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Jealousy
/ˈdʒɛləsi/
noun
noun: jealousy; plural noun: jealousies
- the state or feeling of being jealous.
- refers to the thoughts or feelings of insecurity, fear, and concern over a relative lack of possessions or safety
example: "a sharp pang of jealousy"
And why is Bruce Wayne, fluent in over twenty languages, googling jealousy, you may ask? He already knows the definition, so why bother looking it up? To prove a point, that’s why. Someone else seems to have forgotten the definition and that someone has made a false accusation. Because Bruce Wayne is not jealous, he does not do jealous, and so he’s proudly showing off the screen full of examples, none of which fit him.
Jason is staring at him like he regrets ever setting foot in the cave (he probably does). He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and his face is twisted in his signature mix of disgust, indifference and annoyance. Alfred calls it his ‘Master Bruce’ face. Bruce takes offense, but really, he gets it. Jason always looks slightly constipated when he’s forced to interact with Bruce.
“The fact that you looked it up just to deny it just shows that I’m right,” Jason tells him.
“I’m making a point,” Bruce explains.
“You’re making a fool of yourself.”
You’re the fool, Bruce doesn’t say, but it’s a close call.
Jason rolls his eyes dramatically; it makes Bruce smile because Jason being in the cave at all is progress and he’ll take a few eye rolls and teasing comments over not seeing him at all. He’ll even accept Jason’s ‘Master Bruce’ face if it means that he’s here.
Jason reaches a hand out towards the screen, one single finger pointing steadily as he says: “It also says: ‘feeling or showing a resentful suspicion that one's partner is attracted to or involved with someone else’.”
Bruce frowns as he reads over that exact sentence twice before he understands what Jason is hinting at. It’s 3am, he hasn’t slept since Thursday, he’s a little sluggish, so sue him.
“Clark is not my partner,” he finally says.
“He isn’t.” Jason doesn’t even bother to pose it like a question, he just deadpans it. It’s clear he believes it just as much as Bruce believes that the dent in his motorcycle was Damian’s doing. (It could’ve technically been Damian, if it wasn’t for the fact that the security cams showed Jason sneaking in, stealing it and then coming back three hours later to park it in the cave: dent suddenly there. Jason knew the cameras were there and Bruce knew Jason knew.)
“Not my romantic partner,” Bruce says, emphasis on romantic. He’s not involved with Clark. Clark is with Lois. He’s happy with Lois and Bruce is happy that he’s happy.
“Aha.” Jason just raises his eyebrows as he points out another segment on the screen before he turns on his heel and leaves up the stairs. Probably to go talk to Alfred. His anger towards Bruce may have cooled down (slightly), but it had never even existed towards Alfred.
Bruce looks at the screen, his frown deepening as he reads the words Jason had pointed out.
A jealous husband stare mockingly back at him.
See, it’s not that Bruce doesn’t get where Jay is coming from. He is not the first of Bruce’s children to point out that Bruce has a certain… soft spot for Clark. Even Bruce is willing to admit it himself; Clark is his friend. His best friend. A good man, who cares for his family and Bruce’s too. Someone who would do anything Bruce ever asked.
Clark is Bruce’s best friend, who just so happens to be dating Lois Lane. Lois, who just so happens to be a good woman, a strong woman. Someone to be respected and who isn’t afraid to do what’s right when it’s right. She’s an admirable person, that’s easy to tell, even from a distance. And yet Bruce can’t look at her without feeling like someone’s stabbing him in the gut (and believe you me, he knows what that feels like). It’s not Lois’ fault, obviously, it’s not Clark’s either. Bruce is just protective, that’s all. He’s afraid Clark will somehow end up revealing all their identities. That’s what the stabbing feeling is about, Bruce is sure of it.
Jason isn’t so sure. Neither is Alfred. Nor Dick, nor Tim. Basically his entire family has been nagging him for weeks about this ‘feelings’ thing and tonight Jason had taken it a step further.
“Jealous,” Bruce scuffs. As if he would experience such a feeling and to make it even more ridiculous – in regard to Clark? He would never. It is simply impossible.
***
It is not impossible.
Bruce is absolutely, 100%, undoubtedly jealous, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Because Clark is with Lois. Lois makes him happy, and Bruce wants Clark to be happy.
