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It lasts for six months before they agree that it’s a bad idea, and pretend it’s mutual.
They’d known each other for a few years by then. They were an established unit – Superman, Batman, and Robin – the World’s Finest. To Clark, it had felt like a family. Which was why he had kissed Bruce in the cave after Dick went to bed one night. He’d felt overcome with emotion, the familiarity of their relationship, and he could see forever stretching out in front of them just like this. Late nights finishing up cases, meeting Bruce when he got off patrol, returning upstairs hand in hand to eat leftovers prepared and put away by Alfred. Waking up together, shared coffee, the routines of a life – it was all so clear to Clark in that moment.
Bruce, whether he’d want to admit it later or not, had kissed him back with the same fervor.
Six months.
It wasn’t even a fight that ended it. Bruce had just looked at him one day and said, “We need to focus on the mission. This is a distraction we can’t afford.” There’d been other things, too, each more untrue than the last, but that was all Clark had needed to hear.
And Clark had let him get away with the lie, young and in love and afraid of losing all of Bruce. He didn’t feel he was left with another option if he wanted even a shadow of the forever he’d pictured.
Just over fifteen years on, it stands as one of the larger what if’s of Clark’s life, though it sits on a shelf with countless others and is one he rarely, if ever, takes out to examine anymore. The relationship, such that it was, with Bruce had eventually pushed him to making a move with Lois – their marriage, Jon, the twins, were all things Clark couldn’t regret. Even if that, too, had ended in a divorce shortly after his identity had been made secret to the world again.
He knew, or at least thought, that Bruce felt that way about it, too. Things with Selina hadn’t been quite as… clean-cut with his relationship with Lois, but he knew that they’d been happy, for a time. And his kids – there was no guarantee that, if they’d stayed together, Bruce would’ve taken in Jason or Tim or Cass – Damian had already existed, even if they hadn’t known it, so he likely would’ve found his way into their home eventually, but… Clark was well aware that there were no guarantees in this life. With time travel and the multiverse, the what if’s and what could’ve been’s were impossible to determine accurately. All they had was the choices they’d made and what had become of them.
Clark had thought that he’d boxed it all away a long time ago, that he could live with it, until Dick asks him, “Why did you and Bruce break up?”
Dick is sprawled on the sofa in Clark’s small apartment, allegedly there to seek advice for a relationship issue (though Clark isn’t sure why Dick would come to him for that) but mostly to eat the pizza that Clark had ordered once he’d realized Dick had taken up residence on his couch.
Clark chokes on his pizza, startled by the question. “Uh – you knew?”
Dick scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I was thirteen, not stupid.”
Clark takes a long drink of water to stall for time before answering. “There were a lot of reasons, Dick. We were… young. Dedicated, driven… stupid,” Clark admits ruefully.
Dick snorts. “Okay, now describe you, not Bruce.”
“I was, too,” Clark tells him honestly. “I didn’t… I didn’t fight for it. He’d made up his mind, and I let him do it. Because I… I mean, he’s Batman – I assumed, at the time, that he’d thought it through and that maybe he was right. I trusted him.”
“But you know better now?” Dick asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I know better now,” Clark agrees with a humourless laugh. “Look, Dick, this is – it’s ancient history. Whatever issues Bruce and I had… they’re not the issues you’re gonna have in relationships, and we’re different people now. And maybe this goes to show that you can mess up and still have a good friendship with someone, right?”
Dick does not look particularly convinced, which is fair because Clark knows he wasn’t being very convincing. “You’re still in love with him, a little,” Dick says quietly, studying Clark’s face.
Clark looks away. “Maybe,” he admits, just as quietly. “I don’t think I know what that means, for us. What the difference is. I’ve never felt any other way about him, so maybe I was wrong the first time.”
“I’ve never hooked up with one of my friends for – for however long – and not been sure I was into them at least in some way,” Dick points out.
Clark raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know who you’re talking about?”
Dick flushed red and shoved the rest of his slice of pizza into his mouth. “Probably not. It might be… related to this,” he waved a hand towards the window where he’d entered while Clark was still at work.
