Work Text:
TW: Brief needle attempt to be used
Bruce couldn't believe the audacity of this woman. First, she openly flirts with him when he made it clear he was not interested, putting her hands on him and batting her eyes to distract from the fact that she was trying to pickpocket his wallet. Then, she clearly (or clearly to him given he heard the ‘plop’ and felt a hand press down on his glass) spiked his drink. Right in the open. He glanced at his drink to see it was distinctly more opaque than it had been before. This Pam Ivesly person was proving to be bolder than he cared for. He wanted to know why she wanted to spike his drink, and with what. Given she kept going for his pocket, it indicated this wasn't for sex or power, but greed. Another quick glance showed the drink was now back to normal, no indication that it had been secretly poisoned in the first place. * Fast dissolving, diluted quickly. Still shouldn’t drink it.*
The curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know what she put in there. All he had to do was keep his glass full long enough to excuse himself to secretly put it in one of the vials he keeps on himself at all times. That shouldn’t be too hard to do given this was a now social event given the boring award ceremony was over. Only a half of attendees were left with a few reporters scattered here and there. He could just go from person to person chatting until he finally got out-
“Oh my god, I’m so thirsty! Mind?” A familiar voice asked, snatching the glass out of Bruce’s hand and chugging the whole thing in one gulp.
Bruce froze at the sight of Clark Kent poisoning himself by accident. It seemed Ms. Ivesly felt the same. Bruce had never seen someone run away so fast, or would have seen if his jaw wasn’t dropped, mentally panicking and planning how to casually tell his best friend and kindest man he’d ever met that he potentially roofied himself.
“I-uh… um…” Bruce sputtered. “That was-“
Clark smacked his lips, “sorry, I was dying! It’s so hot in here! I don’t know how you’re wearing a full three piece suit and everything, Bruce.”
Bruce snapped himself out of it, remembering he wasn’t Batman, he was Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne would have had no idea his drink was spiked. “Yes, I’ve gotten used to it unfortunately,” he said casually with a smile. “Are you feeling alright? Perhaps you need to sit down if it’s too warm-“
“Oh, no! I’m alright now. The punch hit the spot,” Clark insisted, chucking as he did.
Bruce had a momentary lapse in memory at the sound of the laugh. Of course Bruce had seen his friend Clark many times, but everytime he was blown away by his beauty. It didn’t help how good Clark was with his own kid. Dick loved whenever ‘Uncle Clark’ came over to watch the game or to do a general interview, even if he didn’t talk to him much. He was actually shocked Dick was still sitting at the kids table instead of wrapped around Clark’s leg.
Bruce came back to reality when Clark took a step back and tripped over himself. * Shit, the drugs might already be taking effect .* Bruce caught Clark by the shoulders before he completely fell over, refusing to let go, gripping on tightly and staring into his eyes for any sign of dilation but instead getting lost in the seas of deep blue that reflected back. “Are you okay?” He managed to ask casually.
“Oh,” Clark gasped, his eyes glancing at the hands holding onto him. “I’m fine. I just lost my balance.”
Bruce watched Clark’s face flush red. * Ugh, that’s also not good. Better than turning pale, but a raise in temperature isn’t ideal either.* “ Okay, well, um…” Bruce stumbled through. “Hey, how much longer are you required to stay here? Work wise, I mean.”
“Um, technically I was only scheduled for the ceremony. I, uh, well, I guess I just stuck around ‘cause I- well, um, cause I guess I could,” Clark stuttered, his shoulders tensing up as he spoke. “Why?”
*Stumbling through words, muscles going rigid. It’s working faster than I thought. Wonder if there’s a way to get him at least close to the cave in case something happens.* “It's almost Dick’s bedtime. I was about to head back anyway and was gonna see if you wanted to stay over to avoid the long drive overnight back home.”
Clark stared at him for a beat, taking longer to respond than Bruce felt comfortable with given he was attempting to monitor his level of cognition. “Oh, oh, yeah, yeah. That would be… that would be great! Sure! Thank you!” Clark gave him a thumbs up.