There’s just one problem with all of this – and contrary to popular belief, it is not that he’s jealous. Bruce will find a way to learn to accept and live with that. Probably. The problem is the fact that he can is jealous of Clark and Lois at all, because that has to mean that he’s… that he likes… that he’s got feelings for Clark. And while being jealous is bad, being in love with Clark is worse.
Being in love in general is bad and not something Bruce has the time nor the energy for, but falling in love with a teammate? A friend? It might be the worst thing Bruce has ever done. And he’s done a lot of bad shit.
How will he ever survive being in love with Clark Kent? Not because Clark isn’t a good man, he is. The best, in fact. That’s the problem. Bruce has no business falling in love with Clark, he has no right. He knows it was inevitable, but he’d hoped for more time; more time to prepare although for what he’s not sure.
Clark is everything that Bruce is not. He’s bright and friendly, he’s all smiles and sunshine, and he is so good, so human, that it’s odd to think he is supposed to be the least human of all. So of course, Bruce is attracted to him. It doesn’t help he’s sculpted like a Greek god either, although it’s not the main reason Bruce finds him attractive.
Bruce likes the sound of his laugh, the way he tilts his head back when something is so funny, he can’t help but move his entire body. He likes Clark’s eyes, so blue that they look somehow fake. Bruce has seen colored contacts try to replicate the color, but they’re nowhere near it. It’s otherworldly and so beautiful Bruce can barely stand to look at them, much less into them.
He likes the way Clark hunches when he’s at work, the way he tries to blend in with the surroundings. It works beautifully on everyone around him, except Bruce. Because there is no way Bruce would ever not look at Clark and feel his chest tighten.
He likes what Clark can do with his words. Enchant and enrich and throw poetic sentences out like they’re the air he doesn’t need to breathe. He likes the way Clark puts everybody before himself, not because he has to, but because he wants to. He loves the way Clark is with his kids, the way he treats everybody like they matter. Bruce included.
He just… likes Clark. A lot.
Bruce is certain he’ll never get over the realization, the horror fresh in his chest.
***
It takes Bruce a while. It takes him longer than it should, honestly, but he comes to term with his feelings. He accepts them for what they are. Feelings that he can’t act on. It’s not the first time he’s wanted something he can’t have. It’s not the first time he’s had to let go of something for the greater good. He knows how to do this. He’s used to it.
It doesn’t mean it’s not… difficult.
Difficult is Bruce’s main setting though. He knows how to maneuver it. He need space, and he needs peace. He’ll just make sure to keep some distance between himself and Clark and his feelings will settle and eventually disappear. Or at least just be added to the mess that is Bruce’s brain.
Another problem arises, of course, because Clark isn’t just Clark. He’s Superman. And Bruce isn’t just Bruce. He’s Batman, and Batman works with Superman more often than not. At least on bigger missions. He’s been fairly successful in keeping the other leaguers out of Gotham, so he doesn’t have an issue reinforcing his ‘stay out of my city’ rule. It’s not like Superman doesn’t have enough on his shoulders already with Metropolis and the rest of the world pulling his metaphorical sleeve to get his attention.
Superman isn’t the problem, Bruce quickly realizes. Superman is busy and understands that Batman is busy. Clark on the other hand… Clark does not do well with hints. When Bruce is too busy to see him, he doubles down on texts. When Bruce doesn’t answer his calls, he shows up at the manor to make sure he’s okay. When he shows up for Sunday night dinner, because Bruce forgot to find an excuse, he’s all smiles and funny stories of his week.
Bruce tries to tell Clark he’s going to reschedule Sunday night dinners (it’s not technically a lie, Jason really doesn’t have time this Sunday, which is the only reason he gets away with it. Clark has become far too good at reading him) and for that one particular day, it works. But Clark doesn’t let go easily. He stills shows up at the manor and Bruce has a hard time rejecting him; he tries but he’s mostly unsuccessful. There’s just something about Clark’s face that Bruce can’t resist. It’s probably the otherworldly eyes. At least that’s what Bruce tries to tell himself as he feels the warmth in his chest spread every time Clark turns those warm, caring eyes on him.
So he’s not as successful as he would’ve liked. Space and peace aren’t working. Mostly because he can’t make himself keep a distance from Clark. It doesn’t help his feelings and it does not help his jealousy either. Bruce knows where Clark works, he knows who he spends his free time with when he’s not at the manor. Bruce is trying his best to ignore it all.
