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psychewithwings · 3 years

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Bitter Taste: Iwaizumi x f/reader Pt. 1

pt. 2 here

THIS IS SO LATE and I’m a fuck up hahahaha (kinda ironic this was 2 weeks late for Mental Health Awareness month)

I am crediting my girl @kuso-deku for giving me Iwaizumi brain rot to begin with. I am also crediting @gixxie and @idonotagreebitch for helping me talk through my ideas... and crediting @doinmybesthere for the wonderful idea of a mental health awareness collaboration the link is here. PLS READ THE REST OF THE WORKS. Everyone deserves the love.

TW: manipulative male/female relationships, gaslighting?, subtle shit head crap that most men do (don’t worry Iwa is a peach as always tho, it’s Ushijima that’s the problem)

Iwaizumi stands and stretches in the cinema. The movie had been good, but long, he figured it was a little after midnight. “What’d ya think?” Kuroo asks as they exit the theatre. “I hated the ending…” Oikawa gripes, “I hate endings where everyone just dies.” “You are such a princess Tooru, I swear, it’s a metaphorical ending… did you not catch all the symbolism in the opening credits?” Iwaizumi sighs and turns his phone back on, trying his best to ignore their bickering. Slowly, notification after notification pops up… all from you. He blinks, surprised. You had declined his offer to join him for the film, stating you had previous plans attending a close friend’s birthday.

Iwa opens the messages from you. He sees first the selfies. You look beautiful, extravagant even. Your dress is beautiful, it compliments your figure perfectly with the corseted bodice. It’s white and so is your lace mask. Broad, feathered angel wings rest on your back. Angelic would have been a word he’d used to describe you before, but now, it was confirmed. He wants to keep staring at the photos but Kuroo and Oikawa are starting to become too curious about the contents of his phone. He scrolls and relaxes his face to look more casual. But it’s hard when your intoxicated messages are so darn cute.

hope the movie is good!

okay so I guess there’s an open bar? Is it my birthday too?

if you wanna come by after the movie I’msure you coul

this partyyyy suckssssssss assssssssss

wish id gon wiht u xx

You are clearly drunk and he laughs to himself before Kuroo peers over his right shoulder. “Well she’s thinking about you at least,” he smirks. Oikawa peers over Iwaizumi’s left shoulder, “ooo play the voice message.” Oikawa taps the message before Iwaizumi can give him an answer.

“Hiiiii Iwaaaaaa, hope you like the moovie and you’re having a good time, cuz I’m having a preetyy good time, they gots free margaritaaass. Okay byeeeee”

The guys laugh and Oikawa presses the next one.

“Hey Iwaaa, I made up a song about you, ready?

Iwaizumi

Doesn’t know what he does- to me…

Sshfhsijknfhahaha I cant remember the rest som’n bout… som’n I dunno. Byeee”

“Okay, Ushi says that I need to say sorry for sending so many…” you pause and then whisper, “drunk messages, but I’as only tellin’ ya I ssink ‘r awesome ‘n you should totally come to this party and hang out with me… you’re awesome, okay byeee”

Oikawa and Kuroo pause and look at Iwaizumi. “Ushi?” Oikawa asks, “like Ushiwaka?” Oikawa’s eyes are narrowed and he gags dramatically in disgust. Iwaizumi nods and walks to exit the theatre. “Wait… that’s her friend who’s having the birthday party?” Iwa grimaces as Kuroo chuckles. “No wonder you’ve had a stick up your ass all night.” Iwa glares at him, “they’re just friends… apparently… I don’t know, she said they’ve known each other for a really long time…” Kuroo claps Iwaizumi on the back. “I think you should definitely go to the party.” Iwaizumi starts to object but the ring of his phone draws attention, and he answers it. “Heyyy you're outta th’moviee, heheeheheha,” you slur. Iwaizumi laughs softly and smiles, “yeah, I’m out of the movie now, are you… good?” There is so much background noise, it almost drowns out your sweet sleepy voice. “I’m soooo good… … I just-” he can hear your voice drop to a drunken whisper. “I’z just hoping to see you today,” you mumble finally.

Iwaizumi can feel his heartbeat quicken, his head reeling. “Oh really?” He plays cool but then instantly regrets it when you give him a serious answer. “Yeah, I was really hoping you’d come to the party, even for just a little,” you murmur. Iwaizumi can’t help but chuckle. You were pretty cute like this, not normally so transparent. You were actually quite hard to read, so sweet but guarded and teasing too. You were a friend of Oikawa’s first and he had met you through him. He’d liked the way you sat cross legged on the couch smiling, chin in your hands while you asked questions and listened to his answers. Your eyes sparkle when you hear something you like, and your face lights up when you talk about things you find interesting.

“Ya don’t have to, I can just see ya another time,” you add. He’s been silent too long which causes him to speak without thinking. “No, I’d love to see you, I’ll head to you now.” Kuroo and Oikawa are silently cheering him on and Iwa turns away in embarrassment. “Really? Okay! I’ll drop my pin… as the kids are sayin’ these days hahaha.” “See you soon, drink some water okay?” “Mhm, I will, see ya soon!”

You were at a club owned by Ushijima’s family. A place called ‘Eagle’s Nest’. He’d only known you for a few weeks but he couldn’t help his infatuation. It was immediate, the night he had gone to Oikawas for game night. You spoke to him so easily not knowing him at all and laughed at his little side jabs to his long time friend. The way you looked at him… Iwa knew then that he wanted to see you smile, hear your laugh, and that he would be happy to assume the responsibility of making that happen.

He was surprised when you had declined his offer for the movie, feeling that you both had some definite chemistry, but Iwaizumi was even more surprised when you had said that you had prior plans with his old time rival Ushijima Wakatoshi. Iwaizumi hadn’t seen him since high school but they knew a few people in common, Oikawa being one of those people. Oikawa could sure hold a grudge but Iwaizumi took all of his comments with a grain of salt. Ushijima often came off entitled and cold, which would leave Iwaizumi with a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe Oikawa had the right idea holding a grudge… But grudge or not he wanted to see you, hear your voice and admire you all dolled up.

When Iwaizumi arrives at the club he is met with a large security guard. “Invitation?” he grumbles. Iwa remains calm but a small trickle of fear runs down his back. Iwaizumi gives the guard a casual smile before he starts to answer but he is interrupted. “Iwaaaaa,” you cry from the top of the stairs. The mask you’d had on is now resting on top of your head, the delicate features of your face now exposed. The floofy skirt of your dress bounces with your excitement as you run down the stairs. You crash into him, throwing your arms around his neck. You bury your face in his collar and still momentarily. Drunk and bubbly, you melt when Iwa wraps his arms around your waist in return, avoiding your costume’s wings. “Mmmm,” you hum, breath hot against his skin, “you smell good.” You pull back and stare into his wide eyes. “You look incredible,” he offers, a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You grin in return and simply take hold of his hand. “He’s with me,” you beam at the guard. Iwaizumi is doubtful this trick will work here. But he is surprised when the guard steps aside saying, “as you wish Miss L/N.” You giggle and pull Iwa towards the doors. “I’ll bring you some cake later, okay Jurou?” Jurou laughs, “just have fun darlin’.” “You’re the best,” you call behind you as you push open the doors. Iwaizumi can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy knowing that you are on a first name basis with one of the body guards at the Wakatoshi’s club. How close were you with Ushijima?

