Chapter Text
“Bruce, I forbid you from writing about my biology in your journal,” Clark groans, hiding his face behind his hands. “What if Alfred finds it?”
“Alfred would never violate my privacy like that,” Bruce rolls his eyes. “And this information is very relevant to my re–”
“Bruce,” Clark groans, and Bruce smiles, shaking his head.
“Okay, Clark,” he huffs, tapping his pen against his journal. “But if you ever change your mind–”
“Bruce,” Clark points a finger at him. “You have the sharpest mind of anyone I’ve ever met. Keep that ‘relevant information’ up there.”
Bruce considers, trying to suppress his smile from growing. “Okay.”
“I mean it!”
“Okay, Clark,” Bruce laughs despite himself, watching the mortified Clark collapse back onto his bed. “You’re too easy to mess with.”
“You take advantage of me,” Clark groans from behind his hands.
“In the only way I can,” Bruce drawls. “I think you’ll be okay if I poke fun at you once in a while.”
Clark peeks from behind his fingers. “I almost appreciate it. It’s the sole evidence I have that you have a sense of humor.”
Bruce looks at him blankly. “Hm.”
Clark rolls his eyes, letting his hands fall away. “Ah, and now he’s retreated. True to his bat nature.”
“I am not part-bat,” Bruce huffs, eye twitching.
“Okay, Batman,” Clark shrugs. “That’s not what the Gothamites are gonna think. Everyone is gonna be convinced you’re a hybrid of some sort.”
Bruce glares at him. “I have a theme.”
“Yeah, one that people are gonna think is genetic,” Clark hums, raising an eyebrow.
“Hm,” Bruce glowers at him. Clark sits up to grab the journal from him, flipping through it. He pauses on a page, looking back at Bruce.
“You drew me.”
“Hm,” Bruce tries to rapidly calm his heartbeat as his ears turn pink. Clark grins, scanning more of the pages.
“You drew me several times,” Clark says, face breaking into the widest smile Bruce has ever seen. “Hey, you even got my dimples in this one.”
“They’re an unignorable part of your smile,” Bruce mutters. “And I like to practice so I can do police sketches.”
“Like the true detective you are,” Clark holds a hand over his heart. “I want you to solve my murder.”
“Clark,” Bruce rubs his temple. “You are virtually impossible to murder.”
“You don’t know that,” Clark shrugs. “Kryptonians could be deathly allergic to salmon.”
“Martha’s never made salmon?”
“...okay, maybe something else,” Clark furrows his eyebrows together. “You get my point.”
“For some reason, I doubt you’re allergic to any type of fish,” Bruce drawls. “Maybe it’s that you’re almost entirely invulnerable, save one rock from your home planet.”
“You’re not cautious enough, B,” Clark sighs dramatically. “I might just drop dead in battle one day, and it could be from flying over a taco stand.”
“Martha’s never made–”
“You know what I mean–”
“Clark,” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “You’re also talking to the possibly most cautious man on the planet.”
“Okay, point,” Clark shrugs. “What would you do if I developed a vulnerability to an Earth substance?”
“Do you want me to test potential–”
“Nope,” Clark shakes his head, waving a hand. “No, no, I’ll take my chances.”
“Hm,” Bruce huffs, blowing hair out of his eyes. He hasn’t gotten it cut all summer, and it’s longer now, getting in his eyes. Clark catches the movement, smiling slightly.
“I like your hair like this,” Clark muses. “It’s cute.”
“It’s inconvenient,” Bruce grumbles, taking his journal back.
“Whatever you say,” Clark rolls his eyes. His expression falls after a second, and he falls back onto the pillow again. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Clark,” Bruce looks at him. “You have superspeed. And flight. You can see me whenever you want.”
“I don’t wanna go to Gotham, it’s terrifying,” Clark groans.
“You’re–”
“Yes, invulnerable,” Clark sits up, frowning. “Gotham’s still terrifying.”
Bruce shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Bruce, any reasonable person would be scared of Gotham!”
