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Bruce has never felt the true heat of being in Superman's arms before, not like this. Clark's arms around him are gentle, blanketing their embrace from the harsh reality of what they have just witnessed, even as the ashes of their visitors still lay smoking at their feet.
Their cheeks are wet with tears, overcome with emotion released by the Kryll. It's the only reason Bruce finds when he finally, finally gives in to all of his thoughts from the past days, and moves his face from Superman's shoulder while Clark mirrors him. It's the only reason, Bruce thinks, that he now feels the tears on Clark's cheeks and the tickle of Clark's thumb wiping away his own along the edges of his cowl. And it's the only reason, that what's been bubbling under the surface for so long finally breaks free and spills over between the two of them and makes Bruce close his eyes, right before they connect their lips. It has to be, Bruce thinks.
His thoughts are quickly forgotten as Clark's lips move against his own and he's captured in Superman's heat. Clark's hand comes up to cradle his head, and Bruce feels himself compelled to hold onto Clark's cape and touch his curls. It's only natural to open his mouth and taste Clark's warm breath on his own, and tickle his teeth with his tongue. Clark fills his senses, alight in an explosion of love. It all feels right, the way it should be, finally freed of their inhibitions, unlocked first by the Eldiran and then the Kryll. Unstoppable force has met immovable object and they've surrendered and melted into embrace, kiss, heat.
"Bruce..." Clark says finally, hushedly, when Bruce inevitably has to come up for air. Their arms do not let go of each other.
Bruce tries to think through the fog. This fog of want, of love that has been brought on by the Kryll, or Clark, their talk before, or their kiss, or all three. "Can we move to a different room?" He comes to, to test his hypothesis.
"Oh, of course." Clark steps away awkwardly, sadly, letting go and immediately Bruce misses his warmth. As they walk off, Bruce glances at the pile of ashes one last time, but the incredible sadness for the Kryll has been replaced with hope. Foolish hope that whatever Clark feels for him is in any way similar to how in hindsight he's felt about his friend for years, and what he's only allowed himself to think of after spending time with the Eldiran.
In the main room of the fortress, Clark hands Bruce a glass of fresh arctic ice-water. They say nothing for a while, and Bruce stares at Clark, gauging his reaction.
"May I?" Clark asks, reaching forward. Bruce nods. Clark has bared his soul already anyway. There's not much the lenses of the cowl can hide from him anymore.
His thumbs graze Bruce's cheekbones as he lifts the thing up and off, freeing Bruce from his mask, his shield. Superman stares into his very soul, but it's Clark who breaks the tension and says: "We fit each other like hand and glove." He takes Bruce's fingers and holds, gently and smiling. "Can I kiss you again?"
Bruce swallows. His hypothesis. He needs more data points. "Give me a moment," he answers.
He breathes, steadying himself. He sorts. His thoughts. The talk they had before the Kryll arrived. These are his own feelings, his own emotions. No longer those which the Kryll gave back to him in a flood that washed away his own reserve. The Kryll have simply given the final push and opened the door to his feelings for his best friend. He still wants to kiss Clark. "What do you feel?" He asks.
Clark, ever patient, rubs a thumb along his gloved hand, and answers with shattering honesty. "Love. You."
Clark still wants to kiss him.
"Okay," he says, and nothing more. No more words are needed, at a time like this, when so much is conveyed through just their eyes and gentle hands alone. Bruce wraps an arm around Clark, as Clark cradles his face, and breathes "oh Bruce," before sealing their lips together once more. And Bruce allows himself to finally, really, feel.
In here it is warm. Outside it is bitterly cold. Perhaps no one else, on any world, would understand.