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Clark wasn’t human.
He tried to present himself as one, he really did. Obviously his secret identity, reporter Clark Kent from the Daily Planet, was as human as they get. He had friends, family, a job. He experienced human emotions; he was happy when Lois brought him coffee in the mornings, frustrated when he couldn’t quite find the right words for the article he was writing, sad when he saw an abandoned dog on the sidewalk on his way to work. Clark Kent, clumsy and bumbling reporter from Smallville, Kansas, was human.
Superman was Kryptonian. An alien, sent to this planet to help its inhabitants, but an alien nonetheless, it was impossible to ignore. The lasers that shot out of his eyes, his breath that could freeze the Pacific Ocean if he so pleased, his ability to lift a mountain with his mere pinky were all so undeniably alien. Even the symbol of hope that he represented, the entire concept of hope was nearly foreign to Earth. Superman wasn’t ashamed of being Kryptonian, it was what gave him the abilities he so possessed.
Clark, the part of him that wasn’t quite Superman and wasn’t quite Clark Kent, was… well, he wasn’t sure what he was. He was too alien to be human, and too human to be alien. He would never be able to speak Kryptonian to the extent that Kara could. She had pointed out when they first met, that the way he spoke his mother language was too stiff, too unnatural. As if he had learned it from a textbook, rather than learning through experiencing their culture. And she wasn’t wrong, because that was almost exactly how he had learned Kryptonian.
He would never experience pain the same way humans did. All of his reactions to most things were practiced habits. It didn’t hurt when he accidentally hit his toe on the corner of a chair, but he mumbled out an ‘ow’ anyway. He didn’t need a cup of coffee to feel awake, but he indulged in it anyway, even in private when he wasn’t pretending to be human. He didn’t understand a lot of things about this planet, and he was sure he never would. He would have to be human to experience those things.
Because of this internal dilemma, he often forced himself to do as much good as he could in both roles he played. He tried his best to save people as Superman, the insignia on his chest spreading hope throughout the world. And he tried his best to inform the public of ongoing events as Clark Kent, his ballpoint pen spreading truth to every corner of Metropolis.
Normally, he had a good balance. He did enough, he was enough. He saved people in more ways than one, and he was able to just exist. Do what he could, when he could, and then return to his apartment, sleep, and then do more the next day.
Sometimes, however, there was an imbalance. A small voice telling him to keep going, that he couldn’t sleep until he wrote another article, or until he fixed all of the disasters of the world.
When the small voice was present, he’d often go days without sleep. It was impossible, really, to fix everything. He was only one man, but reason went out the window during weeks like this. All he knew was that he had to do something, and most of the time that meant he spent countless days and nights zipping around the world, flying to where he was called to help.
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Clark’s phone rang in his pocket. He had just saved a plane from crashing, and went home to clean himself up. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He poked his head out of the bathroom to check the clock that sat on his nightstand: 10 pm. Ma and Pa were surely already asleep. Lois wouldn’t be calling unless it was an emergency, and if it was an emergency she would just call for him, there was no reason to call his phone.
He realized that he had taken some time trying to figure out who was calling, instead of just answering the phone, so he scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller id: B <3.
He smiled at his phone, and finally swiped up to accept the call, “Hey, are you alright?” It was odd for Bruce to be calling him, not because Bruce didn’t love him, but because this wasn’t his way of showing his love. Normally his displays of affection were confined to late night cuddles, whispers of affection when they were in the watchtower, and making him waffles for breakfast, even though he knew Bruce much preferred pancakes.
“Where are you?”
Clark let out a noise of confusion, “Uhm, at my apartment? Are you okay? I’ll be at the manor in a minute I just need to change-“
His worried rambles were quickly interrupted by Bruce’s voice, “We were supposed to have dinner tonight. Did you forget?”
“What- I thought dinner was next week? We talked about it a day ago- you came by during work. 9 pm on Friday, that’s when we’re supposed to…”
“Today is Friday.”
“Oh.” A feeling of guilt settled in his stomach. How could he forget a date night like this? What kind of boyfriend was he that he couldn’t even remember something as simple as dinner? “I’ll be there, I’m sorry.” He hung up, and used his superspeed to change, flying quickly from his balcony to the Wayne manor.
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Bruce Wayne knew everything about Clark Kent. It wasn't an obsession, per se, but it was something close. He knew about his habits, his favorite snacks, his favorite movie. Everything. He prided himself on the fact. So when Clark left him waiting more than an hour for their dinner date, he knew something was wrong.
Clark had been distant the past week. Not just from Bruce, but from the world as a whole. He watched him during league meetings, watched how he barely blinked and barely paid attention. But he figured whatever was bothering him would either fix itself, or Clark would talk to him about it when he was ready.
Clearly, he was wrong.
