Love isn't Logical
Title:
Author: Northernwalker
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty angst with happy ending.
Word Count: 4,707
Universes: Batman Begins/Smallville. And the Justice League.
Summary: From prompt #44 at the worlds_finest fic exchange.
"F44: Bruce is in love with Clark but Clark seems to be unaware of Bruce's feelings. Bruce tries to make his love known but keeps messing things up. He has to find a way not only to declare his love but to make sure that Clark will love him back."
This started out as light and fluffy and then the angst ate it. It's written from Clark's perspective- Bruce is demanding equal time and will get it soon.
Lucky at cards, unlucky at love.
If the old saw was true, then Clark Kent ought to be fantastic at cards because his love life was the kind of natural disaster that ought to be declared a state of emergency. His one big romance had been a tsunami and the current state of things was a drought. This was largely due to his conviction that dating an alien wasn’t something sane people wanted to do. Not surprising, considering the average reaction to finding out had involved blood and pain on both sides. Clark had pretty much resigned himself to being the guy everyone likes and nobody wants.
This explains why he was so shocked to discover that Bruce Wayne likes to cuddle after sex. Clark hadn’t expected that. Hell, he hadn’t expected to end up in bed with Bruce in the first place (end being the operative word, since they’d started out on a rooftop and that really only works in the movies.)
Love at first sight had always seemed a hopeless crock, but he’d been carefully ignoring his feelings for Batman since about seventeen minutes after they’d first met. There had never been any question of reciprocation. Batman had loathed Superman on sight, making it very clear that no upstart superpowered alien would be allowed to set so much as a cape flutter in his Gotham. He, however, had been impressed by the skill and ability of his fellow crime fighter, especially since the man wasn’t a meta and didn’t have to be doing this.
Once the Justice League had started they’d been forced to work together and things had started to improve. Batman had seemed to reconcile himself with the inevitable and they’d become…comrades, he supposed, over the last couple years. It was enough, or all he was going to get. Actually it was torture that went unequalled by his enemies, but he was used to that. At least he got to talk to Batman sometimes instead of just sneaking glances at him during meetings. It was obvious that Batman only tolerated him because of his usefulness; however, Superman could live with that. Years of keeping secrets paid off because he was sure that Batman didn’t know how he really felt. If he had found out, he’d have run over Superman in the Batmobile.
It wasn’t as though Clark didn’t have anyone else in the League to talk to- he and Wonder Woman sparred together and he and Diana had a regular movie night. Oliver and Dinah had dinner with him whenever they were in town. J’Onn liked to tell Clark about Krypton and his father. This, however, was not something he could talk about with anyone. They’d either feel sorry for the poor pitiful alien or be horrified that he had fallen for a human.
When he’d found that Batman was actually Bruce Wayne, that had impressed him even more. Brucie was the perfect cover for a crime fighting genius. Like Clark, Bruce had created a shield for himself out of his own life. All the study and effort that had gone into the making of Batman/Brucie was humbling to someone who’d been born with his abilities. The sheer will involved was totally overwhelming.
Learning his true identity had brutally crushed any flickers of hope that Batman would someday have feelings for him. Brucie was a playboy with a list of conquests that could paper Wayne Manor. Admittedly, the list must be exaggerated- the man did have to sleep sometime, after all- but there was no hint of any men on it. Nothing was ever going to happen between them.
***
Apparently Superman’s ability to predict Batman’s next move in battle didn’t carry over to anything else.
Batman had arrived in Metropolis in his usual terrifyingly stealthy fashion to talk to Superman. Somehow “talking” had mutated into “kissing like oxygen had gone out of fashion” and he swore that the universe had tilted because “best blowjob ever” hadn’t been on his list for this meeting at all. Clearly he needed a better list.
When they had collapsed onto his bed, he’d started mentally preparing himself for snarky comments and Bruce’s speedy departure. Instead, Bruce pulled him close and rested his head on Clark’s shoulder, lightly stroking his chest. It would have been more disconcerting if he hadn’t been so exhausted- a bridge collapsing, Luthor plotting and Lois’s tantrums all on the same day were wearing. He fell asleep, figuring Bruce would be gone when he woke.
Instead, when his alarm went off it was Bruce who muttered something very rude and anatomically impossible about the alarm and shut it off. It was Bruce who dragged him up, into the shower and then back to bed when their antics started getting potentially life-threatening. It was Bruce who, after more cuddling, got them both out of bed again and headed for breakfast.
When they were called into the Watchtower shortly after, Batman behaved perfectly normally and so did Superman. After dealing with a minor domestic eruption- really, someone should encourage Luthor to take up a hobby; surely bird watching or needlepoint would be good for him?- Superman had headed home. He did not expect to find Bruce on his doorstep an hour later with takeout and a movie. However, at that point Clark ditched his expectations and decided to go with the flow. Especially when the flow included Bruce’s dry comments about Mission: Impossible.
And mind-bending sex.
***
At first he’d thought it was just a one night stand, but they kept ending up naked and in Clark’s bed. So, what was Bruce’s angle? He might be investigating Superman for weaknesses- by having sex. No, that didn’t make sense. Slumming? Maybe. It’s not like Bruce couldn’t have anyone he wants. Why Clark, though? He was still going out with his supermodels and socialites, so why would he need Clark?
He thought he had it figured out one night as they lay entwined in bed. Bruce seemed to like touching him, especially after having sex. Clark didn’t feel safe starting anything with Bruce, but he could reciprocate. He wanted to store all these memories. He wanted to memorize the crinkles at the corners of Bruce’s mouth, the scar across his left shoulder blade, the ripple of muscle as he thrust into Clark, the eyeroll and faint snort he made at Clark’s bad jokes. Please, just a little while longer.
“When did you realize you were bi?” Bruce murmured as he traced patterns on Clark’s stomach.