Bruce finally let go of his shoulder. “Great! Let go get my car-“
“I can drive back-“
“No!” Bruce yelled a little forcefully, making Clark jump back. “I mean, I’ll drive you back here in the morning. Please. I insist.”
Clark’s eyes went wide for a brief second. “Oh? Oh! Okay, yeah then… sure. Yeah. I will… ride with you.” He awkwardly punched Bruce in the arm.
*Brain already seemingly starting to become agreeable to everything.* “Great! We should probably grab Dick first.”
“My number 1 fan,” Clark laughed.
*Okay, he still remembers my kid. That’s good.* “I’m shocked he’s not already running over,” Bruce chuckled, putting a hand in between Clark’s shoulder blades as casually as he could to guide him.
Clark froze for a second, his face once again going bright red. Clark coughed a few times before allowing himself to be led. * Throat already constricting slowly, or his body is rejecting it. Either way, not good.* Bruce knew he also could take Clark to a hospital, but it was Gotham. Too many rogues create their own concoctions of drugs, the chance of any old hospital having an antidote was low. With any luck, it was just a sedative and Clark would sleep it off. But, at worst, Clark would keel over in three seconds. Bruce couldn’t risk it, even if he had to take Clark down to the cave himself and blow his whole identity, he wouldn’t risk his best friend's life.
Dick was sitting politely at the kids table, completely engulfed in his gameboy. A tap on the shoulder from Bruce snapped him out of it. Before he could say anything, the seven year old’s eyes lit up and his arms were wrapped around Clark’s waist shouting “Superman!”
“It’s too crowded to play Superman in here, buddy,” Clark told him.
Dick didn’t say anything, beaming from ear to ear and gripping onto his favorite person in the world, something Bruce was only mildly offended about.
“Ready to go, chum?” Bruce asked him. Dick gave him a look in response that Bruce understood. “Uncle Clark is coming home with us, don’t worry.”
Dick gasped and practically jumped out of his seat to wrap his arms around Clark’s neck to carry him. Bruce flinched, “uh… hey, why don’t we-“
Clark easily put him on his hip with a laugh. “It’s alright, Bruce. I got him.”
“Well,” Bruce sputtered out, “I mean, if you’re feeling up for carrying him all the way to the car.”
He made eye contact with Dick and wordlessly took the gameboy from his hands so he could hold onto his Uncle Clark better. He squeezed Clark’s neck in a way to tell them both that Dick wasn’t going to give him a choice either way. If it wasn’t for the fact that Clark was drugged, Bruce might have realized his own heart had surged like it always did seeing his completely jacked and very attractive best friend/crush holding his child, smiling, being gentle and talking to him even if he didn’t respond back. Bruce could never blame the kid for not wanting to talk if he did want to, and half the time it wasn’t necessary as Bruce just instinctively knew what Dick wanted. He also would never complain about a quiet kid given he heard his coworkers complain all about how loud their kids are running around and screaming. All Bruce had to worry about was him breaking another chandelier jumping from it. Regardless, Clark asking about Dick’s day, wondering if he was having a good time and his gameboy, going on to talk about how he likes video games too was too sweet and suspected this was what sparked his crush on him.
The three of them left the convention center and headed to the car. Bruce kept staring at Clark’s arms for any indication that he was going to drop Dick due to exhaustion, leading him down the street with a hand on his back to help steady him.
However, Clark’s perspective was completely different. Clark watched the woman spike Bruce’s drink without his knowledge and acted completely impulsively. Clark knew human drugs didn’t work on a Kryptonian, and boy was Clark grateful he did. Not only did it prevent a dangerous situation, it somehow managed to lead to him going home with his best friend who wouldn’t stop checking him out every few seconds. Hell, Bruce was even going as far as holding a hand at his lower back, tapping his arms, staring into his eyes. In fact, had Bruce not invited him back to his house, Clark might have pretended none of it meant anything. He knew there was a reason to wear his Sunday best. Lois said he had over dressed for the reporting gig, but it managed to get Bruce Wayne to bring him back to his house.