Little by little though he can feel his resistance crack, like old paint on a wall, chipping away. So he tries again, and again, but it doesn’t work. He won’t feel less for Clark by pushing him away, no matter how hard he tries. So he gives up; goes back to their routines, sits through dinners and meetings and outings with that warmth in his chest spreading throughout his entire body.
Clark asks if he’s got a fever. Bruce doesn’t. He’s just unbearably in love with Clark and he’s having a hard time hiding it.
It’ll be fine though. Bruce’s got this under control.
***
Bruce does not have this under control. Not even a little bit. And it is all Clark’s fault. Not because he’s figured Bruce’s feelings out – at least Bruce doesn’t think so – but because he hasn’t and he’s being… well, he’s being Clark. Sweet, caring Clark who doesn’t understand the meaning of the words personal space, and who doesn’t understand why Bruce is trying to get a little distance between them.
At this point Clark spends more time with Bruce than he does Lois, and while Bruce is happy about it, he can’t help but feel guilty. He knows Clark would never cheat on Lois, that he’d never betray her trust, but Bruce still feels like they’re doing something they shouldn’t.
Because Clark wants to have dinner, Clark wants to help Batman in Gotham, Clark texts Bruce all these silly little pictures at all hours of the day. Memes, gifs, whatever he can think of. And they make Bruce smile, and he shouldn’t be so happy to receive them.
Clark makes them dinner plans and when Bruce can’t make them, he makes sure they have lunch together the following day. He flies all the way to Gotham to meet Bruce at that one diner they both like. And Clark sits down at their booth in their diner and talks about Lois. His day with Lois, what he and Lois did, how amazingly brave Lois always is. And Bruce wants to scream.
Bruce feels like the stereotypical husband who’s having problems with his wife, who in turn is sleeping with someone behind his back. Except that his ‘wife’ isn’t his at all, and Clark isn’t actually cheating on Bruce. They’re not actually a couple, romantic, sexual or otherwise. Clark is with Lois.
It’s difficult to remember when everything Clark does seems so… domestic. Bruce can’t find a better word to describe the feeling when he finds Clark in his kitchen, preparing food with Alfred. It’s not always on Sundays, sometimes it’s several times a week.
Or when Clark’s sleep-deprived brain has him sit in the cave for hours just because Bruce isn’t done working.
“There is not a single surface in this cave that does not have a dent in it, thanks to you,” Bruce huffs at Clark when his chin hits the desk for the third time that night. He’s pretty sure he’ll need a new desk soon at this rate.
Clark looks at him with a silly expression, cheek pressed against the desk as he turns his head to better see Bruce. Then he laughs, chuckles, giggles.
“It’s not funny,” Bruce says.
“No,” Clark agrees easily, closing his eyes, even as he starts giggling again. “It’s sexy.”
How in the world Clark has gotten anything sexy out of that Bruce does not know, and he doesn’t want to know either – there’s no reason to let himself think that far. He figures the mess of his own head is enough of a battle, without having to navigate Clark’s too.
“It is neither,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “You look like you’ve got an entire leg in the grave already. Go home.”
Clark doesn’t answer, he merely turns his head around so he can’t see Bruce anymore. Very mature. It’s not like he’s sitting less than a foot from Bruce.
“Clark,” Bruce barks. “Go. To. Bed.”
“Why are you being mean?” Clark whines as he finally lifts his head off the table. There’s a mark on his cheek for less than two seconds before his skin is smooth. His eyes are still bloodshot and heavy-lidded though.
“I’m not being mean, I’m being rational,” Bruce argues. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“When’s the last time you slept?” Clark counters, his tone mocking, and Bruce has to press his lips together to keep from snapping at the man. Then an idea pops into his head.
“Would you sleep if I did too?” He asks, careful not to sound too hopeful.
“With me?” Clark asks, too quickly.
“I –“
“You’ll sleep with me?” He repeats and his eyes are doing that thing Bruce is weak against.
“Sure,” he eventually says. It’s not like he can’t sneak into the cave again when Clark’s fallen asleep.
“Okay, if we sleep together, I’ll sleep together,” Clark mutters, head slipping onto the desk once again.
