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Bruce felt very tired. He'd spent the last 72 hours surviving on coffee and adrenaline alone, aiming to coordinate the League and save the planet once again. Unlike the others, with their superpowers and divine blessings, Bruce only hoped to get this over with as quickly as possible.
He staggered back and forth as the group finished helping to clean up the place and relay status updates. Now that things were moving well, civilians were being treated, and his adrenaline was subsiding, his body was beginning to give way
There was a second of darkness before he heard voices call. He blacked out for a moment, but didn't fall face-first to the ground as he'd imagined. Superman had caught him before that. With your hands on his shoulders, giving him the support necessary, and looked at him with great concern. His big blue eyes roamed over him, giving him a quick check-up.
"Batman, are you okay?" he sounded worried.
"Yes, I just need... rest," he replied simply, trying to compose himself, but to no avail.
"I'm taking you back to Gotham," Superman declared seriously. "I don't think it's safe for you to drive right now."
The man didn't even wait for an answer and before he knew it, he was in his arms, being carried like a bride. Superman gives a quick call to the other members, letting them know they were leaving, and then he flies.
Superman holds him carefully so as not to aggravate any injuries or anything. The man of steel was warm, even through the layers of his uniform, his body radiating heat. It was pleasant and relaxing. Bruce scooted as close as he could, just to bask in the warmth. He breathed deeply, smelling ash and earth, but it was all right.
Bruce slept soundly, letting exhaustion take over and fully trusting that he would be safely taken to Gotham.
. . .
Bruce woke to sunlight streaming through the window and hitting his face. He was warm and cozy under soft blankets, feeling a little lazy, wishing Alfred had been a little merciful and kept the windows closed. But when he opened his eyes, he realized that such thin white curtains wouldn't have helped.
Bruce sat up quickly, looking around with extreme suspicion. It was late afternoon, and this wasn't his home, nor his bedroom. The room was small but well-organized; the only thing taking up much space was the double bed where he slept.
He noticed a few items of clothing on top of the small dresser on the other side of the room and quickly assessed himself. Whoever it was hadn't undressed him completely, only the heaviest pieces of his armor, cape, boots, and utility belt. He was still wearing his mask.
The door opened, and he found himself staring at a tall, curly-haired man wearing dark-rimmed glasses.
"Great, you're finally awake." The stranger smiled gently at him.
"Who are you?" Bruce assumed a more defensive and firm posture. His voice sounded more hoarse and scratchy than usual, largely due to his dry throat.
"Oh, it's okay, it's me..." The man took off his glasses and tossed his hair back awkwardly.
"Superman...?" Bruce looked at him in surprise. Superman smiled as he approached with a glass of water, which Bruce eagerly accepted.
"Yes, my name is Clark, Clark Kent. And this is my apartment, in Metropolis."
"Why am I here?" he asked, confused, before drinking the water.
"So, you passed out after the battle. I even took you to Gotham, but when we got there, you wouldn't wake up at all, and I didn't know where to take you, so I brought you home," he replied with a light laugh, shrugging. "J'onn came here last night and said you just needed to rest, so we let you sleep."
"Last Night? How long was I gone?" Bruce looked at him in shock, but Clark calmed him with a wave of his hand.
"You were only gone a day," informed.
"Hm."he relaxed a little.
"You must be hungry. I'll get you something, I'll be right back." Clark smiled, quickly leaving the room, and Bruce sighed in relief.
Bruce felt a little strange. He had only slept for a day, but it felt like weeks; he had never felt so rested. He let himself relax, rubbing his hand on the soft blankets and snuggling into the pillows. Clark's bed was so comfortable and warm; he looked at the blankets and noticed they looked handmade.
"Did you like it? My mom made it for me," say Clark upon returning, smiling.
"I like it..." he murmured in response, looking at the tray Clark had brought.
Soup of vegetables and meat, with bread. The soup was nothing special, a little watery for his taste, but the bread was soft and tasted like home-cooked food, something close to what Alfred used to make for him.
"You made it?" he asked curiously, and Clark smiled.
"The soup, yes, my mom made the bread. She usually cooks a lot on the weekends."
"Does she live here with you?"
"No, my parents live on a farm in Kansas. You should come visit; it would be nice."
"I think so."
"Oh!" Clark seemed to remember something, reaching into his pocket for Bruce's communicator. "I don't know exactly what it is, but it's been beeping a few times in the last few hours." He handed it to Bruce, who activated it, noting that there were over 35 unanswered signals. Alfred and the Robins must have been extremely worried about his sudden disappearance.
