Work Text:
"Maybe look down—not completely!" Bruce halted at the coordinator's flailing, looking at her with a quirked brow. A near microscopic wrinkle of his nose betraying his thoroughly subdued frustration.
"Just..." For a moment, she was at a loss for words, taking a moment to search for the right ones to sufficiently express her mind. "Just look down with your eyes—only your eyes." Bruce nodded, doing as he was told.
"Tilt the head at an angle?" He did.
"Perfect! Take the shot!"
The shot was perfect, even from his generous distance, Clark could see in detail as crystal clear as the ice of his fortress. The arranged lights bathing a side of Bruce's face while plunging the other in shadow, the curve of his lower lip streaked with a blue hue—the same blue hue that was making his eyes gleam. His charcoal crown of hair flowing from his head like water frozen in motion, framing his face.
Taking all of this in, in excruciating detail was the only reason he wasn't flat out bored out of his mind. Of course, he couldn't complain—he'd insisted on coming with.
"Mr Kent." Clark startled out of his own mind, sitting up from his slumping into the loveseat and offering a sheepish smile at the man looking down at him with an unimpressed deadpan.
"Mr Wayne requested we get you a beverage. I took the liberty of getting you some coffee. Black." The man, Herman, held out the styrofoam cup for Clark to take. That was as good a hint as he was going to get that the crew weren't too fond of his literal slouching.
"Thank you," his murmured gratitude went largely ignored as Herman left to probably go do something worth his time. Taking a sniff at the styrofoam and internally facepalming when his senses concluded the black coffee he was given was indeed black coffee—Clark glanced back at up at Bruce, all to see him staring right back.
Three years ago, he would've jumped out of his skin.
His expression, which Clark assumed had previously been blank—stoic—furrowed after Clark met his gaze. Not in frustration or scrutiny, it lacked the telltale sharpness indicative of either, like a blade surgically weaving through his tissues for delicate innards. His furrowed gaze was soft at the edges, imploring. Clark lightly shook his head. It's fine.
Bruce didn't buy it, made it that much clear when he kept his piercing gaze on Clark for a solid nine more seconds. Before finally acquiescing and turning his attention back to the coordinator.
"Okay, this time, we do the exact opposite. Chin up!"
Clark took a long sip of his coffee—well aware the caffeine would do nothing to him. Occasionally glancing at Bruce before allowing himself to just simply stare. Blue light cutting hard lines against his jaw, pooling oceanic blue into his black hair. A sharp glint in his eyes, some parts the light reflecting in them. Others a fraction of his sharp wit bearing through.
Clark personally thought the form didn't suit him. It felt like he was looking down on something. It didn't suit him. But it was beautiful. And that's all the crew needed.
Clark took another sip of his coffee.
"Okay, great!" The coordinator clapped her hands once, a sharp sound that carried through the studio too effectively for Clark's liking. "You always deliver, Brucey." Bruce offered a charmed smile.
"Right! Now let's do something in-between..." Clark watched the coordinator gesture with her hands, as if painting the image to life with them. Her work process was oddly satisfying to watch. She loved what she was doing, he could tell.
"Maybe...close your eyes? Turn your face to the left, as if you're looking away from something." Just as Bruce was about to do exactly that—"but not in disgust!"
"Turn away like..." She snapped her fingers as she racked her mind for the words. "Like...like you're seeing an ex lover. An ex lover who wants you back."
Clark watched Bruce tilt his head with a single raised brow, a small smirk forming on his lips. Amused. Was he thinking of Khoa? Talia? Selina? Who wasn't Clark competing with?! Before doing as he was told.
"Take the shot!"—!clack!—!clack!—!clack!—
"What exactly is the purpose of this specific shot?" Bruce asked, tone bemused, even as he maintained position.
"To show the world your vulnerable side, Bruce!" She replied as if explaining a philosophy of the very world's essence. Maybe to her, it was.
"My vulnerable side." Bruce echoed. The coordinator mistook it for a question.
"Yes!"
Bruce was looking at him now. Before subsequently breaking position and gesturing Clark over. Clark hesitated only for a moment before getting up from the loveseat and putting his coffee aside. He did not mourn it.
"Hey, Romeo," Bruce purred once Clark was in his reach, pulling the lapels of his suit—adjusting them out of habit even as his suit hung loose on his form. "You like black coffee now?"
