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Clark doesn’t usually get nervous on dates. Not that he’s been on many enough to know what counts as something that should make him nervous, but he at the very least knows what to expect from your typical date night. Dinner at a fancy restaurant or watching romcoms at the theatre, simple things like that.
But when Bruce calls him one night to ask if he’s ever ridden on a motorbike before, the Man of Steel finds himself lowkey shitting his pants at the idea.
It’s funny. He can fly through the air at speeds far faster than what a piece of machinery could do, and yet, he isn’t quite sure how to feel about zipping past buildings on the street with little to no protection, even if he doesn’t necessarily need it. That, and the fact that he’ll have to hold onto his boyfriend for dear life the whole time lest he risks tragically falling off the bike itself.
Still, he didn’t turn Bruce’s idea down. How could he, when this was one of the few dates that the billionaire had gone out of his way to orchestrate himself? Plus, despite his fears, Clark had always been curious about the bike, one way or the other, and he wanted to know what made his beloved use it as his primary means of transportation.
So, there he stood in front of his apartment complex, dressed in what he thought was a good enough outfit to wear biking—a comfortable sweater, basic slacks, and a worn-out leather jacket from two years ago that he managed to dig out of his closet. He debated buying his own helmet just to be safe, but Bruce assured him that he’d bring a spare for him to use.
The roar of an engine brought the reporter back to reality, and he watched with a grin as Bruce pulled up to the driveway, pushed the kickstand down, and got off with practised ease.
“Sorry for the wait,” Bruce called out, his words muffled under the helmet.
“Don’t be!” Clark exclaimed in response, walking closer to him. “You didn’t have to come all this way, but you did. I appreciate it.”
“I rarely come here for personal reasons anyway, so I wanted to for once. It’s alright.”
The billionaire turns back to grab something from his bike, but when he comes face-to-face with Clark again, he is presented with a gift.
Bruce blinks, though this isn’t seen through the helmet.
“...You brought me flowers?”
The reporter’s grin widens, and he holds up the small bouquet of tulips higher. “Of course I did! I bring them on every date we do!”
“Even if for half of the date we’re gonna be riding on a high-speed vehicle with almost no way to preserve the bouquet’s structure?”
“Yup.”
Bruce prays to whatever God is listening that Clark isn’t using his X-ray vision right now, else he’d probably see just how red in the face he is.
In response, all Bruce does is sigh, take the bouquet and mutter a simple “Thank you” as he stores the bouquet in a compartment underneath the bike’s seat.
“Take this while you’re at it.” He follows up, giving Clark the helmet he promised he’d bring. Clark eyes it curiously, knocking gently on the hard material.
“D’aw, thanks. You got one in my favourite colour.” He remarks cheerfully.
“If you’re ready, get on. We don’t have much time.”
“Right! Erm, yes. Sorry, Bruce.”
Quickly fastening the helmet onto his head, Clark climbed onto the back of the motorbike, his larger frame encompassing and protecting Bruce’s body like a shield.
“So uh—what exactly do I do here?” Clark asks hesitantly.
“You hold onto me. Or you steady yourself.” Bruce replies matter-of-factly.
“How do I do the first part?”
“Anyway you wish.”
“Uhm…okay…”
After a beat, Clark gently wraps his arms around Bruce’s torso, his hands gripping at the billionaire’s chest and hips.
“Is…is this good?”
It takes every ounce of Bruce’s willpower to restrain himself from foregoing the date plans entirely and dragging Clark back into his apartment to do the most unspeakable shit to him.
“...Yeah. It’s fine.” He eventually manages to mutter back.
With that, he pushes the kickstand back up and starts the bike, the engine whirring underneath their bodies.
“Whoa!” Clark yelps, his hold already tightening on his partner. “Okay, this is it then, I guess we’re gonna start goooIIIING—!”
The sounds of the city drown out his shouts as he and Bruce speed off into the night.
***
Even though the shock of the sudden speed the bike exuded at first caught Clark way off guard, the reporter eventually got used to the feeling, and in no time, he found the ride to be quite pleasant, enjoyable even. The view of the city, though blurred and dark, gave Clark a chance to notice little things about certain buildings or areas that he doesn’t usually see when he’s flying around, stuck in a battle. The cool night air whipping around them was rejuvenating as well.
