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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Bruce sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. "That depends on what you mean by you." He was still moving a little slowly but rapidly getting his body and brain in gear. That moment on the bed was what he gave himself before he was getting up to grab a fresh shirt.

"I'm actually not being specific right now," he admitted as he pushed himself up from the bed and reached up to stretch towards the ceiling. Then he was slumping back down and rolling his head around to crack his neck.

He slipped his arms into the sleeves and then turned back to face Clark while he buttoned up and fastened the cuffs. "Then maybe, and maybe not. You as a whole, likely. You as Clark Kent, maybe. You as Superman - No." Because dammit, he was just waking up, but he was precise.

Clark flickered for a moment before he was tugging on his own clothes, a button up shirt in a deep blue and a pair of slacks. His cuffs were rolled up to bare his forearms, but he did tuck his shirt in neatly before he rubbed at his cheeks. He still looked scruffy, yet a glance at Bruce's mirror said it wasn't a bad look on him.

"Ahh, I see. You're a Wonder Woman man. Prefer getting saved by beautiful Amazonian royalty," Clark teased as he ran a hand through his hair to neaten it up.

Shirt on, and buttoned, he pulled on a pair of slacks himself. Light grey, wool, and he really did look like he was going more for a business meeting than to play video games. He even added a nice leather belt.

"I don't particularly like Superman. Being saved by him is... patronizing." There was a twitch at one corner of his mouth, though, because he did like Superman. Just not for being saved by.

Clark couldn't look at Bruce with a straight face as he answered, so he took the time to pull on his socks.

"Now me, can't say anyone else is quite like Green Lantern. Second only to Green Arrow."

"I don't like Oliver, personal, but Alan can bend me over anything he wants, any time he wants." He didn't even miss a beat, just went to grab both his socks and his shoes, before finding a seat to use for putting them on.

That just had Clark laughing, leaning back on the bed until both socks were on. Then he dropped back with a huff and a grin over at Bruce.

"I can't think of Alan like that. He's like my uncle. He's like everyone's uncle."

"I have daddy issues," Bruce said, with an extremely dry tone, "and no reference for actual familial relationships."

That was sometimes helpful.

He got one shoe tied and then the other sock on.

"Or you just have a preference for blondes," he pointed out as he turned on the bed to watch Bruce from there.

"...Can you name a single blonde I've slept with more than once?"

"I can name two:" he said with a snort, "namely Silver St. Cloud and Vicky Vale."

He let his head tilt back and forth.

"Can't think of any men you've been with who are blond, though. Mostly because I wasn't sure if you actually... if it was part of the act."

Back before they'd gotten together. What felt like eons ago.

"Vicky doesn't count." For reasons he wasn't going into. Silver was an entirely different story and one that still made him slightly cranky - though.

He blinked at Clark in utter confusion. "You can read my heartbeat and smell my hormonal state and you thought that was an act. I can't decide if I should be flattered or call you a moron."

"And," Clark continued the sentence from Bruce's. The one that didn't end in him being a moron, "my friend deserved to have his privacy on that score respected even if the act included making time with men. Just because someone sleeps with a certain type of people doesn't necessarily mean that's what they prefer or how they identify."

Then he tossed a pillow at him.

"Mister Biofeedback."

Bruce caught the pillow and shoved it behind his back, while he finally got around to tying his other shoes.

"I don't identify." Like... at all, which much of anything. His identity issues ran deep. "It's what I do that defines me." And yeah, that was a quote. From an old, good, friend. Even that didn't cover it, though, because again - the act. Where did it stop?

Long story short: "I still couldn't tell you any of those things."

"So it's a good thing that I never made any assumptions, then, isn't it?" Clark pointed out before squirming a little to settle on the bed

"So, since you hadn't told me that I could bend you over anything I wanted any time I wanted, I wasn't going to assume the answer to the important question there."

"If you'd assumed or asked we wouldn't have wasted ten years being idiots." Yes they would have. It would have just been a different brand of stupid.

Bruce finished tying his shoe and stood up. "Is Jason awake?"

"Jason's starting to drag himself towards consciousness," was the best way he could put it, "and I don't recall being the only one in the room who waited ten years."

But he was dressed and had shoes on and looked much more like himself than he has in a while. Some of it's deceptive, but it doesn't mean to be. Clark's always been a proponent of fake it until you make it. And it's pretty much his only option right now.

Bruce stopped for a moment and looked Clark over. He did look put together, the shirt was a nice color for him. He wasn't okay, but -

Bruce was a firm believer in... not faking it until you make it, precisely, but near enough that he wasn't going to be fooled by the appearance or not consider it a step in the right direction.

"Then let's go wait on him. Maybe I can get some work done and avoid being interrupted by it later." And he could sit near Clark. "And I waited ten years because I wanted to wait ten years. You waited ten years because you wouldn't ask a question."

"And why in the world did you want to wait ten years?" because he couldn't imagine having feelings for someone and waiting that long. At least not when you were as blunt and forward as Bruce was. The man never waited on what he wanted. He went for it.

"Because I wanted to be sure I trusted you. Then I had to decide if I was willing to deal with the change and upheaval, and I was waiting around to see if you were ever going to do anything about it."

Clark actually reclined against the doorframe.

"So you were waiting the same as I was. Only you didn't even intend to do anything about it." And he couldn't help a little shrug.

"I guess I am the one who flies into things first most of the time."

"Except I was the one who actually decided to do something about it - and I wasn't waiting in the same sense you were, either." He put his hand on Clark's arm and nudged him out of the door so they could move. Then stopped and kissed him, instead. "I wasn't unsure, I was curious."

Clark could have argued that he'd been the one to name the elephant in the room, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that Bruce hadn't, intentionally or not, planted the seeds for him to get there via mentioning Diana. So he was content to let the point go. But--

"Curious?"

"Curious."

Bruce mostly meant he'd actually kissed Clark first, but - to hell with it, they'd always bicker about this kind of thing.

"I was curious if you were ever going to mention it, or act on it."

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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