“In college.” Clark sighed with pleasure at Bruce’s knowing touch. “I didn’t have much experience with anyone till then, and Bible Belt Kansas is not the place to start experimenting, even if you don’t have other secrets. Metropolis had more options. I still couldn’t get serious about someone, though. There was my training and then- well, I don’t have to tell you what it’s like, trying to balance your secret life with a public one. Not to mention being an alien.
“I was raised to be honest, but also to always hide what I am. My friends were bad enough- Chloe died, and now she’s off in Paris. Pete thought my powers were cool until he got scared. Haven’t talked to him in years. Lex- too many years, too many lies. As for relationships, being with Lana was a trainwreck waiting to happen and now she’s back with Lex.” He snuggled closer.
“What about you? I’d never have guessed you were bi until…”
“Until I kissed your socks off?” Bruce rolled onto his side as Clark chuckled. “College as well. Then my mission took over my life. Brucie shows up with random starlet X, everyone gets publicity. No one would ever admit they hadn’t slept with me, of course. There hasn’t been anyone for a while. Not until you.”
That made sense. They were doing the friends-with-benefits thing while Bruce dated around until he found someone he wanted for keeps. Clark was the perfect candidate- he already knew who Bruce was and since he wasn’t human, he wouldn’t make any romantic demands. Clark could handle that. He ignored the lump rising in his throat with the ease of long practice and turned to kiss Bruce.
Bruce frowned. He must have caught a little of Clark’s reaction. “Clark, what’s wr-” A hungry mouth closing over his distracted Bruce until their communicators abruptly buzzed.
Clark sighed. “If it’s Luthor again, I’m going to move that we provide him with a new hobby. Gardening, maybe. Or scrapbooking.”
Bruce snorted. “I’m all for it, but why those?”
“They’re nonviolent and noncompetitive. Maybe doll collecting? Or kumihimo? Tatting? Currency bill tracking? Blacksmithing? Geofiction?” Bruce was openly laughing now, his dark eyes twinkling, and Clark’s heart swelled with love. “We’d better get moving.”
Bruce was already efficiently muscling his way into his suit while Clark squirmed into his, wishing he’d considered the difficulty of doing this with a hard-on while designing it.
“Ready?”
“You’re willingly going to let me carry you? Are you sick?”
“In a hurry. I demand equal time at my place in future.”
“Yes SIR!” Superman saluted him.
Batman pulled him in for a quick peck on the nose, then wrapped his arms around Superman and ordered, “Shut up and fly.”
Superman took off with his love securely wrapped around him, laughing.
***
So, it was the friends-with-benefits thing. Except it wasn’t, because the friend part was becoming more of an element as the weeks turned to months. Bruce had season tickets to all the Gotham sports games and he started inviting Clark to them. He’d usually end up staying over at the manor since it was more convenient. Bruce had charity events to go to in Metropolis and since he’d pretty much stopped dating, he’d stand and talk with Clark (and occasionally hide behind him when a too-insistent socialite veered in his direction.) Then they’d head back to Clark’s apartment. They’d go to museums together, having discovered a common interest in quirky and unusual little specialty museums. Barring emergencies, they’d end the day at whichever person’s place was closer. They worked together as smoothly as always, with Bruce tending to want to grab Clark as soon as the fight was over. One close call on his part had left Bruce furious, shaking and unwilling to let Clark out of bed for two days. Not that he minded, since Bruce was in that bed too.
Bruce had left some things at Clark’s place, so Clark thought it was probably all right to leave a few things at the manor. Not much, just a change of clothes and a toilet kit. He didn’t want to intrude on Bruce’s space. He did like seeing Bruce’s shirts hung next to his in his closet, though. When he and Diana had a movie night, Bruce came too. Watching Bruce trying to explain Sense and Sensibility to a very confused Diana was worth the initial awkwardness. They had dinner with Oliver and Dinah.
Things seemed to be going all right, so of course life had to throw not only a wrench but the whole damned toolbox into the works, complete with sledgehammer. The afternoon had started so well, too. Bruce and Clark were relaxing before a charity dinner to benefit some damn thing. Clark was losing track. They’d gone to so many. MS had been the week before, so tonight was… the heart association, that was it.
They had sat through one of Bruce’s collection of really bad action movies while recreating the dialogue with quotes from other movies. Seeing the most feared crime fighter in the world intone, “But mostly dead is still slightly alive!” while holding a bowl of popcorn was something Clark had tucked away in his heart.
Bruce turned to look at him as the movie ended, still smiling at Clark’s last pun. His smile faded, though, and Clark felt a sliver of dread break loose and start bouncing around his stomach like a batarang.
“I want to talk to you, Clark.”
Oh, no. Here it comes.
“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and I think it’s time for some changes.”
Clark took a slow breath. He could do this. It wouldn’t be polite to interrupt Bruce while he was breaking up with Clark. He could…
“…Clark?”
I can’t do this.
“I understand, Bruce. I’ll just go get my stuff. Or you can send it to me. Who’s the lucky lady, Selina?”
He had seen Bruce look angry, shaken, aroused, amused, irritated, relaxed and broody. He’d never seen flabbergasted before. Had Bruce expected an argument? Clark knew his part in this…thing…was temporary, but maybe Bruce hadn’t realized that Clark was aware that he couldn’t stand in the way of Bruce’s happiness.
“Clark…”
“I’ll just go and - go.” He stood up, feeling nauseous and guessing that his smile wasn’t very convincing. He needed to smile- Bruce shouldn’t be upset. Bruce was kind to him and he didn’t want to make an embarrassing scene.
“No!” Bruce was on his feet and reaching for Clark. He cringed away from Bruce’s touch as if his hands were Kryptonite. He had to hold it together and if Bruce touched him he’d shatter. He nearly did anyway when their communicators buzzed a moment later.
“I’ll see you at the Watchtower.” Clark shot out of the room, not giving Bruce a chance to speak. He couldn’t outrun his heartbreak, but he could lock it down and get to work.