But what calmed Clark down the most was the steady sound of Bruce’s heartbeat thumping in his ears, letting him know that, despite everything, he was still there with him.
He pressed his head further into Bruce’s back, if only to feel physically closer to his beloved, even with the helmet in the way. He was thankful that his partner was too focused on driving to notice his clinginess. But knowing Bruce, he probably found comfort in their proximity, too.
Before long, the two pulled up to a building for the second half of their date—a rooftop picnic. Slowing down the engine, Bruce carefully parked his bike beside the street before shutting it off entirely, with Clark (regrettably) releasing his hold on the billionaire.
“So. How was it?” Bruce asks as he took off his helmet, bandaged hands roughly attempting to shape his hair back into what could be deemed as “presentable”, at least for his standards.
Clark laughed, sliding off the backseat while Bruce took his own helmet off. “It went better than I expected. I can see why you like this sorta thing now. I think I almost fell asleep a few times, that’s how relaxing it was.”
“Good thing you didn’t. If you fell off the bike, I wouldn’t catch you.”
“No, no, you wouldn’t. You will, however, probably grapple-hook my leg and drag me by my body the rest of the way.”
That earned Clark a small chuckle and a shake of the head from the other man. Not a full laugh, but it’s as close as he’s gonna be able to get for now.
Walking up to the side of the building, it becomes clear that it’s been fully abandoned. Good for making sure that close to no one’s going to catch billionaire Bruce Wayne of Gotham royalty going on a date with some random Daily Planet reporter in Metropolis. But on the downside…
“Elevator’s down, as suspected,” Bruce remarks with a sigh. “I could find a way to power the lift back on temporarily, or we could take the stairs.”
“Or…”
Bruce turns to face Clark and raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Or?”
Clark puts his hands out with a mischievous smirk on his face.
Bruce scowls at him. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not carrying me.”
“But taking the stairs is so boring! And besides, I wanna repay you for letting me be on your bike.”
“The bike stuff was part of the date plan. You risking your identity being exposed by literally flying me up to a rooftop is not.”
“Bruce, please. There’s no one for miles, and I’m only gonna be up in the sky for like, 10 seconds max. It’s gonna be okay. Trust me.”
Clark puts a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, and the other returns his grip by reaching his hand up to hold Clark’s.
“You’re sure?” Bruce asks.
“Positive.”
Bruce glances downward before exhaling heavily. “Alright. Try to be quick.”
“Gotcha.”
With one swift motion, Clark scoops Bruce up into his arms, resulting in a small sound of surprise escaping the billionaire’s lips.
Clark laughs a little at this. “You good, sweetheart?”
Bruce groans in response. “Just get it over with.”
Clark lifts himself off the ground, and that familiar feeling of being in the air returns to the reporter as he flies upwards, fast enough that it’s easy to miss by people who may be watching, but slow enough so that Bruce stays comfortable. In an instant, they land on the rooftop, and Clark gently sets Bruce on the stone floor.
“See? Much easier and much more fun.” Clark says, beaming. Bruce only replies with a short “Hm.” as he sets himself down on the ground, and Clark follows suit.
“I’ve brought tea and slices of Ma’s apple pie for us to share.” He continues, slinging the backpack he brought with him off his shoulder and opening it, taking out two slightly smushed slices of pie and a decent-sized thermos. “The pie’s kinda cold now, but it should still taste good.”
“I know they will, your mother made them. Thank you for the food.” Bruce replies, putting one of the containers on his lap.
The two continue like that, eating in silence while they stare fondly at the night sky. Until Bruce, surprisingly, starts the conversation up.
“I’m sorry about what happened with Luthor.” He whispers, taking another small bite of pie. “You didn’t deserve that. It was cruel.”
“It was nothing I couldn’t have handled,” Clark responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And I had lots of support from people—the Justice Gang, Lois and the Daily Planet, my parents…they were all there to make sure I survived in one piece. And hey, you calling me during your off hours helped too.”