Blue and purple lights illuminate the vast space while black tiles make up the main floor. The dance floor is sunken, in the middle of the club with a small set of stairs leading down to it. It’s made entirely of glass, beneath is a saltwater garden of different plants and coral.

“You’ll need one of these,” you explain, swiping a simple black mask from the welcome table. You hand it over to him and pull yours down over your eyes. Iwaizumi adjusts it to where he can see. “You look so handsome,” you admire. He grins, “what about you? You’ve got wings!” You laugh and adjust your mask back on top of your forehead. “I’m a swan, and Ushi said I couldn’t be a swan without wings!” You spin for him, trying your best to flap the feathered wings. Small pieces of confetti glitter rain from the skirt of your dress. Iwaizumi takes in your face illuminated by the lights of the club. Blue and pink dancing over your cheeks as you smile up at him. “What?” you giggle nervously. Just a few weeks but he is mesmerised by your everything. He shakes his head and tries to move on. He wanted to tell you how he felt but this wasn’t the right time. It should be when you’re sober, when you can take in his words properly.

You coax him down towards the bar. “You’re sure it’s okay to sneak in uninvited guests?” Iwa questions. “Well, I asked Ushi ‘nd he said it was okay, so yeah!” You grin but notice Iwaizumi’s reserve. “It’s really okay, I promise, let’s just get a drink,” you suggest and take his hand. “Only if you drink more water,” he smirks. You roll your eyes at Iwa, “I drank some water before you got here actually.” You look back at him as you both head down to the bar. “I’ll prolly regret that yurr seeing me like this tamorow, ya know,” you call over the blaring music. “It’s cute, you’re cute,” he assures as he leans against the bar, “I didn’t know you thought about me this much until I saw all the snapchats and voice messages and texts.” You cover your face in humiliation, “I knowww, I’m sorry but you were on my mind a lot, alot alot, and couldn’t stop think about ya, and the booze told me to keep on messaging…” You trail off, finding the last shred of your filter to keep you from talking. The bartender hands you your water and you take a long drink.

“Iwaizumi,” a voice projects over the baseline. Ushijima stands tall advancing towards where you both stand. His expression is neutral though, his eyes keep darting to you and then back to Iwaizumi. Ushijima is dressed as a knight, his silver mask hangs languidly around his neck. “Ushiwaka,” Iwa acknowledges, “this is a hell of a birthday party.” You giggle and point at Ushiwaka, “he’s 28 today; getting sooo old.” In that moment, Iwaizumi watches him do something he had never seen him do before. Smile… and then laugh. Ushijima wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. “You’re just a baby, you’re only-” You wave your hand in front of Ushiwaka’s face, shushing him. “No, no, Iwa doesn’t knowww, don’t tell him,” you plead. “She’s only 23,” Ushiwaka says. You hold your face in your hands once more and groan. Ushijima pulls your hands from your face, “just barely twenty three too.” You glare at him and look back at Iwaizumi embarrassed. “Did she not tell you her age?” Ushijima asks Iwaizumi. Iwa shrugs, “She didn’t, but I never asked,” Iwa shrugs casually, addressing you now, “didn’t seem important since you carry yourself so well.”

You turn to Iwa, mouth open like you’re about to respond but Ushijima swipes the glass from your hands before you can finish. “Drinking water?” You look up at him. “But it’s my birthday… and this is a party… you need something stronger…” Ushijima beacons the bartender with a single flick of his hand. The barman pours three double shots of a clear liquid from a foreign looking bottle. Ushijima takes a glass and hands it to you, before handing another to Iwaizumi. Ushijima gives him a wink as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He raises his glass, the violet lights illuminating the liquid. Iwaizumi follows his lead. “To my Juliet, the belle of the ball,” Ushijima bellows. You smile slightly and shake your head. “No no, to you Ushi, it’s your birthday, not mine, we are celebrating you!” Your eyes find Iwa’s, but you leave your glass raised. Ushijima grabs hold of your hand that’s still wrapped around the glass. “Cheers,” He tips the glass towards your lips and you swallow the clear liquor as he feeds it to you. You down it all in one go and Ushiwaka smiles wide once again. “She’s good, huh?” With that, Ushiwaka clinks his glass to Iwaizumi’s, “to you brother,” he assures. Iwa is surprised with the sudden sentiment. “And to you,” he replies before downing the shot. The liquor is surprisingly smooth, expensive, and strong. Iwa can feel his head starting to get light from the small portion that was in the glass and Iwa wasn’t a light weight. “Strong huh?” Ushijima smirks. Iwaizumi nods then turns to the bartender to signal for a water.

Ushijima turns to where you stand swaying slightly with the music. “Look at her, she gets drunk so easily,” Ushijima smiles. “How are you feeling, princess?” he shouts over at you. Iwa turns away and downs his water in disgust. ‘Princess?’ Ushijima shouldn’t be calling you that if you’re both just friends. You blink and give him a smile and a thumbs up. There was a natural innocence about you, a childlike wonder and curiosity, the embodiment of sanguine. Ushijima’s air was sometimes sinister, like he was taking advantage of your natural trusting nature. Iwa watches as Ushijima’s large hands rest on either of your shoulders and he pushes you back and forth like a pendulum between his palms. You giggle and try to push him away, “Ushi stooopp.” He laughs with you and continues pushing you around, “you’re so cute and small though, see?” He places a hand on top of your head and you still. “I said to stop,” you mumble. “And I did,” he retorts before letting you go.

Iwa watches the sudden weight of gravity find you as you stumble in your heels. He catches your arm just in time. Your arms find their way around his neck once more, your face in the crook of his neck. You pull away and Iwa examines your foggy eyes. “You okay?” You nod, pushing off of Iwa’s chest. You fix your hair, “it’s fine, he just messin’” you turn to Ushijima, “and someone doesn’t know when to quit.” You’re pulled away into Ushiwaka’s arms. He sways you back and forth, your back held against his chest while he says soft apologies. He whispers something to you and you nod. Iwaizumi wanted to pull you away from him. Not because he was jealous, but because the way that Ushiwaka was behaving with you was odd.

