Something to do is starting to sound a bit like a curse, but oh well. The next stop is ... interesting. The landlord is frank about everything: low low prices! Because the insides of most of houses on the row have been burned. The unit in question is functional and equipped with utilities, but missing some walls, all the flooring, and oh yeah, it's scorched to fuck. The previous tenant apparently claimed it was like that when he got home from work one day, though conveniently vanished after and never asked for his deposit back.
Because this is the one Bruce definitely should not be interested in, of course he spends a half hour negotiating hypothetical rent prices with the landlord. Hypothetical 'what if I could fix this this and this, yeah sure, in all the units' type negotiating.
"Thoughts?" he asks Clark in Kryptonese when the landlord is out of human earshot.
Clark has been watching this horse and pony show the entire time with obvious interest, though his focus has been split between actually examining the place and listening to what Bruce and the landlord were saying. When Bruce comes over--
"If you're just looking for a place to rest your head, this is the worst of the lot," Clark says plainly enough. But he holds up a finger "But if you want to have the freedom to create exactly the kind of space you want, you should move here."
He gestures to the floor and then the walls.
"The foundation materials are undamaged, the plumbing is in excellent condition, as is the wiring, and if we were back home I'd say that it's pre-war quality workmanship. The man's so desperate to rent that he's giving you a bargain for what the space is worth. If you want to put that much work and care into this."
Clark leans over to give the landlord a smile and a little wave.
Kryptonese is crazy. It defies everything about human language, and Bruce knows if anyone overhears, it just sounds like gibberish. (He thinks it's quite nice, personally.) This place has a magic translation field, but you have to concentrate to be understood - if they keep it private, it'll never be absorbed into Eudio.
He can't help but smile, small and slightly lopsided. This is so much more Clark's realm than his, and there's something endearing about seeing him go so detail-oriented bargain hunting, down to the plumbing even without his x-ray vision. "Pre-what war? We're not in Kansas, Toto." And then he shrugs. "It's a bargain and it'll give me something to do." There's that curse again. "Much more space, too."
He rolls his eyes just a little because he'd admitted he had no idea how the history worked around here, especially when it came to construction. But he'd been listening to the place, listening to the way the floor moved and shifted beneath them. The way the pipes sounded.
"Especially given that you've got your apartment and mine to crash in while you work on it? It seems like a good option." He's noticed the smile. "And I can help you with the wood flooring work and the plumbing if you need it. The first will definitely need to get done and the second, well, the fixtures need doing even if the main pipes are in good condition."
It's not that he doesn't know how to do other things since the farm house hadn't exactly been flawless, but those are the two he's reasonably certain Bruce has no idea on.
Bruce fixes him with a faintly incredulous look. "You think I don't know how to work with plumbing." Who do you think installed everything in the cave, Clark, Bruce didn't hire contractors, and Alfred sure as hell didn't do all that manual labor. The showers and fully functional bed and bath down there didn't grow from the rock any more than the computers did.
That's interesting, though. That there's still new things to learn about each other. Bruce'll take him up on the help, they can mess around with it.
"I guess I'm sold," he says with an easy-going shrug, back to English since the prospective landlord is starting to stare.
"I think you haven't dealt with older plumbing that you didn't buy brand new and situate yourself," he clarified. "And given that the cave never had to be up to building codes..."
He knows that nonsense, because he'd worked on older buildings and older structures. While he's well aware that Bruce had designed and built everything in the cave, he doubts the man did his own work on the manor's much older infrastructure other than what was necessary to integrate the two.
But the 'damage' (or the incredulous look) was done, so he let it go and let the man deal with the landlord.
That's a very charming look on him, Bruce thinks. Exasperated beyond all reason. It probably says something about their relationship - the decades-long one - that he thinks so. Has always thought so, even back when he just let himself revel in it being satisfying to get under Superman's skin.
