Chapter Text
Clark frowns, glancing between the picture on his phone and the room before him. The movers had done a good job matching Tim’s new bedroom to the old one, but… something’s off, and he can’t quite tell what.
Maybe it’s that the windows are in a different place? That would definitely make things look off, though there isn’t too much that Clark can do about it.
Clark squints, then sighs.
No, that’s not it. He looks down again, matching each piece of furniture’s place in the photo to where they are in this room: the bed, the nightstand, the toy box, the arm-chair, the bookshelf, the—
“Ah,” he says, pocketing his phone before walking over to the dresser. He picks it up from where it stands against the far wall, moving it next to the bathroom door. Tim’s old room didn’t have an en-suite bathroom, but Clark figures having the dresser near where it was in the old room is probably going to make the adjustment easier for the poor kid. “There we go, that should be good.”
He stretches a bit, then heads out of the room. A few minutes later, he gets out of the elevator and heads over to the living room. Dick is playing a game on his Switch 2 in handheld mode (he thinks that’s what it’s called, anyway), Jason is reading a book, and Tim is telling Conner a story that Clark can’t quite make heads or tails of using Batman and a few other plush toys, mainly the teddy bear that Ma made Conner and a small plush elephant Dick got him.
Clark smiles, leaning on the doorway and watching all of them for a minute.
Part of him can’t believe how his life has changed so much in just a year. Heck, even six months ago it looked totally different— no Jason, no Tim, he’d only just realized that he wanted to be with Bruce.
And now, he has all of them. A family.
He lets himself bask in the domestic atmosphere (and in that Jason and Tim aren’t bickering for once) for another couple of minutes, then clears his throat.
“Tim, buddy, your room’s all done.”
Tim perks up, eyes wide.
“All done? I go see?” He asks.
“Of course. C’mon, I’ll show you.”
“Otay!” Tim says, standing up with Batman in his arms. Conner makes a sound of discontent. “Oh, sorry. Conner come with?”
“You wanna come, peanut?” Clark asks.
Conner blinks at him, then grabs the teddy bear and flings a few feet away. He giggles, then grabs another and does the same.
“I think he’s a bit occupied right now,” Clark comments.
“Otay. We go see room now?”
“Mmhm. Ready when you are, bud.”
In lieu of a verbal response, Tim grabs his hand, and Clark allows himself to be pulled along to the elevator. Tim’s practically buzzing with barely concealed excitement, rocking back and forth on his toes several times.
“Put it back like picture?” He suddenly asks.
“Mm-hm, the movers did a good job. Everything is where it was in your old room.”
Tim nods, tucking Batman’s head under his chin. He runs out the second that the elevator door opens, arriving at his door just minutes before Clark does.
“Open, open!” He demands before adding a “please!”
“Alright, alright,” Clark says with a laugh, grabbing the door handle and opening it.
Tim’s room looks exactly like it did in the picture the police provided— or at least, as close as they could get given the different layout of the rooms. The toddler bed, complete with a soft blue comforter and an extra blanket folded at the end, is in the corner, surrounded on two sides by the walls. There’s a nightstand next to it, and a toybox at the foot of it. Several plush toys are sitting on the bed, in the same order as the picture. The circular rug is rolled out in exactly the same place it was before. A small activity table is under the window, complete with crayons and paper. And of course, Clark moved the dresser to its proper spot before coming down.
It’s as close to perfect as it’s going to get. The only issue is that the walls are a different color, but Tim wasn’t willing to wait for it to get painted.
“What do you think?” Clark asks. “Did the movers do a good job?”
“Uh-huh. Like it.”
“That’s good. Think you’ll be able to sleep here now?”
“Uh-huh. All by myself.”
Clark tries not to look too relieved at that.
“Glad to hear it. Now, how about we head back down to—”
“Otay, bye-bye now!” Tim says, running aside and closing the door behind him. Clark blinks, then sighs and shakes his head— Tim’s been running a little hot and cold for the past couple of weeks, alternating between being clingy towards anyone who would spend time with him and demanding space when he got tired of being around people.
According to Alfred, Bruce was somewhat similar at the same age. Clark wonders if things were different, he would still be that way.
