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It’s a quiet evening in Gotham. This was not particularly common for Bruce, which means it presents itself with a whole unique set of challenges. The manor windows give him a clear view of the grim day, sheets of rain steadily pouring down in a futile attempt to wash away the filth from the darkest corners of the city. Alfred has suggested(read: harassed and threatened) that Bruce spend some time outside of the cave, despite the current weather, which has led him to where he is now, standing frozen outside the door to Clark’s room.
It has been just over three months since Clark arrived on the manor’s doorstep unannounced, nothing but a suitcase in hand. Bruce was surprised to see him, and even more surprised, to the point of concern, at the broken look he wore — a dull, pleading dimness in his normally bright, unearthly blue eyes. Bruce wouldn’t have been able to turn Clark away even if he had wanted to.
He and Lois had decided to separate. They wanted to remain friends, if not for themselves directly, for the ease of their work lives, but that still required time apart to heal. They had lived together in Lois’ apartment, meaning that Clark had not only lost the woman he loved, but also his home. It was too sudden for Clark to be able to score something in the Metropolis housing market, and he did not want to accept Lois’ offer to couch surf in the place that used to be his apartment too.
Bruce had done his absolute best to try and give Clark a new home at the manor, even if it was only temporary. Secretly he planned on keeping this place for Clark, even after he moved out, so that he would always have a home at the manor literally, not just figuratively. He never wants to see Clark beg him for entry to a home that Bruce believed was as much his as it was his own.
Of course, Clark didn’t know that exactly. Bruce was never one for words, making their friendship long and hard earned, but also one that was unique to Clark and Clark alone, one that ran deeper than Bruce would admit to anyone, sometimes even to himself. There was a part of him that was ecstatic that Clark came to him in his time of need, that he is living in the same house and sharing so much of his time with him. Bruce was aware of how it will hurt when Clark does eventually leave again, but for now he relishes the way Clark has settled in so firmly at the manor.
Against his better judgement – and the voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Dick’s lecturing him on trust and privacy – Bruce opened the door to Clark’s room. The room was one of many unused master bedrooms, this one on the south side of the house since it would receive the most sunlight through the large, ornate windows. Clark had the curtains drawn back to let that light in, although it was currently gloomy outside, which instead cast the room in soft gray. The room was certainly not messy, but it didn’t have that polished, clean look that the rest of the rooms of the manor did, and even to an extent, Bruce’s own room. This room was lived in, tinged with evidence that someone was living here. That Clark was living here.
He felt the urge to step into the room, cross the threshold he was so precariously balancing on between being just nosy and a genuine invasion of privacy. He wanted to see the way Clark’s wardrobe filled the closet, to lay in the rumpled comforter he had pulled up to keep the bed from looking entirely unmade. At the tug of that urge deep beneath Bruce’s ribs, he finally found it within himself to step back and close the door. This was Clark’s home now, and he would give him the same privacy afforded to someone living outside the manor walls.
He resumes the wandering of the huge halls of his house, one that has gone from a home to a haunt and back to a home again. Soon Clark should be back and they would be able to pass this quiet time together, as they have been doing more and more recently.
The fact that Clark has stuck around so long and has grown so comfortable here at the manor has done strange things to Bruce. He feels hopeful that maybe this means that Clark wants more, that maybe he’d even stay, but he knows none of that will happen. Clark itches to return to his city, be close to the people he cares about and demand his presence the most. Bruce doesn’t think he could live away from Gotham forever either, flying powers or not.
Eventually he finds himself in the library, selecting one of the many books off the shelves at random and settling into one of the large, comfortable chairs around the room to read it in. He lets himself get enraptured by the world and mysteries of Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye, enjoying the story no matter what some people say about it being far-fetched or corny. He has enough real detective work in his life to care about the realism of a story.
He was nearly halfway through the book when he was pulled from its pages by the sound of approaching feet, far too heavy and conspicuous to be Alfred or any of his children. The kind of footsteps that belong to someone who has to be forever aware of the weight of his own body on the ground beneath him.
