Work Text:
Home is when I’m with you
🏎️ᝰ.ᐟ
A brown coffee cup lay on the table, completely emptied from the inside, only a hollow lightless feeling stayed, left in the apartment where the reporter had left frantically. The orange light flitted to life, counting down for the traffic enroute. After some time, the sign flickered to the symbol of a man walking. And through the bustling crowd, a man stumbled across the pedestrian dotted lines nervously amidst the bumbling energy bubbling inside his heart. A briefcase was clutched in his hand firmly, a mop of curls bouncing with his every step. The sun gleamed down, the evening light settled into everyone’s skin after a long day of the blaring advisory related weather. He was finally headed home after an unbelievably long day of exhaustion seeping into his skin.
Clark breathed in the air of Metropolis, the buildings looming overhead, clouds parted way for him to walk through the busy streets where vendors stood, small cozy restaurants appearing with such ironic appeal as he kept taking more steps. The blood pumped through his legs, traveling up to his heart, a steady beat pulsing through his skin. He wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his left arm. Bruce was waiting for Clark inside his car; a pair of sunglasses perched atop his nose bridge. The scent of his cologne hit his nose despite being miles away.
Clark remembered the sound of their voices raising at him for not being able to do a task he was assigned. The reporter shut his eyes, covering his face with a folded newspaper with yet another Superman spotted headline.
“For gods’ sake, Kent! When are you going to understand this!?” Tommy grew frustrated. A newly hired secretary who assisted with some of the forums going in and out of metropolis news.
“I’m sorry, I swear to you that I’m trying,” Clark defied politely, his head lowered.
“Well, it seems to me like you’re just slacking and not trying to even be punctual,” the frustrated man spoke, his voice bubbling with anger and impatience. This seemed utterly pointless, pointing fingers where he had tried his very best to be prompt, instead, he faced his accusing scrutiny being bashed for even attempting.
Clark felt his heart pump backwards, as he shook his head. He quickly rose from his seat and excused himself before this could progress more than it had. Despite being much older, Clark still couldn’t fight the tears welling in his eyes as the heaviness of his world settled into his chest. A heavy weigh that seemed to cling on until he felt numb. His hand lifted the newspaper he had clutched in his arm and raised it towards his face, covering his face as his heavy heart took over him, and the warmth flooded through his body, a single tear breaking apart the man of steel as his footsteps paced out the door. But he shook out of his thoughts as he neared Bruce’s car, parked near the parking deck just outside of a festive creative university. Students streamed down the walkways and rode with swift speed on their automated scooters across the pavements. A new future and seasons of bright beginnings bloom right in front of their eyes.
Bruce removed the sunglasses from the bridge of his nose the moment his eyes met Clark’s through the tinted car window of his car. “Kal,” Bruce said, tender and rare.
“Bruce,” Clark sped up, his shoe faintly catching onto a tile, but immediately caught himself as he smiled shyly, his usual dorky, awkward smile that screamed in embarrassment yet was adorably endearing every single time. His hand met the handle of the door, pulling the car door open towards himself as he stepped inside. The scent of his cologne flooded the car, soothing Clark. Bruce guided Clark in immediately, watching as relief flooded into Clark’s face. Bruce’s heart melted as he reached his calloused, scarred hand completely concealed towards Clark’s and pulled his hand towards his lips. He pressed a kiss once, on the backside of his hand, twice along his wrist, and a gentle trail along each fingertip. Clark felt a deep hue of heat flood towards his cheeks.
“What’s that for?” Clark smiled the curve of his lips lifting the perfect canines along either cheek, his head curving towards his chin, his eyes downcast, blinking in quick adorable successions.
A bicycle whipped through their rearview mirror, a young boy’s body positioned over the seat, his hands settled firmly onto the green handlebars. Bruce left no room for argument nor response as he tugged Clark directly in for a kiss, deep, meaningful, and lingering.
“What isn’t for you?” Bruce whispered against his lips. Clark felt a grin uplift his face. And it felt like Bruce’s early morning coffee, the rare sunlight that peaks over the Gotham clouds. The warm hazy feeling when he’s settled into bed late at night. The release in the tension through his muscles.
The tremors that wreck his body after a good fight.
“Shall we go home?” Bruce asked, his voice soothingly deep after a long day of tiresome work.
Clark simply nodded. And with no hesitation, the engine rumbled beneath the rubble of the streets, the sound of a turn signal matched the rhythm in his head. Bruce pressed the gas pedal and sped towards his home.
Their home.
Bruce’s hands interlaced with Clark’s where they sat along the cupholder of their car. In the end, he’d always return to Bruce, his home and sanctuary that held him close together like glue when he was on the verge of falling apart. Bruce was always gentle when it came to Clark, today was no different. Clark leaned his head back against the head seat of his car, his eyes fluttering shut.
“What happened today, Clark?” Bruce asked, his voice in a low rumble that made Clark’s heart rata pick up faster with no fail.
“It’s stupid…Just work related,” Clark shook his head, adjusting his glasses quietly, his head turning towards the glass mirror of his car.
“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you this much sweetheart,” Bruce turned ever so slightly, his eyes casting between the signal light and the shifting cars, then back to Clark.
“My other colleague.” Clark drew in a short breath.
“He just—bothered me with accusations is all.” He turned his head towards Bruce, a reassuring smile on his face. But Bruce could see the pain written all over his face, a frown crossed his face. “What did he say to you, Clark?” Bruce shook his head, firm and concern laced over his tone, the grip on the steering wheel tightening without notice.
“He just said I couldn’t do anything right, or that I wasn’t always punctual with my work,” Clark’s voice trembled as he spoke, the memories flooding back. Bruce hushed him softly his voice falling into a deep tremble, the voice batman uses to keep criminals in line, the kind that makes them quiver in fear, “How dare he? We both know you aren’t like that,” Bruce felt a twitch along his temple, but breathed in the cool A/C swarming into the car, seeping into the leather seats and into his skin.
“Is this Tommy? I’ll give him a piece of my mind if I ever see him.” Bruce adjusted himself to sit up further, his eyes darkening.
“Stop…Bruce you know that won’t change anything. Don’t take it out on him,” Clark said, his voice ever so noble and gentle.
“I know you, Clark. But you need to stand up for yourself, especially against him. Don’t allow him to get the best of you,” Bruce said shortly after, sharp and concise. Clark bit his lip before slowly nodding. As his car stopped at yet another traffic light, Bruce’s hand stroked Clark’s wrist before raising towards his cheek, his thumb swiping over the dimple that appeared when he smiled wide and beautifully.
“I’m here, Clark. Don’t think about it anymore. He can’t hurt you, so long as you don’t let him and use your words,” Bruce said, unusually tender. Batman wasn’t tender, nor this sweet. But Bruce Wayne had his exceptions, and his sweet spot.
That had always been Clark.
Seeing his beautiful boy in pain made his heart tug in ways unimaginable. So, he vowed that even the strongest human on earth wouldn’t get hurt emotionally where his fragile heart lay. And Clark knew that. And he loved Bruce from the bottom of his heart for caring so deeply, to be so vulnerable to him. Clark reached out to curl a tender hand around Bruce’s bicep along his suit jacket. And Bruce let him as comfortable silence settled between them.
“I know, Bruce. I love you,” Clark whispered, intimate and just between them. Bruce felt a smile along the seam of his lip, his dark eyes meeting Clark’s as they swerved towards the highway to head towards the train station back to Gotham with his husband.
“I love you too, Kal,”