“Y/n is a little bit tired, why don’t you join us in VIP?” Iwa smiles and gives his thanks, trying his best to hide his scowl. Iwa follows after you and Ushiwaka, upstairs and under velvet ropes hoping that he will find a good moment to pull you away. But instead you are pulled onto the couch beside Ushiwaka. He lights a cigar and offers one to Iwa, but Iwaizumi declines with a simple, “no thanks, don’t smoke.” It’s strange the way that Ushiwaka keeps whispering in your ear, giving you sips of his drinks, and blowing smoke in your face. “Ushi, stop please, the smell is making me sick,” you whine. But he just pulls you closer to him, chuckling all the while and does it again. You’re laughing and poking his face, but it’s not out of joy... Watching Ushijima interact with you the whole night has been like watching a cat toy with a mouse.

Iwa grimaces when Ushiwaka tickles you. “Stop-stop-don’t-stop,” you giggle and howl. “She said to stop!” Iwa raises his voice. Ushijima’s eyes shoot towards Iwaizumi while you squirm off the couch. Your eyes are heavy as you walk towards a dark hallway and disappear into the shadows. Iwa’s eyes flick to the entrance to the hall. Ushiwaka sits in a contented silence, sipping a drink, “she’s so dramatic,” he sighs. He continues smoking, arm rested over the back of the purple velvet sofa. Ushijima takes a sip of his drink, swirling the ice in his glass. Iwa doesn’t move to break the silence no matter how expectant Ushijima’s expression was. He stamps out his cigar in the tray before addressing him.

“She’s awfully talkative, and incredibly fond of you…” Ushijima starts, an odd smirk painting his expression. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow in intrigue and Ushijima’s face hardens. “She won’t shut up about you since she met you… it’s annoying...” Iwaizumi, remains quiet, the silence settling over the men like a thick fog. The only sounds are muffled club music and the ice tinkling against Ushijima’s glass. “I’m going to be honest as a friend… bad idea.” Iwaizumi can feel the rage bubbling inside his gut, “I don’t think that what’s going on between us is any of your-” He’s cut off by Ushijima.

“I’m really looking out for you Iwaizumi, girls can break hearts and Y/n is kind of known for that… she’s just a sweet soul, makes friends easily, but love? That’s harder for her… doesn’t have the best taste in men I’m afraid, I want to protect her and you from a situation where I can already see the conclusion… I get that you like her, everyone does.” Iwazumi leans forward, “does that include you?” Ushijima is stone faced, then gives a cold laugh. “You’re funnier than I remember, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi rises and heads towards the hall you disappeared down. If he sat in front of him any longer he was going to say something he regretted… and you still haven’t come back. He slips into the dark hallway as you’re exiting the bathroom. Your mask has been removed and even in the dim lighting you look pale. “Hey, what’s happened?” You look up at him embarrassed, your dress almost as wilted as you are. “Got sick…” you mutter. You’re shaking slightly, arms wrapped around yourself. “Oh Y/n, are you alright?” he sighs. His arm starts to reach for you but he thinks better of it, pulling it back to rest by his side. His eyes widen as he feels the warmth of your hand in his. He didn’t figure that you would want to be touched right now. But your fingers interlace with his, your skin soft. “Are you good to drive?” you whisper. His hand instinctively tightens around yours protectively. “I only had whatever Ushijima gave us, it was strong but I’ve had water- yeah I’m good.” “Would you mind taking me home?” you ask, as you start to walk back towards the VIP room. “Sure, course,” Iwaizumi replies gently. He feels how your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in silent gratitude. The gesture has his heart beating hard against his ribs. Iwa walks forward, his eyes on you and nothing else. Your brow is furrowed and your expression painted serious which was unusual from how he knew you to act.

“Iwa’s taking me home now,” you announce and walk towards the stairs. Ushiwaka’s face hardens, “I can take her home, you shouldn’t trouble yourself,” he addresses Iwaizumi. You smile and turn around facing Ushiwaka. “But Ushi, ‘s ur birthday, you can’t leave this party jus’ ‘a take me home,” You turn to Iwa now. “Let’s go,” you say and Iwa nods, still holding your hand. “Where’s my hug, princess?” Ushijima calls after you. You stop in your tracks and close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. You drop Iwa’s hand slowly, hesitantly. You walk back slowly and stand before his open arms. He lifts you and you groan. You’re still hugging him tightly but not quite with the same intimacy as before.

As Ushijima places you down you turn to look back at Iwa when Ushijima catches your face with his large hand. He coaxes your face back towards him then leans down. Ushiwaka locks eyes with Iwaizumi as he whispers something in your ear. Then he presses his lips to your cheek, still not moving his eyes away from Iwaizumi’s. Iwa tries his best to remain neutral but he can feel his lip creeping upwards in contempt. Ushiwaka is too prideful for his own good it seems.

You take Iwa’s hand again, leading him towards the exit. An exasperated look rests on your face. “What did he say to you?” Iwa asks. You sigh and shake your head. “‘S nothin’, ya shouldn’t worry your pretty lil head ‘bout it.” Iwa can’t help but allow a smile. He raises an eyebrow at you, “think my head is pretty?” he asks. He’s met with your hazy gaze, “I do,” you say simply. Iwa wasn’t prepared for such a straightforward answer to his question.

Once out of the club, the valet pull Iwaizumi’s car around. He’s careful not to let you walk too far on your own. Sick, in those ridiculous shoes and still quite drunk, he opens the car door for you before hopping into the driver's seat. “Will you put your address in?” Iwa hands you his phone and you type it in as asked. “Thanks for doing this,” you sigh. “Yeah of course,” he says as he puts the car into gear. A few streets of city light pass by in silence. Your hands are resting in your lap but your body is still trembling. “I can- umm- pull over if you need me to…” You wave the thought away with your hand, “it was the smell of the cigar more than anything…” Iwa’s gut begins to boil again. Your voice is soft, almost defeated. He speaks before thinking better of it. “Does he always treat you like that?” You look at Iwa and make eye contact briefly before his attention is back on the road. “He was being a little extra weird today, maybe because y’all used to play volleyball together or… I dunno really, he just gets like that sometimes…” You trail off, allowing your thoughts to fade into the rearview. The silence is deafening and you feel the need to break it. “He’s really nice too though, don’t get me wrong, he cooks for me and calls to check in, he even gets me little gifts, so I know he cares.” Iwa shakes his head, “if he cared he would have stopped when you asked him to.” You take a breath, “I know but he was just having a night I guess…” Iwa pulls into your driveway as the GPS notifies him that he has ‘arrived at the destination’. He puts the car in park, “you don’t have to make excuses for him… it’s okay to be angry, if that’s how you feel.” You start to open the door, your fingers on the handle. “I’m not angry though, I’m just kinda hurt.” You open the door and start to get out, “okay, maybe a little angry too.” You laugh to yourself but not out of joy. It’s an ironic laugh and Iwa can hear the pain ringing inside of it. “Let me walk you inside.”