Bruce blushed slightly, hoping the darkness of the night would mask his flusteredness better. “Really?”
“Yeah. Even if you couldn’t be there physically, your verbal support still meant a lot.”
Clark reached out to ruffle Bruce’s hair, which the billionaire accepted for around five seconds before shoving Clark’s hand off his head.
“Then I’ll continue to provide you with as much of that as I can.”
The reporter smiled, nodding. “And what about you? Flood relief efforts going okay?”
Bruce is silent for a while, lost in thought. “...Fine.” He says eventually, though he doesn’t dare meet his partner’s face. “Recovery is slow, but at least it’s consistent. We’re about 60% done with clearing all the water. Still not nearly enough for the public to return to how they were living before.”
Clark’s lips formed a thin line. Unsure of what to say in response, he leans his head on Bruce’s shoulder, holding his partner closer by the waist.
“If you need help, you can call me.” He finally says, voice laced with worry. “You know I’ll come. I always will, for you.”
But Bruce just shakes his head. “No, Clark. You can’t. You already know how Gotham feels about Metahumans. They’ll drive you out before they’ll even accept your help. I’m not even sure they trust me all that much, let alone you. You won’t be safe in Gotham, and you never will be, not unless things change. But until then…you should stay out. Let me handle whatever pain and shame I get thrown my way.”
Suddenly, Clark sits back up, and he cups Bruce’s face in his hands, letting his thumbs smudge against the other’s black eye makeup.
“Clark…” Bruce mumbles absently. But the reporter trudges on.
“Listen to me, Bruce Wayne. I have handled pain and shame before. I know how to take it. But you’re different from me. You’re sensitive, and you let people’s words get to you, even if you act like they don’t affect you. And that’s okay. Those feelings are what make us human. The Riddler was wrong about you, Bruce. You’re not some stuck-up kid who was fine living as an orphan because you were rich. You lost your parents, and it was tragic, and your suffering is just as valid as anyone else’s. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”
Bruce nods slowly. Clark continues.
“And..and even if you don’t need Superman’s help, Clark Kent is and always will be available. So if you ever want me to come over, no matter how crowded or flooded, I will. I promise.”
Bruce hums, leaning closer into Clark’s touch as the other man rubs at his cheek affectionately.
“Only if you promise to accept physical help too. I don’t know if Metropolis would like Batman very much, but I don’t want you relying on those Justice Gang idiots too often. And I suppose…I’ll find a way to make Bruce Wayne useful to your life too.”
Clark smiles, leaning closer. “He already is useful in my life.”
Bruce blinks at him owlishly, but he eventually returns the smile, albeit smaller. “How so?”
“Just by being right here with me.”
The gap between them closes, with only the stars in the night sky acting as witness to their love.
***
The rest of the night goes about as well as one would expect.
The two take the motorbike back to Clark’s apartment. Bruce decides to stay the night. They…well. They do as all passionate couples do.
By the time morning arrives, they’re both bruised and weary, yet well-rested and happy from the previous night’s events. Clark prepares his weird dinner-breakfast meal, and Bruce is just happy to eat, even with Krypto occasionally stealing his food and while he’s dressed in nothing but his boyfriend’s shirt. Which he decides to just wear on his journey back to Gotham out of pure laziness to change. Clark can always just grab it whenever he wants to, either way.
So they expect nothing more than a regular send-off when Bruce prepares to leave…but before he can, he notices Clark’s face frowning in concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Civilians in trouble. I gotta go help.”
Bruce nods in understanding. “Got it. Just remember, watch over yourself, don’t exert your power too much, and watch out for kryptonite—”
But before Bruce can finish his sentence, Clark cuts him off by placing a gentle, tender kiss upon his forehead.
“You take care, too. I’ll be going now.”
Bruce smiles, genuinely, this time, and the sight makes Clark’s heart flutter. “I’ll be waiting, darling.” He utters back in response.
Grinning, Clark rushes off, and in the next moment, Bruce sees Superman shoot up into the sky, ready to save the day.
Knowing that the city is in safe hands, he puts his helmet on and drives away, with fresh promises in his mind to do the best he can in his own city and to see his beloved again as soon as possible.