Clark shrugged against Bruce's hands brushing nonexistent lint from his shoulders. "I like to try new things." Clark lied. Bruce looked at him, eye to eye for a long moment. Probably seeing through his lie and his need to tell it. No need to get someone fired just cause they're a bit of a jerk.
"Okay," Bruce acquiesced quietly before taking a small step back. Clark subconsciously reaching a hand to his lower back as if to stop the distance from growing. "Make me vulnerable!" Bruce declared a bit louder, more for the crew's sake than Clark's.
Clark chuckled in slight disbelief. "Wuh—at?"
"You heard Laura." Bruce turned his gaze to her, while she maintained hers on Clark—it was skeptical and searching all at once. "I need to look vulnerable," Bruce returned his gaze to Clark. "So make me feel vulnerable," he added, back in that quiet tone—meant for Clark and only Clark.
"I'll embarrass you, Bruce." Clark replied in a faux deadpanned tone. The skin around Bruce's eyes crinkled as his eyes narrowed in amusement.
"Give me the camera." The coordinator—Laura—quietly demanded. Apparently not trusting the cameraman with an improvised shot.
"Seriously?" Clark questioned a last time, Bruce's amused silence answer enough.
"Okay, you asked for this." Just as something sharp passed through Bruce's eyes, glinting into view against the black of his pupils—a nanosecond of reconsideration that came too late—Clark brought Bruce closer with both hands over his lower back before pressing his lips to his cheek in a comical kiss.
Clark didn't care for the arranged beauty this photoshoot wanted, even if he could acknowledge he understood why anyone else would. Bruce chuckled, bringing his left hand to the back of Clark's neck to keep himself steady and anchored—rather than wholly at his whims.
When the surprise wore off, Bruce settled into the pseudo hug-kiss, his chuckle waning down to a small smile. The ones Clark didn't need supervision to see, but certainly weren't easy to bring out. His hand at Clark's neck settled like it belonged there—comfortable. Thumb caressing the fringes of his hair, it was familiar.
Like a sleeper agent or a dormant tic called to act, Clark settled deeper into the hug like he always did. Peppering a long kiss at the skin around Bruce's left eye, almost over his eyelid—where he knew it was crinkled.
—!clack!—!clack!—!clack!—
"Perfect!" Laura bellowed. Clark had, for a moment, forgotten she was there. Pressing one last kiss to the space beside Bruce's ear, then another on his hairline—Clark let go.
"Okay! One last shot!"
Bruce let out a small sigh before letting go of Clark's arm. Shrugging his shoulders as he stood back into form once more. Clark making his way back to his loveseat, finishing the last of his cold coffee—he'd rather not put it to waste. The taste was easy to ignore when staring at Bruce.
It wasn't like Bruce's heart stopped or anything. It had just gone soft—a pitter patter that was only a notch slower than Bruce's heartbeat usually was. And, to reiterate, that in and of itself wasn't concerning. In fact, Clark had quietly smiled to himself whilst writing an article on LexCorp, thinking perhaps Bruce had finally gone to sleep. Rarely anything ever brought a smile to his face when he was working on a Lex related article. The moment that had him panicked—startling up from his slouch so sharply even Lois, thirteen pages deep into her notes, had turned to look at him with concern—was when Bruce's heartbeat did a full 180° and started rabbiting.
It wasn't thundering in his chest by any means, but the change had been too abrupt to brush off.
"Are you okay?" Lois whispered quietly, reaching over from her own desk to anchor Clark with a hand on his forearm. He didn't answer, couldn't because he didn't have an answer yet. He'd already stood up from his own seat—"I don't...I—"
Understanding softened the sharpness of her curiosity. Nodding, "Go. I'll cover for you."
Clark was already climbing up the stairs to the roof in his hurry, out of his suit in a blur of red and blue. Before taking off into the sky with a resounding and dull—!boom!—the kind that radiated through one's chest cavity.
By the time he was entering Gotham, Bruce's heartbeat had slowed down. Returning to that lethargic pace that had convinced Clark he was sleeping. He listened in for anything else and heard nothing. No proud mumbling of kidnappers or theatrical maniacs. No huffing to indicate the aftermath of a fight or a struggle. Just nothing, except the clacking of keypads meeting fingertips.
Slowing down at the mouth of the Batcave, Clark waited for all it's defensive measures to be deactivated before going in. Touching down to the flat path leading into the cave, a path made specifically for the BatMobile—atleast that's what Clark called it—and letting his footsteps resound and echo. Announce his arrival.