Regardless, the play therapist says Tim’s behavior is mostly what would be expected of a child who’d been through emotional neglect. Attachment issues, she’d said. Early intervention means he’ll likely be alright as an adult.
(She’d also recommended an autism assessment. Bruce didn’t seem surprised.)
Clark stands up, quietly deciding to come back and get him in a little while before heading down to the Batcave, where he knows Bruce is tinkering with something in the Batmobile. Something about adding an extra encryption layer between the car’s computer and the Batcomputer when the two are in communication, followed by changing the oil.
Clark won’t lie, he’s kind of hoping Bruce has finished up with the encryption and has moved on to changing the oil. He usually doesn’t wear a shirt with sleeves when he does that.
(Clark’s boyfriend is hot. Sue him.)
The elevator settles at the bottom of the shaft, dinging seconds before the doors open. Clark walks out to see Bruce standing at his desk, a tablet in his hands and a program running on the Batcomputer. He is, unfortunately, wearing a shirt with sleeves, but Clark is still happy to see him.
“Hey,” he calls as he walks down the steps. “Tim’s room is all set up.”
Bruce glances up at him.
“Did you show him?”
“Mm-hm.”
“How’d he like it?”
“A lot. He seemed very happy with it.”
“Does that mean we’ll be able to sleep in my bed sans toddler?” Bruce deadpans.
Clark rolls his eyes.
“I already acknowledged that you told me so, but, look, he went through something traumatic, you can’t be upset at him for being a little clingy.”
“Every single night for two weeks, Kent. And I’m not upset, I just would like to share my bed with my partner and only my partner for once.” Bruce smirks at him over his shoulder. “For multiple reasons.”
Clark’s cheeks heat, and he grins back. He walks up behind Bruce, wrapping his arms around his mid-section.
“Yeah? You wanna tell me what those reasons are?”
Bruce huffs, turning around in his arms.
“I’m sure you can guess.”
“Ah, but you forget— I like it when you tell me what you want, darlin’.”
The tips of Bruce’s ears turn red. His eyes flick down to Clark’s lips, and Clark smirks a little.
“Tell me,” he says softly, “and I’ll do it.”
“Kiss me, then.”
Clark leans in, kissing Bruce softly. Bruce kisses back, pressing up against him a little, and it takes all of Clark’s willpower not to let his hands wander down Bruce’s back.
When they pull apart, Bruce’s eyes are half-lidded, his cheeks flushed and his lips just barely kiss-swollen.
Clark’s heart skips a beat, his willpower immediately turning into nothing as he kisses him again. Bruce seems to have no compunctions about where this is going either, almost immediately putting his hands on Clark’s chest as Clark’s own drift downward.
Eventually, Bruce has to pull away to breathe. He’s even more beautifully flushed than before, and there’s a soft, sweet look in his eyes that makes Clark melt.
And suddenly, the moment feels absolutely right.
“Hey, Bruce?”
“Mm?” Bruce asks absently, kissing him again. Clark, reluctantly, pulls away so that he can look him in the eye.
“Bruce,” he starts.
Bruce raises an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“Bruce…” Clark smiles. “Bruce, I l—”
“Superman!”
Clark bites back a groan, and the dreamy look on Bruce’s face slips away.
“Let me guess, Superman business?”
“Yeah,” Clark sighs as he stands up. “Sorry.”
“I understand,” Bruce says.
“I know you do, but you still seem kind of irritated.”
“I was enjoying myself.” Bruce reaches up, brushing some of Clark’s hair back. “But I’ll be fine. You should go.”
Clark sighs again, then leans in to peck him on the lips before speed-changing back into his suit.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Clark promises.
“I’ll be here,” Bruce replies. “Get going, Superman.”
Clark smiles at him, then flies out of the cave.
It’s fine, really. He’ll just have to wait for another opportunity to tell Bruce that he loves him.
Clark comes into work the next morning with a small spring in his step.
“Morning, Lois,” he greets when he gets to his desk. Lois looks up at him and raises an eyebrow.
“Someone’s in a good mood. Have a good night last night?”
“Maybe I did,” Clark replies as he slings his bag over the back of his chair. “It was Sunday, after all.”
Lois snorts.
