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“I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way.”
—Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars
“What did you just say?”
Bruce blanked out for a moment. He watched as Clark pursed his lips and his eyes, tinged with red around the usually bright blue irises, met his brown ones.
Clark was mad, he concluded. He didn't blame him though. He would be too, if he had someone like himself in his life.
“Clark–”
“Bruce, what did you say?”
Bruce swallowed and looked away. “You can't possibly know what I've done and still love me.”
Clark made a noise that sounded like he was punched in the gut. Bruce couldn't do anything but clench his jaw.
“And what exactly did you do?” Clark asked and began to walk back and forth between the window and foot of the bed. Their bed.
Bruce was about to speak up, but Clark stopped in front of him again and held his hand up. “That was rhetorical.”
Bruce nodded and let Clark gather his thoughts since he also needed a few minutes to control his breathing and heartbeat that always seemed to get out of hand whenever he was with Clark. It was usually a good thing whenever he did, but now, he wasn't sure.
“Okay.” Clark clears his throat. “You seriously think that after you– what, wanted the Joker dead–”
“Almost killed, Clark. I almost killed him and sometimes, like tonight, I want to.” Bruce gritted his teeth as he unconsciously clenched his injured hand that punched the Clown Prince of Gotham to the brink of death a few hours ago.
“Yeah. Exactly. Almost,” Clark repeated. “You almost killed the Joker, but have you thought about what you did after that, Bruce?”
Bruce blinked at Clark, confused. “I– what?”
Clark's angry expression immediately softened and his hands reached out and cupped Bruce's jaw.
“You stopped, B.”
“What?”
“You stopped yourself from killing the Joker because you're not that kind of man. Do you get it?”
“Clark...” Bruce trailed, his eyes blinking too fast as he looked at Clark.
“After everything he did. After striking fear in your city, hurting innocent people and killing many more–” Clark shakes his head. “You've never really hurt him. Not really. You know that the League members think that that clown deserves more than getting thrown into an asylum, but they trust that you know best how to handle your villains. And I personally think that sociopath deserves more than just almost bleeding to death.”
Bruce's breath hitched, but Clark wasn't done yet.
“But we know he's sick. God damn it, I know he's sick! But that doesn't mean I'm going to spare him if he ever...” Clark's jaw clenched and unclenched as he trailed off.
“He's hurt you over and over and it's– it kills me every single time, B. Knowing you're out there, in pain and I'm in my apartment, waiting for the news to tell me whether you're still alive or not because I sure as hell won't be able to take it if I ever try to listen for your heartbeat and hear it stop, knowing that I will never hear it again.”
A tear slipped from Clark's eye that he didn't bother wiping, so Bruce did it for him. He didn't know what to say. “Clark...”
Clark gave him a tired smile. “I have my own demons too, B. It can be quite dark in here.” Clark tapped his head twice. “Knowing that, can you still love me?”
“What?” Bruce frowned. It seemed like he was always at loss whenever he talked to Clark, yet Clark stood there, in front of him, and only looked at him with patience and understanding.
“Do you still love me knowing that I can kill the Joker or anyone who would dare to hurt you?”
Bruce pulled Clark into a hug and thumbed his nape. “Yes. I always will,” He said and then looked at Clark dead straight in the eyes. “Because even if you can kill anyone, I know you would never unless there is no other choice.”
Bruce couldn't believe Clark would ask such an absurd question. He added, “And even if you did, I'd stay anyway because that's what partners do.” Because that was how deep Bruce loved Clark.
Clark looked at him with his wide, impossibly blue eyes that reminded him of Clark's otherworldliness, but that little brown spot on his left eye reminded him that Clark had flaws too. Flaws didn't always have to be ugly though. Clark's surely weren't. His, on the other hand...
Bruce gave Clark the smile that was reserved to him. The one where the corner of his lips was barely upturned, but Clark could clearly see it anyway and always made him smile.
He wasn't proven wrong for Clark beamed at him, his face all soft and delicate. As if he couldn't shoot laser out of his eyes or create a tornado with his breath alone. And wasn't that scary?
But Bruce wasn't scared. He was never afraid of Clark because he knew him too well. He knew how Clark loved waking up along with the sun, but would stay and cuddle with him until his alarm rang. He knew how many batburgers Clark could eat or even how much spoonful of sugar and milk Clark put in his atrocious drink he called coffee. He knew a lot of things about Clark. More than enough that he knew Clark was more human than most humans and would never kill anyone unless he didn't have any other choice.
“...then how– B, are you with me?”
“I am.” Bruce gruffed then said, “Can you repeat what you said?”
Clark snorted. “What were you thinking about?”
“How much I hate your coffee.”
Clark laughed, shaking his head. “You odd bat.” He caressed Bruce's cheek with overflowing affection in his eyes, Bruce admittedly felt like combusting.
“If you can still love me despite this darkness in me, then how could you think I won't be able to love you just the same?” Clark repeated his question.
His stare was so open and vulnerable, Bruce had to swallow again. Clark had that effect on him. He almost forgot Clark was asking a question. Hell, he forgot they were even arguing in the first place, but Clark deserved an answer. He needed to focus because Clark deserved honesty from him.
“Because you're you and I'm me and it's different,” Bruce said and Clark looked like he was ready to rebut, but Bruce spoke again.
“Because deep down, you're a good person and I'm not. You're hope personified and I'm only bringing you down with my pessimism and issues. I don't even know why you're with me when you can have anyone. And I know you can do so much better because let's be honest here, Clark.” Bruce's hand tightened around Clark's nape. “I don't deserve you.”
It was silent for a moment, with just Bruce and Clark staring at each other, their breath mixing together because of how close they were. Suddenly, Clark sighed loudly and then—
“Bruce, you absolute idiot!”
Bruce was taken aback and perplexed at the reaction, but before he could say anything, Clark brought him in for a deep kiss that had him sighing. It was as breathtaking as always. Ironically, it felt like Bruce could finally breath. For someone who could probably chew metals—they had yet to try—Clark's mouth was gentle against his—okay, maybe a little demanding, which he knew that Clark knew he liked. Clark nipped and licked his bottom lip before pulling away, leaving him wanting for more, but there were more pressing matters to address first.
“Listen, World's Greatest Detective,” Clark said, a little breathless, but nonetheless sarcastic. He laughed softly for a moment before his expression turned serious, eyes locked on Bruce's.
“I'm with you because I love you. And I love you because even though most people see you as the dark brooding knight of Gotham–” Clark pressed their foreheads together. “–you are my light, Bruce,” Clark said. “You always have been.”
If the kiss was not enough, Bruce was sure his breath got knocked out of him by that statement. For someone who knew how to pull his punches extremely well, Clark surely wasn't at the moment.
“And you are mine.” Bruce choked with all the emotions he was feeling—emotions that Clark was making him feel. He kissed Clark like he wasn't already out of breath. “I love you, Kal.”
“I love you, Bruce.” Clark chuckled, but tears were falling from his eyes. Bruce kept on wiping them away and gave him another kiss.
Clark was all too happy to kiss back, beaming at him again when they pulled away. “I'm all yours, demons and all. So you're all mine, alright?”
Bruce hummed. “All yours, demons and all.”