Archive of Our Own

Clark was watching Barry and Victor team up and make fun of Arthur, chuckling whenever the two managed to annoy the Atlantean, when a hand was placed on his shoulder and got his attention. Turning around, he found Diana with a serene smile on her face.

“How are you, Kal?” Diana asked, an inquisitive look in her eyes.

Clark shrugged, but smiled reassuringly. “Good," He automatically answered, but then he backtracked. “I mean, as good as I can be under all the circumstances... I guess?”

With the way Diana stared at him, he began to question his answer, wondering if it was not the right thing to say, but it was the truth though. He stopped overthinking when Diana's smile turned into a grin.

“I'm really glad you're alive, Kal. He had been miserable without you,” Diana said, squeezing Clark's shoulder before letting it go.

Clark's smile softened. “Thanks, Di–” He paused. “Wait. Did you say he? Who's he?”

The conversation was immediately forgotten though, when Bruce entered the room with sandwiches that Alfred prepared for them.

Clark's focus was on the man, watching him interact with the metas—the kind that Clark thought Bruce hated. It confused Clark that the Bruce he met in uni, the Bruce that he fought that night and the Bruce in front of him were all different from one another—distinctly so, or at least, for Clark. He had always been good at reading Bruce.

When Clark noticed that Bruce was making his way towards him and Diana, he turned away. He remembered what they—he—had done less than an hour ago. Rao. He saw Diana's expression turned smug at the abrupt movement.

“Bacon, egg and cheese sandwich or muffuletta?” Bruce asked, looking between the two.

“Clark can choose first,” Diana said evenly, but her eyes were twinkling.

Bruce turned to Clark, acting as if nothing happened between them, which confused and hurt Clark. He thought they had reached an understanding.

Clark wanted to strangle Diana in the nicest way possible, but cleared his throat instead when he realized that everyone was watching their interaction, looking like they were waiting for something—a fight, maybe? He looked at Bruce only for his ears to turn red when he saw the man staring at him intently.

In a hurry, Clark took the BEC sandwich and mumbled, "thanks."

Bruce gave Diana the other sandwich and, without a word, went back to the control room. Clark followed him with his eyes until he was out of the room, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

He thought Bruce would at least stay and chat with the team. Maybe next time.

A week after the Battle of Pozharnov, Bruce and Clark found themselves outside the Kents' farmhouse in Smallville. They watched as the movers carry furnitures inside the house and then there were also Martha and Lois who were holding some ceramics.

Clark glanced at Bruce. With the way the air got sucked out of him, he remembered that the man could indeed take his breath away. It was probably because of the kiss since it had been a long time since they were—what, a thing? In a relationship? They never really talked about what they were, but it had been a long time, and Clark thought he had moved on from it.

He had more pressing matters to attend to after all, like looking for his origin, which, thinking about it now, royally backfired. He also had to learn how to hide his powers, which turned out to be futile with him becoming Superman. He had to fight Zod and Doomsday too, while proving himself trustworthy in front of the whole world. He also met Lois and fell in love with her, but then he died.

And then there was the whole resurrection thing. There was also the break up with his almost fiancé. He also wouldn't forget the realization that he was still in love with his ex-something even if this so-called ex of his seemed reluctant despite their conversation (and kiss) a week ago.

Clark made a face when he realized how unlucky he was.

Clearing his throat, he faced Bruce. “Thank you is not enough for what you did.”

Bruce, looking back at Clark, shook his head. “I just undid a mistake. That's all.”

Clark noticed Bruce did his best not to flinch under his gaze, but his extremely controlled heartbeat could never lie to him.

“You're not the only one who made a mistake, Bruce,” Clark said, avoiding eye contact as his shoulders hunched. “I was desperate too. He– Luthor had ma and I...”

Clark trailed off, the anger he felt towards Luthor rising once again. Just the thought of his mother in danger had him losing his temper.

He felt a hand wrapping around his forearm. He looked up and saw Bruce. His face was passive, but his eyes—Clark saw everything Bruce wanted to say in his eyes.

