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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"That's different," Clark said, and it was one of those times when his tone didn't so much say that he was lacking the words as made it clear that in his mind, the two concepts were so diametrically different that trying to explain the difference would almost be impossible.

All the same, he reached over for the last of the bags, his little messenger, and slung it around his neck before holding out a hand to Bruce.

Bruce stepped back onto Clark's feet and took his hand.

It was very, very different in a way he didn't want to get into, but he was pretty sure that if that had fallen apart Clark would be in worse shape than he was now. Not worth arguing about, especially since for all of his... arrogance in knowing Clark, Clark still knew himself best.

"Let's go home."

He couldn't explain that for whatever reason, there was no way for that to go wrong. Of all the things that Clark worried about, his connection to Bruce, the strength of it, was not one of them. He could worry that it might be destructive to Bruce, or that it might make their professional lives more difficult, or the never-ending battle...

Bruce was his equal. Bruce was the one person who made him feel safe. Always.

"Right," he agreed as he leaned in, took a quick kiss, and wrapped his arms around Bruce. Then they were heading through the air as fast as was safe for the both of them.

Bruce didn't want to argue about it, anyway. It was something he was happy enough about, as much because it meant Clark felt safe somewhere as because of anything it said about them and the relationship between the pair of them.

He returned the kiss, a little bemused, held onto Clark tightly, protected his eyes and face and waited out the ride until they were back at the Manor and he could wiggle himself free again.

They were back in Clark's room, Clark's room with some fresh luggage and the towel placed somewhere more appropriate to dry (thanks Alfred?) pretty darn quickly. Clark put him down without much ado and pulled the bag off of his neck and it looked like he was going to propose something when his eyes went wide and he went utterly still.

Because he heard a job for Superman. Because he heard a mudslide beginning in a larger town in southern Vietnam where the rains had been particularly brutal this year and the town hadn't had the budget the year before to make the necessary improvements and repairs on the dam and the predictions had said that the rains would be lighter this year but of course, nature did what it wanted.

It was a job for Superman that no one else would even hear, even know about. But for the moment, he froze. Because he shouldn't go. He shouldn't go right now.

Bruce saw - felt - Clark freeze. Saw the fear in his eyes going wide - or maybe not fear, but. It read as close enough.

He stayed silent for a moment, then reached up and touched Clark's cheek. "What's going on?"

Not romantic, but direct and present and just a little bit demanding.

He snapped out of it a little and looked over at Bruce, trying to figure out how he wanted to say what he had to say.

"There's a village across the world. The dam is going, there's going to be a mudslide. It's starting. I'm not--" he breathed in "I should--" he clenched his hands into fists, his eyes closing tight enough that faint pricks of moisture showed at the corners. "They won't get there in time. Wally's busy, Kyle's off planet-- no one else will get there in time."

He breathed in deep.

"I could get here in time."

Bruce didn't need to hesitate or think. "Then for God's Sake Go. Secure the dam and then get back out."

He'd love to have believed he was doing it for selfless reasons but he wasn't. Clark clearly, obviously, wanted to go but didn't trust himself. That could become a habit, if Clark let it. Worse, it could become a weapon Clark used against himself.

Clark watched him for one more second, as if he needed to be sure he'd heard what he'd heard...

And then he was gone. For good or ill.

Bruce hadn't believed in God or luck since he was seven years old, but in that moment he wished he believed in either. Since he didn't and couldn't, he kept his breathing even and waited.

If Bruce chose to check the news, or had any kind of alerts set for his phone, he'd see a news report of the most amazing thing: Superman, alive, dressed in his familiar uniform even if he was wearing uncharacteristic facial hair, flying around and taking care of a sizeable village in southeast Asia. Some people were wondering if it was a fake or another clone or if the robots that had once taken his place had once more taken up the fight. Other people were just rejoicing at his return and calling anyone who doubted it...

Well, the names wouldn't be Superman approved.

But Superman was acting like he'd never disappeared, handling the dam repairs, pulling people out of harms way, and adding to structures to reinforce them for the rain. But when he would normally allow himself to talk to the press and reassure people, Superman stayed floating above for a moment before disappearing.

If Bruce checked the news -

Bruce checked the news while he waited. Bruce checked all the news while he waited, and had several sources literally streaming onto his computer and another one in his ear the entire time Clark was gone.

Or until Superman disappeared, anyway.

Then the earpiece was out of his ear, he was back on his feet and walking upstairs to Clark's room.

He'd hear the shower once he walked into the room, and the humidity coming from the bathroom said that Clark had the water as hot as it could possibly go. His Superman uniform was folded over the top of his desk chair, drying out, and a few damp footprints showed that he'd been pretty soaked before he'd hit the bathroom.

