Chapter Text
He was in trouble.
He knew it.
There was no denying it.
Bruce could only sigh as his patrol crawled closer and closer to its end. It had been a quiet night. Any other time it would’ve been a blessing, he’d be eager to get home.
Not tonight.
Instead of a nice warm bed and open arms, Clark was mad at him.
They didn’t have a fight for once, but he knew after the stunt he pulled he wasn’t going to be greeted warmly.
Leaving the med bay, not to mention the watchtower, after Copperhead’s bite. Then proceeding to get kidnapped because of it, he knew Clark was upset with him.
A small part of him wanted some sort of crime, something to extend his patrol. Clark knew when he was usually home, and he was probably listening in and knew it wasn’t busy. Staying out to avoid the situation would make it worse.
But Bruce knew his husband. How could he not? He knew him inside and out before they were barely friends. So, he knew Clark would be waiting up for him. Refusing to go to bed angry. Things would be resolved by morning. Or so they hoped.
The problem is how it had to be resolved. The quiet night had given Bruce plenty of time to think about the day. He knew why he went against Clark, why he left the watchtower. He knew in order to make Clark understand he’d have to explain himself. Usually not a problem. But this wasn’t facts he had to talk about.
It was feelings.
He didn’t like feeling them let alone talking about them. It took him too long to even admit what he was feeling for the Kryptonian. He still had times he had trouble showing affection the same way his husband never seemed to be afraid to.
What he felt wasn’t rational. It wasn’t something he wanted to admit to himself. Now he had to find a way to admit it to someone else.
Sighing again Bruce realized his patrol was over and it was time to go home.
Driving decently for once he made it to the cave uninterrupted.
He took his time removing the suit, opting to shower down in the cave. He redresses the bite on his shoulder and notes the new bruises forming. On his ankles, wrists, and upper arms, from being restrained. He stretches the sore limbs before proceeding upstairs.
With every step closer to their room him stomach clenched tighter, his heart was beating faster. He could feel sweat starting to bead on his forehead. Taking a few deep breathes he enters.
As expected, Clark is still awake. He’s sitting up against the headboard, reading a book. To the untrained eye, he looks absorbed in the book in front of him. But Bruce can bet he hasn’t turned a page in a while. He can see how the hands on the book are clenched a little too tight. How the usually relaxed shoulders are tensed, lips turned into a slight frown, crinkles unusually present in between the eyebrows.
He walks without making a sound, sitting on the bed. Instead of mirroring his partner, he sits cross-legged, one hand on his ankle. He starts massaging the bruised limb.
It’s silent, he hears Clark set the book aside but neither speaks. One waiting for an answer. One figuring out how to give it.
Nearly ten minutes pass before Bruce can finally force words out.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s quiet be he knows it was heard; all he gets is a raised eyebrow at first.
“Sorry for what? Leaving when I told you not to or getting caught?”
Bruce winces. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken his time.
Bruce looks at the bruise on his ankle for a moment, “I’m sorry for not listening to you.”
Clark nods, “Okay, but why didn’t you? You know you didn’t have to go after them yourself. You have nothing to prove to them. And especially to me.”
“I know.” His response is very quiet and he thanks whoever’s listening that Clark has super hearing.
Clark sits up, leaning closer to Bruce, looking less angry but concerned. “Then why put yourself in that danger?” His eyes flick from the bite on his shoulder to the bruised ankle.
Bruce half shrugs, not really knowing how to put it in words.
Clark waits patiently.
“It’s irrational.”
Clark snorts. “And? I’d still like to know.”
Bruce stares at the bedcover before forcing the words out. “I know I don’t need to prove myself. I know I have a place on the team. But after a while knowing it shut out by feeling.”
Clark seems confused but doesn’t interrupt.
“Despite knowing, after working next to superpowered beings and aliens for so long, the feeling of inadequacy rises. And no matter how hard it’s fought, eventually, it takes over rational thought and makes you do something irrational.”
The concern doesn’t vanish but any lingering anger does. His stomach unclenches, knowing he’s forgiven. Despite that, he doesn’t feel much better about it.
Clark takes his hand in one of his, the other cupping the side of his face, turning his head and forcing Bruce to look at him.
“Then I’m sorry.”
Bruce’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “For what?”
Clark smiles sadly “For being one of those superpowered aliens that made my husband feel like he had to rush headlong into danger.”
Bruce rolls his eyes good-naturedly, leave it to Clark to take it as something he did wrong. When in reality he was the last one Bruce was trying to prove himself to.
“Don’t. You aren’t at fault here. It’s all on me. I shouldn’t have let it get to my head.”
Clarks thumb brushes over his cheekbone, “Maybe not, and maybe I should’ve been more attentive. But knowing us we’re gonna go back and forth shouldering the blame all night so let’s just call it even now?”
Bruce relaxes, leaning into the hand on his cheek. “Alright, we’ll call it even.”
Clark smiles before drawing him in for a kiss. No proclamations of love are needed. They can feel it well enough.
They lay down together and Clark takes one of Bruce’s wrists in his hands, inspecting the bruise forming around it. He lays it down before taking the other one, as he’s studying it, he asks, “By the way, what was Humanite talking about?”
Bruce just chuckles sleepily. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”