***
Luthor’s flying monkeys were the perfect touch to the day (Quilting? Pottery?) Thank God and Rao he’d been assigned to work with Wonder Woman and not Batman. Diana could tell that something was wrong but didn’t ask, just kept her hand on his shoulder at the meeting and stayed close to him on the battlefield. When the Wizard of Oz freakshow ended, he headed home, stopping to rescue a kitten along the way. At least he’d gotten his quota in.
Drinking himself comatose sounded like a lovely plan, except that alcohol didn’t affect him and he did have to show up at the benefit in Gotham tonight. Sometimes being responsible sucked like a porn star.
A quick shower, change and flight later and he was at the front steps of Gotham’s biggest museum. He affixed a smile to his face and began to circulate, nodding and listening in his best polite geek fashion. Fortunately, only a few people asked where Bruce was.
“Clark!” The person holding sixth place on his “People I really, really don’t want to talk to” list was smirking at him. (Bruce currently held the top five slots.)
“Lex.” He shoved his glasses back up on his nose.
“Been keeping yourself busy lately?”
As if you didn’t know, you dissembling hell-hated foot-licker. “Just fine, and you?” God, please spare me from having to mouth inanities at Lex Luthor while my heart is breaking.
“Clark.”
I hate you, God.
Bruce appeared at his elbow, holding two glasses of wine. Clark took one, considering eating the glass to provide himself with an escape. He could smell the faint scent of Bruce’s cologne, cedar and cypress and something wild and hidden that always said Bruce to him. To be this close to him and never to touch him again-
“…and what do you think, Clark?” He looked up, having totally lost the thread of the conversation. “Do you think Dr. Wayne would approve of his dilettante son?” Lex queried.
Clark saw a flash of pain in Bruce’s eyes. He took a breath, since seeing if Lex could bounce would be counterproductive if momentarily satisfying. “I never had the privilege of meeting Dr. and Mrs. Wayne. However, since the beginning of the Hippocratic Oath reads, First do no harm, I believe he would be pleased to see the safeguards instituted at Wayne Enterprises which protect the environment and their concerns for public safety, as well as their strong commitment to ethics. I think they’d both be very pleased with all Bruce does for others. I know I’m proud to count him as a friend.”
The flicker of Lex’s eyes told him the shot had gone home. “And my parents? Would they be pleased?”
“I’m sorry to say that Lionel would be. Your mother- well, I think she’d mourn who you used to be.” Clark couldn’t stand there a second longer without either kissing Bruce or falling apart. “Excuse me.” He deposited his glass on a passing waiter’s tray and turned to go. An errant thought struck him and he glanced back. “Lex, have you ever considered looking into soapmaking?” Clark had the faint satisfaction of the look of utter confusion on Lex’s face and Bruce’s bark of laughter hastily stifled into a cough.
He threaded through the crowd, bent on escape. The buzz of a hundred conversations, the music and a thousand different scents were taking a cheese-grater to his already raw nerves. He slipped out onto the terrace with a sigh of relief. It was a cool night, so most people were staying inside. He wandered into the gardens, stopping at the fountain when he realized that one very familiar heartbeat was approaching. Running wasn’t an option this time. Bruce needed to know Clark wouldn’t make a scene or cause problems with the League. Although, now that Clark considered it-- he hadn’t seemed relieved earlier, he’d seemed confused and upset.
“Did you mean it?” Clark turned to look at Bruce, admiring his elegant profile in the moonlight. “What you said in there to Luthor. Did you mean it?”
“Yes, of course. There’s a lot I didn’t want to get into in front of him, but I’ve always admired your charity work. People assume that you’re just throwing money around. I did a story a while ago that showed me just how hard you were working for the foundation. I didn’t run it because I figured you wouldn’t want the publicity for it.” Clark shifted slightly. He should give Bruce this piece of truth. “As for your other activities, you took a tragedy and turned it into a gift for other innocents. He took his problems and made them an excuse. You’ve dedicated your life to helping people as much as any doctor does. All the strength and courage and will that you put into building what you are today is awe-inspiring, Bruce. Any Kryptonian living here could do what I do, but you are a rare and wonderful individual. I think your parents would be honored at what you’ve accomplished in their memory.”
Bruce didn’t say anything for a minute, he just stood there looking at Clark. Clark stood still and met Bruce’s eyes. He couldn’t say any more or he’d start babbling. When he finally moved Clark nearly went airborne out of nerves. Bruce reached out, so slowly, and brought his hand up to touch Clark’s cheek.
“If you feel that way, then what the hell was this afternoon and you leaving about?”
Clark blinked, trying not to come unglued at the feel of Bruce’s calloused fingers. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“You thought… that’s what I wanted. How long have you been thinking that?”
Clark stepped away. It was all going to come out now. “Pretty much since we first slept together.”
“WHAT??”
“Since we started. I figured you’d want to move on.”
“What…Clark, I don’t understand.”
Here we go. Might as well get it over with so he can tell me he doesn’t want to lead me on and end things himself. Then I can go try to get drunk or stick my arm in a woodchipper again. Clark took off his glasses and shoved them into his jacket pocket. They wouldn’t shield him from this. “I fell in love with you back when we first met. I knew you’d never feel anything for me- you’ve made your feelings about Kryptonians in general and me in particular very clear.”
He tried to smile. From the look on Bruce’s face, it wasn’t very successful. “Love isn’t logical, though. When we slept together that first time, I didn’t know what to think. I decided it was a one-night-stand, but then you came back and I was really confused.
“I’d pretty much figured you were either investigating the alien-“
“By having sex?” Bruce sounded…peculiar.
“Yeah, I didn’t think that was a very sensible theory. Or that you were slumming.”
“Slumming.”
“The gorgeous brilliant billionaire crime fighter who dates supermodels and the hick alien from Kansas. What else made sense?”
“You’re actually from Krypton.”