Even though he'd expected it, he was still a fraction disappointed—though mostly, undeniably relieved. Bruce was sitting infront of his massive bank of computers, all bathing him in blue light. When Clark sniffed the air, he could smell the grease warpaint Bruce had yet to clean off from his eyes. He smelled like diesel and dried sweat. Like Batman.
But all he was wearing was a black hoodie and sweatpants.
"Hey," Clark broke the quiet with a greeting. Bruce grunted in reply, Clark's footsteps punctuating the silence in-between.
"Your heartbeat kind of spooked me for a moment there," he began in a deceptively copacetic tone. He'd admitted to listening to it three weeks into dating and Bruce hadn't taken kindly to it, as expected. Told him not to do it again. Clark had agreed, gone home and destroyed every listening/tracking device in his apartment. Bruce got the message loud and clear and they'd met at a compromise.
"I'm fine." Came Bruce's reply, an edge less colder than it would be with anyone else. A genuine effort to be convincing—reassuring. Clark hummed. Now only a few feet behind Bruce, right beside his workstation where his damaged Batarangs lay waiting to be repaired.
"I'm not hearing as much static from your brain as I'd like," Clark continued. The telltale crackling of electric signals passing between synapses was quieter than he was accustomed to from Bruce. Low neurotransmitter levels. "Your amygdala's pretty loud though." Bruce tensed, the ceaseless clacking from the keyboard stopping for a brief second.
"I'm fine."
Clark hummed again. Switching to his x-ray vision and looking through Bruce's skull. The soft coating around some of his nerves was thinner than it should be. Myelin sheath degradation.
"When was the last time you slept?"
This time, the silence stretched longer.
"Gotham's been fussier than usual."
Clark hummed. Again. And no, it wasn't just to piss Bruce off—though sometimes it was. Being with Bruce taught him patience. Contrary to popular belief, Clark was hardheaded and impulsive on a good day. Knowing Bruce even before they'd started dating meant taking a step back and listening to the little codes he left for you to figure out even a fraction of his mind's machinations.
"Do you need my help?"
"No."
"Okay," Clark acquiesced easily. Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the workstation. The metallic tools on it briefly rattling as his weight settled by the table. Bruce's shoulders sagged by a fraction, relieved of Clark's refusal to argue.
Soon though, it became apparent to Bruce he wasn't going anywhere. He'd glance at Clark from the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to the computer, as if non-verbally willing him to leave. Half an hour in, the side glances stopped and Bruce's amygdala was quieter. Whether he'd ever admit or not, Clark had figured it out all on his own, Bruce felt safer with him around. And yes, Clark gladly abused that finding eagerly, just as he did now.
An hour in, Bruce's prefrontal cortex started purring a bit louder than it had before. A moth soft purring as small bouts of lightning streaked between his synapses. Clark quietly smiled to himself. An hour and thirty minutes in, Bruce was slouching into himself—fighting sleep. Ten minutes later, he finally turned to look at Clark, vicious glare plain on his face.
And Clark tried not to look smug. He tried. But Bruce let out a resigned sigh before getting up from his seat and switching off his computers. And Clark couldn't help but chuckle in self satisfied victory, even as he tailed Bruce to the showers.
It had taken a maximum of six minutes before Bruce actually fell asleep. And Clark would've stayed longer, enjoyed the warmth of Bruce in his arms—Clark had quite literally encased Bruce in his arms, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat with an ear against the flat of his back—but he'd already left Lois to stall for him for nearly three hours. Even she could only do so much.
The fact that Bruce hadn't stirred while Clark untangled himself from him was telling of how deep his exhaustion went. And Clark consoled his very unnecessary concerns considering this was Batman after all, with a quick x-ray vision scan. Before quietly leaving his room. Taking off his shirt and grey sweatpants only after he'd made it to the BatCave. Folding both up and leaving them in a nondescript locker in the showers before pulling on his suit.
Bruce would probably be a bit miffed about that if he so chose to check the lockers. Make a huge fuss about it, probably make Clark feel like he should go take the clothes out of the locker and put them in the closet upstairs. Before revealing to him that he'd already done it himself, silently taking a great pleasure in watching him squirm with guilt. Yes, this has happened before. But as of now, he was more worried about the hell Lois would put him through for disappearing for nearly three hours without even so much as an update.
