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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"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.

"If you think I'm sharing you with Alfred when we're home, you're so naive it's almost endearing."

No. No way. He was going to indulge his possessiveness for at least a while. "Maybe when I go out with Jason."

"My question on pie baking can stand to wait that long," he said amiably as he took another bite. Mmmm, the falafel was so good. He'd missed food he enjoyed eating.

"Though I'm curious what you're planning on doing with me. You mentioned some car repair?"

"I don't know," he admitted, because somehow just climbing all over Clark and biting and licking and fucking and sucking and licking was wrong right now, and not just because he was actually busy eating his own food with typical mechanical efficiency.

Mostly that, though. The taste of Clark and fafael just didn't go.

"There's a car upgrade to do, I've got a new piece of lab equipment that needs to be assembled, and if we really get desperate we have video games, model kits, and whatever other toys we can wrestle out of Jason's room."

He couldn't help the look of surprise as he glanced over at Bruce.

"You have video games?"

...and if Clark actually looked childishly excited at the idea, well... they'd never had the money for such things.

Sometimes, Bruce really wondered why he loved Clark.

Today wasn't one of those days, and this moment was not one of those moments.

Because that was fucking adorable.

"We have video games. We have a veritable library of video games."

"That..." and he tried, desperately tried, not to look as much like a thrilled 10 year old as he was right that moment but he failed somewhat miserably, "that could be fun. I mean, we should probably do the car upgrade first. Maybe the lab upgrade. But... that could be fun."

Yes, Clark had dignity. Somewhere. Possibly in a box somewhere.

"We'll start you with Mario and work you up." Bruce only knew this stuff because of Dick and Jason, but like hell he was going to let Clark go unpack his dignity.

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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