Clark sighed. “Anyway, at one point we talked and you said there hadn’t been anyone for a while. So I realized that you wanted to do the friends-with-benefits thing until you met someone to settle down with. Well, maybe fuck-buddies since you didn’t want me as a friend. But then you started wanting to do friend-stuff and I- I wanted to be with you. I was willing to do whatever you wanted, as long as it meant being with you.” His voice was starting to wobble and he knew he’d need to cut this short. “I’ve always known it was going to end. You don’t need to worry. I won’t cause problems with the League. I’m very…grateful for the time you’ve given me.” His voice cracked and Clark knew he had to go or turn into a sobbing wreck. He turned to walk away when Bruce grabbed his arms and spun him back, kissing him frantically. Clark couldn’t help but respond, despite the tears that had started to fall.
Bruce pulled back, then caught hold of Clark’s hand. “We are going to talk about this-- and not where random people can stumble over us.”
“There’s nobody out here but us.” Clark didn’t want to move the misery to a secondary location. He wanted to die, but preferably in battle so he’d at least be useful.
Bruce started dragging Clark towards the door. Clark dug in his heels, not wanting to do anything other than flee. Bruce turned back to him. His face was in shadow but his voice was shaking. “Clark, please come home with me.”
Clark went.
***
The drive back to Wayne Manor was made in silence. Bruce was brooding and Clark was too exhausted and miserable to try making polite conversation. Confession might be good for the soul but it was hell on the nerves and very, very draining. When they got there, Bruce grabbed him again as soon as they got out of the car and hauled him into the house. They were in Bruce’s study by the time he got his bearings. Bruce and shoved him towards the couch with a curt, “Sit.”
Clark huddled on the couch as Bruce walked over to the bar and poured a drink. He slammed the glass down and whirled to face Clark, looking utterly furious. Clark flinched. He had no idea what to do now, but somehow he’d hurt Bruce and that was the last thing he wanted. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
The storm clouds faded as Bruce came over, dropping to his knees in front of Clark and gathering him into a gentle embrace. “God, Clark, don’t! You have nothing to apologize for. I’m mad at me, not you.”
They stayed there together in silence for a few minutes, just holding each other. Bruce finally pulled back and looked at Clark. “Clark, I need you to listen to me now. Please hear me and don’t panic on me. OK? This is something we need to talk about before our damned comms go off again. It’s also the kind of thing I suck at talking about.”
Clark nodded, and Bruce sighed. “I’m in love with you. However, because I am a massive idiot, I came up with a plan to try and get us into a relationship without telling you.”
Clark boggled, his exhaustion abruptly gone.
“First things first. I said a lot of incredibly asinine things about you and to you in the early days. The only excuse I have, and it’s feeble, is that finding myself feeling anything for anyone terrified me. So I reacted by trying to shove you away and coming up with artificial reasons we couldn’t become involved. I never thought about how isolated you must feel, how you must have felt when I said such cruel and stupid things. I can apologize now, and I do, but I can’t make up for how much I hurt you.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. The fact that you’re a naturally forgiving person doesn’t give me the right to stomp all over you.”
“But I’m not a person.”
“Clark, whatever you are, you have all the best qualities that we call ‘human.’ You are the rare and wonderful one in this relationship. I’m a rich kid with a chip on my shoulder and issues.”
Clark blurted, “No, you’re not! You’re-”
Bruce covered his lips gently with a finger. “If we reduce it down the way you’re doing to yourself, that’s what I am. The thing is, you only do it to yourself.” He pulled Clark back into a hug.
“Plan? You had a plan?”
Bruce groaned. “Yes, and if I’d been able to stick to it, we might not have ended up in such a mess. No, strike that, we’d have ended up in a different mess.”
“What was your plan?” Clark was starting to feel a little less shaky.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Bruce sat down next to him, taking Clark’s hands in his.
“I’m in awe. I was stuck on pining from afar.”
“Well, my original plan for that night was to talk to you and see if we could work together more. It did not involve sticking my tongue down your throat and us getting naked on the roof of the Daily Planet.
“Having blown the first night,” Bruce’s lip twitched, “I tried to get back on plan, but nudity kept happening.”
Clark collapsed in laughter. Bruce looked slightly affronted, but began to smile and eventually laugh as well.
When Clark finally calmed down, Bruce continued. “I tried to play it casual at first, to keep from scaring you off. I did want to get us out of bed and do things with you in public so you wouldn’t think it was just sex, though it was a bit late by that point. That’s why I insisted on going to your movie night with Diana and joining Oliver and Dinah for dinner. I quit having those fake dates as soon as I could and nothing happened with any of them.”
“Why the plan in the first place? Besides the fact that it’s you and that’s what you do.”
“I’ve seen how you react to even a hint of romantic interest. You smile and start oozing towards the nearest exit. It’s like chasing quicksilver. I had no idea why you were so gun-shy, but it was clear that a frontal approach wouldn’t work. So, I tried guerilla tactics and promptly blew up the ammo dump. The plan was perfectly logical but the execution failed miserably.” Bruce smiled wryly. “I should stick to my day jobs and leave romantic plotting to novelists. At least they only hurt fictional characters and not real people. I’m so sorry, Clark.”
Clark smiled back at his lover. “I love you, Bruce.”
Bruce pulled him in for a kiss that ended with them stretched out on the floor. “I don’t deserve you, but I love you.”
“You deserve anything you want. Better than-” Bruce’s mouth closing over his ended that line of conversation-- not to mention Clark’s ability to think.
“We need to finish talking,” Bruce warned him softly.
“Could we do it later?” Clark asked plaintively, his exhaustion returning in a rush.
“As long as you’re staying here.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he said, feeling too shy to look at Bruce.
Bruce pulled him up and steered him to the door. Clark could barely remember getting up the stairs, undressed and into Bruce’s bed. Bruce slid into bed with him, wrapping Clark in a comforting embrace. He laced his fingers into Bruce’s and smiled. “Ikebana.”
“What?”
“For his hobby. Ikebana.”
Bruce’s soft chuckle followed him down into a peaceful sleep.
