Loving Control
Title: Loving Control
Author: Northernwalker
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty angst with happy ending.
Universes: Batman Begins/Smallville. And the Justice League.
Word Count: 6,545
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."
Happening simultaneously with Love Isn't Logical. Bruce demanded equal time.
Bruce Wayne was a control freak. He’d admit it only to close friends- not that he currently had any. He had learned how to harness his will as he began to develop the skills he would need for his future. He had put in the work needed to build both his alter egos. He was engaged in running the Justice League. He was totally in control of his world, down to the buckles on his Batsuit.
He was attracted to a superpowered alien. This was not in his plans.
It wasn’t hard to understand why he felt something for Clark. The man was highly intelligent, though his cover personality hid that as much as possible. He exuded cheer and kindness and gentleness and faith in humanity, all qualities Bruce had shed or buried years ago. He’d grown up in a solid Midwestern family and had actual morals. He’d taken abilities that could have been used to conquer the world and used them to help people. Clark had even been nice to him, though Bruce had been quite nasty in the beginning. And, on the shallow side, Clark was truly gorgeous, all bright green eyes and golden skin and curly hair and a build that showed he’d grown up on a farm, with muscles to spare.
He’d tried ignoring it. He’d shoved Superman/Kal-El/Clark away. He’d signally failed to fall out of lust. Now he needed to do something to get this situation back within his grasp. No one was going to have power over him, not even someone he- cared for. Fortunately, he had a plan. Clark’s glances in his direction hadn’t gone unnoticed. If the Blue Boy Scout was attracted to him, he had some power over the situation. It was time to get started.
***
Well, he’d had a plan.
Clark tended to be shy around him. Bruce didn’t take it personally, as when he wasn’t being Superman Clark was a bit diffident with people in general. Certainly when it came to romance. He’d seen people try to hit on Superman and watched in amusement as he slid away, substituting another member of the League. Diana especially seemed to enjoy terrifying people who just wanted to feel Superman’s muscles. He’d witnessed Clark carefully evading flirtations at parties. At this point, he was wondering if the man had ever had sex.
The plan had been to go to Metropolis and talk to Superman, maybe lay some groundwork for seducing him into doing something about the attraction. At most, he’d thought about kissing Clark. He’d been trying to be less abrupt with him at meetings, but Superman was still hesitant about dealing with him off the battlefield. Considering that Batman had ordered him out of Gotham on their first meeting, Bruce couldn’t blame him for being reserved, but surely he’d had time to get over that!
However, when he’d gotten to Metropolis, his vaunted patience had run out at last. He had started the meeting talking but had lost his train of thought when Superman had run a hand through his hair, rumpling the normally perfect waves. Somehow he’d moved from “gawping” to “seeing if lungs could be reverse engineered for carbon dioxide.” After a few moments of paralysis, Superman had responded with gratifying enthusiasm. He certainly hadn’t meant to strip him and give him a blow-job, though Superman had no objections to returning the favor. The venue had been changed to Clark’s apartment because Superman hadn’t wanted to risk slicing Bruce to ribbons on the gravel roof.
Bruce had had sex in a lot of places with a lot of people. He’d never had sex like this before. Clark was incredibly responsive and soaked up touch. Bruce, who normally didn’t get touchy-feely with his partners, couldn’t get enough of touching Clark, of learning what made him moan, what made him gasp and what made him squirm away laughing. Clark wanted to touch him, too, with a shy, tentative persistence. Bruce wasn’t used to having a partner map his body, stroking and caressing. He had no objection to getting used to it, though.
When they had both collapsed on Clark’s bed, Bruce felt no desire to move. He shifted closer, dropping his head on Clark’s solid shoulder. He couldn’t resist tracing a lazy pattern on Clark’s chest. Clark pulled him in, gently rubbing Bruce’s back. Clark was obviously losing the fight to stay awake- there’d been a bridge collapse that day and a pre-dawn meeting to deal with another of Luthor’s sillier schemes along with Bruce’s endeavors to exhaust him. While he wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with his partners, he was much too relaxed to leave.
When Clark’s alarm went off the next morning, Bruce not only renamed it but suggested something so crude involving the alarm and Luthor that it surprised even him. He then teased Clark into action and a hot shower, where he rediscovered just how much fun could be had with soap, warm water and a very willing partner. While they’d had to move to dry land before someone drowned, the bathroom floor got thoroughly wet.
Returning to bed had involved a nap and something else Bruce wasn’t in the habit of doing- snuggling. However, his inner sex maniac seemed to be running his brain at the moment and apparently did. Bruce couldn’t really object to being naked and in bed touching a warm and equally naked Clark.
When he woke up again, he chivvied Clark into getting up and going out with him for breakfast. Clark kept sneaking glances at Bruce as if expecting him to vanish. It was just as well he hadn’t bailed on Clark last night, because he might have been hurt. Besides, Bruce was enjoying the chance to talk to Clark. The man had a wickedly sly sense of humor which Bruce hadn’t really gotten to see before. Yes, this was a detour from his plan, but he could work with it.
They got called into another meeting of the League when there was another Luthor hiccup. The man had been a pain in both boarding school and college and he’d clearly not shed that part of his personality. That settled, Bruce took care of some work and then headed to his Metropolis apartment to get ready for the evening.
His Brucie persona was a professional clotheshorse. In his rare leisure time, Bruce preferred comfortable gear to Armani and Gaultier. All those fittings and discussions had left him with a clear understanding on how clothing helped build a character, though. Therefore, he turned up at Clark’s apartment that evening in a Henley and comfortably worn jeans, carrying pizza, beer and a really bad action movie.
Clark was surprised but welcoming and they shared a companionable evening mocking Tom Cruise’s theatrics and rescripting the dialogue. A playful squabble turned physical and ended with Bruce pinning Clark to the couch and grinding against him. Clark could have tossed him through the wall with no effort and having him willingly submitting to Bruce made him feel in control, if only just. It was…gratifying that Clark felt able to relax around him, being that that Bruce was the keeper of the Kryptonite.
Getting Clark naked while lying on top of him wasn’t going to work, so Bruce sat back, straddling his hips and started tugging at Clark’s white tee. Clark promptly sat up and shed his shirt, helping Bruce out of his on the way. Bruce was about to start tearing their jeans off when Clark put his arms around him and laid his cheek against Bruce’s chest. Looking down at the tumbled curls, Bruce felt an unaccustomed tenderness which he sharply stifled. It’s sex. If he wants you, you’re in control. He pushed Clark back onto the couch, kissing him hard.
