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Bruce steps out of the car and waits for his kids to step out, Tim immediately stumbling and nearly falling, Dick thankfully did manage to catch him by the back of his shirt, it was akin to watching a mother cat scruff her kitten.
Bruce's eyes land on Clark and his kids, Kon and Jon; Both of which were immediately walking forward. Bruce somehow manages to herd his children towards the house, and smiles softly at Clark, watching the sun glint off his glasses that he no doubt had zero use of. It was too hot to be outside for too long. (especially while looking at Clark)
Clark opens his arms for a hug, unfortunately Bruce processes his action a touch too late and sort of just sticks his hand out for a handshake.
Clark gives him a very confused look but shakes his hand anyways. “It's good to see you Bruce! Thank you for coming by” Clarks voice had a certain country twang to it that did a certain country thing to Bruce's mind.
“The pleasure is all mine” Bruce's voice was smooth, giving an air of confidence that he did not possess in this very moment.
Damian and Jon were already running off to the barn, Damian being dragged for ‘going too slow’
Tim and Kon were talking about, something? Bruce couldn't tell; Honestly, he was more focused on his ‘friend’ in front of him who was now holding the door for him.
Bruce steps inside quickly, desperately trying to ignore how their arms brushing together made him feel. The house smells like apples and burnt dough?
Bruce could see into the kitchen from here, it was a mess of flour, eggs, and more dishes than Bruce knew Clark had. There were a dozen pie crusts, some crumbly and others still uncooked sitting around, it was sweltering.
Clark quickly stepped into the kitchen to start stacking the pie crusts he had deemed as unsatisfactory on top of eachother “sorry for the mess, I'm trying to get this recipe right but the taste or, texture, I don't know, something, is very, very off” Clark was definitely rambling at this point, the man had a tendency to do that well trying to explain his actions. Bruce immediately stepped closer and took the pie crust out of his hands, ignoring the way it made a shiver go up his spine as their hands brushed together.
“It's really fine, I've seen worse, I have eight(?) Kids remember?” Clark averts his eyes in slight embarrassment and chuckles, looking over to the couch where Dick, Jason and Barbara were watching TV together. “Ah, I suppose you're right” Bruce hums and starts helping to clear off the flour covered counter “I suppose the pie crusts are a bit of a waste, could we use them in another way?” His voice rings out from across the kitchen, looking into Clarks eyes the best he could from the mess that scattered amidst the kitchen, bowls were everywhere and everything had a hefty coating of flour that stuck to his suit, and his face, and Bruce's everything.
“I don't understand what I'm doing wrong, I’m following the recipe, but everything is coming out, well wrong, I mean, here come taste this” Clark grabs a bowl of now luke warm apple slices that have been cooked in, well, Bruce didn't actually know, but whatever it was it giving a pleasant caramel tinge to the apple slices. Bruce, doing as he's told, steps closer and takes the spoon Clark offered, trying a bite of the filling.
“It’s really fantastic, are you sure it's not the right recipe?” Bruce looked up at Clark, noticing his glasses were crooked, was he supposed to say something?
Clark gives Bruce a tight smile and puts the bowl down “it's really not, I wish I could give you a reference but, it doesn’t- I just need to keep trying, but at this rate I’m going to run out of apples”
“Well, why don’t you try to make some more Pie crusts while I wash the dishes.” Bruce spoke calmly, his job was problem solving after all, though his problems were mostly solved via cracking somebody’s ribs. Clark nods, almost pitifully and starts regathering his ingredients.
Bruce couldn’t help but smile to himself as he heard Clark muttering to himself about which kind of flour he needed. It was endearing if Bruce was honest with himself. Which was practically never at this point, at least about Clark. Bruce glances over his shoulder to see Clark cleaning the flour off his glasses with his shirt.
Oh
Bruce knew Clark was… fit, that was a given, he was superman, but this was different. He was lifting up his shirt and showing the patch of hair that seemed to travel all the way down. Bruce quickly averted his eyes back to the dishes, feeling the blood rush, his ears turning red as the apple skins that were dropped in a pile on the counter next to the cutting board. Dishes. Dishes. Focus on the dishes, not the man who was too hot for his own good.
“Bruce? I, I think it's clean” Clarks voice actually managed to startle Bruce out of his.. distracted state, looking down Bruce saw that he had been scrubbing the now clean dish for God knows how long. “Yeah, there was just a spot” Bruce tried to keep his voice even but it was hard, seeing as Clark was standing behind him now, a hand on his shoulder.
Bruce took a deep breath and turned to look at Clark again unfortunately clothed, though his shirt was covered in batter and the spices he had used in the apple pie filling
“Maybe you should wear an apron?” Bruce spoke clearly, his blood returning to the normal areas. Clark looked back at him before turning to the apron hanging on the hook next to the fridge, it was all white but it had some pale blue frills at the bottom, most likely a hand-me-down. Bruce forced himself to turn back to the sink.
It really wasn't long before the dishes were drying, or maybe it was, Bruce was very deep in his thoughts about Clark. Bruce glances over to Clark, nearly doubling over at the site of Clark in the apron; it had the words 'kiss the cook' embroidered in red thread that reminded Bruce of the Superman S that Clark had so often worn.
"Anyone ever taken you up on that?" The words leave Bruce's mouth before he can stop them, simultaneously flushing both Bruce's and Clarks faces.
"Uhm, no- no, I can't say anyone has" Clark was stumbling over his words. Moving to fix his glasses as he struggled to compose himself.
