducive to being Batman, though," he agreed with a little grin before curling his fingers to run a thumb against Bruce's hand around his own.

"Clothes are dry."

Which meant they could tuck the last few things away before heading home.

"But I wanted to grab some falafel on the way back. Do you mind?"

Bruce pulled himself up to sit up, without quite letting go of Clark's hand. Until he was up, anyway - once he was, he couldn't justify hanging on any more.

"Today, I don't mind anything you want to do."

Clark was alive and Bruce had been and was pissed but every once in a while...Well, he could yield some. "I could use lunch."

He'd just... badly hide the fact that he was going to be that agreeable. Flimsy excuses.

"Did you want shwarma or were you going to join me on the falafel?" he asked as he settled beside Bruce on the couch. Bruce couldn't justify hanging on. Clark didn't give much of a damn about justifying himself. He'd keep in contact with Bruce as much as he could, savor the memory of his blood in his own mouth. That should have concerned him, but he decided it wouldn't, at least for the moment.

Bruce's libido didn't protest any of that in the least. Bruce as a whole worried about it some. Just some, though. He still had faith in Clark. He stayed on the couch with Clark, since Clark sat and frowned faintly at him. "I'm eating falafel with you. Just because I do meat doesn't mean I need to eat it at every meal."

"I've got two places I like to go to," Clark explained with a little turn of his hands. "One has good falafel and excellent shwarma. The other one is the best falafel place in the city, as far as I'm concerned. I just had to figure out which one we'd be stopping at."

"Then it's a good thing I'm eating with you instead of asking you to settle for second best, isn't it?" He smirked, but it was almost too soft for that designation. "Come on, let's go get your food."

"Our food," he corrected for once before pushing himself out of the couch (it was a little broken down and squishy, comfortable but consuming.

"It's just a couple of blocks from here. We can walk."

He glanced at his coat hanger.

"Do you need a cap or something to stay out of the public eye a bit?"

"Our food, then."

Bruce levered himself up behind Clark, then stopped and looked at Clark to the hanger to Clark again. "That might be a good idea. If you don't think there's any risk of you being recognized." Clark had facial hair for a disguise. "Are you all right with me grabbing your hat?"

He. Had to stop being so damned careful. This wasn't him.

"We seem to have come to the 'what's mine is yours' portion of things," Clark said easily enough as he pulled his old Royals cap off the hanger and held it out to Bruce. Then he glanced over at the glasses sitting next to his key bowl near the door.

"...I actually think it's best if I'm not recognized as Clark either right now. So those stay here."

"You'll get no complaints from me." He put the cap on, but also picked up Clark's glasses and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. Just in case they didn't come back here, for some reason. He moved toward the door, opened it and held a hand out to Clark. "Let's take a walk."

It would be good for Clark.

Clark looked down at the hand and for a moment, thought back to that day at the fortress. Of the older Bruce and the older Clark holding hands as they walked. Maybe this was the beginning of that kind of comfort. If that was the case... he'd try to think of that, of the result, instead of what he'd lived through.

He took Bruce's hand.

"Let's go."

He glanced at the door, and at the keys there, and scooped them up with his other hand. He'd lock up once they were out.

Maybe. Maybe it would slide away again a little, too. It was laying a foundation, at least, of being able to comfort Clark and being comfortable with Clark.

He waited for Clark to lock the door, kept hold of the hand more or less and just walked. He didn't even mind Metropolis today. It felt... right to be here, right now. To be with Clark while he walked on familiar ground and found food he loved.

He did nothing but that, until he was interrupted by his phone going off in his pocket. It was just Alfred, but he answered immediately. Alfred calling him was rare.

Sliding was inevitable and Clark knew that. As the older Bruce had said, there were days when they didn't talk. Good days and bad days, fight days where they screamed at each other and days where they held on as tight as they could for the days that were left to them.

The walk felt good, felt like home with Bruce beside him and the familiar bustle of a city around them. He was curious what it'd be like walking in Gotham, though he knew that being anonymous there would be much harder.

He was content enough even when the phone rang, tilting his head a little and pointedly focusing his hearing on something distant and simple as he let Bruce take his call.

....aha, the Planet was running a 'Superman Lives!' feature. He was surprised Lois hadn't already called asking him for an exclusive. Or, he realized, he would be if he actually had his phone. He didn't even know where his phone was. That was probably why.

Bruce dealt with the phone call and briefly, simply, explained what had happened between Jason and Clark and why Jason was in a mood - and reassured Alfred that everyone was fine. He did it, of course, in oblique terms.

It was a short call, and he didn't let go of Clark to take it. He didn't let go of Clark to put his phone back into his pocket, either.

"I think I'm getting used to Metropolis."

Clark looked over at Bruce with both eyebrows raised.

"Really?" he asked with obvious surprise.

"To visit." Just in case Clark was confusing him for someone who wanted to hang out in sunshine and bright shiny cities of happiness.

Not that Metropolis was, but it was no Gotham.

He paused a moment. "To visit with you."

No, that was Keystone. And Keystone was weird.

"So you're getting used to being with me?"

Wherever they were. That's what it felt like to Clark.

That was a very good, and very perceptive question.

Bruce stopped walking while he considered it and let go of Clark's hand.

"If," he said, very slowly. "My reaction to not having you with me is anything to go by, I'd say I'm more than used to being with you."

Was that the same as used to a relationship? Maybe, maybe not, but it was what he was completely sure of.

Clark looked down at the space between their hands for a moment. He didn't reach out for Bruce's hand, but his other hand reached up to lightly adjust the hat on his head. He didn't touch Bruce, not quite, but it was connection all the same.

"I missed you too."

And while the words were simple, Clark was doing anything but downplaying what he'd felt, what he knew Bruce had felt. That was just... what it boiled down to.

All the yelling and the sex, it was Clark adjusting his hat and saying that he'd been missed that made emotion bubble back up in Bruce in a way that turned his expression nearly angry. Darkened his eyes, made his jaw clench before he took a deep breath through his nose and swallowed it down.

"Food," he said, tensely, and after a moment. Tension in his voice was just in response to wrestling with his emotions and impulses on the street.

Clark didn't argue or even ask if Bruce was all right. Instead, he leaned in and started towards the cart in question. It wasn't far at all, honestly, but it might be long enough for Bruce to settle out if he kept himself quiet and focused on everything else.

He'd had a moment of feeling emotion. That didn't mean he was going to fall apart on the street if he didn't get some silence. "I should have asked Alfred about the kitchen, while he was on the phone." That was not said until they'd ordered, he'd paid, and they had their food.

"We'll be home soon enough," Clark pointed out before unpeeling his falafel and taking a bite on the walk back.

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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