Well, I stumble through the dark and light a candle...

[silver_lined]

Leaving their younger versions behind, he gave Bruce's hand a soft, careful squeeze before tugging him the rest of the way through the warp hole. He wasn't about let him lose a limb to being a smart ass, after all. And it was hell to replace the pieces of the exo-suit.

"I ought to kick your ass for that, Bruce," he said with a sigh as they made their way back into his own Fortress. It was a bit darker, a little more full, and dustier. Definitely dustier. He'd never quite be able to undo the damage that eight years of neglect had done on the place.

Comments

[beyondthebat]

"Good." That might, just about, give him enough time to get through 'lunch'. At least it wouldn't knock him out before he'd had any time with Clark. He tugged lightly at Clark's hand, almost unconsciously trying to get him to come closer. "How long do you intend to stay here?"

[silver_lined]

Clark went. Whether it was because he knew that Bruce wanted him, or because he wanted Bruce was hard to say.

"I wanted you to get some time with the antigrav, but if you want to head to the manor, we can do that."

He'd arrange for a teleport. He didn't like to make him travel to much the other ways.

[beyondthebat]

It didn't matter (much) if Clark was indulging Bruce or himself. They were both getting what they wanted, and possibly needed. Bruce kept drinking that damned shake once he had Clark close to him, and quirked a faint, wry, smile.

"You can give me some more time with the antigrav between lunch and cocktails." He wasn't stupid enough - or stubborn enough - to deny the relief he got from it. It just wasn't enough to not want to go home.

...He didn't even want to go home so much at this point as he felt the need to be there. A desperate sort of clawing thing in the very back of his mind that he wasn't paying much conscious attention to.

"Play your cards right and I might even stay awake through you flying." Fuck teleport. He wanted to - Look, he was doing a thing here. For Clark as much as for himself.

[silver_lined]

"Oh, are we flying then?"

Because he knew what he wanted but short of things that were necessary, he let Bruce have his way. Especially the last week or so.

"It's a good thing I brought your coat."

[beyondthebat]

"Well, I suppose you could teleport to some midpoint so we're not in the air all day, but we're flying either way."

He was not above using Clark's tendency to indulge him to get his own way to try and give something to Clark. What he was trying to give Clark here was ill defined but amounted to 'memory'.

[silver_lined]

"Maybe a teleport down to Boston," he proposed, "and then we can fly the rest of the way?"

That wouldn't be a long flight, but it'd be a relatively easy one. The sea breezes always helped his speed and it made for a good, comfortable flight for Bruce.

[beyondthebat]

"That sounds like a much better use of technology, time, and flight." It would make for a more pleasant experience for him and give him what he wanted with Clark - for Clark, either way.

Meanwhile he was... fighting his way to the bottom of his cup and it was a fight. Absolutely no part of him actually wanted that thing, but he was determined and getting there.

[silver_lined]

"Drink some water once you're done," he advised, "since I can see from your face the flavor's not doing it for you."

Then he pushed himself up from the bed to start collecting the pieces of the suit.

[beyondthebat]

It wasn't the flavor and he didn't want water, either. He finished his lunch and reached to grab the glass of water beside the bed to drink, anyway. Indulging Clark for indulging him might just have become the new normal, even when accompanied by grump and snark.

His distaste for the suit was actually greater. "I know I'm old, Clark, but I think I can manage a trip that's ninety-nine percent flying or teleporting." The suit provided a lot of bracing and insulation from pain, but. Actually no, that might send a strange signal. He pushed the rest of the way up and moved to the edge of the bed and reached for it. "Give it here. I'll get it on while you take care of the dishes - and you still owe me a scotch and you eating a proper meal."

[silver_lined]

"Which I can do just as well at the manor," came the answer as he handed over the pieces and pressed a kiss to the back of Bruce's head.

"Actually, the scotch will be easier. You have a much better collection there than here."

[beyondthebat]

Bruce tilted his head up, snagged the back of Clark's neck and gave him a firm kiss on the lips. Then let him go, so he could start wrangling his way into that thing.

"Mm. I should hope so. Given that the collection there is older than I am." Which meant inherited, but whatever. He'd had a few years to collect before Clark, too.

Getting into that suit, it turned out, took a lot of energy. A lot. He didn't make a fuss but there was definite physical effort involved, and his body and vitals responded like someone engaging in a hell of a workout.

[silver_lined]

Clark was back within seconds, the dishes done and drying and they'd be just fine where they were. Bruce, on the other hand, got assistance on the legs and part of the arms, as well as the back piece and the back part of the neck.

"I think I still have some fries in the freezer there too."

A burger and fries. That was a meal. Bruce would be satisfied.

[beyondthebat]

Bruce was... starting to become consciously aware that his body was trying to drag him down. The fact that he'd gotten incredibly light-headed, short of breath, and his pulse was racing erratically was something of a clue.

Clark carrying on as more or less normal was - what? reassuring? That or troubling, and he didn't know which. Still, he pretty well leaned into Clark and let himself be helped while he fought against himself to get things steadied out again. It... took more effort than he wanted.