“Aren’t you there practically every day of the week anyway?”
“Not every day,” Clark argues before sitting down.
“Uh-huh. What days were you in Gotham last week?”
“Uh… Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and yesterday.”
“So five. Five out of seven days.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Clark says as he sets up his laptop.
“I’m just saying, you could save a lot of money a month if you stopped with the pretense.”
“What pretense?”
“That you don’t live with your boyfriend.”
Clark rolls his eyes.
“I don’t live with my boyfriend. Like you said, I pay rent—”
“On a place that’s empty five days of the week.”
“And I pay for Conner to go to daycare—”
“Which he’s only in a few days a week.”
“Oh, come on, he’s in Gotham maybe two days a week. And only when B can work remotely, which isn’t every week.”
“Yeah, but that’s two days you’re not using the daycare you pay for.” Lois turns in her chair. “Seriously, Clark, at the very least you’re not being as financially savvy as you could.”
Clark rolls his eyes.
“Yes, because that’s a good reason to move in with someone.”
“It is when you have an infant. Just saying, college is expensive.”
“Conner already has a college fund.”
“Well, yeah, of course he does. I’ll bet B’s made one for every kid you two have wrangled in the past year.”
“What? No, I pay for the—” Clark pauses. “... I should probably talk to him about that, actually. But anyway, there’s no pretense. I don’t live with him, and I don’t plan to. Not for a while, at least.”
Lois looks skeptical.
“If you say so.”
Clark rolls his eyes again just as Perry comes out of his office.
“Alright, people, look alive, time for assignments.”
Clark turns in his chair as Perry starts doling out assignments, only half-paying attention until his name is called.
“Kent, you’ve got the Luthor trial.”
Clark blinks, then feels all of the blood drain out of his face.
“I-I… what?”
“The Luthor trial. Congrats, you’ve got a front-page story coming up.”
Clark swallows.
“Um. I.” He swallows again. “Wh-Why— Lois, shouldn’t you be covering this? It’s your story.”
Lois winces.
“They called me to testify. I can’t cover it.”
Clark’s stomach turns.
“Oh.” He swallows a third time, then manages to take a breath before turning to face Perry. “I’ll— I’ll make sure to be there, then.”
Perry frowns.
“You okay, Kent? You’re looking a little pale there.”
“I-I, I’m— I’m fine, just…” He clears his throat. “I need to, um…”
He gestures in the direction of the bathroom, and Perry makes a face.
“Could’ve gone without knowing that, Kent,” Perry says before moving his hand dismissively. “Everyone back to work.”
“Right.” Clark gets out of his chair, all but speedwalking toward the bathroom.
His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest by the time he gets inside. He gets inside a stall, locking it, then leans back against the door, trying to ground himself.
The world feels… blurry at the edges, like he’s dizzy. It’s like being around just a tiny bit of kryptonite, barely a chip, just enough to make him feel sick, too sick to stand. He stumbles forward, then barely manages to turn enough before he sits down hard on the toilet.
His hands shake. He doesn’t really need to breathe, but he tries anyway— breathing through it helps Bruce—
But he’s not Bruce, he’s not human, he’s an alien who doesn’t even know how to keep himself from spiraling when he’s told he has to look at the person who—
Who—
And Conner—
What if he gets off scot free, what if he finds out about Conner, what if he tries to take him away—
Clark feels more than hears the knock on the stall door.
“Clark?” He hears Jimmy say. His voice almost sounds like he’s underwater. “Clark, you okay? You’ve been in here for like, fifteen minutes already.”
“I-I…” Clark swallows, then stands up, fumbling with his belt for effect. “Y-Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. Just, uh…”
He turns, flushing the toilet.
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“Something you ate?”
Clark sighs.
“Probably. Or Conner brought something home… again.”
He opens the door, smiling weakly at Jimmy. Jimmy winces.
“Geez, man, you sure you don’t wanna just go home? You’re looking pretty pale.”
Clark shakes his head as he walks over to the sinks.
“No, I— I shouldn’t. Don’t wanna use up too much sick leave, y’know? Especially since I only got back in Perry’s good graves a couple weeks ago.” He turns on the sink. “Besides, I’m feeling better now.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Clark affirms, hoping that Jimmy doesn’t notice the way his hands are still trembling a little. “I’ll be fine.”