Bruce seemed incredibly nervous, his fingers fidgeting and tapping Clark’s back and Clark found it adorable. So much so his throat went dry, and he kept swallowing, Bruce staring at him every time he had done so. The pressure increased on his back when he did, which Clark might have noticed had he not been having a one sided conversation with his number 1 fan as they walked through the parking garage.
Clark got Dick settled in the backseat when they got to the car. Bruce didn’t leave Clark’s side even then, staring at him there. “I know how to buckle a kid in, Bruce,” Clark teased. “I’m 95% sure he can do it himself, but he won’t let go of my neck.”
“No, I know…” Bruce’s voice trailed off and Clark could tell he was searching his mind for an excuse. “Just… standing here if you need someone to wrestle him off of you.”
Dick looked at Bruce and somehow Bruce knew what he meant. “He’s not riding in the backseat with you.”
Dick puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms to pout. It got Dick to let go of Clark, so he took the opportunity to pull away. Bruce rolled his eyes at Dick and handed him back his game boy. Bruce sighed, “fine, but if you get car sick, you’re going to go straight to bed.”
Dick lit up and took it right from his hands, the familiar start up sound ringing in his ears.
Bruce closed the car door behind Clark and walked him to the passenger side, opening the door for him. Clark had to hide his stupid smile, instead raising an eyebrow at him, “I’ll never understand how you know what he wants.”
Bruce shrugged as he closed the door. “Just do.”
The drive back was uneventful, unless the fact that Bruce wouldn’t stop taking his eyes off the road to look at Clark counted as an event. There also was Bruce slamming on the break when he almost ran a red light. His hand flew to Clark’s chest to stop his momentum. He kept it there for longer than necessary, not saying a word. He even took the time to turn around and ask Dick if he was okay, yet kept his hand right there. Clark was glad the red light hid the color of his own face. He was shaking slightly, surprisingly nervous. Not from the brake slam, but that Bruce was still touching him.
As for Bruce, well, he needed something to check on Clark’s heartbeat, and this was the most casual way he could think of. The problem was, Clark had too much muscle, making him have to keep his hand there for a while before he could feel any form of life under his perfectly toned pecs that Bruce wanted to [redacted due to G rating].
Bruce was more relieved that Clark hadn’t passed out yet. Clearly whatever Clark took was slow acting, something Bruce couldn’t wrap his head around. Maybe the woman was hoping Bruce would stay longer and therefore the drug couldn’t be traced to her? Or maybe she planned for him to crash his car later? Who knew, all Bruce cared about was making sure everyone was safe.
“You good back there, Dick?” Bruce asked him.
Dick had put the gameboy down in his lap, staring at the headrest in front of him.
“Did you get car sick?” Bruce accused.
Dick didn’t say anything, just looked up at Bruce in the rearview mirror.
Bruce sighed. “We’re almost home, chum. Can you hang on a few more minutes?”
Dick kept staring, his lip starting to poke out a little bit.
Bruce cringed. He hated asking anything of Clark when he was probably feeling like shit inside and just hiding it well. Clark’s face was bright red, the stop light not even hiding how flushed it was. But he had more than one person in the car to take care of. “Do you mind reaching in the pouch behind me? There’s a toy lion in there he wants.”
Clark was staring at the hand on his chest, taking a second to process what Bruce said. “I’m sorry, uh… Stuffed lion! Got it.”
*Cognitive processing is starting to fail. If it was a sedative, I just need to get him to bed as soon as possible and have him sleep it off, monitoring him for any life threatening symptoms.*
Clark was embarrassed how long it took him to realize Bruce had spoken to him, his brain so wrapped up in how warm Bruce felt and how his thumb was subconsciously rubbing his chest, that he forgot where he even was. Clark easily grabbed the toy for Dick, handing it back to him for Dick to not fully acknowledge Clark and just take it. Even Clark knew he wasn’t feeling good.
“Aww, buddy,” Clark empathized with the little guy. “How about if you feel better in the morning, we’ll play outside for a bit.”
Dick clutched onto his toy and nodded.
Bruce continued driving, adjusting his rearview mirror so he could see Dick better. Clark’s heart warmed at his concern. He knew that it was his own kid, but it was still touching to see how much Bruce loved him.