“Ah,” Clark says, nodding slowly. “So you wanna know about navigating a relationship, and potentially one ending, with a close friend and ally in superhero-business? Can’t imagine that’s something you’ve ever come across before,” Clark teases, and Dick turns impossibly more red, dropping his head down so it hung low between his shoulders. “They wouldn’t happen to have red hair, too, would they?”
“Shut up,” Dick mutters, running his hand roughly through his hair. “I – I just wanted to know, okay? I always wondered – you stopped coming around as much one day. We still saw you all the time, for a while, but you stopped coming for dinner and I… you know, I missed you, I guess. And I’d figured out what had happened, and couldn’t help but blame Bruce a little bit, too.”
“Oh, buddy, I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t want to see you,” Clark insists, reaching over to rub Dick’s back. “You could’ve called me at any time, but I should’ve made the time. I guess I just wasn’t thinking straight, and the ‘new routine’ settled in without me realizing that you might want to spend more time with me.”
“Thanks, Clark.” Dick looks up at him, face a little less red, and smiles. “Sorry if I stirred up something you’d rather not think about anymore. I guess I just thought… you know, when I was younger, I thought it would’ve been nice if we were a family.”
Clark returns his smile, but he knows that his is a little bit sad. He can feel the emotion tugging at the corners of his lips, at his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”
Clark tries to put the box back on the shelf after that, but he finds that he… can’t.
He tries to throw himself into helping with the twins, having them come over after school and helping them with their homework, taking them on missions with him, but even that could only last so long – Lois would start asking if they could come over, and Clark didn’t want to say no because it still made him so happy that she loved them as much as he did. They didn’t have a formal custody arrangement about any of the kids – Jon was, technically, over 18 anyway and didn’t live with either of them full time, and it was hard to keep superpowered tweens from doing anything they didn’t want to. That and Clark’s Superman and Justice League duties made it easier to just keep things informal.
When he was alone, he could throw himself into his duties outside of the Daily Planet, and so he went to check on the Watchtower. The hustle and bustle would always keep him busy for a while, until he got exhausted and retreated to the Founders levels – except… that was where Bruce hung out, too.
Clark finds himself almost unconsciously drifting towards Batman’s lab, hesitating outside the door until it slides open, seemingly of its own accord.
“Were you going to knock?” Bruce asks from inside, a note of amusement under his tone.
Clark huffs. “I didn’t wanna bother you.”
Bruce grunts instead of answering directly, but he puts down his tools and turns to Clark. “What’s brought you here?”
Clark shrugs, walking further into the room and allowing the automatic door to slide shut behind him. “I was talking to Dick a few weeks ago, seems he has some sort of relationship trouble going on.”
“Did he say with who?” Bruce asks, trying to look like he wasn’t interested in the answer. Clark can’t help but chuckle a little at that.
“Not directly, no,” Clark admits. “Sounded like it might be boy problems, so that narrows the list. I don’t think he’d want me telling you everything, but… you know, he was asking my advice. And it made me think.”
Clark hadn’t really wanted to bring it up, but he found that he couldn't stop himself. He just – he needs to know if Bruce still wonders. If he takes that memory off the shelf from time to time, and if he thinks of it fondly.
Bruce nods, but doesn’t say anything else, looking at Clark to continue.
“He – he asked me why we broke up. Apparently he knew,” Clark adds sheepishly. “He wanted to know how we could stay friends.”
Bruce’s face betrays nothing, and Clark wishes that he’d take off the cowl when it was just the two of them like this – he wants to see Bruce’s eyes, see if there was a spark of something behind them, though he knows there won’t be.
“What did you tell him?”
Clark sighs, looking up as if he could find strength in the metal ceiling. “The truth, I think. Basically. That you’d decided it wouldn’t work, and I didn’t fight you on it; that it was the wrong time for us to work in that way.”
“And that’s what you think happened?” Bruce asks, voice quiet. The only sounds in the room besides their breathing was the hum of the space station – they couldn’t even be reached by the perpetual commotion of the grand hall.
“Yeah,” Clark replies, just as quiet. “That’s what I think happened. Do you – do you have a different memory of it?”
Bruce turns away from him as if he was going to pick up his tools and start working on whatever-it-was that was on the table again, but he doesn’t. He takes a few moments, and then finally says, “You implied that you think there might have been a right time.”
