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Bruce leaned on the railing surrounding the edge of the balcony, the garden below covered in two inches of snow. There was a corona around the moon, and Orion chased Taurus across the clear sky. The air was cold, but Bruce barely felt it; the party was too warm.
He folded his fingers together and contentedly breathed the chilly air. He wasn’t yet sure what the New Year would bring him, and if he avoided the party, he could postpone the celebration longer.
He had been thinking of heading back into the unfortunate press of bodies when he felt Clark come to his side. His long-time friend mirrored his position against the railing. They leaned in silence, Bruce enjoying Clark’s company even if he wouldn’t say it, until Clark finally spoke.
“It’s a good party. You should be in there enjoying it.”
“It’s the same as last year, and the year before that. People I barely know, other than you, Lois, and the other League members, drink my alcohol and eat Alfred’s food, all the while making nice so that I’ll in one way or another give them money or support.”
Clark turned around so he could lean backwards on his elbows. His chest stretched his shirt, and not for the first time Bruce wondered how no one realized Clark Kent wasn’t a scrawny geek. “You really dislike your own New Year’s parties that much?”
“Just tired of thinking about the New Year; it’s often so much like the previous year. I’m also tired of feeling like a friendly bank. Tired of people making small talk. Tired of people trying to figure out how I've kept my company afloat while I’m so obtuse.”
Clark smiled, the one that always put Bruce at ease when he didn’t realize he was tense. “They just don’t know that you’re a seasoned crime fighter by night and that that’s your real passion, no matter how good you are at your job.”
Bruce just murmured noncommittally back at him. The party was boring him. But he really didn’t want to go out and sweep the town in cape and cowl, either. And he certainly wasn’t in the frame of mind to sit by himself in the Cave; he did that enough already. He was in some sort of mood, as Alfred might say when he thought he was out of Bruce's hearing.
Clark unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and Bruce raised an eyebrow. Not that Superman needed to worry about catching a cold, but Clark Kent might think about it. Clark just raised an eyebrow back. “Time to relax a bit. Clark can undo a button or two. Let his hair down.”
Bruce didn’t feel like touching that one. Instead he just looked back over his snowy garden and listened to the music coming from the ballroom at the next balcony. They stood in silence a while longer, until Clark turned back around to look out at the grounds with him. “I’m tired too, Bruce.”
Bruce turned to look at him, and realized that yes, Clark looked a little worn down. Not noticeably to anyone else, but Bruce knew what to look for. “Of what, Clark?”
“Tired of Lois badgering me about finding a girlfriend, or coming on to me herself. Of coming so close to putting away so many criminals and yet they slip through legal cracks. Of Luthor.” Clark turned to Bruce, and the dim light from the windows made his blue eyes glow a little. He smiled as he continued, “But at this moment, I’m tired of pretending that I’m drunk.”
Bruce couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. “I know exactly what you mean.” And he did. He’d been pretending to sip glass after glass of champagne all night, and had used harder stuff as a prop earlier in the evening during the pre-party cocktail hour. He could drink it, if he really wanted to, but he didn’t. Of all nights, New Year’s was time for Batman to be sharp if he was needed, and he didn’t want to take the risk.
Though if he were drunk, even just tipsy, his guests would be much easier to handle.
“You could always make Clark Kent have a low tolerance and pass out early on, let Superman come to the party while Kent sleeps it off.” At least Clark could actually drink it, it just didn’t affect him.
“And just how would Bruce Wayne know Superman?”
“Why not? He knows everyone else, or everyone else knows him. You could have seen the party while flying and decided to stop in.”
“Right, Superman: Fly-by party crasher. That’s an association I don’t need.”
“Suit yourself. You’re the one that has to feign a headache tomorrow morning.”
“Perhaps Clark Kent will learn to drink water as he drinks alcohol.”
Bruce smirked. “He probably would have learned that by now.”
“Maybe Clark is the obtuse one.”
“Maybe Clark and Bruce can be obtuse together.”
“Maybe.” Clark turned back towards the garden.
Bruce turned back as well, and moved closer to Clark; he was getting a little cold. At least, that would be his excuse if Clark asked. It had more to do with enjoying Clark’s company. One of the other League members would have been fine to chat with, but he was most comfortable with Clark. Wally would bounce around too much, Diana would imply that she was interested in him romantically and yet not make any sort of gesture to express it, and J’onn would be too grave. He was glad Clark had also wanted a break from the hectic scene inside.
Clark moved closer to him; Bruce was surprised, but didn’t mind. At all. And he wasn’t uncomfortable when Clark turned to him, wide eyes only inches away. “Together, Bruce.”
Bruce turned to look at him, those serious, alien eyes difficult to read even for him. “What?”
“You and I, Bruce and Clark, the Bat and Kal- together, right?”
“Yes…” Surely Clark was leading somewhere with this…
“I just wanted. To. You know how much that means, right?”
“Wha- No.”
“We’ve been through a lot together. Fought each other, fought side by side, saved each other’s lives. We both don’t really have anyone else in our lives, no one as close, no one the same.”
“No, I guess not.” Bruce certainly wasn’t close with anyone in the same way he was with Clark. Clark just augmented him in ways impossible for other people. Even when they didn’t get along, Clark understood him. Clark was there for him, even when he pushed him away. There was no one else who was the same. On any world they’d been to yet.
“Well. I just wanted to say thank you. For being there for me.” And then Clark leaned forwards and kissed him.
Not aggressively, just a press of his lips and the hint of his tongue as he pulled away.
It still shocked Bruce.