When Bruce arrived back at his apartment later that night, he was satisfied with the progress he’d made. While he’d gone off-plan the night before, he’d managed to get things back on track. Clark wanted him and seemed to be willing to play things Bruce’s way. He could sleep now. The fact that he wasn’t sleeping as well as he had last night was due to his lack of patrolling and had nothing to do with Clark’s absence. Bruce drifted off while replaying the evening’s events. There had only been one odd moment- a flash of pain in Clark’s eyes when Bruce had broken his embrace. Maybe he’d banged an elbow or something, Bruce decided.
***
The next few weeks had Bruce logging a number of trips to Metropolis. He was still working and patrolling in Gotham; oddly enough, his new, more random schedule was throwing the local criminals off. The Joker and Two Face were both still in Arkham and there were no new masterminds that Batman needed to swat down. While he needed to keep Brucie active, he could do that in Metropolis. Dating had become a chore several months before he’d started up with Clark, but he hadn’t felt he could stop now. All things considered, though, he’d rather sit and talk to Clark than listen to any of his rather vapid companions. Dating smart women didn’t work with the persona. Rachel Dawes knew about him, but didn’t want to get involved. That had been a sore spot at first, but being with Clark was much more relaxing. Clark got Batman in a way no outsider ever could.
Talking to Clark was becoming one of Bruce’s newest pleasures. He’d always known Clark was intelligent, but had never realized how smart he really was. When Bruce had been trying to figure out a calibration on one of the Watchtower’s stabilizers, it had taken Clark only seconds to figure out where the error was. Asking Clark how he’d spotted the problem so quickly had gotten him a shrug and “It’s a Kryptonian thing.” Why the man had gone into journalism instead of mathematics, Bruce had no idea. Clark was quick and bright and amusing on his good days, brilliant on his better ones.
Sex with Clark was one of the less-secret pleasures of their…thing. Clark seemed to know without it ever being said that Bruce preferred to be in control. He was frankly surprised that Superman would be willing to bottom for him, but hadn’t brought it up. No point in rocking the boat if there wasn’t a problem. Clark was always willing to go along with whatever Bruce had in mind, whether it was wild and rough or laughing and playful or slow and lazy. He never seemed to start things, though, and he was always very careful to restrain his strength.
Touching Clark was a newer pleasure. When they watched a movie or talked at Clark’s place, Bruce would stretch out next to Clark and pull him close, outlining patterns on his skin. Clark clearly enjoyed being touched and since watching him respond was so pleasurable, Bruce decided to indulge.
Tonight, Clark had hesitantly offered Bruce a massage when he’d complained of a stiff shoulder, the result of meeting with a building at higher speeds than were comfortable. Clark had magic fingers and Bruce’s determination to stay awake had quickly waned in the wake of his relief. He woke up several hours later to the sound of the shower. Clark slipped quietly out of the bathroom, heading for the living room. “What happened?” Bruce yawned. Clark froze.
“House fire. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Clark seemed embarrassed that he’d been disturbed, even though it was Clark's home and bed that Bruce was occupying and for some bizarre reason Bruce found it charming.
“S’okay. Come back to bed. Everyone make it out ok?”
“Yeah, but the house was totaled.”
Clark slid in next to him, clearly tired. Bruce really shouldn’t be starting anything, but they hadn’t had sex earlier that night and he wanted…he wanted Clark. Tonight was a slow and lazy night, he thought, before the pleasure took over and he stopped thinking about anything.
Afterwards, he lounged next to Clark, talking. Clark seemed more alert and relaxed now, and much less stressed. They’d ended up on the subject of childhoods and love lives. This was something Bruce had never really considered. Clark was right- until he’d started being Superman, he’d been at serious risk of being a lab rat somewhere. The thought was chilling. Plus, Clark was an incurably honest person and having to keep up a lie, even as a small child, must have been draining.
He’d also never put much thought into Clark’s personal history. He should have. Bruce had always vaguely assumed that Clark’s upbringing was idyllic. No wonder he’d been shy. All his old friends had bailed on him. Clark had once mentioned that Lois had forwarded him an email telling him what Chloe was up to. He hadn’t even heard from her firsthand about what she was doing. Peter Ross had been a childhood friend who’d taken off while Clark was in high school. Clark clearly didn’t blame Pete, but Bruce did. Lex- he’d known that Clark and Lex were acquainted, but had never realized that Clark had once considered Lex a friend. As for Lana Lang, Bruce had only heard rumors and second-hand information about that relationship. He’d not wanted to bring it up with Clark--discussing exes could be awkward at best.
“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.”
He stopped abruptly. That was a lot more then he’d meant to admit. He glanced at Clark as he shifted to kiss Bruce. Something was wrong. Clark should have been pleased at that admission. Instead, he looked intensely sad. “Clark, what’s wr-” A hungry mouth closing over his distracted Bruce until their communicators abruptly buzzed.
Bruce made a note to himself to look into setting up a victim’s compensation fund in Metropolis.
***
Bruce had dealt with fear all his life. His childhood fear had killed his parents, or at least that’s how he felt. He’d learned to improvise, adapt and overcome his way through any fear.
He’d never been so scared in his life, watching Clark take on Metallo and the Superman Revenge Squad. Superman had coolly agreed with J’onn that playing bait was the best way to catch them, overriding Batman’s furious objections. He then proceeded to get the stuffing beaten out of him and shot twice with kryptonite bullets while the rest of the League worked frantically to control them. Once the dust had settled and the kryptonite had been removed, Superman had announced his intention of going home to rest. Batman had dragged him to the manor instead, protesting all the way. Batman shoved him into a chair and informed him, “If you say one more word I’ll gag you.”
Superman shut up.
“You could have been killed, you reckless idiot! Where was your brain?” Batman continued in this vein for several minutes before winding down.
“May I speak now?” Superman said politely.
Batman glared.
“Yes, kryptonite is deadly to me, just as bullets are to you. However, you’ve been willing to take risks despite the danger. I am not exempt just because there’s one thing that could kill me instead of thousands.”
“All it takes is a little bit-”
“Or a stray bullet, or a slip on the stairs,” Superman said dryly.
Batman was winding up for another denunciation when Alfred walked into the room and courteously threw him out. Batman stalked down to the Batcave and started reviewing data. After going over the footage repeatedly, scanning the options and replaying the fight fourteen times, Batman had to admit that Superman was right. There really hadn’t been another option. So why was he so angry? He stripped out of the Batsuit and headed to off to shower, pondering his fury. It’s not as though he’d never seen Clark injured before. The last time- the last time he’d seen Clark hurt he’d had the same kind of meltdown, though much more truncated, he realized. What was going on here?
