serendipity. [superbat]

conclusion ii.

a/n: don't worry, we're nowhere near the end.

Clark tries not to be overbearing. He doesn't know exactly where it comes from. Maybe it was just a part of his home training or maybe it was because he'd grown to be so large at such a young age, but he felt like he needed to keep himself compact. He needed to take up as little space as possible, make as little noise as possible. That led to a lot of being walked all over and being used and then discarded. His inability to just express what he wanted was the reason for a lot of his problems. 

Currently, he could cite it as the reason he hasn't seen Bruce in two weeks. Not only is he too afraid to mess anything up, it seemed too easy to do with a man like Bruce, someone who needed their space or else they got stir crazy. He just needed to wait it out and soon Bruce would call Clark himself and request that he fly down to Gotham for the week. It was what they were doing currently and it seemed to be working...

Every now and then, they'd have a League fight and/or meeting and Batman would stalk in as if nothing had changed. Nevermind that underneath, Bruce smelled like Clark's shower gel and aftershave because he'd forgotten his own, everything needed to be the same. Clark would linger, he couldn't help himself. After the debriefing, he'd linger a little bit longer, hoping that Bruce would have something he needed to fix and Clark could just sit and watch him work. 

"You guys aren't going through a rough patch again, are you?" Lois asks as she sips at her cup of coffee. 

He feels ridiculous, stuffed in the tiny booth of a diner, sulking over a man who had never promised Clark anything. 

"No, I just..." Clark mutters, not even bothering to deny that his current sulking is in relation to Bruce. 

"Miss him?" she mutters, looking down at her watch for emphasis, "How long has been since you flew to Gotham for your monthly Wayne session?" 

She chuckles as his ears and neck flush, completely betraying him as he tries not to seem flustered by the observation. Of course she'd noticed the pattern. He'd stopped poking his head into Perry's with excuses and had instead started sending her in his place.

"Cheer up, maybe he'll come back into town for another event. The Hamilton Foundation is having a charity event, maybe you can convince him to come." Lois points out with a little smile before taking another sip of her coffee...

...and if it were anyone else, Clark would've agreed, but this was Bruce. He'd need a genuine reason to make a trip like that now that one week of each month was being eaten up by his new "condition".

So another week goes by...

...and another month of the same thing. 

Though, this time is different in ways that seem insignificant on the surface. The schedule's the same, Clark landing on the dock as soon Bruce pulls into his driveway. Alfred's out, the same way he has been the last couple of months, the only evidence of him ever existing in the house being the meals he's prepared for the week. Bruce is in the shower when he climbs the stairs and is out by the time he's slipped out of shoes and made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

What snaps Clark out of the pattern is Bruce himself. He steps out of the bathroom, steam rolling into the bedroom and immediately makes his way over to Clark. This isn't noteworthy in itself, but Clark's eyeline rests at Bruce's chest, his eyes landing on his nipples. Clark's studied the man's body enough to immediately notice that there is a noticable difference in color. 

His hands are resting on Bruce's waist and he can feel his body fidgeting under his stare, his movements suddenly uncertain. He tries to brush away this uneasieness by running a calloused thumb over Bruce's nipple though, the gesture that would normally get him some kind of low groan, gets him a quiet hiss as Bruce's body bows away from the touch.