"Really? What a shame" Bruce steps forward and tugs on the frilled edge of the apron, smoothing it out, as an excuse to be closer to him.
“...it's no big…” Clark trails off as he looked Bruce in the eyes
“Oh, but it really is.” Bruce responded, hesitating for nearly a moment before placing a hand on his shoulder. Not where he would have preferred, maybe his hip, or waist. Waist definitely. “We simply need to fix this”
Clark turns his head to the front door, Bruce follows his gaze, there was nothing?
Until Kon was ripping open the door and bolting down the hall, Tim following behind him, both looking scared out of their mind, Bruce quickly steps forward and grabs Tim by the shoulder “Tim? Why are you chasing Kon?”
“We are both running from Jason- let go” and with that Tim was running after Kon again. Bruce waited a few moments to see if Jason was coming but after a minute of silence passed he decides that he's not. The moment was officially ruined.
“I guess we should read over the recipe?” Bruce was desperately trying to redirect this conversation back towards the reason he came over, Pie.
“Yes, it's here, somewhere- I'm sorry for the mess” Clark looks around for a few seconds before pulling a recipe card out from the mess.
Lard
Flour
Baking powder
Salt
Cold water
“...” Bruce looks at the card for a few moments, dusting it off to make sure he could read all the text “are there really no measurements?”
“That's why I keep getting it wrong, apparently Ma didn't believe in writing the measurements down, honestly I've tried everything, even eggs”
Bruce stares for maybe a moment too long before looking back at the card to cover himself “I don't think eggs go into any kind of pie crust, where are you getting your information?”
Clark bites his lip before sheepishly looking away “uh, I'm guessing” he admits a soft pink spreading over his cheeks
Bruce sighs, somewhat amused and steps closer to the taller man, feeling a bit more confident, he puts his hand on his bicep this time. Jesus, he was strong. “You really are hopeless, you know that?”
Clark was even hotter up close, Bruce was coming closer and closer to letting himself admit to himself just how attractive he was every fucking second. “...I know, but at least I'm trying?” there was that smile again, that stupidly gorgeous smile. How dare he.
“We should start with the apples, we can peel and cut them, to make more filling”
Clark looks back towards Bruce and nods, taking a begrudging step backwards and grabbing the bowl of apples “I can peel them if you cut them?” He offered, tilting his head slightly in a way that slightly reminded Bruce of a puppy hearing a strange new word.
“Why not, I'll clean up the counter well you start”
Bruce and Clark work in tandem for a while, the only sounds the rustling and arguing coming from Kons room as Bruce swiftly cut and cored the apples that Clark handed him, and every so often their hands brush together and every time they did Bruce feels a jolt of electricity that was starting to well into his stomach, he needed to do something about this before he tackled Clark to the ground.
Shit, Bruce has sliced open his hand, right where his middle finger meets his palm. “Bruce!” Clark grabs Bruce's hand and immediately brings it closer to his face, super senses must have heard the flesh being cut.
Bruce's face was a mix of mild pain and mild admiration as Clark started to ramble about getting the first aid kit. Bruce wasn't listening if he was honest with himself.
Fuck it.
Bruce takes his uninjured hand and uses it to cup the back of Clarks neck. “..shh, I'm fine, barely even feel it” his voice was heavy with.. something, effectively shutting Clark up as he stood there frozen. Placing his still bleeding hand on Clarks cheek Bruce tilts his head slightly and leans in to kiss Clark, hesitating for a moment just before their lips meet to allow him to back away.
A hand lays itself on Bruce's side, spanning over his ribs as Clark manages to shake himself from the ‘deer in headlights’ state. “What are you doing?” His voice is barely a mumble, something only Bruce could hear.
“Something stupid, probably” and with that Bruce moves in.
Click
Of fucking course.
They both stumble back from each other, a bit dazed from the kiss that never came. Bruce looks over to where the snap of the camera came from, seeing Duke standing there, trying to turn the sound setting off “Duke, what are you doing?”
“Blackmail”
Bruce pointed to the door, watching as Duke left. “So where were we?” Bruce turned back to Clark, who was washing his face of the blood, oh yeah, his hand, he should probably disinfect that.
“Bruce, you can't be, doing that kind of stuff, there's, a lot of things that could go wrong”
“Oh please my kids have worse evidence on me”
Clark gives him an annoyed look and grabs his hand again “at least wash it with cold water, or is that burns?”
Bruce chuckled a bit but didn't make a move to withdraw. “That's definitely burns, but yes you can rinse small wounds with just water”
Another face this time, concerned “are you sure?” He was already moving to place the knife on the sink and tossing out the affected apple slices.
“Yes I'm sure, besides I'm focused on other things right now”
“Don't”
Bruce puts his hands up in a surrender motion “relax, I meant the pie” Bruce did not mean the pie, he is a liar. “But I would like to try that again”
Clark froze once more, his hands stilling in the sink, letting the increasingly hot water run over his hands. “You mean the kiss?”.
Bruce nodded, stepping closer and placing a hand on his lower back, his uninjured hand. “I wish I could say that kissing me doesn't often include pictures, but it sort of does”
Bruce couldn't process what happened next in time, first, hot dripping hands grasped his sides, then he was being tugged closer into Clark's body. Then finally, after a long breath their lips met, Bruce held onto Clark's face like he was scared he would disappear.
The hands on his sides tighten ever so slightly as Bruce nipped at his lower lip.
After what feels like eternity yet not enough time in the slightest Clark pulls away to breathe, his face red and his glasses had slid down his nose. "Took us long enough, no?"
Clark laughed at that, a bit breathy but still a laugh.