Bruce walked into his room to find Clark in his bed and very soundly asleep, with Alfred sitting by his side. He got the kind of look he used to get when he tracked mud in as a child. “Let me go shower and I’ll sit with him.” Alfred nodded, his eyes warming to something above freezing. Bruce hurried into the bathroom. There was nothing like one of Alfred’s looks to make him feel five again.
When the manor had been rebuilt, Bruce had reconstructed the original as much as possible. The one place he’d gone wild was his bathroom. The chromatherapy shower with multiple showerheads was definitely worth the money for relaxation. Bruce adjusted the water, flipped on the blue light and settled under the spray. He needed to think about why he’d blown up, but was getting distracted by thoughts of that first time with Clark in the shower. I should have brought him here sooner- we could have had serious fun in here. He stopped cold. Clark on his knees before Bruce in the shower. Clark stretched out on the floor, laughing at one of Bruce’s jokes. Clark under him in bed, his face flushed and begging. Clark fighting alongside him. Clark’s mangled body lying sprawled in front of him…
Oh. Hell. No wonder I’m a wreck. Being in love does that to a person.
Bruce briefly considered banging his head against the shower walls, opting out only because a concussion wasn’t going to help. He needed to seriously rewrite his plan. But first, he needed to go do something he’d never done. Apologize to Clark. He couldn’t go in there and proclaim his undying love because Clark would probably run. However, he could make the most of the next couple of days and then go from there.
Bruce quickly finished up, dried off and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Alfred looked up when he walked back in. “Master Clark has not woken up. He’s quite thoroughly exhausted.”
“I won’t yell again,” Bruce replied, responding to the unspoken reprimand.
“I brought up some food. I’d suggest you eat, Master Bruce, and then get some rest yourself.”
“I will, and thank you, Alfred.”
Alfred nodded and left the room. Bruce sat very carefully on the edge of the bed, just looking at Clark. Had he ever really just looked at him before? No, he hadn’t. In the beginning he’d been too irritated- and attracted- to really think about sitting and looking at him. Then as time wore on, he’d been afraid to look for too long. Afraid to reveal himself.
Clark’s hair was rumpled, its Superman perfection breaking into soft curls. His normally golden skin was pale. Bruce should bring in sunlamps for him. Resting like this he resembled a statue, something otherworldly and-alien. He frowned. He hadn’t really thought of Clark as being "other" for quite a while.
“Are you going to yell again?” Clark’s sleepy voice interrupted his reverie. Bruce moved closer, helping him to sit up.
“Hungry?” Bruce didn’t want to go there just yet. Not until Clark was feeling better.
“A little. Bruce-”
“Alfred brought up some soup,” he interrupted, going over to the tray. Clark docilely ate the soup, though he made sure Bruce did too.
As Bruce carried the dishes off to the tray, Clark said quietly, “I’m sorry I upset you, Bruce.”
“You didn’t upset me, you scared the hell out of me. I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”
“I’m not in love with it myself,” Clark smiled faintly, making Bruce’s heart do strange things in his chest. “I was still the best candidate for playing bait. Nobody else could have taken the amount of damage I did and still be functioning.”
“You were right,” Bruce said abruptly. “There wasn’t another way, but I wanted there to be.” He sat back down by Clark, taking his hand. “I just- don’t like seeing you get hurt.”
Clark shifted over to make room for Bruce on the bed, tugging gently at his hand. Bruce slid in next to him and pulled Clark close. That had been a closer call than he ever wanted to see again, but Clark was here and safe and warm and in his arms.
“I don’t like seeing you get hurt either.” Clark said softly.
Bruce’s arms tightened very gently around his lover.
***
Bruce lounged beside Clark, having decided that the best way to keep him resting in bed was to be there himself. This wasn’t exactly a hardship. The League was looking after their respective cities. When he’d broached the idea to J’onn, he’d gotten a long look, but the Martian had seemed- pleased?
Clark smiled sleepily up at him. Bruce felt a fond grin spreading across his face in response. “What’s up? I can hear you plotting from here.”
“Just thinking. Clark, why did you go into journalism?” Bruce had actually been trying to come up with ways to get their relationship off the ground. However, that wasn’t something he could tell Clark.
“I’m good at it, I like it and it’s a way to help people as me. It’s also a good cover.”
“But Clark, I’ve seen you do math. You’re incredible at it. Why not do something with it?”
Clark shrugged. “It’s a Kryptonian thing.”
“Meaning?”
“I talked to the AI and it said that most Kryptonians are good at math. J’onn says I’m about average in skills.”
“He did?” Bruce couldn’t help boggling at the thought of there being people who were better at math than Clark.
“He’s been to Krypton. Sometimes he tells me about it. Anyway, the math’s not important.”
“Not important?”
“It’s a cheat,” Clark said flatly. He sat up, the covers pooling in his lap. Bruce slapped down his hormones. His inner monitor was telling him he’d missed something important.
“It’s like my strength,” he said fiercely. "I was born with it. If I played pro football, I’d be a star. But I wouldn’t have earned it. It’s an unfair advantage.”
Was Clark really saying he had deliberately handicapped himself in favor of some quixotic idea of fairness?
“Writing- I can read fast, but comprehension and interpretation is something I had to work for like anyone else. I earned my job without a crutch. It’s a level playing field. It’s my own accomplishment, like being Batman is yours. Nobody would have blamed you if you’d run your company and never gotten into crime fighting. Instead, you worked really hard and created something greater than the sum of their parts. Superman- well, any Kryptonian living here could do that. My writing is mine.”
No, he wasn’t handicapping himself, he just wanted to be treated like a normal person. It made a lot of sense. Clark wasn’t the sort to want what he saw as a free ride. Bruce just hadn’t expected that it would extend to being Kryptonian in general. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Clark use his powers in day-to-day life.
“You don’t use your power much, do you? I mean, outside of being Superman.”
“It’s not safe. I learned that the hard way.” Clark clearly didn’t want to elaborate, and Bruce wasn’t going to push right now. This conversation had given him enough food for thought. He decided to change the subject by kissing Clark, which led to other things and left both of them very relaxed.
***
Bruce started carefully. He’d need to work slowly to get Clark to see this as something more than friends with benefits. Brucie 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 quit dating anyone else, he’d stand and talk with Clark. People had clearly started picking up on the relationship, so they were frequently invited together. 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.
Bruce had left some things at Clark’s place, and Clark had left a few things at Bruce’s. When he and Diana had a movie night, Bruce came too. He and Clark had a hard time explaining Sense and Sensibility to her, though she seemed to grasp it at the end. They had dinner with Oliver and Dinah.