“Well… if you say so.” Jimmy clears his throat. “So… the Luthor trial, huh?”
Clark’s stomach turns.
“Apparently.” He pauses. “You didn’t get called to be a witness too, did you? You were involved with the article— heck, it was your connection with Eve that even got the article to exist in the first place.”
“Nope, I didn’t get called. Guess the feds thought Lois would be a better witness.”
“Mm.” He moves to dry his hands. “Well, I guess that’s… lucky, for me.”
“True, guaranteed front page.” Jimmy clears his throat. “Kinda awkward though, right?”
Clark blinks, furrowing his brow.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re the Superman reporter, and he’s on trial for trying to kill Superman.”
“Not sure he’s actually on trial for that, and besides, I can be impartial.”
Jimmy hums. Clark raises an eyebrow.
“You don’t think I can?”
“I’m just saying that it’s very obvious that you don’t like the guy.”
Clark snorts.
“Yeah, well, I bet you’d have trouble finding anyone in the Metropolis-Gotham area who does. Possibly the whole country at this point.”
“Fair. But… I dunno, Clark, your writing takes on a— a tone when you’re covering things Luthor did.”
Clark rolls his eyes.
“I have a point of view. Most writers do. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I guess, but it…” Jimmy clears his throat. “Well, it kinda feels… personal, sometimes, y’know? Like you actually hate the guy.”
Clark falters a bit, then clears his throat.
“Doesn’t everyone in Metropolis? He did nearly tear our city apart.”
“Yeah, but even before that you were pretty anti-Luthor.”
Clark sighs.
“It’s— sometimes you just don’t like a guy, y’know? And anyway, there was enough scuttlebutt about poor working conditions and shady dealings to back me up even before last year, don’t you think?”
“... I guess,” Jimmy murmurs. “Just… seems a little simple.”
“Sometimes things are,” Clark replies. “We should probably get back to work.”
For a second, he thinks Jimmy looks almost… disappointed for some reason, though he’s smiling within seconds.
“If you’re feeling up to it.”
Clark nods, then walks out of the bathroom. Lois is waiting with a worried expression on her face.
“You good?”
“Yeah, uh, just… stomach issues, y’know?”
Lois’ lips tighten a bit, the concern not leaving her eyes.
“I’m fine,” Clark says, a little exasperated. He starts walking toward his desk. “And we all should get back to work, anyway.”
Without even looking, he knows that Jimmy and Lois are exchanging a look.
It’s fine. He’s fine.
He can handle this.
He has to.
Clark doesn’t speak much for the rest of the day, which is only a problem when there’s a Superman emergency during lunch and he has to fake his normal level of enthusiasm.
It’s fine. He gets the job done, and he gets his actual job done too.
Lois and Jimmy keep exchanging worried looks all day, but he ignores them, the same way he ignores the concern on Alina’s face when he picks up Conner from daycare.
They go home. He lets Conner play on the floor for a little while, maybe an hour.
Then, when he can’t take it anymore, he texts Bruce.
sent/ 6:04 PM
I know it’s not one of our usual days, but can we come over?
Bruce takes a little longer than usual to reply.
Bruce/ 6:15 PM
You’re always welcome. I’m working late, so I won’t be there, but Alfred and the boys will be happy to see you.
Clark manages a little half smile, then bundles Conner up into his arms and flies off towards Gotham.
“Mr. Kent, it’s good to see you and Master Conner,” Alfred says when they arrive.
“Hi, Alfred,” Clark greets, trying to force his usual level of cheer. He’s not quite sure if he fails or if Alfred is just too perceptive to be fooled.
“Are you alright? You seem… tired.”
“Just… long day, y’know?” Clark clears his throat. “Any idea when Bruce will be home?”
“Not as such, I’m afraid. He’s been in and out of meetings with the Board all day over a potential acquisition, and likely won’t be home until much later.” Alfred sighs. “Hopefully he’ll remember to eat something in between those meetings.”
Clark chuckles softly.
“Yeah, hope so.” He shifts Conner in his arms as they turn into the living room.
“Oh, hey, Clark,” Dick greets, pausing his game.