Clark lets out a steadying breath. “Yeah. I think there might’ve been,” he admits with a sad smile. “But it’s okay.”
“Is it?”
Clark wishes, desperately this time, that he could see Bruce’s face at all – but he doesn’t turn away from the wall. “It has to be,” Clark says finally, another admission.
Bruce doesn’t say anything further and Clark gets the distinct impression that Bruce is just waiting for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He lets them sit in the silence of that for a while longer before asking what he’s wanted to for… years, at this point.
“Do you ever wonder what might’ve happened if we hadn’t ended things?” Clark’s voice is almost impossibly quiet in the lab, and he might’ve thought that Bruce hadn’t heard him if it weren’t for the way Bruce’s shoulders went tense.
Bruce doesn’t answer right away, but eventually he turns his head so that Clark can see his profile. He can’t get anything from it, though – Bruce’s mouth is set in a neutral line, and the cowl is still lead-lined.
“Does it matter?” Bruce asks.
Clark doesn’t want to tell the truth, but he owes it to Bruce. He’s always owed Bruce the truth, as long as they’ve known each other, even though he knows he rarely gets it back. “It does. It matters to me.”
Bruce picks up his instruments again and Clark feels dismissed, the lack of an answer all that Bruce is willing to give, so he turns to leave. Just before he reaches the door’s sensor range, though, he hears Bruce’s voice loud and clear despite the fact that the other man was whispering.
“Sometimes.”
The door slides open with Clark’s next step, so he walks out without another word, carrying Bruce’s response with him.
Lois can tell that something is bothering Clark the moment he steps foot in her apartment to help prepare for family dinner on Sunday.
“Okay, spill,” she says immediately.
Clark sighs, walking past her and getting started on the chopping. “Would you drop it if I asked?”
“I have literally never done that in the entire time you’ve known me,” Lois points out.
Clark nods, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Fair. There’s just been some… stuff on my mind lately, I guess. What could’ve been.”
Lois hums as she fills a pot with water. “That’s dangerous. What is it this time?”
“I… told you, when we started dating, that Bruce and I were… involved, at one point, right?” Clark asks. He knows that he did, but it seems polite to ask. Maybe it had been so insignificant that she didn’t remember.
The laugh that escapes her tells him otherwise. “Oh, yeah. Your entire co-dependant, vaguely homoerotic situationship thing made way more sense once you told me you two had fucked. Is that – are you two…?”
“I wish Jon had never taught you the word situationship,” Clark says with a groan. “But no, and.. before I say anything, I need you to know I was never cheating on you. Our relationship and the one I had with him, they were completely separate – there were months between them, almost a year I think. But there was a part of me that still wondered, and – and still wonders now about how things could’ve gone differently.”
Lois nods slowly. “I trust you, Clark. Is there a reason this is coming up, now? We’ve been separated for over a year, if you wanted to… start things back up with him, why not do it sooner?”
“I’m not sure that is what I want,” Clark says, though as it comes out of his mouth he can feel that it isn’t entirely true. “I’m not sure it would be a good idea,” he corrects.
“Those are very different answers,” Lois points out.
Clark sighs. “I know. Dick brought it up recently, apparently he knew the whole time – we never told him, but… well, he’s a smart kid. And it made me think about how, you know, maybe… maybe there could be a right time. It wasn’t when we were young, but…”
“It could be now,” Lois finishes quietly. “Look, you know him best,” she continues. “But I can say that I always thought he still… had some sort of feelings for you. There were times – not because you did anything wrong – that I felt like I was in… competition with him. Because he could be your partner out there and I could only be your partner in here.”
“I never thought about it like that,” Clark says, turning to face her. “It was never you or him, or – or anything like that.”
Lois reaches out to squeeze his arm. “I know; that’s just how it felt, sometimes. I guess what I’m saying is that… I’m not surprised if these feelings are resurfacing, for you. “
“I’ve been wondering if I should… do anything about it,” Clark tells her. “I know our friendship could survive it, but is it worth telling him that… well, if he wanted to, then I still…”
“You’re the only one who can answer that,” Lois says, turning back to the pot so that she can add pasta. “For the record, I don’t think he ever totally moved on. I think you’ve both been thinking about this for almost two decades, and maybe you can build a real relationship together or maybe you just need to have another fling and put it to rest. I don’t know. But you won’t know, either, unless you try.”