Author: Northernwalker
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty angst with happy ending.
Word Count: 4,707
Universes: Batman Begins/Smallville. And the Justice League.
Summary: From prompt #44 at the worlds_finest fic exchange.
"F44: Bruce is in love with Clark but Clark seems to be unaware of Bruce's feelings. Bruce tries to make his love known but keeps messing things up. He has to find a way not only to declare his love but to make sure that Clark will love him back."
This started out as light and fluffy and then the angst ate it. It's written from Clark's perspective- Bruce is demanding equal time and will get it soon.
Lucky at cards, unlucky at love.
If the old saw was true, then Clark Kent ought to be fantastic at cards because his love life was the kind of natural disaster that ought to be declared a state of emergency. His one big romance had been a tsunami and the current state of things was a drought. This was largely due to his conviction that dating an alien wasn’t something sane people wanted to do. Not surprising, considering the average reaction to finding out had involved blood and pain on both sides. Clark had pretty much resigned himself to being the guy everyone likes and nobody wants.
This explains why he was so shocked to discover that Bruce Wayne likes to cuddle after sex. Clark hadn’t expected that. Hell, he hadn’t expected to end up in bed with Bruce in the first place (end being the operative word, since they’d started out on a rooftop and that really only works in the movies.)
Love at first sight had always seemed a hopeless crock, but he’d been carefully ignoring his feelings for Batman since about seventeen minutes after they’d first met. There had never been any question of reciprocation. Batman had loathed Superman on sight, making it very clear that no upstart superpowered alien would be allowed to set so much as a cape flutter in his Gotham. He, however, had been impressed by the skill and ability of his fellow crime fighter, especially since the man wasn’t a meta and didn’t have to be doing this.
Once the Justice League had started they’d been forced to work together and things had started to improve. Batman had seemed to reconcile himself with the inevitable and they’d become…comrades, he supposed, over the last couple years. It was enough, or all he was going to get. Actually it was torture that went unequalled by his enemies, but he was used to that. At least he got to talk to Batman sometimes instead of just sneaking glances at him during meetings. It was obvious that Batman only tolerated him because of his usefulness; however, Superman could live with that. Years of keeping secrets paid off because he was sure that Batman didn’t know how he really felt. If he had found out, he’d have run over Superman in the Batmobile.
It wasn’t as though Clark didn’t have anyone else in the League to talk to- he and Wonder Woman sparred together and he and Diana had a regular movie night. Oliver and Dinah had dinner with him whenever they were in town. J’Onn liked to tell Clark about Krypton and his father. This, however, was not something he could talk about with anyone. They’d either feel sorry for the poor pitiful alien or be horrified that he had fallen for a human.
When he’d found that Batman was actually Bruce Wayne, that had impressed him even more. Brucie was the perfect cover for a crime fighting genius. Like Clark, Bruce had created a shield for himself out of his own life. All the study and effort that had gone into the making of Batman/Brucie was humbling to someone who’d been born with his abilities. The sheer will involved was totally overwhelming.
Learning his true identity had brutally crushed any flickers of hope that Batman would someday have feelings for him. Brucie was a playboy with a list of conquests that could paper Wayne Manor. Admittedly, the list must be exaggerated- the man did have to sleep sometime, after all- but there was no hint of any men on it. Nothing was ever going to happen between them.
***
Apparently Superman’s ability to predict Batman’s next move in battle didn’t carry over to anything else.
Batman had arrived in Metropolis in his usual terrifyingly stealthy fashion to talk to Superman. Somehow “talking” had mutated into “kissing like oxygen had gone out of fashion” and he swore that the universe had tilted because “best blowjob ever” hadn’t been on his list for this meeting at all. Clearly he needed a better list.
When they had collapsed onto his bed, he’d started mentally preparing himself for snarky comments and Bruce’s speedy departure. Instead, Bruce pulled him close and rested his head on Clark’s shoulder, lightly stroking his chest. It would have been more disconcerting if he hadn’t been so exhausted- a bridge collapsing, Luthor plotting and Lois’s tantrums all on the same day were wearing. He fell asleep, figuring Bruce would be gone when he woke.
Instead, when his alarm went off it was Bruce who muttered something very rude and anatomically impossible about the alarm and shut it off. It was Bruce who dragged him up, into the shower and then back to bed when their antics started getting potentially life-threatening. It was Bruce who, after more cuddling, got them both out of bed again and headed for breakfast.
When they were called into the Watchtower shortly after, Batman behaved perfectly normally and so did Superman. After dealing with a minor domestic eruption- really, someone should encourage Luthor to take up a hobby; surely bird watching or needlepoint would be good for him?- Superman had headed home. He did not expect to find Bruce on his doorstep an hour later with takeout and a movie. However, at that point Clark ditched his expectations and decided to go with the flow. Especially when the flow included Bruce’s dry comments about Mission: Impossible.
And mind-bending sex.
***
At first he’d thought it was just a one night stand, but they kept ending up naked and in Clark’s bed. So, what was Bruce’s angle? He might be investigating Superman for weaknesses- by having sex. No, that didn’t make sense. Slumming? Maybe. It’s not like Bruce couldn’t have anyone he wants. Why Clark, though? He was still going out with his supermodels and socialites, so why would he need Clark?
He thought he had it figured out one night as they lay entwined in bed. Bruce seemed to like touching him, especially after having sex. Clark didn’t feel safe starting anything with Bruce, but he could reciprocate. He wanted to store all these memories. He wanted to memorize the crinkles at the corners of Bruce’s mouth, the scar across his left shoulder blade, the ripple of muscle as he thrust into Clark, the eyeroll and faint snort he made at Clark’s bad jokes. Please, just a little while longer.
“When did you realize you were bi?” Bruce murmured as he traced patterns on Clark’s stomach.