“Hey, champ. Where are Jason and Tim?”
Dick winces.
“They’re, uh… in time-out.”
Clark blinks, then sighs.
“Again?”
“I’m afraid so,” Alfred confirms. “It was over the television this time. Master Tim wanted to watch the news, while Master Jason wanted to read.”
“Couldn’t Jason have gone elsewhere?”
“His argument was that he was in the living room first. Tim wasn’t receptive to that, and when Jason tried to take the remote and turn the television off, he hit him. Jason pushed him in response, and then I separated them and escorted them both to their rooms.”
“And now no one gets what they want.”
“Hey, I got to play my game, I think that’s pretty good,” Dick comments. Clark gives him a look, and he winces. “Sorry.”
Clark purses his lips, then glances over at Alfred.
“Is dinner about ready?”
“Just about,” Alfred confirms.
“Great,” he says, turning toward the elevator. “I’ll go get them, then.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” Clark says.
“Very well. Dinner will be on the table when you return.”
“Thanks!” Clark calls as he presses the button for the elevator. He leans his head back against the back, taking a minute to breathe in, then out.
“Never stops,” he mumbles to himself. Conner coos as if in agreement, and Clark huffs out a small laugh. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna be a handful someday too, mister.”
Conner gives him the most innocent look he’s ever seen, making him laugh outright just as the elevator comes to a stop. He straightens, then walks over to Jason’s room, knocking on the door.
“Go away.”
“Jason, it’s me.”
“... still go away.”
Clark sighs.
“Jason, please come out. It’s almost time for dinner, I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“No I’m not,” Jason says just as Clark hears his stomach rumble. He raises an eyebrow.
“You wanna try that again?”
There’s a moment of silence, followed by a long sigh from Jason. Clark hears him get off his bed, then walk over to the door. It creaks open slowly, revealing a put-out looking Jason.
“... hey.”
“Hi. How are you doing?”
Jason shrugs, and Clark sighs.
“Alfred and Dick told me you and Tim fought again.”
Jason scoffs, looking away.
“Jason.”
“He was being annoying!” Jason says defensively.
“He’s two, that’s his job. And that doesn’t mean you get to push him, you’re a lot bigger than he is.”
Jason rolls his eyes.
“Of course you’re on his side.”
“I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m going to talk to him about this too. But you need to remember that he’s still very little, and he’s coming from a place where he’s never had to share anything before. He has to learn that.”
Jason grimaces.
“... he’s still annoying,” he mutters. “And he keeps following me around whenever B or Alfred are busy.”
“That’s because he thinks you’re cool, Jason. He probably wants to play.”
“I don’t wanna play with him all the time, though.”
“Well, I’ll talk to him about that, but you can play with him sometimes, can’t you?”
“... I guess,” Jason says. “But not all the time. And I don’t want him to turn on the TV while I’m trying to read.”
Clark hums.
“You know, he mostly watches TV at set times. Maybe you can read in the library while he’s watching the news?”
“I was there first,” Jason insists. “Why should I have to move?”
Clark sighs.
“Okay, well, how about I talk to Bruce about getting you some noise-cancelling headphones or something. Would that help?”
“... maybe.” Jason shuffles. “I… guess I could try that.”
Jason pauses for a second.
“... do I have to apologize to him?”
“I think you both should apologize to each other. Hitting and pushing each other isn’t okay, no matter what you’re fighting over.”
“Ugh, fine.”
“Attaboy. And, hey, I’m proud of you.”
Jason blinks.
“You are?”
“I am. I know that getting a new younger sibling is a big adjustment.”
“... you don’t have any siblings.”
“I have Kara, that’s close enough. And I’m still proud of you for handling it really well.” Clark shrugs. “Minus the fighting over the TV. And the pushing. And the hitting.”
Jason looks at him for a moment, then shuffles a little, putting his hands in his pockets as his ears redden.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters.
Clark huffs out a small laugh, then takes a step back from the door.
“Go on and head downstairs, alright? Wash up for dinner.”
Jason nods, then heads over toward the elevator. Clark waits a few minutes, listening for Jason to get out at the main floor, then heads up to Tim’s floor.
“Tim?” Clark calls, knocking on the door.