He works out an agreement with the owner, who's happy to adjust to even lower payments if Bruce fixes up certain things across the property. (Say what you want about the spoiled rich boy, he knows how to cut a deal.) He can start screwing around with it at the end of the month in earnest, though he's not banned from showing up to poke around before then.
"Not too boring of an afternoon?" he asks as they're finally on their way back in the direction of their - well, Clark's, from now on - apartments. Bruce should probably do laundry.
"Not boring at all," Clark says, some of his good humor returned from having heard Bruce haggle. Haggling's a good skill, and not enough people practice it, as far as he's concerned. Besides, there's nothing quite like watching Batman (or Bruce, in this case) in good form.
"We heading back to your apartment or mine? Or did we want to stop somewhere for something to eat?"
Good humor is acceptable, too. Can anyone blame Bruce for finding it entertaining when Clark "perfect all-American hero" Kent is as cranky as he himself usually is? ... Probably, but it doesn't stop him. He'd probably get accused of putting girls pigtails in inkwells or something if he ever said so, though.
"Food's fine," he says, sticking his hands in his coat pocket out of habit as they walk. "I should probably head back after for an exciting night of staring at the washing machine." He tilts his head. "I suppose I could just burn it all and buy everything again."
It's a joke. (Mostly.) Bruce doesn't quite smile at that look, but the suggestion of a smile is definitely there. See how nice he is to give you an excuse to babysit him a while more, Kansas?
The idea is a good one, and Bruce is content to pick up something near the apartment block that's neither diner sandwiches or Chinese (as he's going to go crazy if he eats much more of either). For a little while he looks at Clark and where they're touching, expression almost unreadable, like he's not sure this whole affectionate thing is really happening to him. Surely he doesn't deserve it. He shakes it off, though, and then they're back and he's going to actually sort laundry like the totally functional adult he is. Look, he even bought detergent at some point.
Clark happens to know of a good falafel and shwarma place right nearby and it's easy enough to pick up a couple of silver-wrapped bundles of pure goodness before they make their way back to the apartment. He's pleased when he watches Bruce actually sort his clothes and maybe he's considering ways to show his appreciation for Bruce in general (and Bruce, specifically) as he leans back on the couch and watches.
It's... simple. And silly. But it's also comfortable and easy.
With any luck, Clark can glean Thanks for coming with me today from the way Bruce quietly goes about everything - whatever chattiness he had has been used up talking to landlords, and now it's a relief to lapse into comfortable silence. He hops back to settle in and eat, content with the way things have gone today. Maybe he'll just text both Jasons and tell them where he'll be from now on so that they don't hassle whomever ends up here after him, though.
They're not really 'word' people all the time. Clark can be, when he feels he's not being understood. But when the understanding is there, the words aren't necessarily necessary. Instead, he lets Bruce eat his food, eats his own food, and once Bruce has moved the first load from the washer into the dryer and put the next load in, he sidles up on the couch to tug Bruce closer.
Maybe all that touch on the tram and during the walk waaaaaasn't exactly for warmth, he silently admits to the world's greatest detective.
Oh, really, what a surprise. Bruce flashes a small smile for a brief moment before he leans in to kiss him, one arm going behind Clark's neck, his other hand pressed against his chest. Mm. A small voice in his head warns him of becoming addicted to this so quickly-- but what's he supposed to do? Even aside from everything else, this is why they're here.
He makes a low content noise into Clark's mouth, kissing him like there's no other purpose for him in life, drawing down his focus to just this and them. It feels good to let himself sink into it.
Bruce, damp, in leather pants of any kind was certainly nice enough but this, this was what made his heart skip a beat or two. Bruce had such an amazing ability to focus, to make the world nothing but you and him. It was intoxicating in its own right, but when one added the fact that he was an excellent kisser and the fact that Clark was quite firmly in love with him...
There were very few other things that he could ever think to want. Except, perhaps, to tug him just a little closer.