Clark walks around to stand next to her, heating a pan on the stove to start the sauce. “Thanks, Lo. I’ll think about it.”
He doesn’t do anything about it for months, but he does think about it. He dusts off all the memories he still has about that time – those six months. There was a haze of nostalgia over everything, painting every moment in a soft light, so Clark has to work to remind himself of the issues.
Clark remembers spending the night in Bruce’s bed, waking up momentarily when Bruce returned from patrol to crawl under Clark’s arm and then waking up with the sun and spending longer than he had to spare memorizing the way Bruce’s sleeping face looked in the sun – and he remembers fighting with Bruce when Clark found him sitting in front of the batcomputer for a twelfth consecutive hour without food or sleep. He remembers the way that Bruce would kiss him, tender and desperate, like Clark was something breakable but Bruce couldn’t get enough of him – and he remembers Bruce giving him the cold shoulder for two days after Clark put himself between Bruce and some kryptonite.
For all the bad Clark remembers, too, how they made up. Bruce letting himself be guided above ground, Clark reheating something that Alfred made and making Bruce eat it, falling asleep tangled up together in Bruce’s too-big bed. He remembers the way Bruce had clutched at his shoulders and kissed him when they finally let Clark around him again, an apology and plea all in one.
They’d been good together. Clark was sure of that. It might never have worked at the time, it might’ve lasted just another month more, or a year, or only a handful of precious years that would’ve then completely rewritten the history that Clark now remembers and holds dear.
It’s hard to hold both gratitude and regret in his hands, but he does anyway.
Clark gets home to find Jon on his couch, a not-too-uncommon occurrence these days.
“Hey, bud,” Clark says easily, walking over to ruffle his son’s hair.
Jon groans. “Can I crash here for a bit?”
Clark frowns but nods. “Of course, anytime. Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Absolutely not,” Jon says immediately. “Can we order Thai?”
Clark sees no issue with that, so he orders enough for a small army. Jon puts on Drag Race while they wait, and Clark can’t help but think about the ways in which he hasn’t always been there for Jon. It’s a weird thought to have about Drag Race, but it feels like a strangely accurate summation of the things Clark has failed at. When Jon had come out to him, Clark had realized abruptly that Jon didn’t know Clark was also bisexual – he hadn’t brought it up at the time, because it hadn’t felt right, but six months later he’d made sure that Jon knew. That Clark really did understand.
It was the fact that Clark hadn’t been open with his own son about certain parts of his life – things that were fundamental to his experience – that made Clark realize where he’d failed.
“Are you… sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” Clark asks hesitantly, because he’s trying to be better about these things.
“Pa,” Jon protests, looking at him like he’s lost his mind, so Clark just nods and turns back to the TV.
“I just – I want you to know that –”
“I know,” Jon interrupts. “Look, it’s not that – I love you, but I don’t know what I’d even say. Okay?”
“Okay,” Clark tells him softly, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.
The food arrives and, not long after that, the window slides open and Dick lets himself in.
“Was I expecting you?” Clark asks curiously, because there was always a chance he’d let something slip his mind.
“Nope,” Dick says, popping the ‘p’ sound at the end. “Hey, Jon, what’s up?”
Jon grins and Clark can’t help but smile at them. It was strange, now, to realize that in a lot of ways Dick was a pseudo-older brother to Jon – less than Dick was with Jason, Tim, Damian, or Cass, but Jon had still always looked up to Dick. Maybe more like a close cousin – but, either way, a sort of family.
There’s enough food for Dick, too, so he helps himself to some of it, and the three of them talk until Clark and Jon hear someone calling for help. Jon stands first. “I’ll get it. You two don’t wait up, okay?”
He’s gone before Clark can protest, and so Clark starts to pack up the leftovers and figure out which packages are recyclable.
“Was there a reason you came by tonight?” Clark asks Dick.
Dick’s face flushes. “Can’t it be enough to want to see my favourite uncle?”