He turns to the door just in time to see Clark appear, hunched and wet from the rain.
“Clark.” Bruce greeted him, closing his book.
“Hey, B. I don’t mean to interrupt your reading, I just was seeing if you were around.” Clark gave him a halfhearted smile.
Bruce was well aware that Clark did not need to even enter the manor to know that he was around or even figure out what he was doing. They’ve been friends long enough to know that this was Clark asking for attention without even really knowing it himself.
“You didn’t. I’ve been waiting for you to get back, actually.” Bruce said and Clark seemed to brighten at the thought.
“Oh, really? What for?”
“Alfred has banished me from the cave for the day, and I find myself lacking sufficient entertainment around the manor on my lonesome that doesn’t involve some kind of work, which Alfred has also strictly forbidden.” Bruce said with the seriousness of someone reciting their solemn vows.
Clark laughed, face brightening, posture unfurling as he seemed to regain that glow of energy unique to him. Bruce felt his heart swell at the thought that he did that.
“Alright, I’ll hang out with ya. Let’s go watch that movie we were talking about the other night.” Clark smiled and the pair began to move to the one sitting room they actually used in the manor. “To be honest, I’ve been waiting to get home and hang out with you, too.”
Bruce squashed the blossom of warmth caused both from Clark referring to the manor as home and also the fact that Clark had been thinking about and wanting to hang out with him all day. Now was not the time to let his feelings get ahead of himself.
“Rough day?” Bruce asked.
“You could say that.” Clark gave a sad chuckle.
“If you want to talk about it, I will listen.” Bruce said after a beat, and Clark smiled softly at him, the rarity of such an offer, at least a voiced offer, not lost on him.
“The day didn’t start off great. Nothing went wrong, but the first thing I did today as Superman was bust that child trafficking ring, and you know how it is.” Clark sighed and Bruce nodded. One of the best parts about their line of work is getting to help people, but the other side of that coin is having to bear witness to the horrors people need help with. Anything with extreme abuse or children, and especially both, was the worst psychologically, even when the busts are quick and clean.
“And then I also took you up on the advice you gave.” Clark sighed again. “I tried going out with someone, just to, I don’t know, see if the prospect of a relationship again would help me feel better and get over stuff, but it was just terrible. I met them on some app and thought we would be compatible, but the spark wasn’t there at all. I spent the whole time hoping it would end as fast as possible.”
Bruce felt himself wilt inside a little at the discovery that Clark has been on dating apps looking for someone new to try and build a life with. He felt ashamed at the feeling of relief he felt that his date today didn’t work out. His job, though, is to be a good friend, which means comforting him and helping him forget about today.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone again.” And before he could stop himself: “Saying that you are a catch is an understatement.”
“Really?” Clark looked at him hopefully and Bruce fought off the flutter in his chest at his admission.
“What, need me to say it again? Aren’t you supposed to be some freakishly humble god-amongst-men or something?”
Clark just smiled at him while they settled onto the couch in the sitting room. Bruce grabbed some blankets from a basket in the corner, texting Alfred in the way he knows the man hates, but it really is so much more convenient asking for some popcorn to be brought to them without having to search the manor first. They shuffle around, covering themselves up and getting comfortable to watch their movie.
Bruce acted jokingly dismayed at their decision of what to watch, but he knows that no matter what they pick, Clark would have more of his attention than the screen would anyway. If Clark wanted to watch whatever terrible rendition of a beautiful, classic piece of literature that was Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, then by god that was what they’d watch.
As the movie went on, Bruce did see the humor in it, even if he definitely preferred the original, but the commentary from Clark made it all worth it. They gravitated towards each other as it continued until the feeling of Clark pressed against his side was all his mind could focus on. He was so lost in the warmth of Clark’s body, the sensation of his firm muscles against his own, that he didn’t notice himself drift off to sleep.