Bruce presses closer when he's urged-- but only for a moment. He pulls back from that kiss - placing another quick one on Clark's mouth - before he stands up entirely. "Take your clothes off," he says (it only halfway sounds like an order, Clark can choose which half of that is good and which is bad), and pulls his own shirt off over his head.
"Faster than that," is deadpanned. He's forty-three, some things are no longer exciting novelties. Clark naked is an entirely more appealing idea than waiting around for him to get there. He undoes the closure of his own trousers, which leaves him in nothing, though he watches the other man as he does it. Was that inquiry actually a hint?
Clark undoes the buttons of his shirt at super speed, tugs the shirt off smoothly, and shoves the undershirt off even quicker. His pants go next, sliding easily enough to the floor, leaving him in his boxers. He grins up at Bruce before tugging those off as well, letting them drop on the floor to join the pants. Then he looks up expectantly at Bruce.
There's a small smile for that, and Bruce steps close and takes Clark's face in his hands, kissing him soundly. He doesn't have any master plan to take them past that initial bit-- but he knows he doesn't want to spent the evening making out on the sofa, it won't be enough. He just wants him, wants Clark's hands on him, wants to touch everything, learn everything. Bruce steps away but it's only to tug on his arm and direct the both of them to his bed.
Clark's hands found their way to Bruce's shoulders, then down to his sides, and around to his back as Bruce came closer before he stepped back and his hands slipped away. He didn't mind, though, grinning up at Bruce as he stood up to follow.
Even as a teenager Bruce was never one for mindlessly fooling around - everything was with deadly intent, no matter when or what. He tries to play at that a bit now, and maybe manages a little; mostly, though, he's himself. Focused and intense. And, fortunately, more confident in his curiosity than he'd been the time before.
(Still bossy. That's probably not surprising.)
Ultimately Clark knows what he's doing where Bruce doesn't (how, he'd like to know, seeing as he was pretty sure he knew everything there was to know about the other man's dating history), and after, when Bruce's brain has re-congealed at least a tiny amount, he says: "I don't know to do that." Only Bruce Wayne could manage to sound vaguely grumpy in this moment.
Clark looked up from his position between Bruce's legs to smirk up at him, just a little.
"Maybe next time, I'll let you take notes."
But he didn't have much more to say on the matter since he was happier starting to kiss his way up Bruce's body to get back to his lips to curl up against him.
Bruce frowns at him, and it might have actually been convincing if he wasn't still flushed and sweat-covered and glassy-eyed. Jesus Christ, Kansas.
"Why wouldn't I want to?" --also less effective than normal, but the implication of that being an unbelievably stupid suggestion remains. Of course he wants to, has Clark just not been paying attention, or what. Bruce kisses him, one hand on the side of his neck, and then rolls them so that he's settled atop the other man.
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Because this is the one Bruce definitely should not be interested in, of course he spends a half hour negotiating hypothetical rent prices with the landlord. Hypothetical 'what if I could fix this this and this, yeah sure, in all the units' type negotiating.
"Thoughts?" he asks Clark in Kryptonese when the landlord is out of human earshot.
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"If you're just looking for a place to rest your head, this is the worst of the lot," Clark says plainly enough. But he holds up a finger "But if you want to have the freedom to create exactly the kind of space you want, you should move here."
He gestures to the floor and then the walls.
"The foundation materials are undamaged, the plumbing is in excellent condition, as is the wiring, and if we were back home I'd say that it's pre-war quality workmanship. The man's so desperate to rent that he's giving you a bargain for what the space is worth. If you want to put that much work and care into this."
Clark leans over to give the landlord a smile and a little wave.
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He can't help but smile, small and slightly lopsided. This is so much more Clark's realm than his, and there's something endearing about seeing him go so detail-oriented bargain hunting, down to the plumbing even without his x-ray vision. "Pre-what war? We're not in Kansas, Toto." And then he shrugs. "It's a bargain and it'll give me something to do." There's that curse again. "Much more space, too."