“In college.” Clark sighed with pleasure at Bruce’s knowing touch. “I didn’t have much experience with anyone till then, and Bible Belt Kansas is not the place to start experimenting, even if you don’t have other secrets. Metropolis had more options. I still couldn’t get serious about someone, though. There was my training and then- well, I don’t have to tell you what it’s like, trying to balance your secret life with a public one. Not to mention being an alien.
“I was raised to be honest, but also to always hide what I am. My friends were bad enough- Chloe died, and now she’s off in Paris. Pete thought my powers were cool until he got scared. Haven’t talked to him in years. Lex- too many years, too many lies. As for relationships, being with Lana was a trainwreck waiting to happen and now she’s back with Lex.” He snuggled closer.
“What about you? I’d never have guessed you were bi until…”
“Until I kissed your socks off?” Bruce rolled onto his side as Clark chuckled. “College as well. Then my mission took over my life. Brucie shows up with random starlet X, everyone gets publicity. No one would ever admit they hadn’t slept with me, of course. There hasn’t been anyone for a while. Not until you.”
That made sense. They were doing the friends-with-benefits thing while Bruce dated around until he found someone he wanted for keeps. Clark was the perfect candidate- he already knew who Bruce was and since he wasn’t human, he wouldn’t make any romantic demands. Clark could handle that. He ignored the lump rising in his throat with the ease of long practice and turned to kiss Bruce.
Bruce frowned. He must have caught a little of Clark’s reaction. “Clark, what’s wr-” A hungry mouth closing over his distracted Bruce until their communicators abruptly buzzed.
Clark sighed. “If it’s Luthor again, I’m going to move that we provide him with a new hobby. Gardening, maybe. Or scrapbooking.”
Bruce snorted. “I’m all for it, but why those?”
“They’re nonviolent and noncompetitive. Maybe doll collecting? Or kumihimo? Tatting? Currency bill tracking? Blacksmithing? Geofiction?” Bruce was openly laughing now, his dark eyes twinkling, and Clark’s heart swelled with love. “We’d better get moving.”
Bruce was already efficiently muscling his way into his suit while Clark squirmed into his, wishing he’d considered the difficulty of doing this with a hard-on while designing it.
“Ready?”
“You’re willingly going to let me carry you? Are you sick?”
“In a hurry. I demand equal time at my place in future.”
“Yes SIR!” Superman saluted him.
Batman pulled him in for a quick peck on the nose, then wrapped his arms around Superman and ordered, “Shut up and fly.”
Superman took off with his love securely wrapped around him, laughing.
***
So, it was the friends-with-benefits thing. Except it wasn’t, because the friend part was becoming more of an element as the weeks turned to months. Bruce had season tickets to all the Gotham sports games and he started inviting Clark to them. He’d usually end up staying over at the manor since it was more convenient. Bruce had charity events to go to in Metropolis and since he’d pretty much stopped dating, he’d stand and talk with Clark (and occasionally hide behind him when a too-insistent socialite veered in his direction.) Then they’d head back to Clark’s apartment. They’d go to museums together, having discovered a common interest in quirky and unusual little specialty museums. Barring emergencies, they’d end the day at whichever person’s place was closer. They worked together as smoothly as always, with Bruce tending to want to grab Clark as soon as the fight was over. One close call on his part had left Bruce furious, shaking and unwilling to let Clark out of bed for two days. Not that he minded, since Bruce was in that bed too.
Bruce had left some things at Clark’s place, so Clark thought it was probably all right to leave a few things at the manor. Not much, just a change of clothes and a toilet kit. He didn’t want to intrude on Bruce’s space. He did like seeing Bruce’s shirts hung next to his in his closet, though. When he and Diana had a movie night, Bruce came too. Watching Bruce trying to explain Sense and Sensibility to a very confused Diana was worth the initial awkwardness. They had dinner with Oliver and Dinah.
Things seemed to be going all right, so of course life had to throw not only a wrench but the whole damned toolbox into the works, complete with sledgehammer. The afternoon had started so well, too. Bruce and Clark were relaxing before a charity dinner to benefit some damn thing. Clark was losing track. They’d gone to so many. MS had been the week before, so tonight was… the heart association, that was it.
They had sat through one of Bruce’s collection of really bad action movies while recreating the dialogue with quotes from other movies. Seeing the most feared crime fighter in the world intone, “But mostly dead is still slightly alive!” while holding a bowl of popcorn was something Clark had tucked away in his heart.
Bruce turned to look at him as the movie ended, still smiling at Clark’s last pun. His smile faded, though, and Clark felt a sliver of dread break loose and start bouncing around his stomach like a batarang.
“I want to talk to you, Clark.”
Oh, no. Here it comes.
“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and I think it’s time for some changes.”
Clark took a slow breath. He could do this. It wouldn’t be polite to interrupt Bruce while he was breaking up with Clark. He could…
“…Clark?”
I can’t do this.
“I understand, Bruce. I’ll just go get my stuff. Or you can send it to me. Who’s the lucky lady, Selina?”
He had seen Bruce look angry, shaken, aroused, amused, irritated, relaxed and broody. He’d never seen flabbergasted before. Had Bruce expected an argument? Clark knew his part in this…thing…was temporary, but maybe Bruce hadn’t realized that Clark was aware that he couldn’t stand in the way of Bruce’s happiness.
“Clark…”
“I’ll just go and - go.” He stood up, feeling nauseous and guessing that his smile wasn’t very convincing. He needed to smile- Bruce shouldn’t be upset. Bruce was kind to him and he didn’t want to make an embarrassing scene.
“No!” Bruce was on his feet and reaching for Clark. He cringed away from Bruce’s touch as if his hands were Kryptonite. He had to hold it together and if Bruce touched him he’d shatter. He nearly did anyway when their communicators buzzed a moment later.
“I’ll see you at the Watchtower.” Clark shot out of the room, not giving Bruce a chance to speak. He couldn’t outrun his heartbreak, but he could lock it down and get to work.