Clark feels… some kind of way about that title. He always has, but it pangs strangely in his chest now. “You know that’s more than enough,” he says gently. “But this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with… Wally?” he guesses.
“I have not told you who it is,” Dick tells him pointedly. “It could be anyone. Leave me alone.”
“You’re the one who broke into my apartment,” Clark points out.
“Well, I just wanted to ask why you haven’t made a move on Bruce yet,” Dick says with open hands. “You know he’ll never go for anything that he wants in a million years.”
Clark turns back to the counter, carefully folding the take out boxes so that they won’t take up too much room in the recycling. “Maybe I’m still considering what I want. It’s – it’s complicated, Dick. You realize that.”
“Of course I do,” Dick responds immediately, but there’s a sad edge to it that has Clark turning around. “I guess I just – I know it would make you both happy. And you deserve it.”
Clark tries to give him a smile, but he’s pretty sure there’s as much sadness in it as Dick’s voice. “You do, too, Dick. Even if it doesn’t work out between Bruce and I – that doesn’t mean that you can’t make something work with… you know, whoever.”
“Thanks, Clark,” Dick says, and he sounds mostly honest. “For the record, I think you should talk to him. But I get it.”
“I will, eventually,” Clark promises him. “I just need to decide what I want first. I know that he won’t make it easy,” he adds with a humourless laugh.
“He never does,” Dick agrees. “Thanks for the food, big blue. Tell Jon it was nice to see him, too – he should call more.”
Clark laughs, a real one this one. “Ain’t that always the case. See you later, pal.”
And then Dick surprises him, diving in for a hug, tucking his head into Clark’s chest almost like he did when he was a kid and he was still small enough for Clark to bundle up in his arms like a kitten. Clark is surprised for a moment, and then folds Dick into his arms, holding him tight until Dick lets go.
When Dick pulls away, Clark can see that his eyes are a little bit red-rimmed, but he doesn’t ask. Dick offers him a two-finger salute and then, wordlessly, slips out the window the way he’d come.
Clark isn’t avoiding Bruce.
He isn’t.
He’s just… hesitating to go into the Watchtower when he knows Bruce is there. And not going over to the cave the way he normally would. And not asking for his help on issues in Metropolis.
But that’s fine. That’s normal. They both get busy, and no one can avoid reaching out like Batman. Clark has always known that he was the one who reached out, throughout their entire partnership, so he simply leverages that fact.
Unfortunately, it can’t last forever, because inevitably a League level threat descends on Metropolis and Clark has to accept all the help he can get. Gratefully, because he knows how talented the other members are and he doesn’t actually want to avoid Bruce forever. And it’s not like he and his family members can face a magic-user on their own, given their general vulnerabilities.
Clark isn’t surprised when Bruce gets between him and a spell of some kind, but he is there to pluck Bruce out of the air when he’s knocked unconscious by it and goes plummeting down a hundred feet. His heart’s still beating, and his breathing is normal, so Clark figures he’ll most likely be okay.
“I’m not gonna let you hear the end of this later,” Clark mutters, handing Bruce off to Dick to bring him back to the Watchtower until he wakes up and one of their own magic users can check on him.
It wraps up quickly after that, then there’s a lengthy debrief, and then Clark makes a bee-line for the med bay to check on Bruce.
Dick is standing outside, his mouth a grim line on his face.
“How is he?” Clark asks immediately.
“Physically? Fine,” Dick answers, just as quickly. “Emotionally? We’re probably not gonna hear from him for at least a month after this.”
Clark frowns. “What do you mean? What did the spell do?”
Dick sighs, tilting his head as he seems to consider how to answer that. What could the spell have possibly been? Clark wonders. “It was a truth spell,” Dick finally answers. “He – he told me that he loved me and almost cried the second he woke up, and then looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. It was awkward – Diana’s the only one allowed in right now.”
Clark nods. “That… yeah, I see why he’d hate that.” He starts to walk to the door and Dick puts his hand out.
“You sure?” Dick asks quietly. There’s a lot behind the question – years of understanding.
Clark nods again. “There’s nothing he can say to me that I won’t forgive,” Clark tells him with a quirk of the mouth.
“What if he can’t forgive himself?”