Bruce’s attention went from Dick, the road, Clark, the road, right back to Dick. At no point did Clark think Bruce was being unsafe, but Clark started to feel self conscious. Did Bruce always look at him this much and he never noticed? That’s somehow worse than if he did. Clark stared out the window so he could pretend Bruce wasn’t constantly checking him out.
By the time they got home, Dick was pale. He wasn’t even bothering to fight for Clark, letting Bruce pick him up and carry him inside.
“You can, uh, just chill on the couch while I get him ready for bed. If you need anything, Alfred is in the kitchen,” Bruce explained.
Clark responded with a quick “okay!” while Bruce walked Dick up the stairs. Dick had his lion wave to him ‘goodnight’ to him which Clark returned with a bright smile and a wave back.
Clark settled on the couch, finding himself wringing his hands. He didn’t want to overthink it. There was still a chance Bruce was just being nice, offering a bed to him so he didn’t have to drive an hour. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to find the number for a second. It was just so unclear to him that he decided to consult an expert.
Clark: hey, got a second?
Lois: what’s up?
Clark: Let’s say in theory a guy invites you back to his house, and right before he puts his hand on your lower back as he walks you to the car, lets you buckle in his kid, rubs your chest, and has barely kept his eyes off of you. Is that flirting?
Lois: Clark, are you illiterate?
Clark: ???
Lois: re-read what you just sent me.
Clark: Okay, but that’s all out of context.
Lois: name one context where any of that isn’t flirting.
Clark: The context in which this happened.
Lois: 🤦🏻♀️
Lois: Goodnight, Smallville.
Clark: you’re not helping
Lois: 👍🏻
It was at this point Alfred made his presence known with a simple clearing of his throat. “Master Wayne requested I ensure your comfort here for the night.”
Clark blinked a few times at him. “Alfred, you don’t need to be formal around me. It’s cool. And I’m good, really.”
Alfred nodded. “Very good, Mr. Kent. If you don’t mind that I continue my work around you?”
Clark smiled. “You can just call me ‘Clark’ and that’s fine. You do whatever you need to. I am invading your space really, not the other way around.”
Alfred nodded, duster appearing in his hand. “I apologize, I didn’t have a chance to clean the living room before your arrival. Please forgive the mess.”
Clark searched the spotless room for any sign of anything that would indicate a ‘mess.’ He settled on politely nodding, “this is cleaner than my apartment. You’re doing a great job, Alfred.”
Clark’s phone vibrated in his hands, lighting up to another text from Lois.
Lois: Well, what else do you want me to say? Are you at his place now?
Clark: I’m at the manor, yeah.
Lois: …wait.
Lois: You mean to tell me you’re at Bruce Wayne’s house?!
Clark: I’ve been here before.
Lois: Bruce Wayne invited you back to his place?
Clark: Like I said, I’ve been here before. He said he wanted me to avoid the long drive home.
Lois: Billionaire known for sleeping with anything that can consent?
Clark: Lois, I feel like you’re not understanding. There's a chance he wasn’t flirting.
Lois: Goodnight, Smallville.
Clark: Lois! How do I find out?!
Lois: Have you heard of words? They’re great for communicating thoughts and ideas.
Clark: -and for ruining friendships if you read signals wrong.
Lois: Do you want him to be flirting?
Clark: um… next question?
Lois: 🙄 you’re killing me here.
Clark: I just mean I wouldn’t object
Lois: Then flirt back! Worst that happens is he says no.
Clark: Worst that happens is he buys the Daily Planet and fires me for having the audacity to offend him that I read his body language wrong.
Lois: Ah yes, Bruce Wayne. Idiot known for donating half his net worth every year to different charities is 100% the vengeful type.
Lois: One time Jimmy spilt coffee on him and Bruce apologized to *him* and offered to buy him a new cup and suit.
Lois: The one that adopted a kid about to be thrown in the foster care system simply because he felt responsible somehow.
Lois: That cruel evil Bruce Wayne that gives his employees free healthcare and daycare.
