"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.
He chuckles into the kiss and pulls Bruce closer, against him, and nuzzled a little as Bruce rolls.
"Oh, I'm definitely doing that again. I can see you enjoyed that." A few more kisses. "But I'm not sure how a pen and paper-- or would you try and type them into your phone?"
He's smug and happy and enjoying himself in every possible way.
He growls a little and kisses Clark, something possessive in it as he runs a hand over his hair, looking at him with a serious expression.
"You know I have an eidetic memory," he murmurs against him, preceding another slow kiss. Notes are in his head. All of these things in his head forever in full technicolor glory. The good things in his life - moments where he and one of the boys actually get along, Selina smiling genuinely at him, all this time with Clark - are unbelievably precious. Because he remembers everything awful in that same detail.
"Mental image," he explains as he leans into the kiss. Notes are in his head, Bruce knows how to do plumbing, and he's done his own laundry before. Clark knows all these things, but sometimes you say things to tease, because Bruce's stares are as precious as his smiles in certain ways. He loves driving him a little crazy either way.
He makes a noise into the next kiss, because there's a next kiss, he keeps wanting more kisses. The noise says he loves Bruce, loves his grumpy face and his bossiness and all the 'warmth sharing' they've done out in the city. But it's a noise because that was just the best way with Bruce most of the time. Thought conveyed without Bruce needing to acknowledge it.
Bruce kisses him, lazy and warm and still somehow so intent. He can't turn it off. "The mental image you should be having," he says in between kisses, "is that of how much I'll have to practice to get it right."
After a while, as Bruce is nosing against Clark's jaw, leaving slow kisses against his throat, "When I fix up that townhouse, I'm putting in a reasonable bathroom so I can pull you into the shower with me."
Tragically not feasible in a studio apartment facility.
"And have you considered what you'd like to do with me in that nice big shower?" he asks, and it's so very clear that he's delighted. Turned on and delighted. And melting, just a little. Bruce leaving slow kisses is a damn menace.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"We heading back to your apartment or mine? Or did we want to stop somewhere for something to eat?"
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
It's... simple. And silly. But it's also comfortable and easy.
no subject
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
There were very few other things that he could ever think to want. Except, perhaps, to tug him just a little closer.
no subject
He's doing laundry anyway.
no subject
"Fast or slow?"
no subject
no subject
What next?
no subject
no subject
no subject
(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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
"Oh, I'm definitely doing that again. I can see you enjoyed that." A few more kisses. "But I'm not sure how a pen and paper-- or would you try and type them into your phone?"
He's smug and happy and enjoying himself in every possible way.
no subject
"You know I have an eidetic memory," he murmurs against him, preceding another slow kiss. Notes are in his head. All of these things in his head forever in full technicolor glory. The good things in his life - moments where he and one of the boys actually get along, Selina smiling genuinely at him, all this time with Clark - are unbelievably precious. Because he remembers everything awful in that same detail.
no subject
He makes a noise into the next kiss, because there's a next kiss, he keeps wanting more kisses. The noise says he loves Bruce, loves his grumpy face and his bossiness and all the 'warmth sharing' they've done out in the city. But it's a noise because that was just the best way with Bruce most of the time. Thought conveyed without Bruce needing to acknowledge it.
no subject
Batman doesn't do anything halfway.
no subject
A couple more kisses.
"And I eventually need to do thins other than kiss you."
Just not any time soon.
no subject
Tonight is all them.
After a while, as Bruce is nosing against Clark's jaw, leaving slow kisses against his throat, "When I fix up that townhouse, I'm putting in a reasonable bathroom so I can pull you into the shower with me."
Tragically not feasible in a studio apartment facility.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)