“Bruce...” Clark's voice trailed away.

“Mrs. Kent is safe and I'll make sure Luthor won't be able to harm her or Ms. Lane,” Bruce said.

Or you, Clark thought Bruce would say, but of course, he didn't. Oh, how he wished though.

Bruce, Clark always knew, was a man of action, but his words meant so much more to him than anyone else's.

“I'm sorry, Bruce.” Clark felt like choking from the words he said. It felt inadequate, but he could not think of any word more appropriate. “And thank you. For everything you've done for me and my family.”

Bruce harshly sucked in a breath and Clark heard his heart stuttered for a second. Dismissing the apology with a wave of hand, Bruce said, “Like I said, I just undid a mistake.”

With that, Bruce pat Clark on the shoulder and they walked towards the house together. He did not stay for long, making up an excuse about Gotham always in trouble.

Clark walked Bruce to the car and bade the latter goodbye even though he wished Bruce would stay instead.

It had been months after the alien invasion and the Justice League were becoming closer with each other and were getting better in battles and missions. There was a unique kinship between all of them. And no one might say it out loud, but they were a family now.

If only a certain Bat was more open, the League would be even better, Clark thought as he watched Bruce walked away from the center table, claiming that it was his patrol time. His hearing blocked the sounds of chattering of their teammates while he observed the man put on the long, black cape and bulletproof gloves, slowly becoming more Batman than Bruce.

“You can stay longer if you want. Just tell Alfred anything you need,” Bruce said without looking their way.

Clark pursed his lips and stared a little more. It was a little unnerving to see Bruce Wayne's face in Batman's suit. Which was the mask, Bruce Wayne or Batman? It was a conundrum that, more often than not, kept Clark up all night pondering about. He, guiltily, watched as Bruce pulled the mask—as it covered his black hair, his thick eyebrows, and his sharp eyes—completing the Batman look. He kept on watching him until he reached the Batmobile and until it was out of the cave, leaving an empty space.

“Earth to Clark!”

Clark jolted and then glared at Barry who laughed loudly at his reaction, even almost falling off of his chair. He sighed and shook his head. He saw Diana offered him a sympathetic smile and he sighed once again.

“I just don't get it,” Clark said, rubbing his face in frustration. “What did I do?”

Arthur, finding it amusing whenever Clark complained about a certain bat, snorted. “What did you not do?”

Clark groaned. “Not helpful, Arthur!”

“Wait. Is he really not talking to you?” Barry asked, his head tilting in confusion.

“I've been telling y'all about it for the past few months, Barry. Did you think I was joking?”

The rest of the league looked at Clark in pity.

“I thought you were making a bat joke when you told us he's not talking to you,” Barry defended.

Clark crunched his nose. “Bat joke?”

“Yeah! You know, when we make fun of his passive-aggressive behavior.” Barry's tone implied that they had done it a lot.

“You mean passive and aggressive behavior,” Victor said, eye twinkling in amusement.

Barry shrugged. “Same thing.”

“But he was so adamant to bring you back. Fought the whole team and all that shit,” Victor said, going back to the topic in hand.

The statement made Clark blush. He already knew that, but it was still making his heart flutter, which was stupid, but it wasn't like he could tell his heart to stop.

“Bats provoked Princess here just to bring you back, dude,” Arthur added. “That shit he did says a lot more than any word from him.”

Clark remained silent, absorbing what his friends said. One by one, the members of the Justice League started to leave until it was him and Diana left.

“Di?” Clark called, looking at Diana who was silent during the whole conversation.

Diana held his gaze as she placed a hand on his arm in a reassuring manner. “Bruce loved you, Kal. He grieved for you. You have to give him time to adjust to the fact that you're back in his life again.”

“But it's been months. Was that not enough?” Clark knew he sounded like a petulant child, but it bothered him so much that Bruce had been radio silent towards him, not even glancing at his way when he talked to him. After that kiss, how could Bruce just avoid him like that? Did he really love him? Clark doubted it. Diana might just be seeing things, with love and truth being her schtick.