Lois: Always got the vibe that he would one day ruin your life on purpose.
Clark: So you agree with me then?
Lois: Goodnight, Smallville.
Clark huffed. Lois didn’t seem to get that Bruce could have just been friendly. Clark was a reporter. He needed definite facts and a way to figure it out without directly asking him before figuring out the whole story. Clark heard the sound of a shower start to run upstairs. He had a couple of minutes before Bruce got back so he figured he could ask a reliable source.
“Hey, Alfred, can I ask you a personal question about Bruce?” Clark asked, hoping he was willing to provide information.
“Depends,” Alfred eyed him. “Am I talking to ‘Mr. Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet,’ or ‘Clark, friend of Bruce Wayne.’”
Clark chuckled at his suspicion. “The second one. Nah, I have no intention of writing an embarrassing article about Bruce. Conflict of interest and all of that.”
Alfred seemed satisfied with this. “Then you may ask. However, if I see this in the paper, I will deny it was ever me.”
Clark nodded. “You will remain anonymous,” he joked with a smirk. “But, how… I mean how often does Bruce bring people back here?”
Alfred thought for a moment, “well, before he adopted Master Dick, quite often. However, the last year and a half or so have been pretty quiet. He’s quite picky now who he lets in the Manor. I dare say you’re one of the few people he allows in willingly.”
This did not help Clark narrow down anything. It did however make his heart surge at the thought of how protective Bruce was over his kid.
Clark and Alfred had a polite chat about current events while waiting for Bruce. He ended up coming down stairs, towel wrapped around his neck, gym shorts that showed off his beautifully toned legs. Clark forced himself not to stare, turning his head back to Alfred, cursing his inability to not blush at every single thing.
“Sorry about that,” Bruce apologized. “Dick got a little sick… all over me. I figured you didn’t want to hang out while I was… well, had vomit on me.”
Clark’s heart dropped. “Aww, poor guy. Is he okay?”
Bruce nodded. “He will be fine after he sleeps. It’s my fault for giving him the gameboy back, but otherwise you’d be stuck having your ‘number one fan’ stare at you in the dark. Didn’t think you wanted that.”
Clark scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve been in more awkward situations. It wouldn’t have been that bad.”
Bruce eyed him for a moment before turning to make pointed eye contact with Alfred. The two of them had a silent conversation that Clark couldn’t follow for the life of him, going as far as trying to tune in with his super hearing and finding nothing.
“Is there some secret quiet language everyone in this household can understand? Like ESP, mind reading, telepathy devices Wayne Enterprises has figured out?” Clark asked. “Because I know the two of you are talking, I just don’t know how.”
Bruce bit the inside of his cheek for a beat before dismissing Alfred with a nod. “I was trying to tell him he was good to go, but he’s adding ‘dusting’ to the mental checklist he has for tomorrow.”
“Well, I can’t completely skip it, but if you think it’s alright, who am I to judge my boss?” Alfred said with sarcasm thicker than his British accent.
“That’s all you do…” Bruce muttered as Alfred walked by him, grabbing the towel off Bruce’s neck absentmindedly. Bruce turned to Clark, staring him down. “It’s only 9:30, but I’m sure there’s something we could do, unless you’re tired now.”
Clark quickly formulated a plot in his head. There are ways to get Bruce to tell him he’s flirting without realizing it. “I heard they invented this new thing called a ‘movie,’” Clark suggested. “They even have some preprogrammed in your picture box over there.”
Bruce rolled his eyes, but still played along. “Oh? Please describe to me what happens in this new form of entertainment I’ve heard so much about.” Bruce didn’t break eye contact as he plopped down on the couch next to him, searching his eyes for… something?
Clark felt self conscious, so much so he himself forgot what a movie was and became very flustered when trying to play along. “Oh… it’s very cool and moving… like a frame but it moves along the thing, and yeah,” his voice cracked at the end, breaking eye contact and clearing his throat. “It also has the, uh, sound.”