#iwaizumi #iwa #hajime #hajime x reader #iwa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #pls protect me iwa

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supermanshield · 4 years

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A Weekend in Smallville

Summary: Amid a town coming together in the aftermath of an alien invasion, Bruce meets Lana, learns a little bit more about Clark, and reflects on his place in Clark’s life and rural Kansas.

Or: Bruce in Smallville. Goes about as well as you'd expect.

Words: 7,217

Rating: Teen and up for like one swear word and mentions of sex.

Read on AO3 or continue reading here!

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Dinner had been put away and Bruce had once again taken his place at the table, papers and laptop laid out in front of him. Various people from town, and eventually some Leaguers (and shouldn’t that raise some suspicion? No one paid attention here) had been walking in and out all day to get a bite to eat. The old wooden floorboards were littered with dusty footsteps, but Martha Kent was on the couch, too exhausted from providing for everyone all day long. Jonathan wasn’t much better off after driving around town and helping his neighbors. Bruce would sweep up the dust for them when he was done working and before he flew back for the night.

“We’ve rebuilt what we can right now, with the available materials. It’s not much, but at least people will be able to sleep in their own home right now.” He must be tired too if Clark could sneak up on him like that.

“It’s something,” he sighed. “I’ve been on the phone with contractors all day to procure the necessary materials and workforce. The more elaborate structures might be repaired within the month.”

Clark grabbed a glass of water and slumped down in the chair across from Bruce. Even he seemed tired, which should be impossible, but seeing your hometown in shambles and its people in distress all day will do that. Even to Superman.

“Rest of the League?” Bruce asked.

“Barry and Hal helped all day. They went back home just now. J’onn went back to the watchtower and Diana had other matters to attend to.”

Bruce nodded. It was time he got back to Gotham as well. With a bit of luck, he could charter a jet to fly back tonight and still get a couple hours of patrol in. He told Clark as much and started putting away his papers, but Clark grabbed his hand when he went to close the laptop. “Bruce, wait… It’s Friday, why don’t you stay the weekend?”

A weekend in Kansas, with nothing to do but help at the farm… While he loved the Kents, that wasn’t Bruce’s idea of a productive time. They still had to figure out what had led the aliens to Smallville of all places, and what they wanted. No, he could be of much more use elsewhere.

Before Bruce could reply though, Jonathan shot over his shoulder from where he was sitting in the living room, “We got that queen size bed for your room, Clark,” and Martha added, “You’re more than welcome to stay, Bruce dear.”

Great. Clark looked at him expectantly, still holding his hand. “It’ll be fun. And wouldn’t it be easier to start investigating here what those aliens wanted?” Clark knew exactly what to say to keep him around. He had other obligations, though.

“You know I can’t.”

“Aww, come on, Dick and Tim can watch over Gotham. And they’ll have backup from Cass, the Birds of Prey…” Clark’s voice faded, his eyes drifting down. “And you have to let those ribs heal properly. Finally.”

Something in Clark’s voice said he would just keep Bruce here if he threatened to fly back tonight. Bruce sighed. The only appealing thing about the queen size bed was the fact that he and Clark didn’t have to literally sleep in each other’s arms all night like before. Although it was going to be another warm night so he might just kick Clark out anyway. He could sleep floating in the air for all he cared.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll just have to make some phone calls to set things in motion back home.”

---

The new queen bed stood proudly in the middle of Clark’s small room, with Clark seated on the edge now, observing Bruce put his things away and taking off his jacket. At least Alfred had packed one extra set of clothes.

When he was done, he turned around and looked at Clark, who looked as if he was debating a life or death situation, and as always, Bruce wondered what he would ask. It didn’t take long.

“Wanna go out tonight? Have you ever been to a real midwestern bar?” Bruce only knew of one bar in Smallville, and it was in no condition to operate right now. Still, he felt a vague sense of excitement at Clark asking him out in his hometown. They hadn’t done that before. Every time they had been in Smallville together so far had been for something serious. Clark’s parents, Clark’s temporary loss of powers, Kara, Conner, and even once for Damian, to recover from a nasty concussion.

“It’s open? Didn’t half the roof and the back wall get blown up?” he asked Clark.

“Already boarded up. And yeah, there’s a lot of people there. Something about celebrating your whole town surviving an intergalactic attack, maybe, who knows.” Clark shrugged.

“Hmm. They got karaoke?”

Clark’s eyes shot wide open. “Yeah!”

“One of those bull-riding things? Because I would beat the crap out of everyone.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no. There’s another bull you can ride though,” Clark grinned and hooked his fingers through Bruce’s belt loops to pull him close. He felt his heartrate spike and really, this is why they should’ve just gone back to Gotham.

“Not here.”

“Jeez, no, of course not.” Clark kept looking up at him though, still waiting for an answer. He was truly tired, but also mildly curious to Smallville nightlife. If anything, Clark would make it more fun. Maybe he could beat him at pool or darts or something, and then maybe they could make everyone and themselves believe that they were normal and just have an average date night out.

“Alright, just not too long. And I’m gonna beat you at whatever bar games they got,” Bruce grinned.

“At karaoke?”

“Maybe we’ll do a duet, who knows,” He winked and freed himself from Clark’s grasp. The other man stood up and hooked his arm through Bruce’s offered one. “What say you, Clarkie? Let’s get to that bar o’ yours,” he continued in his worst midwestern accent.

“Not like that you aren’t. You’ll stand out way too much in your dress shirt and Armani pants.” To his horror, Clark turned around towards the closet in the corner of the room. Oh no, whatever he kept here was probably worse than the rainbow cacophony of shirts he had in Metropolis.

“Short sleeves or long? It’s pretty warm.”

Bruce debated his options. Better get this over with quick and hopefully painless. “Long, and I’m keeping the pants. I am not wearing your old jeans.”

Clark threw a shirt at him. “This one has the most black I think.” It had black alright. And red. Straight-up lumberjack. At least the fabric felt nice. “I’ve also got an old blue and white Henley, but it’s pretty worn down. What do you think?”

“I’ll go with the lumberjack,” Bruce mumbled.

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"Lana, Pete! How are you?" Clark hugged his friends in the middle of a loud, crowded bar, filled with the continuous strings and drums of country music. They had been here for just over an hour and Bruce was on his second beer, something he didn’t do all that often. They kept getting interrupted by people that knew Clark, and Bruce was enjoying himself less and less. Lana he hadn’t met before yet, though, and he had to admit to a quiet curiosity, with the way Clark talked about her and all. (Clark’s enthusiastic ‘My friends are your friends’ from earlier rang in his ears and he forced his mouth into a smile. He would do anything for that man.) His train of thought got interrupted by Clark’s warm hand on his shoulder. "This is Bruce!"

