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Clark Kent had been awake for 264 consecutive hours. 11 days. Of course, a human could go without sleeping for 11 days (Clark thought it was the record, actually, so he was somewhat amused by the fact that in 20 minutes he would beat it, even if he was Kryptonian). It was still hard for him to stay awake. But he couldn't sleep, he had tried meditating and closing his eyes and counting sheep, and running until he couldn't do it anymore and collapsed. And that still didn't get him to sleep.
It wasn't simple either, with all the stimuli that he was being exposed to. He could hear everything, on account of getting sick. A Kryptonian with a cold. It seemed stupid, as he could easily just go out into the Sun to be healed, but no, he just had to be in Gotham to help Bruce with a case. Of course the Sun never shone there. He was destined to stay ill. It was even worse than that, actually, since he was destined to stay ill, and he couldn't tell anyone!
He knew Bruce would kick him off the case, and he could not let that happen, this was the first case since - well, since an incident he didn't want to think about. He had to stay strong and fight whatever pain he was feeling, he wasn't going to admit he was weak in front of Batman. Or any member of his family, actually.
Speaking of his family, Clark was pretty sure they mostly hated him. I mean, Richard (he wouldn't call him Dick) was nice and all, and Jason seemed kind if he didn't have guns constantly on him, which, yes, logically they couldn't hurt Superman, but it was still scary to be around! What if it hit one of the younger kids, like Damian? Damian was one that Clark didn't particularly have a good feeling about. He was nice to him, of course, he'd practically forced himself to be nice to everyone so they wouldn't suspect anything was wrong, but Damian sort of… knew.
He'd stay staring at Clark for odd periods of time, adjusting his mask (if he were Robin at that point), or simply looking. Clark was put off by it, rightly so. But, again, he wasn't able to tell anyone. He loved the fact that Bruce was finally trusting him enough to let him into the Manor and he was glad that Alfred was recieving him with such kindness (although he was pretty sure that the butler was always like this, it seemed to be his natural state) but he couldn't help but feel wrong there.
He was actively getting sicker by the second and hiding it, which brought a whole other problem - he was hiding something from Bruce. Not even from Bruce, from his family, who already thought he was trouble! The thought of hiding anything from anyone (except his identity, of course, he didn't feel guilty about that) made his stomach drop and made him queasy. Especially if it was to people he was trying to impress. And Bruce's family was someone he was definitely trying to impress!
How else would he get into their good graces and eventually get closer to Bruce and be able to work with him possibly forever? Maybe ask him out?
Yeah, he obviously wasn't thinking clearly if he thought he had a chance. See, this was always a problem with Clark, since he was a teenager. He always got his hopes up, yet it be for romantic relationships or platonic relationships or anything really, it didn't matter, but he always got his hopes up and the 90% of the time he'd end up disappointed.
It left him feeling crushed! And he knew that he had to work through it and think things through logically, his therapist had told him that on their first sessions together (it was quite easy to piece together that Clark was a people pleaser and would do basically anything for validation, or would hope for things constantly), after she had tried to hit on him. He had to find another therapist after that, which was very awkward.
When he had told Bruce this whole ordeal (not the whole ordeal, more like the fact that his therapist had hit on him), he had laughed at him. But that was okay, since he had made Bruce laugh and that made him feel warm and comfortable and like everything was right in the world. Seriously, he was starting to think he was obsessed with the man (accurate description).
Back to the present moment. Clark was staring up at the ceiling of Bruce's guest room, the bed feeling way too comfortable for him, which was a problem that apparently existed. At least he learnt new things about himself! Anyway, he was looking at the white of the ceiling but he saw coloured dots and stars, like the kinds you see when you stare at a light for too long? Yeah, those. Behind his eyes hurt. How could that hurt? Was that even a place to hurt?
He probably had a migraine. Maybe. Ma Kent said that she had those as a girl and they hurt like heck (she had said a much stronger word, but he wasn't fond of swearing). He tried to move or close his eyes, but everything hurt tremendously. Stars were now in his vision, getting blurrier by the second. He almost felt like laughing, the whole situation was so silly.