Bruce raised his eyebrow. “You feeling alright? You can lay down, I mean-“
“Oh no! I’m fine!” Clark insisted. “I just, well, I don’t know what movie to watch. Or what one you would even want to…”
Bruce didn’t seem convinced, his face gravely serious, still staring into his eyes, scooting closing to him. Their legs were almost touching and all Clark found himself doing was staring at his lips only a foot away. “Clark, if you need rest, you-“
Clark shook his head. “No! No! It’s… I’m… movie. Movie- we can put on and if I… how about the first one we come across?”
Bruce grimaced but fell back on the couch. “Sounds good to me.”
Clark fumbled with the remote, so nervous it was as if he’d never worked one before. His hands started to sweat as Bruce adjusted so he was even closer to him and could feel the warmth coming off of his legs. “There are a lot of buttons on this thing,” Clark laughed to try and cover up how stupidly idiotic he was acting.
“Yeah, um… want me to just… do it?”
Clark handed it to Bruce with a clumsy smile.
Bruce was even more concerned at watching Clark fail to complete a basic task. His words were becoming sporadic, going as far as stuttering. He felt Clark’s clammy hands when he gave him the remote. Why Clark wasn’t dropping the tough guy act and was pretending he felt okay, Bruce didn’t know. It made no sense, they were both grown adults. Sure it was kinda early in the night, but not insane to go to bed yet, and it’s not as if Bruce wouldn’t help him in some way. Hell, he was trying to do as much now without him noticing.
Bruce did as suggested and clicked on the first movie on demand under the ‘featured’ tab: some action movie that was being advertised at the top corner. They didn’t talk much during the movie, but given how dark the screen was, he wasn’t shocked Clark was nodding asleep, trying to force himself to stay awake. In fact, it wasn’t long before Clark fell on the couch. In a way, Bruce was relieved, even if it did mean less of a chance to monitor his cognition Though it was clear he was completely passed out given he had fallen asleep on Bruce’s shoulder. A part of Bruce’s brain short circuited when Clark fell on him, a smile coming to his face before he could stop himself or even realize why he was smiling in the first place. Bruce felt relaxed on the couch as Clark put his whole body weight on him. Something about it felt right. Like this was meant to happen everyday. Clark was like a warm, tan, muscular weighted blanket. Bruce mentally shook off these thoughts as he was not about to take advantage of his drugged friend in any way, feeling awful for enjoying this in any capacity.
Given that Clark was presumably completely sedated, he figured now was as good of a time as any to enact part of his plan. He took the syringe out of his pocket and carefully uncapped it with his teeth. The needle was made to inject someone with a sedative without their knowledge, feeling nothing more than a quick pinch. It shouldn’t have woken up Clark even if he wasn’t drugged given how thin it was. He just needed a few drops of blood to test whatever it was that Clark was injected with so it wasn’t like he would kill him by doing this, hell, he wouldn’t even have noticed. Bruce had originally planned to take it to the cave himself, but given Clark was passed out on him, he trusted Alfred to do the proper tests.
Bruce aimed it at Clark’s neck, pressed down, and… nothing? Bruce pushed harder and it didn’t even make a dent. He tried again at a different angle, and for some reason the needle just bent instead of pierced Clark’s skin. Bruce huffed, frustrated he grabbed the one syringe with a blunt end, but still was determined. It helped that Clark didn’t budge as he desperately tried to jab him in the neck.
“What the fuck…?” Bruce whispered.
He felt like he was going insane. Bruce was capable of stabbing someone with a ball point pen and having it draw blood, a needle no matter how blunt shouldn’t have been a problem in any capacity. In frustration, Bruce threw his arm back and slammed the needle down with all of his might only for the needle to completely shatter. Bruce didn’t have time to process this insane series of events because Clark started to stur and blink open his eyes. Bruce shoved the broken syringe between the couch cushions and hoped Clark didn’t notice the small bits of metal around his collar.
“Hm? Oh!” Clark gasped when he realized he fell asleep. “‘M s’ry about that.” Clark sat up and wiped his face while yawning.
Bruce gave him an over exaggerated smile to hide his frustration that the needle snapped. “You’re all good. You weren’t out but twenty minutes.”