Bruce remembered setting up a bird feeder as a boy, trying to lure them in to eat from his hand. The same tactics were being brought to bear on Clark. He was very accepting of Bruce’s attentions, but seemed uncomfortable initiating anything. The day Clark shyly invited him to a museum, Bruce wanted to dance with triumph.
It was shortly after that when things blew up in his face. He and Clark were watching a selection from Bruce’s collection of really bad action movies while recreating the dialogue with quotes from other movies. He hadn’t meant to say it right then, but seeing Clark’s face glow in the setting sun had loosened his inhibitions.
“I want to talk to you, Clark. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and I think it’s time for some changes.”
Bruce was trying to articulate this without babbling. He’d practiced this speech repeatedly and yet, when it came to delivering it to Clark, he was having trouble doing more than… something was off. Clark looked like the other shoe had just dropped. But there wasn’t a first shoe to begin with, so what was wrong?
“Clark?”
“I understand, Bruce. I’ll just go get my stuff. Or you can send it to me. Who’s the lucky lady, Selina?”
Bruce had no idea what was going on. Where the hell had Selina come from, and why did Clark look so hurt?
“Clark…”
“I’ll just go and - go.” Clark looked ill, his skin paling and agony in his eyes. He was trying to smile and Bruce was suddenly terrified.
“No!” Bruce was on his feet and reaching for Clark. He cringed away from Bruce’s touch as if his hands were Kryptonite. Their communicators buzzed then, making Bruce wish he could go back in time and start this over.
“I’ll see you at the Watchtower.” Clark tore out of the room, not giving Bruce a chance to speak. Bruce swore and ran for the Batcave. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he had a very bad feeling about this.
***
Luthor’s flying monkeys just continued the afternoon’s surreal mood. Wonder Woman was hovering over Superman, who was determinedly not looking at Batman. He tried to catch him after the fight, but Clark bolted while Bruce was dealing with a politely concerned J’onn, querying him about Superman’s abstraction. Bruce told him honestly that he didn’t know what was wrong, but would talk with him that evening.
Clark was a responsible person and wouldn’t bail on the benefit. Bruce was counting on that. He rushed through his preparations and got to the museum, grabbing two glasses of wine and looking for Clark. After several nerve-wracking minutes he spotted him, doing his best geek impersonation, talking to- Lex Luthor. Hell.
Bruce arrived at Clark’s side to the usual snide comments from Luthor. He’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was Clark’s defense and return hit. He wasn’t used to being protected, but if it was Clark doing the protecting, he could get to like it. And the look on Luthor’s face when Clark asked about soapmaking was truly priceless.
He quickly abandoned Luthor and headed after Clark. He caught up with him at the fountain, staring at the water.
“Did you mean it?” Clark turned to look at Bruce. “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. 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 had been flattered by experts. He’d never had anyone pay him a compliment like this. Hearing that somehow soothed the raw spot from Lex’s dig. He finally realized he’d just been standing there staring at Clark, his green eyes achingly sad. He brought his hand up, very gently touching Clark’s cheek.
“If you feel that way, then what the hell was this afternoon and you leaving about?” A little anger escaped.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“You thought… that’s what I wanted. How long have you been thinking that?” Bruce was utterly confused at this point. Why the hell was this happening? What was wrong with Clark?
Clark stepped back. “Pretty much since we first slept together.”
“WHAT??” Bruce needed to sit down but was afraid to move.
“Since we started. I figured you’d want to move on.”
“What…Clark, I don’t understand.”
Clark took off his glasses and shoved them into his jacket pocket. “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.”
Oh, no. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t possible he’d done this.
Clark tried to smile. Bruce winced mentally. “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 was trying not to choke. His earlier anger had rapidly mutated into horror. Clark really believed this. It wasn’t a joke. Oh, shit.
“Yeah, I didn’t think that was a very sensible theory. Or that you were slumming.”
“Slumming.” Bruce was in love with Clark and he’d left the man thinking he was using him or looking for data to bring Clark to heel. He felt sick, especially considering his original motivations for getting involved.
“The gorgeous brilliant billionaire crime fighter who dates supermodels and the hick alien from Kansas. What else made sense?”
“You’re actually from Krypton.” Bruce said dumbly.
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 shook a little. “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 turned to walk away. Bruce snatched at him, spinning him back and kissing him frantically. Clark responded, but Bruce could taste the tears that had started to fall.
Bruce pulled back and caught hold of Clark’s hand. Right now, he was afraid to let go. “We are going to talk about this-- and not where random people can stumble over us.”
“There’s nobody out here but us.”
Bruce started dragging Clark towards the door. Clark was resisting, clearly figuring he was going to get the brush-off at Wayne Manor rather then at the museum and not wanting to prolong the agony. “Clark, please come home with me.” I want it to be your home too- God, what have I done?
Clark stopped resisting and went with him.
***
The drive back to Wayne Manor was made in silence. Clark was obviously wrung out and Bruce was contemplating his stupidity in dull horror and trying desperately to think of a way to fix the disaster. When they got there, Bruce grabbed him again as soon as they got out of the car and hauled him into the study. Bruce shoved him towards the couch with a curt, “Sit.”
Clark sat on the couch as Bruce walked over to the bar and poured a drink. He didn’t want one but needed to think. He slammed the glass down and whirled to face Clark, suddenly furious. How could Clark possibly believe the crap he’d spouted? Clark flinched. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
His anger turned to ashes as he looked at his huddled lover. He thought all that because you made it possible, you idiot. 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.” A very faint tremor went through Clark. Bruce held on, praying to every deity he’d stopped believing in.
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 stared at him, looking completely poleaxed.
“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.” Bruce wondered if cutting his arm off was adequate penance.
“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 look less shaken.
“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 first 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 fell apart laughing. Bruce sighed. The jokes were just writing themselves tonight, but Clark’s laughter was infectious.
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 him. “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 stopped that line of conversation by kissing Clark into silence.
“We need to finish talking,” Bruce warned him softly.
“Could we do it later?” Clark asked plaintively, his exhaustion showing.
“As long as you’re staying here.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he said. Bruce wanted to kiss him again, but Clark needed to rest after the emotional turmoil of the day. He helped Clark up and steered him to the door and up to his room. Undressing his lover was always a pleasure. Even though this time wouldn’t lead to sex, it was wonderful because Clark was his admitted love as well as lover, and Clark loved him too.
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 laughed quietly as Clark collapsed into sleep. They’d have a lot to talk about tomorrow, including Bruce’s stupid schemes. For right now, though, the world was in its proper order. Funny how giving up control made that happen.