"I have to go." He got up quickly and went to the dresser to gather his things. After finishing, he walked to the window, but didn't jump out immediately, turning instead to Clark, who was watching him intently from across the room. "Thanks, Clark," he waved.
"You're welcome." He smiled and waved back.
Bruce left.
. . .
Bruce was disappointed with his own bed. For years, he'd found it incredibly comfortable, but now that spot was being taken over by Clark's. His pillows could have been softer, but his blankets weren't warm enough. In fact, the fabric felt a little cool to the touch.
"Is there a problem, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, noticing his sudden discomfort. "If you'd like, I can change the bedspread."
"That won't be necessary." Bruce sighed wearily, settling back down as Alfred left the room.
He just tried to sleep.
. . .
Clark and other members of the League had been visiting another planet for two days, during which Bruce was tasked with keeping everything running smoothly. He organized teams to deal with potential problems and made extra patrols in other cities as a precaution, and thankfully, nothing serious happened. Today, he spent some time in Metropolis.
Clark's apartment looked tempting on his route. So tempting. Clark had said he was always welcome whenever he wanted, so he didn't feel so bad about invading.
He walked cautiously through the living room, taking time to water the plants and eat some.
He went to the bedroom, discarding his armor before lying down on the bed. The blankets were the same as before, but they had clearly been washed recently, still smelling of fabric softener. Now that he paid closer attention, he could smell Clark's perfume on the pillows. It's nice.
He settled in comfortably and let the soft, warm blankets tuck him in until he fell asleep.
. . .
Bruce woke to the sounds of the city outside. Streets teeming with life and movement. He slowly opened his eyes and felt a little more rested. The apartment was quiet and smelled of fresh coffee in the air...
Coffee.
Bruce got up dazed, walked to the door and opened it. Clark was standing in the kitchen, making breakfast.
"Good morning, flower of the day." He smiled broadly for Bruce.
"When was it... how long has it been since you got back?" Bruce struggled for words, dazed by sleep and the other man's presence.
"We got back last night. When I got here, you were already asleep," he replied with a shrug, watching the coffeemaker finish brewing.
"Why... didn't you wake me?" he said, clearing his throat. Bruce certainly hadn't wanted to be there when Clark returned, and he felt a little uncomfortable now that he'd been caught.
"The bed's big, it fits two people." he replied, blinking. Bruce felt tense, and his ears burned a little; he hadn't thought about that. They had to share the bed... "Relax, I'm kidding, I slept on the couch." Clark chuckled amusedly as he grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, and Bruce sighed nervously. "I assume you want coffee," he said, already serving the drink.
"Hm..." Bruce agreed, composing himself.
They sat across from each other at the table. Now that he looked at Clark in his casual clothes, Bruce remembered he was almost naked, feeling a bit exposed in just his T-shirt and underwear.
"So... do you break into other people's houses to sleep, or just mine?" Clark asked, taking a sip of coffee.
"I needed a place to stay." Bruce tried to defend himself, looking seriously at his mug, completely ignoring Clark's gaze.
"Of course." He laughed amusedly, and Bruce snorted.
They were silent for a moment as they sipped their coffee. But Bruce had a thousand thoughts. He couldn't keep breaking into Clark's house forever. Getting caught once was embarrassing enough, but he wouldn't leave empty-handed.
"How much do you want for them?" he asked seriously.
"What?" Clark looked confused.
"Your blankets, how much do you want for them?" he asked as firmly as possible. Clark looked at him briefly, surprised, before laughing out loud, leaving Bruce a little disconcerted.
"Bruce, I'm not selling my blankets." He laughed playfully, getting up from the table, and Bruce followed him.
Bruce huffed in frustration as they left the kitchen and returned to the bedroom. He'd searched several places for blankets that were at least similar, but nothing was compare; it was almost annoying. Maybe he could just take them with him when he left later.
"Here, you can keep them if you want" Clark said, picking up the blankets from the bed to fold them and deliver to him.
"Really?" Bruce looked at him in surprise. Accepting the blankets, Clark simply nodded.
"No problem," he said gently, very affably, and Bruce felt his face heat up a little.
"Hm..."
. . .
Alfred was a little confused by Bruce's new addition to the bed. The fabric was thicker but soft to the touch, clearly handmade from a mix of different colored fabrics. Wherever Bruce had gotten them, he wasn't going to complain. If Bruce was sleeping so much better with them, then everything was fine.