There’s a small, muffled groan from inside. Clark slowly opens the door to see the extra blanket covering a lump on top of the rug. He sighs, then crouches down and sets Conner on the floor.
“Go get ‘em, peanut,” he whispers.
Conner hums, then starts crawling toward the blanket lump. It takes him a couple minutes to get over there, but once he does he grabs onto the blanket and starts pulling.
“Hey!” The lump protests before moving around. A few seconds later, Tim pokes his head out from the blanket, glaring, although it quickly turns to a smile when he sees who came to bother him. “Hi, Con-ner!”
Conner giggles, then pulls on the blanket again.
“Hey, that mine!”
Conner pulls again, clearly undeterred by the idea of private property. Tim huffs, and Clark smiles, walking over and sitting down in front of Tim. Tim looks up at him, surprised, then smiles.
“Hi, Con-ner daddy Clark!”
“Hi, Tim. What’s up with the blanket?”
Tim’s smile falls, and he shrugs.
“Hidin’.”
“I can see that. Why?”
“Sad.” He makes a face. “Jason mean.”
Clark sighs.
“Yeah, I heard you two fought.” Clark scoots a little closer. “Tim, you know you have to share now, right?”
“I share! Share stuff with Dickie, with Con-ner, with Jason!”
“It’s not just sharing stuff, kiddo. You have to share space too. That means when you want to do something loud like watching TV in a space someone’s already using, you have to talk to them first.”
Tim frowns.
“But news on.”
“I know the news was on. And I know that’s your routine, and it’s very important to you. But you’re not the only person who uses that space, and Jason has just as much of a right to be there as you do. You can’t just force him to do what you want, and you definitely can’t hit him.”
Tim pouts.
“But—”
“No buts, Tim. No hitting, no pushing.”
Tim wilts a little. Clark sighs.
“Look, B and I are gonna talk about how we can help you guys come to a compromise, but you have to help. You can’t always get exactly what you want, and sometimes you have to deviate from your routine. And sometimes you need to give people space and understand that they don’t always want to play with you. That’s part of what it means to have siblings. To have a family.”
After a long moment, Tim sighs.
“Otay. I try.”
“That’s all I ask.” Clark smiles at him. “And that you say sorry to Jason for hitting him.”
“Otay.”
“Attaboy.” Clark scoops Conner up into his arms. “Now, come on. It’s time for dinner.”
Tim brightens.
“Alfred make spaghetti! He say so!”
“Yeah? Well, we better get down there, then—”
Tim runs out of the bedroom so fast Clark is almost surprised that he didn’t leave a Tim-shaped cloud behind. He blinks, then laughs and shakes his head as he gets up.
The rest of the evening goes fairly smoothly. Jason and Tim apologize to each other, and seem to be on better terms than they have been the past couple of weeks. Tim and Conner both need baths, which is a struggle like always— Tim insists on washing his own hair, and Conner remains persistent in his commitment to splashing out half the water in the tub.
Clark is definitely giving bath duty to Bruce next time.
Eventually, though, all the boys shuffle off to bed, and peace settles over the house.
Or, it would, if Clark’s thoughts didn’t come creeping back in the minute things went quiet.
He tries to ignore it. Puts thoughts of Lex Luthor out of his mind while he does some reading, while he showers, once he gets into bed.
He really does try.
But it lingers. The sick feeling in his stomach. The tightness at the back of his throat. His heart beating too fast. The urge to clench and unclench his fists in the blanket.
He has to stop thinking about it. He has to sleep, the trial starts at nine, and it’s already—
The door opens. He turns his head just in time to see Bruce trying to slip in without disturbing him. It makes him smile, even though it’s unnecessary.
“Hey, honey,” he murmurs.
Bruce stops, glancing over at him. He’s still in his shirt, tie, and suit pants, which tells Clark that he only just got out of whatever meeting he was in a little while ago.
“Clark. Did I wake you?”
“No, I was awake.”
“You know you don’t have to stay up waiting for me.”
Clark sighs.
“Wasn’t.”
“Oh.” Bruce is quiet for a minute. “Do you need to talk?”
Clark sighs.
“No, I— I’m just thinking. Go ahead and shower.”