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"Especially given that you've got your apartment and mine to crash in while you work on it? It seems like a good option." He's noticed the smile. "And I can help you with the wood flooring work and the plumbing if you need it. The first will definitely need to get done and the second, well, the fixtures need doing even if the main pipes are in good condition."
It's not that he doesn't know how to do other things since the farm house hadn't exactly been flawless, but those are the two he's reasonably certain Bruce has no idea on.
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That's interesting, though. That there's still new things to learn about each other. Bruce'll take him up on the help, they can mess around with it.
"I guess I'm sold," he says with an easy-going shrug, back to English since the prospective landlord is starting to stare.
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"I think you haven't dealt with older plumbing that you didn't buy brand new and situate yourself," he clarified. "And given that the cave never had to be up to building codes..."
He knows that nonsense, because he'd worked on older buildings and older structures. While he's well aware that Bruce had designed and built everything in the cave, he doubts the man did his own work on the manor's much older infrastructure other than what was necessary to integrate the two.
But the 'damage' (or the incredulous look) was done, so he let it go and let the man deal with the landlord.
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He works out an agreement with the owner, who's happy to adjust to even lower payments if Bruce fixes up certain things across the property. (Say what you want about the spoiled rich boy, he knows how to cut a deal.) He can start screwing around with it at the end of the month in earnest, though he's not banned from showing up to poke around before then.
"Not too boring of an afternoon?" he asks as they're finally on their way back in the direction of their - well, Clark's, from now on - apartments. Bruce should probably do laundry.
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"We heading back to your apartment or mine? Or did we want to stop somewhere for something to eat?"
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"Food's fine," he says, sticking his hands in his coat pocket out of habit as they walk. "I should probably head back after for an exciting night of staring at the washing machine." He tilts his head. "I suppose I could just burn it all and buy everything again."
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"Or we could pick up something on the way in and I can keep you company while the washer does it's work."
He slips his arm around Bruce's shoulders as they head back towards the tram. To take up less room, of course.
"Not that I think you'll be doing anything other than starting to plan out how you want your new place."
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The idea is a good one, and Bruce is content to pick up something near the apartment block that's neither diner sandwiches or Chinese (as he's going to go crazy if he eats much more of either). For a little while he looks at Clark and where they're touching, expression almost unreadable, like he's not sure this whole affectionate thing is really happening to him. Surely he doesn't deserve it. He shakes it off, though, and then they're back and he's going to actually sort laundry like the totally functional adult he is. Look, he even bought detergent at some point.
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It's... simple. And silly. But it's also comfortable and easy.
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Maybe all that touch on the tram and during the walk waaaaaasn't exactly for warmth, he silently admits to the world's greatest detective.
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He makes a low content noise into Clark's mouth, kissing him like there's no other purpose for him in life, drawing down his focus to just this and them. It feels good to let himself sink into it.
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There were very few other things that he could ever think to want. Except, perhaps, to tug him just a little closer.
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He's doing laundry anyway.
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"Fast or slow?"
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What next?
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(Still bossy. That's probably not surprising.)
Ultimately Clark knows what he's doing where Bruce doesn't (how, he'd like to know, seeing as he was pretty sure he knew everything there was to know about the other man's dating history), and after, when Bruce's brain has re-congealed at least a tiny amount, he says: "I don't know to do that." Only Bruce Wayne could manage to sound vaguely grumpy in this moment.
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"Maybe next time, I'll let you take notes."
But he didn't have much more to say on the matter since he was happier starting to kiss his way up Bruce's body to get back to his lips to curl up against him.
"If you really want to."
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"Why wouldn't I want to?" --also less effective than normal, but the implication of that being an unbelievably stupid suggestion remains. Of course he wants to, has Clark just not been paying attention, or what. Bruce kisses him, one hand on the side of his neck, and then rolls them so that he's settled atop the other man.
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