The happy sensation, if you could call it that, quickly went away once he heard someone walk by. Again, superhuman hearing made it so that he could hear everything. It made him want to actively cave his skull in with his own hands. The person stops and hesitates to knock. Clark tries to focus on their hearbeat, but he already knows it's Bruce. The hesitation tells him so, of course. Only Bruce would be so considerate to think of how his guest is feeling (he's romanticizing it again).
Clark goes to tell him to come in, although he can't find the words. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a rasp. He feels as if his throat is sandpaper and frowns, clearing his throat once, twice, three times, and he still can't speak. Bruce takes that as a cue to walk in. He doesn't botherk nocking again, or asking a question about how he is, because Clark hasn't had time to mask his state of uncomfort or how flushed his face is (probably because of a fever).
Bruce doesn't show any change in his face, but his heart picks up just slightly, and Clark doesn't have time to think and tell a silly joke about 'oh, your heart rate picked up, you must reaaally love me huh?', because then Bruce lets himself show concern. He's frowning and touching Clarks forehead, and the other man lets out a pitiful whine at the cold touch. Bruce was normally much hotter than him in terms of body temperature (and others), so feeling the cold was a relief Clark wouldn't have thought to feel.
The Kryptonian babbles something, and he's clearly trying to speak, but it doesn't work. Bruce shushes him, not wanting to move away from his side or take his hand away in case he hurts him or stops making him feel better or whatever - Clark always did manage to throw Bruce off.
The man can't help but preen a bit as Clark nuzzles into the touch, although he knows that it's because he's tired and ill. He doesn't dare ask for how long he's been ill, he thinks it might shatter him completely to know that Clark has been hiding something for long. It isn't a big thing, but- It's still important, and Bruce doesn't like that Clark didn't think to say anything.
Then again, of course he wouldn't, he's Clark, he wouldn't want to bother anybody. Bruce hates that. He really wishes that Clark would just take up space for once. He wouldn't be bothering anybody, certainly not him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't care what his family thought, but his family could bear being uncomfortable sometimes if it meant Clark being able to express himself.
A sharp sound from Clark brought Bruce back to the real world. Once he looks around, he determines that Clark is too hot. Or too cold. Fevers do things like that. He can't ask, he knows Clark will be stubborn, so he just keeps his hand on his forehead and cups his face with the other. It's quite an awkward position, what with Bruce standing above him, so he decides to sitbeside him on the bed, on his knees, frowning at him from above.
Clark tries to mutter something about Bruce being on top of him or on his knees - a joke that he would try to make to get closer to him, even if Bruce believed it to be to diffuse tension- but it doesn't get out, again like Baby Talk.
Bruce doesn't have the heart to shush him again, so he does what he would never dream to do even sober, and he lays on top of him, putting all his body weight on him. He knew Clark liked that, he had mentioned something about having a weighted blanket at home, and he was the same as a blanket - better, even! He only allowed himself to do this because Clark wouldn't remember the next day (it were as if he were drunk and recovering from a bad hangover), and maybe because he wanted to.
Clark tries to move his arms up and succeeds after a few minutes of trying, wrapping Bruce in a very loose hug. Bruce stiffens slightly, and then relaxes. He knows his body is colder comparing to Clarks now, so he uses it to his advantage, and tries to get as close as he can with skin-to-skin. It doesn't work that well, partly because Clark is in regular clothes that Bruce doesn't want to take off, and partly because Bruce is deathly embarrassed, face already heating up to a slight red colour.
Clark finally starts to snooze off when Bruce stretches, going to move, before the Kryptonian stubbornly tightens his grip on Bruce. He smiles quietly at that, only allowing him to do so knowing he's asleep.
None of them realise it when Dick walks by the hall, taking a picture of them together and smiling to himself. He'll make copies and put it up on the fridge and wall for Bruce to see first thing in the morning, as Alfred makes blueberry pancakes to will Clark into health (as he always does for any member of the family when sick).