“... alright,” Bruce says quietly. He pulls his tie off, hanging it on the rack, then grabs some pajamas and underwear from the dresser before disappearing into the bathroom. Clark listens to him take a quick shower, washing with that militaristic efficiency that he’s fairly certain came from his training with the League of Assassins.
Usually, Clark wishes he’d take a little more time— if nothing else, the hot water might be good for his sore muscles— but tonight he’s okay with the speed. He’d like to be around his boyfriend at least.
A few minutes later, Bruce comes out, climbing in on his side of the bed.
“How was work?” Clark asks quietly.
“Taxing. And unnecessarily long. International acquisitions are hell, especially given timezones.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Clark shifts in bed. “Jason and Tim fought again.”
Bruce lets out a long, exhausted sigh.
“What about this time?”
“Jason was reading in the living room when Tim came in for the news. They squabbled, Jason tried to take the remote, Tim hit Jason, Jason pushed him, and Alfred sent them both to their rooms,” Clark explains. “I got them to apologize to each other and agree to work on compromising and sharing. I also told Jason we’d think about getting him some noise-cancelling headphones.”
Bruce hums.
“Could help. We can look into it.” He glances up at Clark. “How was work?”
Clark tenses.
“... fine.”
“Doesn’t sound fine.”
Clark swallows.”
“... Perry assigned me to cover Luthor’s trial.”
“... oh,” Bruce says quietly. “Are… you okay?”
“I…” Clark swallows, looking away. “Fine.”
“Clark.”
“I’m fine.”
Bruce looks at him.
“... I… I might’ve… had a reaction when Perry assigned me—”
“What kind of reaction?”
“What does it matter?” Clark tries to deflect. “I’m fine now. It’s fine.”
Bruce looks at him for a second, then sighs.
“You’re afraid of him.”
Clark blinks.
“What? No I’m— Bruce, I am not afraid of Lex Luthor.”
Bruce hums.
“Maybe you’re not afraid of him, exactly, but seeing him makes you feel unsafe.”
Clark opens his mouth.
“Clark, I’ve seen how you look whenever he’s on TV. You at least feel some kind of way towards him.”
Clark grimaces, looking away.
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are,” Bruce says. He scoots closer, and a few seconds later Clark feels him take his hand in his. “You asked me to tell you when something’s making me spiral. I want you to do the same.”
“M’not spiralling,” Clark protests.
“You might. And I want you to talk to me. Please?”
Clark winces, then, after a long minute, sighs.
“I… don’t want to be in the same room as him,” he admits. “Even far away, where we likely won’t ever directly interact.”
His shoulders tense.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he says quietly. “Every time I see him, I keep thinking about— I keep seeing Ultraman’s face in my head, I keep thinking about how he spoke to me— about me like I was just some… thing, I… and then Conner…”
He swallows.
“I don’t know if I can do this. If I can be in a room where he is. Even if he’ll never look at me, I… and then I can’t stop thinking about if the trial doesn’t go well, if he somehow gets off and finds out about Conner…”
“... you could call out sick,” Bruce suggests. “Get the piece transferred— Lois could cover for you.”
“Lois is testifying, and everyone else already has stuff they’re working on. And I don’t want to use up any more of my PTO than I have to.” Clark takes a breath to steady himself. “There’s no way out of this, Bruce.”
Bruce thins his lips, then sighs.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”
Clark takes a deep, shaky breath.
“I… I do too, but I’m… I’m being irrational about it, right? Luthor has barely any clue who Clark Kent is, and probably won’t notice me in the public gallery, and— and there’s no way he’s getting away with it, right?” Clark looks at Bruce. “Right?”
Bruce’s expression is hard to read.
“Bruce…”
“I think he won’t,” Bruce says after a moment, “but you and I know that’s not always— or even often— how these things go for men like him.”
He squeezes Clark’s hand.
“But no matter what happens, I’ll be here. And we will get through it.”
Despite the roiling in his gut, Clark manages a smile.
For a second, he thinks about saying it, right here and now. The words “I love you” dance on his tongue for a few seconds.
Then, just as quick as they came, they dissolve.
Not yet, he thinks, pulling Bruce into his arms. Not tonight.
But soon.