Bruce... didn't join Clark, but instead stretched out on the bed and waited quietly. He knew Clark could hear him, but he also wasn't going to walk in and join Clark in the shower. This time, very intentionally, he was waiting for Clark to come out to him.

Clark didn't take long. Soon enough, he was walking out with a bathrobe wrapped around him and his hair hastily dried with a towel. He didn't say anything; he just walked over to the bed, crawled on, and put his head down next to Bruce's.

He couldn't say thank you, because in the same way that Clark wouldn't accept his apologies, Bruce didn't like to accept Clark's appreciation. But in that moment, he was so grateful that his skin practically buzzed with it.

He hadn't trusted himself. He hadn't trusted himself to go out and he'd asked Bruce, whether there'd been a question mark at the end of his sentences or not, and Bruce had trusted him. Bruce had told him to go. And because of that, many many people were alive.

And a small part of him was angry at himself, angry at his own fear for what it had almost cost others. But a much bigger part of himself was too busy being thankful and settled near Bruce in his new bed, in his new home, so so glad he hadn't been flying back to an empty apartment. He wasn't sure he would have been able to handle that at the moment.

"I'll shampoo that part of the rug," was what he finally said, and he almost sounded matter-of-fact. "I'm assuming you have a rug cleaner?"

Bruce waited silently for Clark to settle, and then dropped an arm around Clark's waist. He even tucked his hand a bit inside the robe, so it was warm skin against skin.

"Hm?" Which part of the rug? Why did he care about the rugs. "I have no idea. You'd have to ask Alfred." He just - had no damned idea. In some ways this house wasn't his home. It was Clark's though, and Alfred's, and Jason's, and that meant it was somewhere he belonged.

"I think he may hire someone to do the carpets."

He'd give Clark a minute or two, and then say something more worthwhile.

"I'll go ask," he said with a flutter of one hand before his hand dropped back down to settle lightly over Bruce's hand on his waist. "In a bit. After the car."

He looked over at Bruce.

"I'm still doing the car programming, right?"

He actually looked like he was somewhat looking forward to the whole thing. A challenge, one that didn't have him on edge, would be nice.

The challenge that didn't have Clark on edge was the idea behind the car programming. He didn't say that. "You're still doing the car programming. You can talk to Alfred once you've done that." Which was to say he wasn't in a rush about the carpet. It was just carpet, after all. "Just make sure your suit goes downstairs with you, please."

He looked up at that, a little confused. More than a little confused.

"No working in bathrobes down in the cave?" was the question he asked.

"You can work naked down there as long as I have Jason with me." He smiled, faintly, and pointed to Clark's desk chair. "Don't leave your uniform up here. At least not out in the open."

He glanced over at the uniform for a moment before wincing just a little and letting his face bury itself in the closest pillow. Dumb. He'd been so eager to get into a hot shower, to wash off the feel of the mud and the water and all the people who'd been clutching at him as he swept them up...

"I'll bring them all down. That, and the pieces of Kryptonian technology that I kept at home. The Legion ring."

Then--

"'As long as I have Jason with me'?" because that was worth an eyebrow raise.

Bruce worked his fingers into Clark's hair and rubbed the back of his neck when he went facedown in the pillow. It wasn't something he could just let go, but it also wasn't the end of the world. It had been addressed.

And if ever there was a sign Clark's absence had effected him, and he was concerned about Clark's state now, it was the ease of which he let that go and relatively gentle method of handling it to start with.

"Yes. If you're going to work naked down there for an extended period of time, I'd rather it be while I'm out with Jason instead of-" He stopped. Talk about dumb. "No one's sneaking up on you, naked or otherwise. Never mind."

If Clark was a barely-held-together facade in front of most everyone else, it somehow made him all the less defensive around Bruce. His layers, the various protections and stoppage points that had made up his system of trust, had changed considerably over the time he'd been gone. Now, it was one big wall... and there was, at current, a very small population inside that wall.

That was why he was as much of a cat as he'd ever been to that touch.

"I'll keep that nakedness rule in mind in the cave," he said, as if Bruce hadn't said something mildly ridiculous. "Though it's a bit chilly down there for me to really head down there without at least a robe. Maybe my fuzzy slippers. I think I grabbed those."

Bruce kept rubbing Clark's neck, quite literally massaging it with one hand and taking periodic breaks to lightly scratch up into his hair.

"Mm. I'll be disappointed if they don't have little ears and faces." The slippers, he meant.

Clark made the softest sound at the back of his throat and moved in to get more of Bruce's touches, not just encouraging but insistent. All the same--

"No ears, because they're sharks, but there are little fins."

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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