“Are you calling me unreasonable?”
“Well–” Clark shuts his mouth, flushing. Bruce raises an eyebrow.
“Hm,” he hums. “I see how it is.”
“You’re not not unreasonable,” Clark mumbles, crossing his arms.
“Uh-huh,” Bruce drawls. “I see.”
“Stop saying that!” Clark groans. “It makes me nervous.”
“Hm,” Bruce replies, and Clark gives him an exasperated look.
“Let me be upset about you leaving without you bullying me,” Clark grumbles, frowning at Bruce.
“You don’t have to be.”
Clark stares at him. “What?”
“You don’t have to be upset about me leaving,” Bruce says slowly, raising an eyebrow at Clark like he’s being unreasonable.
“B, I’m your boyfriend–”
“You know I detest that word.”
“-partner–”
“That, too.”
“You know what I mean! I’m yours, B. Normal people feel sad when their person has to leave,” Clark says, voice raising slightly.
“I’m not leaving,” Bruce shrugs. Clark pauses.
“You’re not?”
“Hm,” Bruce hums, flipping through his Batman folder to re-check his timeline. “I didn’t mention?”
Bruce can feel Clark stare at him. “Mention what?”
“My training in Tibet is scheduled to begin when I turn eighteen years old,” Bruce looks up at Clark. “I’m not eighteen yet.”
“So?” Clark looks at him, lost. For an incredibly intelligent person, he sure is awful at putting the pieces together.
“I’ll be staying in Smallville until my eighteenth birthday.”
Clark’s mouth drops open. “Bruce, you better not be messing with me.”
Bruce rolls his eyes. “As if I’d joke about something like this. I’ll be here for the next six months.”
Clark’s face breaks into a grin and he tackles Bruce, rolling them scarily close to the edge of the bed.
“Clark–”
“You’re staying.”
“For six months, Clark,” Bruce says from under him, exasperated. He’s so unbelievably fond, and it’s such a foreign feeling in his chest, but it’s there. It takes over, and he smiles– actually smiles.
“You’re staying,” Clark grins breathlessly. “You just made my whole year.”
Bruce huffs amusedly, looking up at him affectionately. “I didn’t propose, Clark.”
“Yeah, still,” Clark waves a hand. “What will you do while I’m finishing school?”
“My job,” Bruce drawls. Clark pauses.
“Oh. Forgot about that.”
“Uh-huh,” Bruce chuckles. Clark grins again, crushing Bruce with his full Kryptonian weight.
“I’m so happy you’re staying, B,” Clark murmurs against his neck. “I’m so happy, you have no idea.”
“Emotions,” Bruce rasps weakly, but Clark can’t see the smile wide on his face.
“Just because you can’t handle them doesn’t mean I can’t handle them,” Clark chuckles. Bruce shrugs, wrapping his arms around Clark.
“Acceptable,” he smiles. “You may continue.”
Clark stops talking then, and otherwise occupies himself with Bruce’s neck, and Bruce lets himself relish in the moment. He doesn’t need to feel rushed anymore– no more worrying about how little time they have left.
He has the next six months to figure everything out with Clark. Six months of barbeques, and farmer’s markets, and Martha Kent’s pie, and Clark’s honey-sweet smile.
Then he’ll be gone, but it’ll be okay, because he’ll be working towards the Mission– towards his future. His legacy.
And when he comes back again, Clark will be there. Clark, the afternoon sun and the early morning crickets. The realest glimpse of humanity someone like Bruce will ever get.
They’ll have their life together. Bruce will forget to say what he thinks, and Clark will hear it anyway.
Bruce can tell himself the truth he hadn’t seen until now. Clark was never a threat to the Mission. Clark was never a problem on the journey. Clark is the greatest addition to Bruce’s legacy that he could ever possibly imagine– the perfect balance and the greatest power.
His love for Clark doesn’t have to be Bruce’s weakness, not at all.
In fact, he plans on it being his greatest strength.