Author: Northernwalker
Pairing: Bruce/Clark
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angsty angst with happy ending.
Universes: Batman Begins/Smallville. And the Justice League.
Word Count: 6,545
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."
Happening simultaneously with Love Isn't Logical. Bruce demanded equal time.
Bruce Wayne was a control freak. He’d admit it only to close friends- not that he currently had any. He had learned how to harness his will as he began to develop the skills he would need for his future. He had put in the work needed to build both his alter egos. He was engaged in running the Justice League. He was totally in control of his world, down to the buckles on his Batsuit.
He was attracted to a superpowered alien. This was not in his plans.
It wasn’t hard to understand why he felt something for Clark. The man was highly intelligent, though his cover personality hid that as much as possible. He exuded cheer and kindness and gentleness and faith in humanity, all qualities Bruce had shed or buried years ago. He’d grown up in a solid Midwestern family and had actual morals. He’d taken abilities that could have been used to conquer the world and used them to help people. Clark had even been nice to him, though Bruce had been quite nasty in the beginning. And, on the shallow side, Clark was truly gorgeous, all bright green eyes and golden skin and curly hair and a build that showed he’d grown up on a farm, with muscles to spare.
He’d tried ignoring it. He’d shoved Superman/Kal-El/Clark away. He’d signally failed to fall out of lust. Now he needed to do something to get this situation back within his grasp. No one was going to have power over him, not even someone he- cared for. Fortunately, he had a plan. Clark’s glances in his direction hadn’t gone unnoticed. If the Blue Boy Scout was attracted to him, he had some power over the situation. It was time to get started.
***
Well, he’d had a plan.
Clark tended to be shy around him. Bruce didn’t take it personally, as when he wasn’t being Superman Clark was a bit diffident with people in general. Certainly when it came to romance. He’d seen people try to hit on Superman and watched in amusement as he slid away, substituting another member of the League. Diana especially seemed to enjoy terrifying people who just wanted to feel Superman’s muscles. He’d witnessed Clark carefully evading flirtations at parties. At this point, he was wondering if the man had ever had sex.
The plan had been to go to Metropolis and talk to Superman, maybe lay some groundwork for seducing him into doing something about the attraction. At most, he’d thought about kissing Clark. He’d been trying to be less abrupt with him at meetings, but Superman was still hesitant about dealing with him off the battlefield. Considering that Batman had ordered him out of Gotham on their first meeting, Bruce couldn’t blame him for being reserved, but surely he’d had time to get over that!
However, when he’d gotten to Metropolis, his vaunted patience had run out at last. He had started the meeting talking but had lost his train of thought when Superman had run a hand through his hair, rumpling the normally perfect waves. Somehow he’d moved from “gawping” to “seeing if lungs could be reverse engineered for carbon dioxide.” After a few moments of paralysis, Superman had responded with gratifying enthusiasm. He certainly hadn’t meant to strip him and give him a blow-job, though Superman had no objections to returning the favor. The venue had been changed to Clark’s apartment because Superman hadn’t wanted to risk slicing Bruce to ribbons on the gravel roof.
Bruce had had sex in a lot of places with a lot of people. He’d never had sex like this before. Clark was incredibly responsive and soaked up touch. Bruce, who normally didn’t get touchy-feely with his partners, couldn’t get enough of touching Clark, of learning what made him moan, what made him gasp and what made him squirm away laughing. Clark wanted to touch him, too, with a shy, tentative persistence. Bruce wasn’t used to having a partner map his body, stroking and caressing. He had no objection to getting used to it, though.
When they had both collapsed on Clark’s bed, Bruce felt no desire to move. He shifted closer, dropping his head on Clark’s solid shoulder. He couldn’t resist tracing a lazy pattern on Clark’s chest. Clark pulled him in, gently rubbing Bruce’s back. Clark was obviously losing the fight to stay awake- there’d been a bridge collapse that day and a pre-dawn meeting to deal with another of Luthor’s sillier schemes along with Bruce’s endeavors to exhaust him. While he wasn’t in the habit of sleeping with his partners, he was much too relaxed to leave.
When Clark’s alarm went off the next morning, Bruce not only renamed it but suggested something so crude involving the alarm and Luthor that it surprised even him. He then teased Clark into action and a hot shower, where he rediscovered just how much fun could be had with soap, warm water and a very willing partner. While they’d had to move to dry land before someone drowned, the bathroom floor got thoroughly wet.
Returning to bed had involved a nap and something else Bruce wasn’t in the habit of doing- snuggling. However, his inner sex maniac seemed to be running his brain at the moment and apparently did. Bruce couldn’t really object to being naked and in bed touching a warm and equally naked Clark.
When he woke up again, he chivvied Clark into getting up and going out with him for breakfast. Clark kept sneaking glances at Bruce as if expecting him to vanish. It was just as well he hadn’t bailed on Clark last night, because he might have been hurt. Besides, Bruce was enjoying the chance to talk to Clark. The man had a wickedly sly sense of humor which Bruce hadn’t really gotten to see before. Yes, this was a detour from his plan, but he could work with it.
They got called into another meeting of the League when there was another Luthor hiccup. The man had been a pain in both boarding school and college and he’d clearly not shed that part of his personality. That settled, Bruce took care of some work and then headed to his Metropolis apartment to get ready for the evening.
His Brucie persona was a professional clotheshorse. In his rare leisure time, Bruce preferred comfortable gear to Armani and Gaultier. All those fittings and discussions had left him with a clear understanding on how clothing helped build a character, though. Therefore, he turned up at Clark’s apartment that evening in a Henley and comfortably worn jeans, carrying pizza, beer and a really bad action movie.
Clark was surprised but welcoming and they shared a companionable evening mocking Tom Cruise’s theatrics and rescripting the dialogue. A playful squabble turned physical and ended with Bruce pinning Clark to the couch and grinding against him. Clark could have tossed him through the wall with no effort and having him willingly submitting to Bruce made him feel in control, if only just. It was…gratifying that Clark felt able to relax around him, being that that Bruce was the keeper of the Kryptonite.
Getting Clark naked while lying on top of him wasn’t going to work, so Bruce sat back, straddling his hips and started tugging at Clark’s white tee. Clark promptly sat up and shed his shirt, helping Bruce out of his on the way. Bruce was about to start tearing their jeans off when Clark put his arms around him and laid his cheek against Bruce’s chest. Looking down at the tumbled curls, Bruce felt an unaccustomed tenderness which he sharply stifled. It’s sex. If he wants you, you’re in control. He pushed Clark back onto the couch, kissing him hard.