“You know me and Bruce,” Clark says with a shrug. “We’ll always be okay.”
Dick frowns but puts his hand down. “Alright. Good luck.”
Clark waves his hand in front of the panel to open the door. Inside, he can see that Bruce has been removed from the batsuit, and is sitting up in bed talking to Diana. She’s the one who spots him first, smiling.
“Hello, Clark. How is everyone faring?”
Clark smiles back at her, ignoring Bruce for the moment because it seems like the best option. There’s an expression on Bruce’s face that Clark can’t read – something complicated, warring between happy and furious, like he’s actively fighting against the effects he’s experiencing.
“It seems like Bruce got the short end of the stick,” Clark tells her. “How’s he doing? Dick told me the gist of it, so I figure direction questions aren’t the best, huh?”
He casts a look over to Bruce, whose face is twisted in pain – not physical, never that, because Clark knows he’d rather die than admit he feels it. “I’d tell you anything,” Bruce blurts out, and then bites his lip.
“Not even insinuations, got it,” Clark adds quickly. “Should we talk outside?”
“You should stay,” Bruce says, and then squeezes his eyes shut. “I –”
“Let’s go outside,” Diana agrees, interrupting Bruce and grabbing her by the arm to steer Clark back out into the hallway where Dick was still standing.
“You barely lasted two minutes,” Dick says lightly. “Told you.”
Clark shakes his head. “I’ll go back in once we’re done, but it seems like he has no filter, am I right?”
Diana nods. “Close enough. Direction questions absolutely trigger the curse, but he seems to struggle with not verbalizing any strong emotion he feels. He’s able to put aside some things and not others.”
“Okay, we can work with that. Do we have any timeline on this?”
“It should wear off within twenty-four hours,” Diana says. “We just need to keep him calm and contained until then.”
Dick snorts, which Clark has to admit isn’t an unreasonable reaction.
“Diana, you can check in with the others. I’ll sit with him for a while,” Clark offers.
Diana looks at him skeptically, and Dick looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Are you sure?” she asks.
Clark nods. “Yeah, of course. Go on; I’ll be fine.”
Diana spares him a last glance before nodding and walking away. Dick turns to him with a questioning expression. Clark waves him off. “I’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Go home, update Alfred and everyone, alright?”
Dick frowns. “Okay. Sure. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Clark agrees, and watches Dick go off. He opens the med room door again after a deep breath, and Bruce’s eyes snap to his.
“Clark,” Bruce says, almost breathes, a smile breaking out over his face before he tamps it down. “This is probably a bad idea.”
Clark can’t help but laugh, walking over and sitting in the place Diana had left. “Everyone’s saying that, but I can’t understand why. I can’t imagine what you could say to me that would surprise me.”
Bruce raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I think recent events have shown that you do have questions for me, though.”
Clark feels a flush rising up his neck. “Maybe, but I won’t ask them.”
Bruce looks confused. “I thought that’s why you came in here alone.”
“No,” Clark says with a shake of his head. “I just thought you shouldn’t be alone.”
Bruce’s face makes another series of confusing expressions. “Clark,” he says, gently, more gently than Bruce normally says anything. There’s an emotion behind it that Clark can almost grab onto. “You shouldn’t have to put up with all this from me. When I don’t give it back.”
Clark smiles at him, just as gently. “I’m not putting up with anything, Bruce. I want to be here.”
Bruce looks away from him. “You were… asking questions, recently. And I – I thought you should know – since it’s… hard for me to say these things normally –”
Clark reaches over and covers Bruce’s hand with his own. “Don’t,” he cautions quietly. “You’ll regret saying it at all, and I’d rather you want to say it. That’s my issue here, Bruce – I’m not ignorant of… of your feelings. But if nothing’s changed, then what’s the point? Knowing just to know? If – if you mean it, then you’ll say it tomorrow.”
Bruce presses his lips together, and Clark can tell that he’s struggling not to say anything, struggling against the effects of the curse.
“Do you want me to leave?” Clark asks.
“No,” Bruce responds immediately, almost before Clark can finish the question.
Clark goes to move his hand and lean back, but Bruce flips his hand over and laces their fingers together. He feels something warm blooming in his chest, and smiles.