Jesus Christ, Bruce thinks. Clark is barely able to string an entire sentence together. It’s 3am, and he knows Clark hasn’t slept in several days. Not like how Bruce doesn’t sleep – Bruce gets a few minutes in here and there to keep sharp, but Clark doesn’t. He just stays awake until he’s… well, this.
And they do end up sleeping together, because when Clark finally falls asleep, Bruce is so tired he can’t find it in himself to go back to work. So he allows himself to sleep with Clark. Sleep, in the same bed and that’s all. Not that that goes unnoticed by Bruce’s kids.
It doesn’t help that Clark is well rested and happy when he wakes up (Bruce is not done sleeping after having been caught in a hell of his own making. Why he didn’t make Clark sleep in another room is something he’ll never understand about himself), and of course every single kid Bruce has ever shown a little fatherly love is at the manor that morning.
That’s when the real teasing stars.
It does not help that Clark flirts, in front of the kids. Bruce wants to strangle him. He has a tough enough time trying to convince them he’s not in love with Clark and then Clark goes and is all… lovely. And for a while it’s okay, it’s good, even. But then Clark has to go back to Metropolis, back to Lois.
Bruce is doing fine, he’s working through his emotions; he keeps seeing Clark, he keeps working with Superman. They do lunch, they do dinners, they do missions and they’re fine. They’re good. Clark doesn’t notice the strain in Bruce’s smiles – at least Bruce doesn’t think so. Clark would’ve said something if he did. So he’s fine, they’re fine.
Except Bruce’s feelings doesn’t go away, or lessen at all, no matter what he tries. They keep getting worse. And Clark keeps. Talking about. Lois.
“Will you just – shut up.” Bruce finally snaps one day when they’re in the cave.
He’s been awake for more than two days working on a case and as soon as he’d wrapped it up, Clark had appeared, announcing that they were celebrating with dinner. It’s sort of a tradition that Bruce hasn’t been able to get rid of and usually he enjoys it. But he’s tired and he feels a headache coming on.
And Clark keeps talking.
Bruce has been trying so hard to suppress everything, every butterfly in his stomach, every stab in his gut at the mere mention of Lois’ name, but he can’t do it. Not anymore.
“Excuse me?” Clark asks, clearly taken aback. Bruce hasn’t snapped at him like that in what feels like years.
“Do I have to know every single damn thing you do every day?” Bruce spits, tries to make his words hurt. Maybe he can make Clark leave him, seeing as he can’t make himself leave Clark. They’re in the cave, it’s just the two of them; there’s no one there to see how horrible he is. How his jealousy has nearly eaten up his entire insides.
“What’re you talking about?” Clark is confused, rightly so. He’s hurt too, Bruce can tell, it’s clear as day on his face. They’re past the point where they used to scream at each other in frustration. At least Clark thought they were.
Bruce tries to channel his anger and ignore the hurt look at Clark’s face. It’s been weeks, it’s been months of these feelings and he’s getting sick of it. He needs something to happen, he needs to get it off his chest, but he can’t. It’s like the words are stuck in his throat and all he wants is for Clark to just shut up about Lois.
It would be much easier if Clark just hated him, would create that distance himself so that Bruce had no choice but to get over his feelings.
“Lois this, Lois that, would you please just keep your damn mouth shut for two minutes?” He snaps, turning around so he doesn’t have to look at Clark.
“What the hell, Bruce.” Clark’s voice is steadier than Bruce would’ve thought; than he would’ve liked. He would much rather Clark yell at him. “That was uncalled for.”
“Oh yeah? And why is that?”
There’s a beat of silence and Bruce hears the telltale sound of Clark’s hand balling into a fist. He’s getting angry. Good. The next words out of his mouth are not what Bruce expects though.
“You will literally chase Selena around on rooftops for an entire night when she’s in town,” Clark says.
Bruce waits for the rest of the sentence, but it doesn’t come. He turns around with a frown. He doesn’t understand what Clark is saying.
“What does that have to do with anything?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Creating more distance, more walls between them. He’s afraid he’ll reach out if he doesn’t keep his hands locked.
“You had a child with Talia not even a decade ago, and she’s still in your life,” Clark answers, and Bruce is even more confused.
“We were never officially together,” he argues even though he has no idea why this is even relevant. What does this have to do with Clark’s incessive chatter about his perfect girlfriend? Bruce isn’t talking about Talia or Selena – he isn’t dating them while also spending all of his time with Clark. He’s not in love with them. It’s not the same thing.