He didn’t notice, not until he was woken up to the feeling of something nuzzling against his neck. He was so warm, so comfortable. It was quiet and the TV was glowing a dim black that left the room almost entirely in darkness still. He felt the pressure on his neck again and then it hit him. Clark had his arms wrapped tightly around Bruce’s body, face pressed into the crook of his neck, their legs tangled beneath the covers.
He had no idea when or how this had happened. He doesn’t remember finishing the movie or turning it off. He doesn’t know how they ended up in each other's arms sideways on the couch. What he does know is that he will need to remove himself from this situation before he delivers irreparable damage to his own mental walls or for his hind-brain to kick in and interpret this situation as something more than friendly.
“Clark.” Bruce whispered, his voice surprisingly gruff with disuse. He’d guess it’s around one in the morning which means he’s only been asleep for a few hours at most.
“Clark.” He said again, lightly nudging him with his hand, hoping to stir the sleeping giant. “We should get up.”
“Nhhhggg.” Clark mumbled, squeezing Bruce tighter, nuzzling further into his neck.
Bruce couldn’t help the way his breath hitched, a small gasp escaping him as his heart began to race.
“We should get up, Clark. It’s not good to sleep on the couch.” Bruce tried to argue, panicking at the way he could feel heat pooling in his stomach.
“Mmmmm nooo,” Clark mumbled.
“Clark-”
“You don’ wanna.” Clark nuzzled at his neck again, inhaling deeply against his skin.
“Wha- what?” Bruce asked, trying as hard as possible to keep his voice level and slow down his racing heart.
“You don’t wanna, I can… smell it. Hear it.” Clark mumbled again, lips ghosting across Bruce’s neck in a way that made him shiver. He could feel his arousal growing, and Clark seemed plenty aware of it, too.
“I don’t wanna.” Clark murmured.
Bruce didn’t even have a chance to think about what Clark was saying before he felt the wet warmth of Clark’s mouth against the skin of his neck.
“Clark-” Bruce gasped out, trying again to push Clark away, not wanting to take pleasure in the sleep-addled ministrations of his friend. Clark didn’t want this, he was just frustrated and tired.
“I wan’ it.” Clark groaned against his skin, shifting his hips to press them against Bruce’s leg, letting him feel just how much he wanted it.
“Clark, you don’t want this. You’ll regret it in the morning and I-” Bruce gasped as a leg slipped between his, grinding down on his growing arousal. “I can’t do this. Not if you’ll regret it.”
“Bruce-” Clark groaned, stilling his hips and tongue. “I want this.”
“No, you-”
“Don’t.” Clark commanded and Bruce snapped his jaw shut. “I tried getting over it. Getting over you, but I couldn’t. Can’t.”
Clark kissed along his jaw grinding their hips together in a slow, heavy motion, ripping a gasp out of Bruce, still tense beneath the larger man.
“Bruce, please.” Clark begged, “I want you so bad, tell me you want it too.”
Bruce thought he was about to pass out or cry or both. He felt so overwhelmed, so shocked by this development that he was reeling from it. He still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t trust the truth of the statement, but he was too far gone to complain.
“Clark,” Bruce groaned out, “I- Yes. I want it.”
As soon as the words left his lips, he was swallowed up in a world of pleasure. Clark was relentless, nipping, licking, and kissing, grabbing onto everything he could reach. The rolling of his hips was steady but growing frantic, pushing them both quickly towards climax.
Bruce heard himself whine as he strained to get his body closer, desperate for the feel of skin against skin but thwarted by far too many layers of clothes. He clawed at Clark’s back trying to climb into him, merge with him as pleasure sparked between their bodies. He hadn’t even realized how close he was until he was letting out a choked sob, shuddering with the sudden intensity of his release.
“Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Clark whispered, kissing his face gently, still holding him in his arms as he rocked his hips sporadically, waves of over stimulation igniting Bruce’s body.
Clark cried out as he toppled over the edge, movements stuttering to a halt as he finished. He collapsed heavily against Bruce’s body, panting and kissing at him, mind clearly hazy with post orgasm fog. Bruce was no better, delirious and still on the edge of sleep, half unsure if this was real or a dream.