"Combine that with your shake and it's very nearly an actual meal." It was an actual meal.

He took hold of Clark's shoulder and hauled himself up with a lot of assistance from the suit. "You'll even get a bit of time in the sun on the way." Not an accident. "Let's go." Once up he took Clark's hand again.

[silver_lined]

He'd messaged the Watchtower to get them the ride, so the moment that Bruce was in his arms, the boomtube opened and Clark carried him through. It left them out in the sky just outside of Boston and Clark took a moment to breathe in deep of the sea area before turning and heading for their destination.

The sun was bright today.

[beyondthebat]

Bruce... laughed when they emerged into a bright blue sky, breathed deep and held onto Clark with some help from the gloves. He didn't say anything, though. Nuzzled at Clark's throat, nipped it gently, ultimately put a hand in Clark's hair.

And just enjoyed the hell out of every second of that flight and knowing Clark was getting the sunlight he needed.

The fact that he could feel Clark's heart beating and the rise and fall of him breathing wasn't half bad, either. That man didn't know how not to be fully alive. Bruce didn't want him to ever find out.

Okay, wrong, toward the end of the trip he said something. He said: "I love you."

[silver_lined]

There wasn't a pause in his flight, not a twitch, nothing to show it. But it simultaneously ripped him in half and put him back together again, the same way those words always did except

Except.

Goddammit, Bruce. I could pretend. I could pretend I was wrong.

He leaned in then, the words humming across his skin, inside of his heart, clawing like an animal in a cage as he nuzzled Bruce in return.

"I love you too."

[beyondthebat]

Bruce stroked his thumb over the back of Clark's neck to recognize that, and focused every fiber of his being on keeping his pulse steady, his breathing even, and the way the color of the sky matched Clark's eyes.

It reminded him of another time he'd done that for Clark - made sure his pulse and breathing were right, to keep Clark on even keel - or to try. There had been a lot of foolishness at the time - from him, of course - but the sentiment had been the same.

Just letting his heart beat for Clark. This time it was more like making it, but after everything Clark had done for him... It wasn't anywhere near enough.

He was, however, profoundly relieved to see the Manor. Even after all these years, it was home.

[silver_lined]

He glided in smoothly, through the window of Bruce's room that had long since been genetically synced to allow just that. Technology was wonderful sometimes.

Though... not wonderful enough.

He didn't stay there, though. Instead, he went through the house to the kitchen and put Bruce down on the most comfortable seat there before disappearing. A moment later, there was a small glass of Bruce's favorite scotch (the one he'd come to prefer most of the time) and Clark was tossing some fries into the oven and looking for the mushroom caps.

"There's two of us here," he said, grumbling, "both of us with perfect memories and yet somehow, my mushrooms always end up somewhere in here."

[beyondthebat]

There were greater odds of Bruce developing the potential for independent flight than there were of him actually finishing that drink - if he didn't want to pass out, and right now he very much did not want to pass out.

He could have used the pain killing properties, but he really needed his brain to keep working.

Clark needed his brain to keep working a lot more.

He took his seat, took a sip of his drink and leaned an elbow against the table. He was distracted by everything he was trying to consciously manage, but he still managed a soft snort. "I think they're on the bottom right, toward the back." Why did he know that?

Because that was where somewhere historically was.

And he needed Clark to eat properly.

[silver_lined]

He turned and gave Bruce the dirtiest look.

"You live to drive me mad," he said with a low chuckle as he pulled them out along with the butter. The pan got the butter a moment later as he started slicing up the tomato.

[beyondthebat]

I live to love you.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it. Someone has to be able to get under your skin. Keeps your head from swelling."

He watched Clark cooking and was just - content to do it. More content because he was at home, in his kitchen (that he never used) with sun streaming through the windows.

[silver_lined]

"You do such a good job, sometimes I think my head's shrinking," he pointed out with a huff as he flipped the mushroom caps into the pan. "I swear, my hats get bigger every year."

[beyondthebat]

"Maybe it's your hair." His ... sentences were getting shorter. They had to be to compensate for mental and physical energy he was expending, but he was doing all right overall. At least with the upright, conscious, and heart-beating and breathing aspects of it.

Dammit, Kal. Just... Dammit.

[silver_lined]

"You like my hair," he said with a shake of his head as he pulled out the rolls to cut one in half. "And it's only gotten curlier since the white came in."

He glanced over.

"Though I don't look nearly as elegant as you do with it. I'm like a skunk over here."

He smiled at him and it was a miracle that it wasn't brittle.

"Thankfully, I smell a little sweeter."

[beyondthebat]

Bruce could not have been watching Clark more intently if he'd been half a century younger. His eyes had certainly not lost that piercing quality. It was even more intense because of what was happening here, just under the surface.

"I like your hair," he agreed. "I wouldn't if it made you look like a skunk. I wouldn't let you on the grounds, much less in my bed if you smelled like one." He broke off there, and coughed briefly, got it under control and took another sip of his scotch. "Silver suits you."