Lana was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt that didn’t completely cover her shoulders, her auburn curls doing that instead. Bruce grabbed her hand to shake it, but it got answered swiftly by a peck on his cheek. He introduced himself to Pete as well, a scrawny guy, who was somehow allowed to wear a crisp white dress shirt, unlike Bruce. He was starting to feel like maybe Clark had played him and shot him an accusatory look.

Lana turned back to Clark. "We came over as soon as we heard you were in town! Couldn't pass up the opportunity you know?"

"Great to see you Clark,” Pete joined in. “And, you know, Smallville could really use some extra hands right now.”

Clark laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, gee, what did you guys get yourselves into this time?” Before the alien invasion became the talk of the day, he quickly changed the topic. "How's little Clark?"

"He's great! We’re lucky we could get a babysitter this late, but... Are you still here tomorrow? You should come by to see him!"

"We’d love to, yes.”

The conversation carried on for a while, as Clark and his friends obviously had a lot to catch up on. Bruce felt strangely intruding. He considered to start looking for that darts game, right as Lana turned to him.

"So, Bruce, how are you? You from around here?"

"Gotham.”

"Oh, one of Clark’s city friends! What's it you're doing all the way out here?"

"Bruce is my boyfriend," Clark said and grabbed his hand.

"Oh, Clark... Really? That's awesome!" She turned to Bruce. "I've heard him drop the name a couple times… Didn't know you were so handsome!"

"And I'm a billionaire, too!" Bruce chimed, automatically kicking into Brucie mode. Clark rolled his eyes.

“Wait? Bruce Wayne? The Gotham pl… philanthropist?”

“That’s me.”

Lana’s whistle got lost in the music, but the look she sent Clark said it all. "Wow, Clark, not becoming a gold-digger are we...?" Clark put up his hands in defense, but she continued quickly. "How did you two meet again?" Clark’s flat "work" got lost in the music too, and Bruce didn't hear anymore after that, because he could see the wheels turning in Lana’s head as she turned back to Clark and made some joke about journalistic integrity. Her whole expression had changed though, and Bruce turned away from the bar to start walking towards the exit. Fresh air. Did he make a mistake? Slip up? Maybe it was the beer. He needed fresh air. The door was too far and it took too long to push through everyone, but eventually the stars looked down at him, the door slammed shut and the music got abruptly replaced by late-night Kansas silence.

Bruce looked around himself and quickly regained control of his breathing. The parking lot was half-empty, Clark’s beat up truck tucked away in the far corner. He’d be out here soon. He was probably making excuses to Lana and Pete right now to start looking for Bruce.

It wasn’t long before he heard the old rusty door slam shut again.

“She knows.” The calm in his own voice surprised Bruce.

Clark walked up to him. “She's the first person I ever told."

"You saw the look in her eyes, she's putting one and one together right now, and I…"

“Bruce, stop. You don’t know that, and besides, I trust Lana.”

“You could have at least told me, warned me.” Trust was a burden in Bruce’s life, and an unnecessary slip-up had revealed who he was. He should have asked Clark who they could have run into, a stupid mistake. "I'm walking back to the farm," he said resolutely.

“Hey, what? It’s fine. Stay.” Clark grabbed his hand, but Bruce quickly pulled away. He really didn’t have time for this.

“I’m done here. This was a mistake,” he bit back, and turned around to start walking towards the exit of the parking lot.

"At least take my car? Bruce?"

"No."

Clark was beside him before he could blink. "Bruce."

"I'm walking to the farm and taking my car back to the airport and to Gotham. I'll have Alfred prepare some documents and have a hefty sum of money send Lana's way."

“What? Bruce, baby no, you don't have to do that,” Clarks hand were on his shoulders and he was forced to look straight into those blue eyes. Unobscured by glasses. Idiot. “Lana is my oldest friend. I trust her. Look, I’m sorry this happened. But maybe she hasn’t figured it out and we can still…”

“It’s too late for that. All I can do now is make sure nothing else gets compromised.”

“For fucks sake, Bruce, I’m trying to tell you, it won’t.”

“Until it will.”

Clark let out a huff of breath and closed his eyes. “At least talk to her.”

If it were anyone other than Clark, he would have just walked away. But alas, here he was, with Clark in front of him. The only man that could convince him to do something as ridiculous as wearing a lumberjack to a midwestern bar, and reason his way into Bruce’s mind just like he had wiggled his way into Bruce’s heart. Bruce crossed his arms. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“I’m still walking back to the farm.”

“No karaoke?”

“Forget it, Clark.”

“Ok, whatever, you’re tired. Get some rest. I’m gonna hang around here a bit longer. Here,” Clark pressed his car keys into Bruce’s hands and kissed him on the cheek.

When Clark was back inside the bar, Bruce debated walking back anyway and tossing the keys somewhere in a field for Clark to find. Exhaustion soon enough took over his anger though, and the adrenaline dissipated. Clark should consider himself lucky.

---

Clark’s ‘I’m sorry’ and chaste kiss on his forehead woke him up briefly barely an hour after he’d gone to bed.

“Still mad.”

He heard Clark flop on to his back and chuckle quietly. “And still here.”

“Quite the observation you made there.”

“Well, I learned from the best.”

“Obviously.”

Whatever Clark said after that was lost on him, and he turned around again to face the other way and closed his eyes.

------------------------------------------------

The next morning, as Bruce walked down the creaky stairs, hair still damp from his shower, the smell of fresh coffee approached him pleasantly. There was a lot more work to do in town, so Bruce had really made an effort to get up early, but he still found Clark at the kitchen table with a half-eaten stack of pancakes before him. There was toast, yoghurt and fruit laid out for Bruce. Martha knew him well.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked Clark as he took his seat. Jonathan walked in through the kitchen door, his brow already covered in sweat.

“Dang dust is making it so much harder to clean,” he said as he wiped his handkerchief over his forehead.

“Oh shush Jonathan, you need to eat something and drink plenty water. The boys will be there to help soon.”

“I’m staying all week, pa,” Clark clarified.

“Alright,” Jonathan said after he gulped down his water. “Just came back to get some more tools.” Martha walked him to the door and Bruce heard her say to slow it down, especially in this heat and Jonathan’s yes, yes you know me probably sounded funny to himself, but clearly not to Martha.

Clark looked at him over the cup of coffee he was pouring for Bruce. “So I take it you’re staying?”

“If you’ll have me, yes.” He still wasn’t sure how to feel about what happened last night. It seemed like something so avoidable, something Damian would definitely pin on him for being careless. And his son would be right. As much as he wanted to blame Clark, it was largely his own fault. The wrinkles disappeared from Clark’s face as he smiled and passed him the coffee.

