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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"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."

"And terrified I might?" he prodded gently, like one might attempt to test a sore tooth. But he'd heard Bruce's heartbeat, had his scent in his nostrils when the question had come up. Bruce had ultimately kissed him, but it hadn't been easy. For either of them.

"You really aren't going to let me have my pride, are you?" He wasn't answering that question. It brought up too much of how he felt now, with Clark living with him. He was glad for that, especially in the aftermath of... what had happened.

But he was still... expecting the explosion. Resigned to it, seeing what they had as worth it, but waiting.

"Let's go play video games, Kent."

"Ooo, I'm demoted to 'Kent'," he noted with a snort as he started ambling after Bruce. His head tilted as he caught the sounds of Jason starting to fall out of bed.

"We might want to have some food in there with us. Lure down the unsuspecting teenager with breakfast."

"Keep pushing and I"ll keep demoting." He was -

He was Bruce. "There should be food ready and waiting for all of us, unless Alfred died in his sleep."

"And how do I get promoted again?" he asked with a glance over at Bruce. After all, if the food was handled than there wasn't much else to say about it. It was just one of those things he'd have to learn about as he got used to living here. The idea of someone who just... did things was still so odd to him. Or rather, he'd grown out of it many years ago when he'd moved out of the house. He wanted a meal, he went to the kitchen and put something together.

This was going to take a little adjustment.

Bruce shrugged at him. "I don't know, yet, but I'm sure you'll notice it when I start calling you something else." That was a decent barometer. He was also teasing. He touched Clark's back, right between his shoulder blades in recognition that food just being there might be weird, but mostly kept going.

And, yes, breakfast was there and waiting. Alfred wasn't, but food was.

"Just don't add my middle name in or I'll keep thinking I'm in real trouble," Clark warned as they started walking. Predictably, his shoulders dropped at the touch; it really was like a button Bruce could press. But the smell of breakfast also helped to sooth the slightly skittish Clark.

"One," he said as he started over towards the breakfast food, "this smells amazing. And two, I'm going to start thinking I ended up at Hogwarts if I don't actually see someone putting this stuff out soon."

"Then wake up earlier," Bruce said, with an utter lack of irony. "You don't expect him to really be waiting around like a house elf, do you?"

Shut up, yes, he'd read the fucking books. He moved to get plates for the food, though, and passed one over to Clark before starting to fill his own. It was apparently a breakfast day.

"Of course not," he said with a snort in reply. Shush your Ravenclaw face, Bruce. "But doesn't he eat? He could have stayed here and joined us."

He was part of the family, without a doubt. And they were kind of having a sort of family time thing. Clark didn't try to think about it too hard because then he'd start thinking of himself as an intruder.

"We slept in, Clark. I wouldn't have wanted him to wait around for us to decide to eat." He passed Clark a plate. "The good news is, our food is almost definitely not still piping hot and fresh from... whatever bit of kitchen equipment it came out of."

"I'm familiar with early risers versus people who sleep in," he pointed out with a chuckle and a shake of his head as he took the plate. "I was a teenager in a farm house once. It happened plenty of times."

He let out a sigh.

"Let's just say I'm looking forward to having a meal with the man at some point."

Then he pointed to the eggs.

"Pan," he provided. Helpful.

for knightbynight: For now and hereafter...

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