“That’s – Bruce, that is not the point,” Clark says, frustration in the air. “You spend a lot of time with your exes too, do you see me throwing a tantrum?”
“I am not throwing a tantrum –” Bruce stops dead in his tracks. What did Clark say? “Wait, what do you mean ‘too’?”
“Lois and I haven’t been dating for years, not since before I even met you, and now you’re making a scene?” Clark has started pacing up and down the floor, and Bruce guesses he should be happy Clark has such a strong grip on his anger. Another thing they do not have in common.
“I am not making a scene,” he can’t help but say. He is, he is absolutely making a scene, and he hates himself for it, but he’s on the verge of screaming that he l– that he has feelings for Clark, and he knows he shouldn’t.
“You’re yelling at me for telling you about my day,” Clark says, incredulously. “I always tell you about my day, Bruce. This is what we do. We talk about our lives.”
Maybe if your life didn’t revolve around Lois Lane, it would be easier… Bruce huffs as he strangles that particular sentence down and tries to find a way to stand straighter. He feels caught, locked in, and it’s his own damn fault. He shouldn’t have said anything.
“Well, maybe I’m tired of listening to how perfect Lois is.” Okay, so not much better than the first thought, but he can work with this. He just needs to end the conversation; he is getting way too close to spilling his guts and while he prides himself for being an honest man (at least to Clark), he does not want to talk about this now. Or ever, preferably.
“I thought you liked Lois,” Clark says.
“I do like Lois, I just –” Bruce isn’t muttering, he isn’t. He’s merely trying to chew through his own bottom lip to stop himself from talking. It’s not the right time, there isn’t a right time, he shouldn’t say anything.
“What?” Clark demands.
“I like you more,” Bruce says, because he can’t say no to Clark, can’t deny him anything. And as soon as the words leave his mouth, he wants to get in the bat mobile and drive directly off a cliff. ‘I like you more’, really? What is he, 12?
“Wh–” Clark’s hurt expression is gone, and he’s left looking stunned. Not what he’d been expecting then. Well, at least it’s good to know that Bruce has been able to keep it hidden well enough until now.
“Forget it,” Bruce says quickly, because by God, he wants to. He turns around to face the computer again, reaches for something on the desk, has to do something with his hands. They’re shaking. “I think you should leave.”
“No.” The word is spoken with such authority that it sends chills down Bruce’s spine. He understands why criminals listen when Superman speaks. And then there’s a hand around his wrist and Bruce can feel Clark’s chest against his back, pressed so closely against him that he can feel the movements as he breathes.
“No,” Clark repeats, this time his voice is so soft, so gentle and so very close to Bruce’s ear. “I won’t leave.” He presses impossibly closer, slides his free hand around Bruce’s waist. He must be able to hear his heart beating out of control.
“What did you mean by that?” Clark says, breaths tickling at Bruce’s ear.
“Nothing–” Bruce chokes out quickly. He can’t focus on anything but the hand on his wrist and the one around his waist. This is too much; they’re standing too close. He feels like he’s chasing one of his rogues. Or being chased by one. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Don’t lie to me, Bruce.” Clark’s voice is still gentle, but his hold on Bruce is firm. It isn’t painful, Clark would never intentionally hurt him, but he’s not going to be able to wiggle his way out without putting up an actual fight.
He can’t make himself speak.
“Are you–” Clark starts, then stops. Bruce can feel him swallow. “Are you jealous of Lois?”
Bruce isn’t someone who blushes. If he was, he’d never be able to be both Bruce Wayne and Batman. He’d never live down some of the lines he’s used in the past. The cowl doesn’t cover his entire face. And yet he feels the blood rush to his cheeks because this is Clark asking. This isn’t Jason teasing; it isn’t Alfred prodding; it’s not Bruce admitting it begrudgingly to himself. This is Clark asking, because he wants to hear Bruce admit it.
“Why would I be?” He hears himself say, but he still hasn’t moved. He hasn’t shoved Clark away.
“Because you like me.” It’s not a question, not anymore. It’s a statement.
Bruce is so screwed. He should’ve gotten more sleep; he shouldn’t have accepted Clark’s offer to eat dinner in the cave. He should’ve stopped these damn emotions before they got so out of hand. He should’ve known himself better than to tempt fate.