Clark isn’t surprised when Bruce doesn’t reach out to him the next day. He expects that that’s it – Clark has, effectively, laid his cards on the table. That he wants to hear that something’s changed, from Bruce, when Bruce means it with all his faculties intact.
And, if Bruce isn’t reaching out, then he probably doesn’t. Because Clark has always known that it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their brief relationship – Bruce wanted to be there more for Dick, he was worried about the distraction to Batman, the impact on Bruce Wayne’s reputation. There were so many reasons why, and some of them might still be there – probably, there were even new ones.
So Clark leaves it alone, because he can deal with that. He had expected that outcome, really.
Three weeks after the truth spell/curse incident, Clark is assigned to a gala that Bruce is on the attendance list for. He reaches out, letting Bruce know that he’ll be there, and hears nothing back. Also not surprising, even if he wasn’t pretty sure Bruce was trying to hide from him.
He doesn’t expect to see Bruce there, but then when Clark himself is getting ready to wrap up and leave after speeches, Bruce Wayne swans in, drawing all eyes to him. Clark’s, too.
Bruce has always been handsome to him. Whether he’s in a t-shirt working in the cave, the batsuit, or dressed to the nines like this… Clark has always been drawn to him. For years before they’d gotten together, he’d been drawn to Bruce. After, it had always felt like Bruce was a planet he could orbit around.
Clark tucks his notebook away and does another look for anyone he might need a quote from. Bruce, always, but that wasn’t even necessary anymore – Clark knew him well enough to make up a quote and get Bruce to approve it, whenever needed.
Clark wants to leave now, but Bruce is still blocking the door where he drew people over. He considers waiting, but… it’s really not worth it, so Clark walks over and starts to scootch past the assembled crowd.
Bruce catches his eye and grins, sharklike. “Mr. Kent, my favourite reporter! Leaving so soon?”
“Well, my job is done for the evening, Mr. Wayne,” Clark replies evenly, trying to pretend like he can’t feel all eyes on them. “Unless you care to add a comment? But you missed most of the festivities…”
Bruce chuckles. “I could spare a few words for you. If everyone will excuse us?”
It’s not a request, of either Clark or the assembled onlookers. Clark has no choice but to follow Bruce away, getting led down a hallway and into an abandoned office.
“It seems there’s actually something you want to say,” Clark teases. “What’s on your mind, Bruce?”
Bruce pauses, some sort of conviction seeming to leave his body. “Would you believe me if I said I just needed a moment?”
Clark shakes his head. “Not really, no.”
“That’s what I thought,” Bruce mutters. “I… wanted to talk to you, about the other day.”
Clark feels his blood run cold, just for a moment. “Oh, you don’t – Bruce, you don’t have to. I know what it means, we don’t need to draw this out.”
“I don’t think you do,” Bruce replies, with surprising force. “Dick talked to me, afterwards. About some of the conversations the two of you have been having, and how I should… ‘put up or shut up’ as he put it. I hadn’t realized that… that there was an alternative being offered, before.”
The chilled feeling has left as quickly as it came, and Clark now feels almost too warm, the whiplash of it all leaving him just confused. “I’m not sure if there is one being offered,” Clark admits. “But I can’t say that I’m not… curious about it. I don’t know if it’s a better idea now than it was then.”
“I don’t know either,” Bruce says, and seems to force himself to meet Clark’s eyes. “I’ve thought about it, too.”
He takes a step closer, and it’s all Clark can do to not freeze up. Bruce places a hand on his chest, his fingers curling into the lapel of Clark’s chronically oversized suites. “We never did try and see how Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne would work, did we?”
“No, we didn’t,” Clark agrees, and he stops resisting the urge to touch Bruce’s face.
Bruce leans into it, and it’s like he’s twenty years younger right in front of Clark’s eyes. The crow’s feet are still there, but his eyes are the same. He’s not the same person he was, back then, but Clark isn’t either.
“What would you say to trying it out?” Clark asks quietly. “No guarantees, but –”
Bruce cuts him off with a kiss, pressing into him hungrily as Clark does all that he can to hold on. And, like the first time, forever stretches out in front of him. He hopes that this time they can grab hold.