“J’onn contacted me about the aliens this morning. They’re Zandrian. He’s been interrogating them, and it seems as if they were looking for some signal here.”

Here, as in Smallville. “Your Kryptonian ship.”

“Most likely, yes.”

“And why is it still here?”

Clark swallowed his bite. “Thought it was harmless. It’s never sent out any kind of signal, not now either. Nothing I can sense at least.”

“Radiation?”

“Perhaps. So, that’s what we’re doing today. I’m taking the ship to the north pole and I wanted to ask you if you could take a look at the barn.”

That sounded like a plan. Something where Bruce could be useful. “Okay. I’ll need some instruments from the cave though.”

“I’ll pick up whatever you need. But first… Baby time!” Clark grinned. Bruce nearly choked on his coffee. “Eat your breakfast. Lana’s expecting us.” Clark got up and started putting things away, clearly way too excited for this.

“I have to see her right now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He quickly drank the rest of his coffee. “The sooner, the better.”

“No scary batshit, Bruce,” Clark pointed a finger at him. “We’re there for the baby.”

---

Lana and Pete’s place was another old farmhouse, not too far from the Kent’s, so they walked there. Lana inherited it from her aunt after having lived with her most of her life, Clark told him. Bruce had sweat stains under his arm by the time they reached the house. Maybe he should have opted for one of Clark’s t-shirts and ugly cargo shorts today.

The breeze blowing through Lana’s living room and being out of the sun helped though, and Lana served them lemonade with ice cubes. Bruce sat down on a chair and Clark took his place on the large couch.

“I’m sorry Pete couldn’t be here, you know how he is with the store.”

“Is it bad? We can go help if he needs,” Clark offered, verging on apologetic.

“He’ll be fine. I’m sure you both have more important matters to attend to.” She looked at Bruce when she said it, and he cleared his throat.

“Just. Make sure he asks if he needs. We can provide,” He settled on, hoarsely. The bat was barely audible in his voice and Clark should be proud. He nodded at him from where he was sitting on the couch. It could wait.

They got startled by a baby’s cries, and Lana disappeared out of the living room. She came back in with Clark (the name still irked Bruce, even though Clark had told him the child wasn’t named after him but after Martha’s maiden name – because yes, that made it less weird somehow). “Look who’s awake!”

The child on Lana’s arm looked around drowsily, clearly unsure how to feel after waking up from his nap and being greeted by two strange men.

Clark reached out his hands and Lana placed the baby in his lap. Bruce knew he was around 5 months old. Clark had been there for the birth but hadn’t had much opportunity to see him after that. Lana sent him many pictures and videos though, that Clark would show Bruce late at night in bed, and they would laugh at the child’s antics and giggles. The learning curve of young people was incredible.

The child was slowly waking up in Clark’s arms and started making more sound. Not crying, he was content, and Bruce wondered if he knew instinctively that Clark’s arms were the safest place on earth. “He likes me,” Clark grinned up at Lana when the baby grabbed his fingers.

“Of course.”

Bruce felt stuck in place, captivated by the sight. Clark looked so incredibly at home, so natural with a child in his arms that held on to Clark’s pointer finger with a force as if he did it every day and was decidedly not named after Clark. Bruce quickly swallowed around the lump forming in his throat before his thoughts would betray him anymore and moved from his chair over to the couch to sit next to Clark.

When Lana walked back into the living room with pie, she took a picture of them, and that would probably make this day a lot harder to look back on later, but right now Bruce didn’t care. The baby was on Clark’s lap, looking up at both of them and laughing. Definitely at Clark sticking out his tongue and making cooing sounds. Bruce didn’t do that. Until he found himself mimicking the baby and trying to get him to laugh. Damn mirror-reflexes.

He tried not to think about what he had missed out on with Damian. What Damian had missed out on. Instead he put a hand on Clark’s back, and held it there while they both continued to make ridiculous sounds and faces at little Clark.

---

When Clark left to take the rocket ship to the North Pole, Bruce went to work on the barn. Though, not before he did change into Clark’s old Henley and cargo shorts. Alfred would kill him if he got any more dust on his nice clothes.

The hatch in the floor of the barn was open, and the space underneath now empty. There had been some radiation coming off of the ship itself, but it was faint and not nearly enough to hurt anyone. Bruce doubted he would find any more in the rest of the barn, and considered other forms of signals the aliens could have picked up. Lower frequency wave lengths, maybe.

Nonetheless, he went around the hole in the ground methodically, scanning every scrap piece of metal, rock, and dirt. He swept it clean too, and took any tools that were still there out to examine them later in the barn. There was a large box, all the way at the back, that he skipped at first, but knew he eventually had to get back to as well. Getting it out was no problem, he could lift it over his head and slide it onto the barn floor easily, but he had a feeling what might be in there.

After cleaning the other tools and logging anything of interest he could find on the metal and rocks, he went back to the box and opened it. Sitting on the floor, he stared down at pictures of Clark, a baseball and bat, scrap of red fabric, a pair of extremely worn down and no-longer-white converse.

“Haven’t seen that thing in a while.” Jonathan’s voice startled Bruce as he walked into the barn and took his cap off.

“Hmm. Sorry, I was cleaning, we thought…”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“What happened to the baseball?” Bruce held up the ball, split clear in half and its threads loose.

“Was the first one Clark hit clear across Smallville. I looked for it for six months on the other side of town,” Jonathan answers proudly. “The shoes are from when he first outran the car.”

“That must’ve been something,” Bruce huffed. He got up. “So this is a reminder. Of what he can do.”

“Oh, I don’t need to be reminded of that,” Jonathan Laughed. “But I kept the memories because I knew he could never belong to us. Never belong here. He belongs to everyone, out there.”

Bruce thought about that. In Smallville, Clark was clearly at home. “I don’t know. I think he belongs right here, in the center of it all. I haven’t seen him so relaxed and… happy in a long time.”

“Bruce, son. As much as Clark is still a small-town boy - and will never not be -, I know he is happy right where he’s supposed to be, with you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told me.”

As Jonathan left the barn again, Bruce felt in the back of his mind the creeping feeling that he could never give Clark what he had left behind here. That he could never be what Clark truly wanted. Because as much as he hated Smallville’s openness and missed the gothic stoicism of Gotham, this place was everything Clark stood for. It was everything Bruce was not. Somehow, somewhere along the way, a mistake had been made, one that Bruce would have already undone were he a stronger and less selfish man.

------------------------------------------------

Bruce would never tell the man as much, but Martha’s sandwiches were far superior to Alfred’s. Maybe it had something to do with working outside all day that made the sandwiches waiting for him taste just that much better.