“Kal,” Diana chided and then sighed. “If you really want him to talk to you, then you have to confront him. You will accomplish nothing if you continue acting like a child about it.”

Clark felt embarrassed. He knew Diana had been the middle person between him and Bruce for the past months. “Sorry, Di. It's just been bothering me, but you're right. I– I'll talk to him about it.”

Diana seemed like she wanted to say something more, but thought better. Standing up, she asked, “Are you going to wait for him?”

Clark thought about it. He knew he would chicken out and would never be able to confront Bruce about the issue if he did not stay. He was worried though that he may be coming off too strong. But then, he would also not accomplish anything, as Diana said, if he kept on being a child about it.

“I will. Yeah.” Clark breathed deeply while nodding his head. “I'll wait for him.”

With an encouraging smile, Diana left him to deal with one grumpy, smart bat.

Clark decided, since Bruce would not be getting back any time soon, to spend some time helping Alfred around. He found the butler in the room where all the Batcomputers resided, cleaning up what seemed to be scraps of metals.

Clearing his throat, Clark entered the space, unsure of what to do. “Hey, Alfred. I'm just wondering if you need any help?”

Alfred glanced at him, the tip of his lips curling a little bit. “Mister Kent. If you don't mind, will you watch out for the feed as I clean this up? It seems like Master Bruce forgot all the lessons about cleaning up after his own mess.”

“Sure, Alfred.” Clark chuckled at the wry tone of the older man as he walked towards the chair in front of the computers. “I guess someone will get an earful when he comes back, huh?”

Alfred shook his head, but his eyes were twinkling in amusement. “Oh, Mister Kent. I have given up a long time ago at telling Master Bruce what to do. But maybe it's time someone does it again.” With another glance at Clark, he added, “Maybe someone who is immovable and strong when the need arises.”

Clark sputtered upon realizing the literal and figurative meaning behind the statement. “I– that's– well– uh...”

“Master Bruce is one extremely stubborn man.” Alfred carried the metal-filled box and strode away from the room, but before he exited, he turned to Clark. “He needs someone who can move him when most people cannot.”

Clark was left in his musings and surveillance as Alfred clean more things up for Bruce. He felt restless as more thoughts entered his mind. Did Alfred know? Was it obvious? Was he obvious?

He ran his fingers through his hair and slumped back against the chair. Jeez.

It had been a few hours and Clark was so lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the mic turning on from the other side.

Bruce's voice filled the room. “I'm almost there, Alfred. Seems like Gotham's quiet tonight. Is the team still there?”

Clark was frozen for a moment, but then he realized Bruce was waiting for a reply. “Uh– well, it's Clark actually. Alfred is cleaning up some stuff so he left me to check up on you. The others already left a few hours ago. So, yeah...”

Clark did not understand why his heart felt like it was about to burst in his chest. Bruce was a teammate. He was a friend. Albeit they tried to kill each other before, but it was all in the past, right? And they had kissed. That kiss was—no. That was not helpful. Clark needed to remove that image in his head at the moment.

It took a while for Bruce to answer. Clark fidgeted on his seat. Was Bruce mad? Did he cross a line? But what line? Why did Bruce has to have a lot of rules? It was driving Clark crazy!

“Clark?”

Clark almost fell from his seat. “Y– yes?”

“Stop overthinking. Your heart rate will almost beat the speed of the tumbler,” Bruce deadpanned.

Clark could hear the amusement in Bruce's voice making his shoulders visibly relax against the soft leather seat as he laughed loudly—and in relief. It brought him back to the time when him and Bruce could easily make fun of each other. Bruce still knew him and his heart may had done a somersault or two at the realization.

“Bruce?” Clark called out and he heard a hum of acknowledgement. “Just get your ass back.” To me, the words didn't leave Clark's lips, but he knew Bruce heard it.

It would be difficult for Clark to reach out to Bruce, but not impossible. He knew he could rival the Bat when it came to stubbornness. He was sure everything would be alright in the near future.

For the mean time, Bruce and Clark were smiling at the thought of each other in the privacy of their own locations.