When Bruce arrived back at his apartment later that night, he was satisfied with the progress he’d made. While he’d gone off-plan the night before, he’d managed to get things back on track. Clark wanted him and seemed to be willing to play things Bruce’s way. He could sleep now. The fact that he wasn’t sleeping as well as he had last night was due to his lack of patrolling and had nothing to do with Clark’s absence. Bruce drifted off while replaying the evening’s events. There had only been one odd moment- a flash of pain in Clark’s eyes when Bruce had broken his embrace. Maybe he’d banged an elbow or something, Bruce decided.
***
The next few weeks had Bruce logging a number of trips to Metropolis. He was still working and patrolling in Gotham; oddly enough, his new, more random schedule was throwing the local criminals off. The Joker and Two Face were both still in Arkham and there were no new masterminds that Batman needed to swat down. While he needed to keep Brucie active, he could do that in Metropolis. Dating had become a chore several months before he’d started up with Clark, but he hadn’t felt he could stop now. All things considered, though, he’d rather sit and talk to Clark than listen to any of his rather vapid companions. Dating smart women didn’t work with the persona. Rachel Dawes knew about him, but didn’t want to get involved. That had been a sore spot at first, but being with Clark was much more relaxing. Clark got Batman in a way no outsider ever could.
Talking to Clark was becoming one of Bruce’s newest pleasures. He’d always known Clark was intelligent, but had never realized how smart he really was. When Bruce had been trying to figure out a calibration on one of the Watchtower’s stabilizers, it had taken Clark only seconds to figure out where the error was. Asking Clark how he’d spotted the problem so quickly had gotten him a shrug and “It’s a Kryptonian thing.” Why the man had gone into journalism instead of mathematics, Bruce had no idea. Clark was quick and bright and amusing on his good days, brilliant on his better ones.
Sex with Clark was one of the less-secret pleasures of their…thing. Clark seemed to know without it ever being said that Bruce preferred to be in control. He was frankly surprised that Superman would be willing to bottom for him, but hadn’t brought it up. No point in rocking the boat if there wasn’t a problem. Clark was always willing to go along with whatever Bruce had in mind, whether it was wild and rough or laughing and playful or slow and lazy. He never seemed to start things, though, and he was always very careful to restrain his strength.
Touching Clark was a newer pleasure. When they watched a movie or talked at Clark’s place, Bruce would stretch out next to Clark and pull him close, outlining patterns on his skin. Clark clearly enjoyed being touched and since watching him respond was so pleasurable, Bruce decided to indulge.
Tonight, Clark had hesitantly offered Bruce a massage when he’d complained of a stiff shoulder, the result of meeting with a building at higher speeds than were comfortable. Clark had magic fingers and Bruce’s determination to stay awake had quickly waned in the wake of his relief. He woke up several hours later to the sound of the shower. Clark slipped quietly out of the bathroom, heading for the living room. “What happened?” Bruce yawned. Clark froze.
“House fire. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Clark seemed embarrassed that he’d been disturbed, even though it was Clark's home and bed that Bruce was occupying and for some bizarre reason Bruce found it charming.
“S’okay. Come back to bed. Everyone make it out ok?”
“Yeah, but the house was totaled.”
Clark slid in next to him, clearly tired. Bruce really shouldn’t be starting anything, but they hadn’t had sex earlier that night and he wanted…he wanted Clark. Tonight was a slow and lazy night, he thought, before the pleasure took over and he stopped thinking about anything.
Afterwards, he lounged next to Clark, talking. Clark seemed more alert and relaxed now, and much less stressed. They’d ended up on the subject of childhoods and love lives. This was something Bruce had never really considered. Clark was right- until he’d started being Superman, he’d been at serious risk of being a lab rat somewhere. The thought was chilling. Plus, Clark was an incurably honest person and having to keep up a lie, even as a small child, must have been draining.
He’d also never put much thought into Clark’s personal history. He should have. Bruce had always vaguely assumed that Clark’s upbringing was idyllic. No wonder he’d been shy. All his old friends had bailed on him. Clark had once mentioned that Lois had forwarded him an email telling him what Chloe was up to. He hadn’t even heard from her firsthand about what she was doing. Peter Ross had been a childhood friend who’d taken off while Clark was in high school. Clark clearly didn’t blame Pete, but Bruce did. Lex- he’d known that Clark and Lex were acquainted, but had never realized that Clark had once considered Lex a friend. As for Lana Lang, Bruce had only heard rumors and second-hand information about that relationship. He’d not wanted to bring it up with Clark--discussing exes could be awkward at best.
“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.”
He stopped abruptly. That was a lot more then he’d meant to admit. He glanced at Clark as he shifted to kiss Bruce. Something was wrong. Clark should have been pleased at that admission. Instead, he looked intensely sad. “Clark, what’s wr-” A hungry mouth closing over his distracted Bruce until their communicators abruptly buzzed.
Bruce made a note to himself to look into setting up a victim’s compensation fund in Metropolis.
***
Bruce had dealt with fear all his life. His childhood fear had killed his parents, or at least that’s how he felt. He’d learned to improvise, adapt and overcome his way through any fear.
He’d never been so scared in his life, watching Clark take on Metallo and the Superman Revenge Squad. Superman had coolly agreed with J’onn that playing bait was the best way to catch them, overriding Batman’s furious objections. He then proceeded to get the stuffing beaten out of him and shot twice with kryptonite bullets while the rest of the League worked frantically to control them. Once the dust had settled and the kryptonite had been removed, Superman had announced his intention of going home to rest. Batman had dragged him to the manor instead, protesting all the way. Batman shoved him into a chair and informed him, “If you say one more word I’ll gag you.”
Superman shut up.
“You could have been killed, you reckless idiot! Where was your brain?” Batman continued in this vein for several minutes before winding down.
“May I speak now?” Superman said politely.
Batman glared.
“Yes, kryptonite is deadly to me, just as bullets are to you. However, you’ve been willing to take risks despite the danger. I am not exempt just because there’s one thing that could kill me instead of thousands.”
“All it takes is a little bit-”
“Or a stray bullet, or a slip on the stairs,” Superman said dryly.
Batman was winding up for another denunciation when Alfred walked into the room and courteously threw him out. Batman stalked down to the Batcave and started reviewing data. After going over the footage repeatedly, scanning the options and replaying the fight fourteen times, Batman had to admit that Superman was right. There really hadn’t been another option. So why was he so angry? He stripped out of the Batsuit and headed to off to shower, pondering his fury. It’s not as though he’d never seen Clark injured before. The last time- the last time he’d seen Clark hurt he’d had the same kind of meltdown, though much more truncated, he realized. What was going on here?