He had considered multiple times during the day to beam up to the watchtower, but he didn’t have his suit, and finally settled on just contacting J’onn about his progress with the aliens and the mediocre findings of his work in the barn. Maybe it could help, as J’onn was still in contact with the creatures after they had quickly been escorted away by the Green Lanterns. Hopefully, some negotiations were all that was needed to keep them away.

---

As the day progressed, and Clark didn’t return, Bruce worked himself to a sweat multiple times. In Smallville, he wasn’t expected to be Brucie Wayne, because no one knew who that was. But he wasn’t Batman either. It was as if he was back in training, another nobody working long days in the sun, sweat forming a sheen on his skin, and exhaustion putting him to sleep in the afternoon heat on the porch. No, he decided, this was as far from his training days as possible, and allowed himself to relax.

As the sun started setting, he ended up in the kitchen with Martha to prepare dinner. She knew he wasn’t very skilled around the stove – courtesy of Alfred’s warnings -, so he was put on vegetable cutting duty. That was fine. He used to do it all the time with Alfred as a child and still did sometimes. The methodical slicing of the bell peppers, potatoes and onions kept him focused and calmed him down.

Just as dinner was almost done and they were cleaning up the kitchen, a familiar sound followed by creaking floorboards and the opening of the screen door made Martha jump. Bruce smiled. Maybe the smell of dinner had made Clark fly back a little faster.

“Oh, Jonathan! He’s back!” Martha shouted while putting her tea towel down and practically skipping towards the screen door. “Hey, ma. Pa,” Bruce heard from his place in the kitchen.

“Are you okay? We got worried, you stayed away so long…”

“I’m fine, ma. Just some miners in South-Africa that got stuck.”

“Told you the boy was fine, Martha.”

Bruce washed his hands and was drying them when he walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, where an adult, 6 foot 3 tall man in a Superman suit was hugging his aging and tired parents. Bruce felt painfully out of place, but it quickly subsided when Clark looked up at him. “Hey. Little detour there.”

“So I heard.”

Clark walked over to him and kissed him chastely on the lips. It was the kind of kiss you give your significant other in front of your parents or your children, or when you return home from work after a long day. A type of kiss they had shared many times, to the children’s (and especially Damian’s) horror, but that here, in Smallville, made Bruce feel as if they were normal. As if they could be normal. As if he always helped Clark’s mom with dinner and worked long hours in the sun with his dad. Though, as quickly as the kiss ended, the feeling fleeted and Bruce felt like himself again. They broke apart and Clark looked him up and down.

“You look dashing in that ensemble Bruce, who picked that for you?”

Right. He was still wearing the Henley. And the ugly shorts. A pair of his own limited edition and now-brown sneakers to top it off. “Oh, thank you, just a simple get-up I found in the dumpster here.” He made his way over to the stairs, and Clark followed him with a grin.

“You boys be down soon, dinner is ready and I’m setting the table outside,” Martha warned as they made their way upstairs.

In Clark’s small bedroom, they both changed into something more appropriate, and Clark combed down his wind-swept hair. Bruce turned to look at him and waited for him to be done.

“Your ship?”

“Buried it next to the Fortress.” Bruce nodded approvingly. Clark set down the comb, but as he did so he stared out the window into seemingly nothing, his brows furrowed and drawn together. The miners. Bruce walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Clark sighed, but still pulled Bruce into a hug. “Thanks for asking.”

Clark hugged him with an intensity that made it clear that it was needed much more than the kiss from before. “Just… It was stressful,” he sighed. “Those miners. I couldn’t just drill them out, it took hours.”

Bruce nodded and angled his face towards the crook of Clark’s neck. He smelled like dust and a vague hint of sea-salt, and definitely needed a shower, but the crisp clean t-shirt was all Martha’s laundry detergent. As they stood, Bruce felt the tension leave Clark’s shoulders and his grip loosen, and he looked back up at him. Clark’s eyes had regained their usual shade of blue and the lines had disappeared from his forehead.

Bruce tried a smile and grabbed Clark’s hand. “Come. Dinner’s waiting.”

---

After dinner, Clark somehow got them excused from doing dishes and took Bruce by his hand out into the garden, and to the barn. Bruce thought about telling him about the box he found, but didn’t. Instead, Clark asked if he wanted to for a walk and grabbed a picnic blanket.

Their walk was laced only with the sound of cicadas, and took them away from the farm uphill where the low grass gave way to bushes and trees. They stopped at the top of the hill.

“I don’t know why it is you’re taking me here,” Bruce said as Clark laid down the blanket on a patch of very dry grass.

“I thought we could enjoy the night together. Just the two of us.” Clark’s smile was much too innocent as he sat down and patted beside him for Bruce to sit.

“We had a fight.”

“Yes. And I love you. Please tell me you haven’t been thinking about that all day. I thought we were okay just now.”

Bruce sighed. “My secret identity got exposed. I’m not okay with that.”

“You wanna talk about it? Did you get a chance to talk to Lana?” Clark prompted.

“Not yet. But I’m… sorry. For the way I reacted last night.” He sat down next to Clark on the blanket.

“I’m sorry too. I should have let you know.”

“Does Pete know?”

“Yes, although he doesn’t really acknowledge it. We barely talk about it.”

Bruce huffed out a breath of air. They were surrounded by small, green trees that gave way to a view of the corn and grain fields below. The sun was inching closer to the horizon and it had finally started to cool down a little bit. Next to him Clark was looking at him, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

Clark shifted and settled behind Bruce, trapping him in between his legs and large arms, which Bruce allowed. It was painfully clear that Clark knew just what Bruce needed, and where that used to irk him to the core and make his skin crawl, he now welcomed it, leaned back, and let himself relax. It was easier to talk when you didn’t have to look the other person in the eyes.

“That should have been you, Clark,” he started. “A house in Smallville, wife, child... sometimes I don’t understand why you left this place at all.” This whole weekend felt like the first time he was really in Smallville and had seen what made Clark, Clark. A reality that he wasn’t a part of and only allowed a glimpse of, by some miracle.

“So you do like it here,” Clark said. When Bruce didn’t say anything to that, he continued: “I knew I had to give that up a long time ago. And, just between you and me, I'd say we have the most awesome family in the universe.”

“But we'll never have that. A child all our own. You could have.”

“I know,” Clark whispered into his hair. “Is that something you would have wanted? If…”

“Even if it was technically possible, the moral implications are just... I wouldn't want to bring a child into this world. Into our world,” Bruce mused out loud.

“But It is technically possible. Conner.”

“Conner is a clone. And we’re lucky we found him when we did.” He had turned into a wonderful kid, a good crimefighter even, but he had his unpredictability. They didn’t know nearly enough about his physiology, his lifespan, his unpredictable moods. Clark squeezed his hand.

