Something flickers over his face, but it's gone before it can be detectable as any particular emotion. Yes, he knows, no one ever means to kiss him. Bruce is who you fuck around with but never anything more, because he's mean and too intense and psychologically unstable. There's a joke that gets rolled out every so often, that every member of every League and every mask in Gotham has been in love with Batman-- temporary insanity, it happens to everyone, you'll get over it, don't worry. It's uncharitable to think that about Clark, and he doesn't really believe that's the case, but it's an old tired sore spot hit by accident. He suppresses it.

"Too late," Bruce says, because he is dealing with it now, so there's no point sulking about it. And then: "I know you're not psychic. That's why I'm telling you. Do you understand?"