Bruce walked into his room to find Clark in his bed and very soundly asleep, with Alfred sitting by his side. He got the kind of look he used to get when he tracked mud in as a child. “Let me go shower and I’ll sit with him.” Alfred nodded, his eyes warming to something above freezing. Bruce hurried into the bathroom. There was nothing like one of Alfred’s looks to make him feel five again.
When the manor had been rebuilt, Bruce had reconstructed the original as much as possible. The one place he’d gone wild was his bathroom. The chromatherapy shower with multiple showerheads was definitely worth the money for relaxation. Bruce adjusted the water, flipped on the blue light and settled under the spray. He needed to think about why he’d blown up, but was getting distracted by thoughts of that first time with Clark in the shower. I should have brought him here sooner- we could have had serious fun in here. He stopped cold. Clark on his knees before Bruce in the shower. Clark stretched out on the floor, laughing at one of Bruce’s jokes. Clark under him in bed, his face flushed and begging. Clark fighting alongside him. Clark’s mangled body lying sprawled in front of him…
Oh. Hell. No wonder I’m a wreck. Being in love does that to a person.
Bruce briefly considered banging his head against the shower walls, opting out only because a concussion wasn’t going to help. He needed to seriously rewrite his plan. But first, he needed to go do something he’d never done. Apologize to Clark. He couldn’t go in there and proclaim his undying love because Clark would probably run. However, he could make the most of the next couple of days and then go from there.
Bruce quickly finished up, dried off and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Alfred looked up when he walked back in. “Master Clark has not woken up. He’s quite thoroughly exhausted.”
“I won’t yell again,” Bruce replied, responding to the unspoken reprimand.
“I brought up some food. I’d suggest you eat, Master Bruce, and then get some rest yourself.”
“I will, and thank you, Alfred.”
Alfred nodded and left the room. Bruce sat very carefully on the edge of the bed, just looking at Clark. Had he ever really just looked at him before? No, he hadn’t. In the beginning he’d been too irritated- and attracted- to really think about sitting and looking at him. Then as time wore on, he’d been afraid to look for too long. Afraid to reveal himself.
Clark’s hair was rumpled, its Superman perfection breaking into soft curls. His normally golden skin was pale. Bruce should bring in sunlamps for him. Resting like this he resembled a statue, something otherworldly and-alien. He frowned. He hadn’t really thought of Clark as being "other" for quite a while.
“Are you going to yell again?” Clark’s sleepy voice interrupted his reverie. Bruce moved closer, helping him to sit up.
“Hungry?” Bruce didn’t want to go there just yet. Not until Clark was feeling better.
“A little. Bruce-”
“Alfred brought up some soup,” he interrupted, going over to the tray. Clark docilely ate the soup, though he made sure Bruce did too.
As Bruce carried the dishes off to the tray, Clark said quietly, “I’m sorry I upset you, Bruce.”
“You didn’t upset me, you scared the hell out of me. I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”
“I’m not in love with it myself,” Clark smiled faintly, making Bruce’s heart do strange things in his chest. “I was still the best candidate for playing bait. Nobody else could have taken the amount of damage I did and still be functioning.”
“You were right,” Bruce said abruptly. “There wasn’t another way, but I wanted there to be.” He sat back down by Clark, taking his hand. “I just- don’t like seeing you get hurt.”
Clark shifted over to make room for Bruce on the bed, tugging gently at his hand. Bruce slid in next to him and pulled Clark close. That had been a closer call than he ever wanted to see again, but Clark was here and safe and warm and in his arms.
“I don’t like seeing you get hurt either.” Clark said softly.
Bruce’s arms tightened very gently around his lover.
***
Bruce lounged beside Clark, having decided that the best way to keep him resting in bed was to be there himself. This wasn’t exactly a hardship. The League was looking after their respective cities. When he’d broached the idea to J’onn, he’d gotten a long look, but the Martian had seemed- pleased?
Clark smiled sleepily up at him. Bruce felt a fond grin spreading across his face in response. “What’s up? I can hear you plotting from here.”
“Just thinking. Clark, why did you go into journalism?” Bruce had actually been trying to come up with ways to get their relationship off the ground. However, that wasn’t something he could tell Clark.
“I’m good at it, I like it and it’s a way to help people as me. It’s also a good cover.”
“But Clark, I’ve seen you do math. You’re incredible at it. Why not do something with it?”
Clark shrugged. “It’s a Kryptonian thing.”
“Meaning?”
“I talked to the AI and it said that most Kryptonians are good at math. J’onn says I’m about average in skills.”
“He did?” Bruce couldn’t help boggling at the thought of there being people who were better at math than Clark.
“He’s been to Krypton. Sometimes he tells me about it. Anyway, the math’s not important.”
“Not important?”
“It’s a cheat,” Clark said flatly. He sat up, the covers pooling in his lap. Bruce slapped down his hormones. His inner monitor was telling him he’d missed something important.
“It’s like my strength,” he said fiercely. "I was born with it. If I played pro football, I’d be a star. But I wouldn’t have earned it. It’s an unfair advantage.”
Was Clark really saying he had deliberately handicapped himself in favor of some quixotic idea of fairness?
“Writing- I can read fast, but comprehension and interpretation is something I had to work for like anyone else. I earned my job without a crutch. It’s a level playing field. It’s my own accomplishment, like being Batman is yours. Nobody would have blamed you if you’d run your company and never gotten into crime fighting. Instead, you worked really hard and created something greater than the sum of their parts. Superman- well, any Kryptonian living here could do that. My writing is mine.”
No, he wasn’t handicapping himself, he just wanted to be treated like a normal person. It made a lot of sense. Clark wasn’t the sort to want what he saw as a free ride. Bruce just hadn’t expected that it would extend to being Kryptonian in general. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Clark use his powers in day-to-day life.
“You don’t use your power much, do you? I mean, outside of being Superman.”
“It’s not safe. I learned that the hard way.” Clark clearly didn’t want to elaborate, and Bruce wasn’t going to push right now. This conversation had given him enough food for thought. He decided to change the subject by kissing Clark, which led to other things and left both of them very relaxed.
***
Bruce started carefully. He’d need to work slowly to get Clark to see this as something more than friends with benefits. Brucie 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 quit dating anyone else, he’d stand and talk with Clark. People had clearly started picking up on the relationship, so they were frequently invited together. 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.
Bruce had left some things at Clark’s place, and Clark had left a few things at Bruce’s. When he and Diana had a movie night, Bruce came too. He and Clark had a hard time explaining Sense and Sensibility to her, though she seemed to grasp it at the end. They had dinner with Oliver and Dinah.