He hadn't been actively looking at the billboards—he didn't make a habit of it while flying. He'd say it was mostly coincidence he'd even manage to come across it, but it had halted him mid flight regardless. A dull—!BOOM!—whipping through the air at his abrupt stop. Many a height above the ground, a few feet above the billboard itself. Unbeknownst to him, every eye from down below turning to look up at the Man Of Steel hovering in place. Staring, transfixed.
"Huh," Pulitzer Award nominated reporter right there.
He hadn't thought they'd use this shot for the billboard. Hell, he had thought he'd made sure it was unusable. Theatric and comical, anything but the cold, beautiful shot the crew had been looking for. But here it was, spanning the complete width and length of the billboard. Clark pressing a tender kiss to the space just next to Bruce's eye, just over his cheek. Holding him close with two arms snaked at his waist. His lips quirked in the slightest even as they're pressed to the amused crinkle of Bruce's eye. Bruce lazily holding him close in turn with a hand at his neck, sure and comfortable. Very much like it belonged there, like it had long carved it's place just there. A small smile on his lips as he's half at Clark's whims. Light pouring through to swathe his face in a warm blue hue. When Clark eventually takes his gaze off Bruce specifically, he realises they're both sharing the blue light—an oceanic halo outlining them both.
He doesn't know how long he spends, suspended in the air, transfixed by the billboard. And he damn well knows he had only needed a nanosecond to commit the image to crystal clear memory. He doesn't realise when exactly he had made his way back to the Daily Planet and doesn't remember seeing the crowds that had formed down below him before he'd fled.
>Anna
@getannabortion everybody who's been praying on the downfall of this relationship lowkey suffering rn😭🥀 [an official promotional picture of Bruce in Clark's embrace, at the whims of his comical kiss—advertised by Vogue and Wayne Enterprises]
37k likes 31 replies
>>Christopher
@stop Replying to @getannabortion in genuine anguish #cruce is literally EVERYWHERE rn😭💔 [a velocity edit of a behind-the-scenes clip of Bruce and Clark settling into the currently viral pose]
19k likes 12 replies
>>Clover
@clover🍀 Replying to @getannabortion CAN YOU BLAME US??? MOST OF US DIDN'T THINK CLARK KENT WOULD LAST A WEEK😭😭
9.2k likes 47 replies
>>Layla_The_One
@laylathe01 Replying to @getannabortion IT SHOULD'VE BEEN MEEEE!💔💔💔[meme of someone screaming in unfettered agony while gripping his face, kneeling on the floor]
24.9k likes 57 replies
>Dipper219
@dipdip may this love ATTACK me [a looped gif of Bruce adjusting the lapels of Clark Kent's suit while Clark simply looks down at him with ardor]
42k likes 21 replies
>>Terry_Tazzy
@terrythetasmanianmenace Replying to @dipdip [a transition edit of all the behind-the-scenes clips of Bruce and Clark]
17k likes 11 replies
>Supergirl's Wench
@supergirl_swench #CRUCE SUPREMACY!!!🥳🥳🎉 [a picture of the viral Cruce photoshoot displayed on a digital billboard, taken in Gotham Square]
78k likes 109 replies
>Rocko
@elmocansuckit the gays stay winning #cruce #brucewayne
7k likes 10 replies
>Delectable_Bread
@delectablebread yo is he okay??¿?😧 [blurry but undeniable picture of Superman hovering midair, seemingly staring at a billboard displaying the official promotional cover of Vogue—Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent in embrace]
126k likes 398 replies
>>Bread_Eater310
@breadeater310 Replying to @delectablebread [meme of Sonic the hedgehog giving you the sharpest side eye, while half shrouded in darkness]
39k likes 62 replies
>>>Delectable_Bread
@delectablebread Replying to @breadeater310 can I fucking help you???
18.9k likes 14 replies
>>Elizabeth
@beth Replying to @delectablebread god forbid a man is mesmerized by yaoi🙄
15.7k likes 82 replies
>>Lizzzzie
@lizzzzie Replying to @delectablebread Superman's a Cruce shipper???😯😯🎉
18k likes 102 replies
>Brucie's Fifth Glass Of Wine
@bruciesfifthglassofwine 👀 👀 [a zoomed in, shaky prolonged video of Superman hovering midair. Cape fluttering at his back against the wind as he stares at the billboard infront of him with open awe]
297k likes 601 replies