***
Luthor’s flying monkeys were the perfect touch to the day (Quilting? Pottery?) Thank God and Rao he’d been assigned to work with Wonder Woman and not Batman. Diana could tell that something was wrong but didn’t ask, just kept her hand on his shoulder at the meeting and stayed close to him on the battlefield. When the Wizard of Oz freakshow ended, he headed home, stopping to rescue a kitten along the way. At least he’d gotten his quota in.
Drinking himself comatose sounded like a lovely plan, except that alcohol didn’t affect him and he did have to show up at the benefit in Gotham tonight. Sometimes being responsible sucked like a porn star.
A quick shower, change and flight later and he was at the front steps of Gotham’s biggest museum. He affixed a smile to his face and began to circulate, nodding and listening in his best polite geek fashion. Fortunately, only a few people asked where Bruce was.
“Clark!” The person holding sixth place on his “People I really, really don’t want to talk to” list was smirking at him. (Bruce currently held the top five slots.)
“Lex.” He shoved his glasses back up on his nose.
“Been keeping yourself busy lately?”
As if you didn’t know, you dissembling hell-hated foot-licker. “Just fine, and you?” God, please spare me from having to mouth inanities at Lex Luthor while my heart is breaking.
“Clark.”
I hate you, God.
Bruce appeared at his elbow, holding two glasses of wine. Clark took one, considering eating the glass to provide himself with an escape. He could smell the faint scent of Bruce’s cologne, cedar and cypress and something wild and hidden that always said Bruce to him. To be this close to him and never to touch him again-
“…and what do you think, Clark?” He looked up, having totally lost the thread of the conversation. “Do you think Dr. Wayne would approve of his dilettante son?” Lex queried.
Clark saw a flash of pain in Bruce’s eyes. He took a breath, since seeing if Lex could bounce would be counterproductive if momentarily satisfying. “I never had the privilege of meeting Dr. and Mrs. Wayne. However, since the beginning of the Hippocratic Oath reads, First do no harm, I believe he would be pleased to see the safeguards instituted at Wayne Enterprises which protect the environment and their concerns for public safety, as well as their strong commitment to ethics. I think they’d both be very pleased with all Bruce does for others. I know I’m proud to count him as a friend.”
The flicker of Lex’s eyes told him the shot had gone home. “And my parents? Would they be pleased?”
“I’m sorry to say that Lionel would be. Your mother- well, I think she’d mourn who you used to be.” Clark couldn’t stand there a second longer without either kissing Bruce or falling apart. “Excuse me.” He deposited his glass on a passing waiter’s tray and turned to go. An errant thought struck him and he glanced back. “Lex, have you ever considered looking into soapmaking?” Clark had the faint satisfaction of the look of utter confusion on Lex’s face and Bruce’s bark of laughter hastily stifled into a cough.
He threaded through the crowd, bent on escape. The buzz of a hundred conversations, the music and a thousand different scents were taking a cheese-grater to his already raw nerves. He slipped out onto the terrace with a sigh of relief. It was a cool night, so most people were staying inside. He wandered into the gardens, stopping at the fountain when he realized that one very familiar heartbeat was approaching. Running wasn’t an option this time. Bruce needed to know Clark wouldn’t make a scene or cause problems with the League. Although, now that Clark considered it-- he hadn’t seemed relieved earlier, he’d seemed confused and upset.
“Did you mean it?” Clark turned to look at Bruce, admiring his elegant profile in the moonlight. “What you said in there to Luthor. Did you mean it?”
“Yes, of course. There’s a lot I didn’t want to get into in front of him, but I’ve always admired your charity work. People assume that you’re just throwing money around. I did a story a while ago that showed me just how hard you were working for the foundation. I didn’t run it because I figured you wouldn’t want the publicity for it.” Clark shifted slightly. He should give Bruce this piece of truth. “As for your other activities, you took a tragedy and turned it into a gift for other innocents. He took his problems and made them an excuse. You’ve dedicated your life to helping people as much as any doctor does. All the strength and courage and will that you put into building what you are today is awe-inspiring, Bruce. Any Kryptonian living here could do what I do, but you are a rare and wonderful individual. I think your parents would be honored at what you’ve accomplished in their memory.”
Bruce didn’t say anything for a minute, he just stood there looking at Clark. Clark stood still and met Bruce’s eyes. He couldn’t say any more or he’d start babbling. When he finally moved Clark nearly went airborne out of nerves. Bruce reached out, so slowly, and brought his hand up to touch Clark’s cheek.
“If you feel that way, then what the hell was this afternoon and you leaving about?”
Clark blinked, trying not to come unglued at the feel of Bruce’s calloused fingers. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“You thought… that’s what I wanted. How long have you been thinking that?”
Clark stepped away. It was all going to come out now. “Pretty much since we first slept together.”
“WHAT??”
“Since we started. I figured you’d want to move on.”
“What…Clark, I don’t understand.”
Here we go. Might as well get it over with so he can tell me he doesn’t want to lead me on and end things himself. Then I can go try to get drunk or stick my arm in a woodchipper again. Clark took off his glasses and shoved them into his jacket pocket. They wouldn’t shield him from this. “I fell in love with you back when we first met. I knew you’d never feel anything for me- you’ve made your feelings about Kryptonians in general and me in particular very clear.”
He tried to smile. From the look on Bruce’s face, it wasn’t very successful. “Love isn’t logical, though. When we slept together that first time, I didn’t know what to think. I decided it was a one-night-stand, but then you came back and I was really confused.
“I’d pretty much figured you were either investigating the alien-“
“By having sex?” Bruce sounded…peculiar.
“Yeah, I didn’t think that was a very sensible theory. Or that you were slumming.”
“Slumming.”
“The gorgeous brilliant billionaire crime fighter who dates supermodels and the hick alien from Kansas. What else made sense?”
“You’re actually from Krypton.”