He thinks he can remember the feeling of Clark getting up, coming back shortly with a rag to gently wipe him off, carefully tugging off his clothes and replacing them with new, clean ones. He thinks he can remember the feeling of lips against his forehead and strong hands tucking the mess of blankets back around him.
Now, with the morning sun cutting in sharp rays through the room, cold and alone, Bruce is sure he doesn’t remember the feeling of Clark’s warmth returning to his side.
*
Bruce finds a note in the kitchen in Clark’s handwriting, a terrible chicken scratch absolutely unfit for a journalist, but it’s not like Clark needs to write anything down to remember it anyway. He feels his hand shake as he reads it.
Clark left early to go look at an apartment in Metropolis, one he feels good about and will hopefully move into very soon.
A horrible, gnawing feeling settles into Bruce’s gut. Clark regrets it. He’s leaving because he can’t be around Bruce after Bruce took advantage of him like that. He doesn’t feel safe at the manor anymore so he is leaving.
Bruce leaves the note on the counter, face down, and makes his way to the cave.
*
It isn’t until very late that Clark finds Bruce. He made a point to avoid anywhere in the house Clark might be, trying his best to give him space. Bruce had just donned most of his suit, preparing to leave for patrol in just short of an hour.
“Bruce?” Clark’s voice calls from behind him.
He tries not to let his heart jump at the sound of his voice, turning at the most normal speed possible to face him. Clark looked… normal, if not a touch nervous.
“Is there something you need?” Bruce asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your hospitality and kindness these past months. I understand if you want me to leave. The apartment looked great and I already signed the lease. I can spend a week or two in the Fortress until it’s ready.”
Bruce was silent, confused at the apology since he expected something worse. Anger. Disgust. Not… guilt.
“It shouldn’t take me long to get my things. Thank you to the moon and back for letting me stay as long as you have.” Clark looked down, taking a step back as he prepared to leave.
“Clark, wait.” Bruce said and Clark went still. “What are you apologizing for?”
Bruce watched as Clark’s face went red with the memory, downcast with shame.
“Last night. What I did was unacceptable.” Clark’s voice was sullen.
“Why do you think that?” Bruce asked, carefully.
“God, Bruce, you really want me to lay it out for you, huh?” Clark looked at him with teary eyes. “I let my feelings get ahead of my thoughts and- and assaulted you, Bruce! I pressured you into doing that with me. You said to wait and I didn’t. You said-” Clark took a shaky breath trying to ground himself. “You said I’d regret it in the morning.”
“Clark, I said that because I thought you’d wake up in the morning and regret doing that with me.”
“Yes, because you didn’t consent and probably wouldn’t consent-”
“No, Clark, look at me.” Clark shut his mouth, the line of it trembling slightly as he met Bruce’s eyes.
“If it was something I didn’t want, you’d be in a hospital bed right now. I said wait because I didn’t want to take advantage of you on account of my own selfish intentions. Having you here for so long, I already knew it’d be hard when you leave, but I don’t…” Bruce paused, taking a deep breath, “I don’t know what I’d do if you woke up after that and never wanted to see me again. At all.”
“Bruce, I could never-” Clark started but stopped when Bruce held up his hand.
“You asked me last night if I wanted it. I said yes.” Bruce walked towards him, Clark standing frozen now less than a foot from him. “Do you still want it, too?”
Clark answered by crashing their mouths together, clutching Bruce tight against him just as fiercely as the night before.
“Shoot, I’m sorry. I- I thought-” Clark stuttered against his lips.
“Me too.” Bruce cut him off, sealing their mouths together again.
When they finally broke apart, Clark breathing heavily, Bruce’s lips red and kiss-swollen, they took a moment to really look at each other.
“Do you have to go on patrol?” Clark asked.
“Hmm, I think Nightwing can handle it. I’ve got more important business tonight.” Bruce smirked at him, grabbing his hand and tugging him upstairs.