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He couldn't help but wonder to himself what their first kiss would be.
Would Bruce be firm and rushed, like all those paparazzi pictures seemed to picture him? Steady hands all over him, guiding their bodies to crash against a wall in a rushed moment of desperation where both of them wouldn't be able to hold their attraction from each other anymore? He knew Bruce wouldn't be able to push him against a wall if he didn't let him, but oh, he’d let him.
And then, maybe, in some weak late night hours where he allowed himself to really daydream, it would be the opposite. Perhaps he would see a side of Bruce no one has seen before, one of his many moments of gentle kindness, of softness hidden behind small expressions and actions that only someone he carefully lets in is able to interpret. Maybe Bruce would not take the lead, but allow him to start the kiss, calling his name with the calm voice he uses when the sun is almost up, and the Dark Knight is done with his duties for the night. He knows how delicate Bruce can be when he wants to. Imagines both hands coming up to his face in a slow cradle, the warmth of his breath while getting their faces closer, the special smile reserved only for the people he loves.
For now, Clark just waits. Until Bruce shows that he's ready to go forward, he'll give him the space he needs.
"Being with me is an endurance test," is what Bruce has told him years ago, when they first time had a conversation on the topic of romance. It's not that Clark would ever agree with Bruce's self deprecating sentences, but he certainly understands not everyone would be patient enough to have Bruce, and wait for him to shed away the many layers that hide his vulnerabilities from the rest of the world with his slow, hard-headed way. Not everyone, except for him.
Clark tells himself is nothing, because what's one year of slow developments to someone who's already lived almost eight years of friendship deep in love, with no expectation of ever being reciprocated? Kiss or no kiss, having a relationship with Bruce is already more than he ever thought it would be true. And they still have other “couple things” going for them, anyway, like saving each other from mortal danger.
Batman was always honest about his opinions and beliefs, but finally getting to see his face was a different level of truth. One year after, and he still sees it as more of a exclusive confession of his trust than just a gossip revelation.
Clark wished he had come up with something deeper to say than "I've interviewed you", when first seeing Batman's face, but alas, that is not what haunts his heart and takes over his head when the world goes quiet. He can still hear the clear words in the voice said by Batman in the end of their conversation, reverberating through his mind:
"You've become important to me, Kal. And I would greatly appreciate if we could call each other real partners from now on."
He can't recall his response, muddled in the complete chaos his own mind provided, caused by the unexpected confession and identity reveal all at once, but he does remember trying to calm himself down the way he often does during missions: by listening in to Batman's steady heartbeat. That was the first time Clark remembers hearing his heart moving off-pace. It was exactly what settled it for him, too. He couldn’t be sure he wouldn't freak out Bruce by his passion, his intensity or his pure excitement about being in love (and finally getting to share that), but if even Gotham's Prince could get nervous during a confession, he knew the one job he could at least do is ease Bruce's heart.
It was not the first time they had embraced each other in a hug before, but it was the one hug that mattered the most to Clark, even more than whatever first they had. For now, Clark clings to that. And to the few following hugs that happen, and to the ever growing selection of touches they share.
Alone, Bruce touches his arm when speaking, bumps his torso into him when showing documents, and sometimes pushes his body against him to call for attention in such a cat-like manner that actually manages to off-center Clark. In public, they understandably touch less, of course trying to avoid any rumors, but Clark can't really help himself to steal one contact or another while coming back to the ground after a mission or during their post meeting talks. He notices how they are always leaning closer to each other in JL group pictures at the papers, he calls him “B” with no complaint from Bruce, and surprisingly often he pulls on his hand when they take too long to get out of the lab for lunch. He never stops daydreaming about Bruce’s lips, but there is nothing he would trade in the world for this touches too, the quiet communication that doesn’t need words to be understood.
• • •
"Bruce if you would just listen to me!"
Clark knows their voices are reaching the halls of the Watchtower at this time, but he doesn't stop himself from trying to get his point across one last time before Bruce interrupts him again.
"We can't keep doing this, Clark! I fucking can't!"
It's not the first time Bruce has raised his voice at him like that, but the words hit him harder now. A mission discussion just escalated to a full breakdown of their whole relationship, and after one hour of back and forth arguing, Bruce looks more tired than ever. Even so, he continues speaking, in a lower tone.
"I'm done, okay? You're done, I'm done, and we're both never be over this discussion so I'm getting the fuck out of this room and we—” he points a finger between them, “—are fucking done." his hand gestures are still aggravated, but his voice is firm on the decision as he steps forward towards the door, only stopping when he realizes Clark stands on the way.
"Move," he blurts out once more, and Clark realizes he can't really move.