He heard a knock on the door, signaling his boyfriend’s arrival. He always thought the knocking was quite silly, but Clark insisted it was the proper thing to do, and that he couldn’t just barge into his home whenever he wanted. Bruce thought he should just live in the manor with him, at this point, that way they could fix the knocking problem. It wasn’t like much would change if Clark did move in, he woke in Bruce’s bed more often than not.
He got up from his spot on the couch in one of the many living rooms, and opened the door for his partner. God, he looked awful. Not physically- never physically. The Kryptonian man could go days without eating or sleeping, walk through literal fire, fight wars and end up looking like he barely lifted a finger.
But he looked exhausted. Emotionally exhausted. It would take an idiot not to notice the subtle slump in Clark’s shoulders. “Hey.”
“I’m so sorry, I lost track of time and I just didn’t remember we had a date planned- oh that sounds horrible- I’ll make it up to you I swear, we can–“ He was cut off when Bruce’s lips softly met his.
“Don’t apologize, I understand.” He held Clark’s face gently in his hands, forcing his bright blue eyes to focus on his own. “Seriously. It’s okay. I didn’t want to go out tonight anyway, we can just watch a movie on the couch. Alfred can get us some popcorn.”
He released his face from his hands, but quickly grabbed his hand to guide his boyfriend through the manor to the living room. He sat down, and dragged Clark to sit down next to him. He immediately turned on some random rom-com he knew the man next to him would enjoy, leaving no room for Clark to argue with the change of plans.
Bruce leaned over, letting his head rest gently on his shoulder. He paid little attention to the show, and tried to think of ways to get Clark to calm down.
Meanwhile, Clark’s hand gripped the couch beneath them. His super hearing had heard some people calling for him all the way from India. It took everything in him not to get up from his spot next to Bruce and go help them. Bruce deserved his time too, but how many people were suffering while he sat here and watched some silly TV show? How many people died because he wasn’t able to save them in time?
The couch ripped, leaving his hands filled with chunks of the material. It was pretty noticeable, so it wasn’t like he could just hide this from his partner. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-“
“I’ll just get a new one. Don’t worry about it.” Bruce knew he would worry, so as a compromise he added: “You can help bring the new couch inside when I get it.”
The Kryptonian felt eyes on him, it was hard not to when it felt like his every move was being watched right now. He looked up to meet Bruce’s eyes, and gave him a questioning look. “When was the last time you slept?” It was an absurd question to hear from his lover, seeing as the man he was dating was The Batman. The Batman who had a notoriously bad sleep schedule. If he didn’t feel so terrible right now, he would’ve giggled at the hypocrisy.
“Uhm… A few days maybe? Today’s Friday so… five…. No, six..” He mumbled out.
“You have to take care of yourself, Clark.”
“I don’t need sleep, I’m fine.”
Bruce snorted out a laugh, “Believe me, I know you don’t need sleep. But you look exhausted. Come on, let’s go to bed.” He began to get up, assuming the other man would follow after him, but paused when Clark didn’t even make an effort to get off the couch.
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can, come on.”
“No, Bruce- I can’t. I can’t go to sleep when there’s people who need me. There’s–“ he paused to listen out, “There’s a fire in Germany, a girl is trapped in her room. There’s a family in India, their car has something wrong with it. And there’s someone in Canada begging me to help them. All these people need me, Bruce. I can’t just go to sleep, while they suffer.”
Bruce’s face softened. There it is. He understood, he really did. He spent days at a time trying to crack cases, with little to no sleep, and unlike the Kryptonian he actually did need sleep to function. But it hurt to see Clark like this. He looked so small, so hurt. The strongest man on Earth looked like the weight of the world was crushing his shoulders. And it hurt to know that the man he loved was in so much pain.
“You can’t save everyone. You can try, but there will always be someone you can’t save. And those people who you can’t save, Clark, they aren’t your fault. This isn’t your burden to carry, my love. You can rest tonight. I’ll call your cousin, she can help look after the world tonight.” He stepped closer to Clark, and carefully wrapped his arms around the man. He heard a strangled cry leave his throat, and gently rubbed small circles on his back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
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After a couple of minutes, his cries calmed down, and Bruce was able to pull away to call Kara. He let her briefly know what was going on, and that Superman would be out of commission for the rest of the week.
Once he hung up, he grabbed Clark’s hand again, and led him up the stairs into their bedroom. He helped Clark change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and then allowed him to get comfortable in bed. Once he was situated, he climbed on top of him and laid flat against Clark’s chest.
His boyfriend quietly laughed, “Who needs a weighted blanket when I have you…”
“Oh please, I weigh nothing to you.” He snarked back, pressing a small kiss to his jaw. “Now sleep, I’ll make pancakes in the morning.”
He felt strong arms wrap around his waist, tugging him closer, “I love you,” Clark muttered out in a tired voice.
“I love you too.”
The world went quiet for the first time in a long time. All that mattered to Clark Kent right now was sleeping with his boyfriend. The world would be alright for one night.