Clark sighed. “Anyway, at one point we talked and you said there hadn’t been anyone for a while. So I realized that you wanted to do the friends-with-benefits thing until you met someone to settle down with. Well, maybe fuck-buddies since you didn’t want me as a friend. But then you started wanting to do friend-stuff and I- I wanted to be with you. I was willing to do whatever you wanted, as long as it meant being with you.” His voice was starting to wobble and he knew he’d need to cut this short. “I’ve always known it was going to end. You don’t need to worry. I won’t cause problems with the League. I’m very…grateful for the time you’ve given me.” His voice cracked and Clark knew he had to go or turn into a sobbing wreck. He turned to walk away when Bruce grabbed his arms and spun him back, kissing him frantically. Clark couldn’t help but respond, despite the tears that had started to fall.
Bruce pulled back, then caught hold of Clark’s hand. “We are going to talk about this-- and not where random people can stumble over us.”
“There’s nobody out here but us.” Clark didn’t want to move the misery to a secondary location. He wanted to die, but preferably in battle so he’d at least be useful.
Bruce started dragging Clark towards the door. Clark dug in his heels, not wanting to do anything other than flee. Bruce turned back to him. His face was in shadow but his voice was shaking. “Clark, please come home with me.”
Clark went.
***
The drive back to Wayne Manor was made in silence. Bruce was brooding and Clark was too exhausted and miserable to try making polite conversation. Confession might be good for the soul but it was hell on the nerves and very, very draining. When they got there, Bruce grabbed him again as soon as they got out of the car and hauled him into the house. They were in Bruce’s study by the time he got his bearings. Bruce and shoved him towards the couch with a curt, “Sit.”
Clark huddled on the couch as Bruce walked over to the bar and poured a drink. He slammed the glass down and whirled to face Clark, looking utterly furious. Clark flinched. He had no idea what to do now, but somehow he’d hurt Bruce and that was the last thing he wanted. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
The storm clouds faded as Bruce came over, dropping to his knees in front of Clark and gathering him into a gentle embrace. “God, Clark, don’t! You have nothing to apologize for. I’m mad at me, not you.”
They stayed there together in silence for a few minutes, just holding each other. Bruce finally pulled back and looked at Clark. “Clark, I need you to listen to me now. Please hear me and don’t panic on me. OK? This is something we need to talk about before our damned comms go off again. It’s also the kind of thing I suck at talking about.”
Clark nodded, and Bruce sighed. “I’m in love with you. However, because I am a massive idiot, I came up with a plan to try and get us into a relationship without telling you.”
Clark boggled, his exhaustion abruptly gone.
“First things first. I said a lot of incredibly asinine things about you and to you in the early days. The only excuse I have, and it’s feeble, is that finding myself feeling anything for anyone terrified me. So I reacted by trying to shove you away and coming up with artificial reasons we couldn’t become involved. I never thought about how isolated you must feel, how you must have felt when I said such cruel and stupid things. I can apologize now, and I do, but I can’t make up for how much I hurt you.”
“It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. The fact that you’re a naturally forgiving person doesn’t give me the right to stomp all over you.”
“But I’m not a person.”
“Clark, whatever you are, you have all the best qualities that we call ‘human.’ You are the rare and wonderful one in this relationship. I’m a rich kid with a chip on my shoulder and issues.”
Clark blurted, “No, you’re not! You’re-”
Bruce covered his lips gently with a finger. “If we reduce it down the way you’re doing to yourself, that’s what I am. The thing is, you only do it to yourself.” He pulled Clark back into a hug.
“Plan? You had a plan?”
Bruce groaned. “Yes, and if I’d been able to stick to it, we might not have ended up in such a mess. No, strike that, we’d have ended up in a different mess.”
“What was your plan?” Clark was starting to feel a little less shaky.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Bruce sat down next to him, taking Clark’s hands in his.
“I’m in awe. I was stuck on pining from afar.”
“Well, my original plan for that night was to talk to you and see if we could work together more. It did not involve sticking my tongue down your throat and us getting naked on the roof of the Daily Planet.
“Having blown the first night,” Bruce’s lip twitched, “I tried to get back on plan, but nudity kept happening.”
Clark collapsed in laughter. Bruce looked slightly affronted, but began to smile and eventually laugh as well.
When Clark finally calmed down, Bruce continued. “I tried to play it casual at first, to keep from scaring you off. I did want to get us out of bed and do things with you in public so you wouldn’t think it was just sex, though it was a bit late by that point. That’s why I insisted on going to your movie night with Diana and joining Oliver and Dinah for dinner. I quit having those fake dates as soon as I could and nothing happened with any of them.”
“Why the plan in the first place? Besides the fact that it’s you and that’s what you do.”
“I’ve seen how you react to even a hint of romantic interest. You smile and start oozing towards the nearest exit. It’s like chasing quicksilver. I had no idea why you were so gun-shy, but it was clear that a frontal approach wouldn’t work. So, I tried guerilla tactics and promptly blew up the ammo dump. The plan was perfectly logical but the execution failed miserably.” Bruce smiled wryly. “I should stick to my day jobs and leave romantic plotting to novelists. At least they only hurt fictional characters and not real people. I’m so sorry, Clark.”
Clark smiled back at his lover. “I love you, Bruce.”
Bruce pulled him in for a kiss that ended with them stretched out on the floor. “I don’t deserve you, but I love you.”
“You deserve anything you want. Better than-” Bruce’s mouth closing over his ended that line of conversation-- not to mention Clark’s ability to think.
“We need to finish talking,” Bruce warned him softly.
“Could we do it later?” Clark asked plaintively, his exhaustion returning in a rush.
“As long as you’re staying here.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he said, feeling too shy to look at Bruce.
Bruce pulled him up and steered him to the door. Clark could barely remember getting up the stairs, undressed and into Bruce’s bed. Bruce slid into bed with him, wrapping Clark in a comforting embrace. He laced his fingers into Bruce’s and smiled. “Ikebana.”
“What?”
“For his hobby. Ikebana.”
Bruce’s soft chuckle followed him down into a peaceful sleep.