He stands there, shook to the core at Bruce’s words, so much that he truly doesn't even manage to have the strength to say anything back. Bruce lets out one of the many "I'm annoyed" sighs he has let out this evening and raises one hand slowly to Clark's arms.
"Get out the way, Clark," the touch is as soft as it is menacing, and although Clark knows Bruce would never really hurt him, there's nothing else he could say that would leave him worse than he already did with his words.
"Are we..." he starts, struggling to get the words out, "Are you breaking up with me?" and the hands around him immediately fall.
So this is how they go down. Not to some super villain plot, not even to some tragic telenovela story of cheating, but for a mission discussion? Clark can't believe his senses right now. None of them even is able to pinpoint the start of the arguing anymore. He has to ask again.
"Seriously, B. Are we breaking up over this? Right now?"
Silly enough, the one thing going through his mind is his birthday, coming up next week. He had a whole Justice League party celebration planned that is all going to the trash now, because he definitely won't be up to party for a few weeks. Or months. Or god knows how long until his stupid heart figures out Bruce won't be coming back.
He knows he's pushing right now, wide eyes and calling Bruce "B" to gain some affection points, but there's nothing much he can scrape up to do to save their relationship. And that is what he's still trying to come up with when Bruce speaks up again.
"Break up?" his voice is unsure and confused, and now part of Clark's previous annoyance comes back, because how dare he get confused when he was the one saying they were done out of nowhere?
"Clark... Do you—" Bruce raises the same hand again, now to his own face, fingers rubbing between his eyebrows, "do you think we're dating?"
The question hangs in the air like heavy smoke. It fills Clark's lungs until the oxygen he doesn't need to breathe goes completely out and all it leaves is the panic inside of him. Hollowed inside, Clark raises his eyes to meet Bruce, looking at him like he's two seconds out of being put in a mental hospital, or with a pity so deep that Clark has never seen expressed by Bruce before. He wonders if he can't even figure his partner's expressions out anymore. Or his not-partner, should he say?
"Oh my god, Clark…" he does hear the tone shift in Bruce's voice. The low strong baritone of the fighting goes higher, softer, and his steady hands are suddenly pulling Clark to sit down in a small sofa by the wall of the lab they’re inside. "For how long?"
"You... You said... When you told me your identity–"
"When I showed you my face!? How– What–" Bruce sounds so exasperated he knows he's fucked up, and the embarrassment might just kill him before Bruce does. He almost hopes for it.
The silence stretches a bit longer, the two if them trying to process how in the hell they got themselves in such a situation. Clark feels unusually dizzy, but keeps his mouth shut, afraid to reveal something else equally worse, praying silently this is all a nightmare he will wake up from, and then go back to the real world, where he and Bruce are still going on ice cream dates and pre-mission work outs. He thinks of inventing some alien culture excuse, but even if he wasn't really dating Batman they could still read each other's lies in seconds. When Bruce speaks up again it's partially mumbled out from between his hands covering his face.
"I didn't know I was so bad at hiding it like this... How did you even– We haven't even kissed Clark!"
"Oh, trust me, I know that."
"How have we've been dating for nearly twelve months now and haven't kissed?!" now he can hear the slight humour hidden behind Bruce's words, which is simply rude based on the situation they have at hand.
"I was giving you time, okay? I'm sorry I know you enough to respect you taking your time at being physically comfortable!" as soon as the words leave his mouth he knows how insane he sounds. Still looking worn out post-mission, messy hair and assuming to be in a kiss-less relationship with his best friend for almost a year. He'll never recover from this. Superman is going to need a ten year vacation to another galaxy.
Bruce, apparently doesn't only seem to think he is insane but is going crazy himself, because instead of getting mad at him for everything happening, he let's out a small laugh through his nose and gets closer to Clark, sly smile coming out.
"Are you really not playing a joke on me with this?"
"No. Unfortunately," he can't stand the gravity of their eyes meeting anymore, so he lowers his head before speaking again, "I'm sorry. I got confused, I guess. I don't know what I was th—"
Before he gets to finish the sentence, his mouth is already busy being wrapped up in Bruce. A steady hand is holding his chin, propping his head up to meet where Bruce has gone forward. His lips are unbelievably soft, but the kiss is not even close to what Clark had daydreamed before. No matter how wildly his wondering took him, nothing he could come up with in his head compared to actually feeling Bruce there. The soft, steady touch, the sweet taste of his tongue, the undeniable understanding that it was real.
When they separate, Bruce is still touching his face, eyes slowing opening up to stare at him from a low angle. He looks like an angel, something not only otherworldly like himself but from another existence altogether. His expression is as unreadable as always, but even through the confusion caused by this sudden act, his next words are easy to figure out.
"I'm sorry I took so long, Clark.”