“Slip of the tongue,” Bruce mumbles because he doesn’t know what else to say. He can’t deny it, not now. And a small part of him doesn’t want to, either. A small part of him is relieved.
“Let’s try one more time then,” Clark says and within the blink of an eye Bruce finds himself turned around and caged in by Clark’s arms. His own hands are up in mock-surrender, somehow resting on Clark’s chest even though he never made a conscious decision to place them there.
“Do you like me too?” Clark asks, his eyes intense and searching Bruce’s.
There’s no way Bruce can look away. He’s– wait.
“Too?” Bruce croaks.
Clark smiles, slow and warm, the playful glint in his eyes making way for something else. Something softer. The laugh lines around his eyes deepen as his smile broadens.
“Too,” he says with a slight nod.
“You–” Bruce straightens a bit against the desk, bringing his face even closer to Clark’s. He can’t think about that right now, because he cannot fathom Clark’s words.
“We’re not talking about me right now,” Clark interrupts gently. He’s still smiling oh so softly and Bruce feels like he might hyperventilate. He won’t, of course, but he has to concentrate on breathing evenly to make sure Clark doesn’t notice his distress.
“Like hell we aren’t,” Bruce says. “How long?”
“How long, what?” Clark asks and Bruce, once again, wants to strangle him. It’s becoming a terribly repeating fantasy of his. He may have to get those kryptonite gauntlet blueprints out again.
“Don’t be an ass,” he says instead of threatening to kill Clark. “How long have you l– had these feelings?”
“Does it matter?”
Bruce supposes it doesn’t, but he still wants to know. It’s the childish need, the unspoken competitive side of him that wants to know. He wants to know if Clark liked him first. If all that flirting had been intentional from the start. If it had been flirting at all, or if Bruce had imagined it. He looks into Clark’s eyes, prepared to tell him that of course it matters; have they been dancing around each other for weeks? For months? For years? How has Bruce not noticed?
Because he’s been too caught up in his own feelings. Ignoring them, denying them, pushing them away. Ah. As he looks into Clark’s eyes, Bruce realizes that it doesn’t matter. It will never matter who liked who first or how long it’s been. Because they’re here now. They’re honest now, they know now. No more dancing around each other, no more sleepless nights because of something stupid he’s said, no more Clark is with Lois workouts where he beats himself up more than the punching bag.
“Yes,” Bruce breathes.
“Bruce–” Clark looks heartbroken, as if he knows exactly what Bruce’s first thought was. As if all that matters to Bruce is who ‘broke’ first.
“Yes,” Bruce repeats, louder. “I like you too.”
If Bruce has learned anything from getting to know Clark it is the fact that he never knows what to expect. He’ll think he does; he’s excellent at reading humans after all, but with Clark it’s just different. Not because Clark is technically an alien (at least, not only that), but because he will continuously find ways to surprise Bruce. And today is no different.
Clark closes the distance between them so fast, the force of his lips on Bruce’s has Bruce slide up onto the desk to avoid breaking his neck from the pressure. He has to spread his thighs to make room for Clark between them and he should be horrified at how natural that feels, but he doesn’t. It feels good, it feels right, just like kissing Clark. It’s a close-mouthed kiss, it’s not like Bruce hasn’t ever been kissed more passionately, but he still finds himself grasping at Clark’s arms, holding on for dear life.
He tries to keep his eyes open, to get a closer look at Clark, but the instinct to close his eyes win in the end when Clark parts his mouth slightly and tilts his head. Their lips fit together like – Bruce isn’t going to say puzzle pieces because that is too cliché, but something similar. Something made to fit together, even when it functions apart. Something that’s good on its own, but better slotted together. They’re better together.
Clark pulls back and he looks a little shocked. Bruce is sure his own face mirrors Clark’s expression.
“I, uh,” Clark stutters out.
“I’m –” Bruce says at the same time.
Both their mouths snap shut. They stare at each other for a while, not saying another word. Bruce is still holding onto his arms and Clark’s hands are still firmly on the desk on either side of Bruce’s hips. It feels like an oddly intimate position, despite the fact that they’ve just kissed. They kissed. No turning back now.
Then Clark starts smiling and Bruce feels his own lips tug up.
“So,” Clark says.
“So,” Bruce echoes.
“You’re really not jealous of Lois?”
“Oh, shut up.”
And Clark does. But only because Bruce pulls him in for another kiss.