Clark ran a hand through his hair before smirking at Bruce. He seemed to take a moment to form the words before saying, “You know, you’re really pretty.”
Bruce had taken a full dose of fear toxin and barely blinked, but this one sentence sent Bruce’s brain into pure panic mode, not because it was said but because of who it was said by. “Oh, uh… um… yeah… I mean, thanks…”
*Clearly twenty minutes was not enough to sleep it off. Not many drugs would make you outwardly dose out compliments, but probably just in tandem with being agreeable. Or maybe it’s what he really thinks and is just saying whatever? No, you cannot entertain the idea. Clark is drugged. End of story.*
Clark smirked and then started to move closer to Bruce. He ran a hand through Bruce’s hair, his lingering touch tingling on Bruce’s scalp. He felt guilty for enjoying Clark brushing his damp hair with his soft hands. Eventually his hand rested behind his neck, a goofy smile on Clark's face that Bruce found himself returning. Bruce didn’t know what to do other than stare at Clark who was…
*Oh god, why does he have to be drugged?*
Bruce just barely dodged the kiss, putting a hand to Clark’s mouth, shocked that he even did it. “Uh… how about…” Bruce tried to get out but couldn’t manage it.
*Why did he have to be drugged?!*
“Oh…” Clark turned bright red, turning away. “Oh, I’m sorry, I… um… I thought that…”
“No it’s just that, well, in your condition I don’t want to-“
“My condition? Am I pregnant?!” Clark blurted out.
“I just mean that you were drugged!”
“I was?! ”
“Yes! They’ve been taking effect already, it’s why I brought you back here! The drink you stole from me was roofied, I was trying to dump it before you chugged it! You didn’t think it was weird that your face was red and you’ve been tripping over your words and are acting like this and oh my god…” the realization hit Bruce so hard it just about had an audible THUD. He sat with a thirty yard stare for a moment as he replayed the last two hours in his head on repeat. “You feel fine… don’t you?”
Clark blinked at him for a second before he cringed and hid in his hands, “ugh. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Lois…”
The room was silent for a full minute, both now regretting their actions of the last hour or so. Bruce felt like an idiot for ignoring the signs, so flustered that his hunch was wrong and that the annoying woman was just that- annoying. Had he really grown so paranoid to think that everyone was out to get him? It was now even interfering with his friendships. Clark’s hurt expression nearly killed Bruce, the words ‘stupid fucking idiot’ repeating in his head over and over, completely overtaking any other thought he had.
“Fuck…” Bruce could hear his own heart beating in his chest. “I fucked up, I’m sorry… I… I’ll be right back.”
Bruce left, leaving Clark to sit and cringe at everything he had done. All Bruce was trying to do was protect him. He’ll admit that it comforted him to know that Bruce was aware his drink was poisoned and wasn’t planning on drinking it, but why did he think the rest was flirting?! It took everything in Clark to not fly away and assume a new identity in Italy.
Bruce returned a minute later, shoving something cold into Clark’s hands. Clark looked up to see Bruce handing him a bowl that he took without thinking. “What’s this?” Clark asked, sniffling in embarrassment.
“Ice cream,” Bruce said simply. “Um… I don’t know, Dick likes ice cream when he’s upset, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
Clark chuckled at him, taking the bowl, “I’m… I’m fine, Bruce. I think my… I’d say ego is hurt, but my friend Jimmy always says I’m too humble to have one.”
Regardless, he took a spoonful of what he knew to be the Superman branded ice cream (not that he ever gave them the rights to make it) with the blue and red swirls. Even more frustrating to him, it was actually pretty good.
“I’m really sorry, Clark. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to freak out or anything. I figured if you passed out in the car I’d find a way to get you in so you could sleep it off. I’d rather you be here than with someone else in Gotham who would try and rob you.”
Clark swallowed his mouth full of berry flavored syrup as fast as he could. “So you thought I was roofied, and your solution to that was to not tell me and instead bring me back to your house and make me sleep in your bed with only you having the knowledge that I was drugged?”