Bruce remembered setting up a bird feeder as a boy, trying to lure them in to eat from his hand. The same tactics were being brought to bear on Clark. He was very accepting of Bruce’s attentions, but seemed uncomfortable initiating anything. The day Clark shyly invited him to a museum, Bruce wanted to dance with triumph.
It was shortly after that when things blew up in his face. He and Clark were watching a selection from Bruce’s collection of really bad action movies while recreating the dialogue with quotes from other movies. He hadn’t meant to say it right then, but seeing Clark’s face glow in the setting sun had loosened his inhibitions.
“I want to talk to you, Clark. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and I think it’s time for some changes.”
Bruce was trying to articulate this without babbling. He’d practiced this speech repeatedly and yet, when it came to delivering it to Clark, he was having trouble doing more than… something was off. Clark looked like the other shoe had just dropped. But there wasn’t a first shoe to begin with, so what was wrong?
“Clark?”
“I understand, Bruce. I’ll just go get my stuff. Or you can send it to me. Who’s the lucky lady, Selina?”
Bruce had no idea what was going on. Where the hell had Selina come from, and why did Clark look so hurt?
“Clark…”
“I’ll just go and - go.” Clark looked ill, his skin paling and agony in his eyes. He was trying to smile and Bruce was suddenly terrified.
“No!” Bruce was on his feet and reaching for Clark. He cringed away from Bruce’s touch as if his hands were Kryptonite. Their communicators buzzed then, making Bruce wish he could go back in time and start this over.
“I’ll see you at the Watchtower.” Clark tore out of the room, not giving Bruce a chance to speak. Bruce swore and ran for the Batcave. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he had a very bad feeling about this.
***
Luthor’s flying monkeys just continued the afternoon’s surreal mood. Wonder Woman was hovering over Superman, who was determinedly not looking at Batman. He tried to catch him after the fight, but Clark bolted while Bruce was dealing with a politely concerned J’onn, querying him about Superman’s abstraction. Bruce told him honestly that he didn’t know what was wrong, but would talk with him that evening.
Clark was a responsible person and wouldn’t bail on the benefit. Bruce was counting on that. He rushed through his preparations and got to the museum, grabbing two glasses of wine and looking for Clark. After several nerve-wracking minutes he spotted him, doing his best geek impersonation, talking to- Lex Luthor. Hell.
Bruce arrived at Clark’s side to the usual snide comments from Luthor. He’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was Clark’s defense and return hit. He wasn’t used to being protected, but if it was Clark doing the protecting, he could get to like it. And the look on Luthor’s face when Clark asked about soapmaking was truly priceless.
He quickly abandoned Luthor and headed after Clark. He caught up with him at the fountain, staring at the water.
“Did you mean it?” Clark turned to look at Bruce. “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. 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 had been flattered by experts. He’d never had anyone pay him a compliment like this. Hearing that somehow soothed the raw spot from Lex’s dig. He finally realized he’d just been standing there staring at Clark, his green eyes achingly sad. He brought his hand up, very gently touching Clark’s cheek.
“If you feel that way, then what the hell was this afternoon and you leaving about?” A little anger escaped.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“You thought… that’s what I wanted. How long have you been thinking that?” Bruce was utterly confused at this point. Why the hell was this happening? What was wrong with Clark?
Clark stepped back. “Pretty much since we first slept together.”
“WHAT??” Bruce needed to sit down but was afraid to move.
“Since we started. I figured you’d want to move on.”
“What…Clark, I don’t understand.”
Clark took off his glasses and shoved them into his jacket pocket. “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.”
Oh, no. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t possible he’d done this.
Clark tried to smile. Bruce winced mentally. “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 was trying not to choke. His earlier anger had rapidly mutated into horror. Clark really believed this. It wasn’t a joke. Oh, shit.
“Yeah, I didn’t think that was a very sensible theory. Or that you were slumming.”
“Slumming.” Bruce was in love with Clark and he’d left the man thinking he was using him or looking for data to bring Clark to heel. He felt sick, especially considering his original motivations for getting involved.
“The gorgeous brilliant billionaire crime fighter who dates supermodels and the hick alien from Kansas. What else made sense?”
“You’re actually from Krypton.” Bruce said dumbly.
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 shook a little. “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 turned to walk away. Bruce snatched at him, spinning him back and kissing him frantically. Clark responded, but Bruce could taste the tears that had started to fall.
Bruce pulled back and caught hold of Clark’s hand. Right now, he was afraid to let go. “We are going to talk about this-- and not where random people can stumble over us.”
“There’s nobody out here but us.”
Bruce started dragging Clark towards the door. Clark was resisting, clearly figuring he was going to get the brush-off at Wayne Manor rather then at the museum and not wanting to prolong the agony. “Clark, please come home with me.” I want it to be your home too- God, what have I done?
Clark stopped resisting and went with him.
***
The drive back to Wayne Manor was made in silence. Clark was obviously wrung out and Bruce was contemplating his stupidity in dull horror and trying desperately to think of a way to fix the disaster. When they got there, Bruce grabbed him again as soon as they got out of the car and hauled him into the study. Bruce shoved him towards the couch with a curt, “Sit.”
Clark sat on the couch as Bruce walked over to the bar and poured a drink. He didn’t want one but needed to think. He slammed the glass down and whirled to face Clark, suddenly furious. How could Clark possibly believe the crap he’d spouted? Clark flinched. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
His anger turned to ashes as he looked at his huddled lover. He thought all that because you made it possible, you idiot. 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.” A very faint tremor went through Clark. Bruce held on, praying to every deity he’d stopped believing in.
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 stared at him, looking completely poleaxed.
“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.” Bruce wondered if cutting his arm off was adequate penance.
“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 look less shaken.
“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 first 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 fell apart laughing. Bruce sighed. The jokes were just writing themselves tonight, but Clark’s laughter was infectious.
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 him. “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 stopped that line of conversation by kissing Clark into silence.
“We need to finish talking,” Bruce warned him softly.
“Could we do it later?” Clark asked plaintively, his exhaustion showing.
“As long as you’re staying here.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he said. Bruce wanted to kiss him again, but Clark needed to rest after the emotional turmoil of the day. He helped Clark up and steered him to the door and up to his room. Undressing his lover was always a pleasure. Even though this time wouldn’t lead to sex, it was wonderful because Clark was his admitted love as well as lover, and Clark loved him too.
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 laughed quietly as Clark collapsed into sleep. They’d have a lot to talk about tomorrow, including Bruce’s stupid schemes. For right now, though, the world was in its proper order. Funny how giving up control made that happen.