Not that it would be noticeable to anyone but Clark, who just had a hopeful-looking smirk on his face.
Was this it? The years of tension and uncertainty and what he’d assumed was fraternal affection boiling down to a chaste kiss on his balcony?
Clark’s eyes remained unreadable. “Don’t look so confused, Bruce. It was a thank you, nothing more.”
But what if he wanted it to be more? And would Clark really make that grand gesture without it meaning more? “What if I’d like to thank you in return, for your camaraderie even in the face of our two wills colliding?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
So Bruce leaned in and kissed Clark, putting his turmoil of emotions into it. As a result it was a bit sloppy and more than a little hot. They both straightened up so they could go deeper, and Bruce wound up with one hand folded into the waistband of Clark’s pants, while Clark had one powerful hand wrapped gently around the back of Bruce’s head.
Tension Bruce hadn’t quite realized had been building inside him- maybe for years- released as he kissed harder, using his teeth and his tongue, listening to Clark’s tiny groans of affirmation. A new sort of tension was rapidly developing, one that made part of him want to question exactly what he thought he was doing out here on his balcony in the cold, but he wasn’t going to worry about it right now.
Besides, he wasn’t cold anymore.
Clark pulled back to let him breathe, and they stood there looking at each other, neither saying anything. Until Bruce had to break the silence. “What is this?”
“Whatever you think it should be. But I’ll admit that I’m tired of skirting around what we both know has been there for so long.”
“We work together.”
Clark gave him a look that clearly expressed how obtuse Bruce Wayne could be even when he wasn’t pretending. “I’m not saying we should get married. But I do think it’s time we did something. You can’t deny it. It makes working together difficult sometimes. And Wally’s been making inappropriate comments for some time now.” Before Bruce could say he didn’t know that, Clark continued. “He was careful not to say them to you.”
“I’ll have to speak with him. We can’t have gossip floating around the Watchtower.”
“Does it count as gossip if it’s true?”
Before Bruce could answer, Clark kissed him again, passionately, hard, and Bruce had half a mind to demand they take this to someplace more private and far, far away from the party. Clark had a talented tongue and oddly seemed to know exactly where Bruce liked to be teased- he must be looking through his skin to see bundles of nerves- and Bruce wondered about how it would feel to have the hard body of Superman pressed against him without the barrier of clothing in between.
And then he heard a gasp and a murmur behind him.
Clark pulled away and spoke to him in a slow, slurred voice. “See, Bruce? That’s how a woman should kiss you. You need someone to do it that way.”
While that was somewhat true… He replied with his voice a bit higher and louder than normal, and slurred as well. “Oh, okay. Too bad you don’t want me, you don’t do it too badly.”
“Clark?” Lois’s voice called from behind Bruce, and he turned towards her, Clark throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Clark, are you okay?”
“I’m just. Just. I think I’m a little drunk.” Clark let go, walked towards her, and tripped, and quite the spectacular fall it was, the faux inebriation combining with Clark Kent’s normal ineptitude.
“Clark!” Lois rushed towards to help him back up, while the Mayor, who had accompanied Lois to the balcony, seemed unsure of where to look.
Bruce tried to engage the man in conversation, but the Mayor wisely chose to leave him be. Bruce had long ago realized that no one wanted to talk to him when he was perceived as both drunk and idiotic.
Fine by him. Sometimes it was advantageous to be considered as barely more than a playboy. So long as he made up for his behavior in other ways.
He followed the Mayor back to the party and engaged in another boisterous round of greetings and handshakes. Alfred came over to insist that he not consume anymore alcohol lest he be perceived as nothing more than a fraternity boy, and Bruce hid his smirk at Alfred’s wink.
After a sufficient amount of time, he excused himself again and went to find Clark, who was lying on a couch in his den, Lois in a chair by his side. She looked up at him accusingly. “You know he doesn’t have much of a tolerance, and yet you always let him get drunk!”
Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes; he wasn’t Clark’s baby-sitter. And neither was Lois. “Can I talk to him? Alone?”
Lois glared but stood and walked away, and at the door she looked back at him with daggers in her eyes. He still wasn’t sure how Clark had put up with working with her for as long as he had.
Once she left, Clark sat up, and Bruce sat next to him. “It’s about time, Bruce. I thought I was going to have to pretend to pass out before she left me alone.”
“What was all that about? On the balcony?”
“I figured if Lois and the Mayor saw us, the worst that could happen was Lois getting angry and the Mayor leaving us alone. Better that than watching two grown men simply enjoying each other’s company. We’ll get laughed off, and rumors won’t start. I mean, we were 'clearly' intoxicated, not sneaking off to have a romantic moment together.”
“True.” How much, Bruce wasn’t sure. He might have to spin damage control in the morning; he didn’t want to start the New Year with a crash in Wayne stock. But right now he was content to just sit there next to Clark. For about a minute. “What now?”
“The ball will drop soon, so we’ll go out, slightly more sober, and enjoy the rest of the party. The rest is up to you.”
Not sure where to take that quite yet, Bruce remained silent. As he felt Clark’s body heat next to him, he thought about what changes his life now needed, about what continuing this. Thing. With Clark would mean. He thought about what it would be like to know that Superman was waiting for him, and only him. About what it would be like to change his mind and only be Clark’s friend and coworker, as if what they shared could be reduced to merely those things.
And about how it felt knowing that his best friend, whom he’d always thought about but had never quite acknowledged the thoughts, wanted him.
About what they could share.
And he decided that the New Year was going to begin with a bang.