It took everything in Clark to not burst out laughing at the look on Bruce’s face as he began to question his life choices. He stammered for a second before pursing his lips and staring off into space, the realization of what he had done suddenly hitting him. Clark could hear Bruce’s heart rate spike; his expression was so blank that for a moment Clark thought he resembled the emotionless Batman. However, unlike Bats, Bruce was turning a shade of red that would make a tomato jealous.
After a few moments, Bruce took a deep breath in and let it out while saying, “this looks bad.”
Clark was biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Mhm…” he hummed.
“I… okay, that’s not what I meant it like. I was trying to make sure no one would hurt you, so I… took you back to my place and made you lay down- no. That sounds worse.”
Clark couldn’t hold it in anymore and lost it. Bruce immediately relaxed at the sound of his laugh, flushed face turning into a scowl. Bruce rolled his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. That’s fair. But in all seriousness, I just wanted to make sure you were good. You’re… uh… you’re important to me. Last thing I want is for you to be hurt.” He muttered the last part, almost embarrassed of his own emotions.
Clark couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you, Bruce. I appreciate it, I do. But next time just tell me you think I’m going to get sick instead of awkwardly flirting with me.”
Bruce clicked his tongue. “That wasn’t me flirting. If I was trying, you’d know.”
“Sorry… I misread the signals… thank you for the bowl though.”
Bruce thought long and hard for a moment. So long in fact that Clark had finished the two scoops and set the bowl to the side, flipping through the channels. Eventually, he made up his mind. “But… I mean… the night is young, and we’re both still sober…”
Clark paused his channel search. “What are you suggesting?”
Bruce smirked at him. “Alfred can watch Dick, and it would take me two seconds to get ready. Clubs are open until four, don’t get busy until eleven on a Saturday night. I’m not saying we get drunk, but a few rounds for you, some water for me, and I think we could have a good time.”
Clark blushed. “Bruce, that’s a fine offer, but you don’t have too. I’ll be okay.”
“What if I want to?” Bruce asked. “What if… I’ve wanted to for a while?”
Clark turned to look at him, looking for any hint that he was lying. “Are you serious, B?”
Bruce swallowed, “I feel like lying would make it worse at this point. It would be a hell of a joke if I wouldn’t.”
“So, you’re actually asking me out? On a date?”
Bruce’s heart was beating dangerously fast, praying his confident demeanor hid it and knowing it didn’t. Regardless of his next sentence, it would change the dynamic between him and Clark forever. He found his brain responding before he could think, already knowing the answer and knowing he’d be completely stupid if he blew this chance- the opportunity of dating the man he’s had a crush on for a few years. “Yeah. I am.”
Clark didn’t even realize his lips rose into a smile due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt weightless, light headed, going as far as to check to see if he wasn’t flying. Clark stared into Bruce’s face for any sign that he was joking but instead found a sea of blue eyes that sparkled even in the dim light of the TV. He didn’t know how long he sat staring, trying to figure out if it was real or a hallucination that yes, Bruce was asking him out on a real date. Eventually, he managed to respond, “alright, I would love to.”
Bruce winked. “Give me ten minutes.”
As Bruce ran up the stairs, Clark found himself grabbing his phone as fast as he could and hastily sending a text.
Clark: yo wete right
Clark: *you were right!
Lois: when am I not?
Clark: thank you, Lois.
Lois: anytime.
Lois; oh, btw, Perry wants the article by 8am.
Clark froze, having forgotten that he was working earlier in the night. This unfortunately left him with one option and one option only.
Clark: …hey, Lois, you know how you were there too and you love me so much and you took the camera with you?
Lois: Kent, what are you implying?
Clark: that I’d owe you like 3 favors.
Lois: …
Lois: only because I know you haven’t gotten any action since high school.
Clark: offended, but thank you!!!!!!!!!!
Lois: go get yourself a rich boyfriend.
“Ready to go?” Bruce asked from the staircase wearing +his idea of a club ready outfit of a tight shirt and khaki pants.
Clark beamed up at him, unbuttoning his top two buttons on his shirt and throwing his tie on the couch to try and match the same relaxed fit he had. He stood up and held his arm out for Bruce to take. “Absolutely.”