“And if we were normal?”

If they were normal, Clark would have stayed in Smallville, and they would have never met. And Bruce, as a rule, did not think in hypotheticals. Not like this. Yet, he heard himself answer without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Me too,” Clark’s lips were on Bruce’s ear in a way that was not quite a kiss. It was an affirmation, taking Bruce in, this moment, his scent mixed with that of Kansas, and a gush of breath that ghosted through Bruce’s hair. Clark’s breathing was grounding, a dull constant in the midst of the song of the cicadas, the feeling of dead grass under his toes and the Kent’s old picnic blanket under his fingers. It was all wrong.

“Don’t you wonder what would have happened if you had stayed? With Lana?”

“Once or Twice, a long time ago. But I left here to find myself. I never fit in here, never really belonged here. You know that.”

“You do, though. You’re much happier here. Yourself.” Bruce turned to meet Clark’s blue eyes, the smile lines visible even on Superman’s perfect skin. “And I don’t,” he breathed in. “I don’t fit in here. With you.” The smile lines disappeared.

“Bruce… Why would you think that?”

“I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever really been in Smallville. Stopped and looked around. Like I’ve finally seen the last piece of the puzzle that is you.”

“And everything else completes it. You complete it. I belong to you.” Clark put a hand over his heart. “And you belong to me. Don’t you ever forget that.” Clark’s blue eyes under his furrowed brows pierced right into his soul, something he had discovered a long time ago he could not ignore.

In a different life, Clark might have stayed in Kansas. As it was, they had found each other elsewhere amid their hectic lives, in some twisted inescapable fate. An alignment.

“Hn. You’re still a Kansas boy at heart.”

“And you like that.” Clark’s smile was back. The one that regardless of the Kansas sun or Gotham greys or Metropolis shine brightened up his life and Bruce found himself smiling back in return.

“Can’t say that I don’t.”

“So… now that you’ve got me completely figured out…”

“Hmm?”

“Where do we go from here?”

“We have sex. That is why you brought me here, right?”

“Bruce!” Clark covered his mouth with his hand in a fake gasp. “I can’t believe you think of me that way.”

“But you did.”

“Can’t say that I didn’t,” Clark smirked, put his hand on the back of Bruce’s neck, and kissed him.

------------------------------------------------

In the middle of the night, the queen bed was too big and Clark should be right on him, spooning him, and cooling him with freeze breath. So Bruce rolled over into his space, and Clark – half asleep – happily put his arms around him. He could be a selfish man if Clark was too.

------------------------------------------------

On Sunday morning, the clouds started gathering and simultaneous to the electric tension of a storm building in the air, the people of Smallville let out a collective sigh. Soon, they would get some rain.

After a quiet Sunday breakfast and Clark’s parents had returned from church, it was off to town in Clark’s old truck. Jonathan had taken his newer one, full of materials and tools, and Clark and Bruce would do clean-up together and haul away rubble to a nearby depot. Main street already looked more lively than the day before, with most of the rubble gone and gathered in piles. People were walking around and making small talk, a stray door was being hung back into its hinges. The few buildings that had any structural damage had been taped of, and shattered windows had been boarded up, but the wind had picked up and blew the dust away, clearing the air and everyone’s mood.

On the way to and from the depot, Clark rolled down the windows and sung along with the songs on the radio, missing some of the words and looking over at Bruce every now and then.

He watched Clark, sunshine ever present in his skin and smile. How he was in such good spirits while literally cleaning his hometown after an alien attack was lost on Bruce. But then again, Clark was usually in a good mood if he was able to help someone. Even though he was doing it as Clark Kent now, and couldn’t use his super strength to haul stuff into the truck, or maybe because of that.

“It’s fine, B.”

Bruce hummed in response.

“I hope you had a good time here, despite everything.”

“I’m still having a good time now.” He immediately regretted saying that, because Clark mistook it for him liking his singing and continued on for the remainder of the ride. Really, it was Clark’s enthusiasm that made it tolerable. Bruce felt content to just watch, and breathed in the Kansas air, and tried to store away this memory forever.

---

When they were back in town, Clark stayed to help Pete at the store while Bruce went to the local hardware place to get some more supplies. He found what he needed and was waiting in line when he felt someone approach him from behind.

“Hey, Bruce.” He turned around to face her.

“Lana. Hello.”

“You got something that needs fixing?” she smiled at the small box of screws and plugs in his hands. He looked at the people in line behind her, all getting something, even if it was just a nail to hang up a picture that had come off the wall during the attack.

“More than one thing, I’m afraid.”

Lana huffed. “Smallville will be fine. I hope you’ve been enjoying your weekend here at least?”

“It’s been…” Eye-opening. New. Necessary. “Different,” he settled on.

“Ha! I believe that, coming from the big city and all.” That obviously wasn’t what he meant, but he assumed Lana knew that.

It was Bruce’s turn to pay. He put down a 20 and accepted his change, stepped aside to let Lana pay. “Walk with me,” he commanded when she was done. They reached Clark’s truck in the middle of the sunlit parking lot. Bruce held on to the keys in his pocket and missed the protective confining warmth of his cowl.

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Lana cleared her throat. "The way Clark talked about the bat always made me think he was in love with him. Glad to see it worked out." It was a good thing Lana was just as blunt as Clark. Something about rural Kansas, he thought. He couldn't help but feel a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, it just wasn't hard to connect the dots. You’re him, right?”

Without hesitation. "Yes." The things this town did to him were beyond his understanding. Small town life brought out the truth easily. Here, there were no covers required, no masks. It’s the same reason why he could have found the last piece of Clark, only here.

"Look, Bruce. I know how important the whole secret identity thing is to Clark. Think he can count on one hand the people that really know him."

"More like three hands now with my children and the league." There was that incessant tug at the corner of his mouth again.

"You're a father."

"Not in the most traditional sense of the word, but yes." He leaned against the door of the car. Lana seemed to think about that. Batman and Robin. What it implied. Bruce braced himself for the passion of a young mother, but it never came. Instead she swallowed.

“I did love Clark once, but I knew I could never be what he needed. I’m glad he found someone,” she paused. Looked up at Bruce with her brows drawn together. "Your secret is safe with me Bruce."

That was the issue, though. No secret is ever safe with anyone, because then it wasn’t a secret anymore. He gritted his teeth, swallowed. He thought of Clark, how he would put his warm hand on his shoulder if he were here right now, how he would say once again that it was fine, Lana could be trusted. Clark’s closest friend, first love, and the person that knew him best before he became who he had to be. Lana was to be trusted. Bruce sighed.

"I just need you to sign some documents, and get your contact information in case something gets compromised."

Lana nodded. "Sounds fair."

He opened the car door and climbed in. Lana put her hand on the open window. “It was nice meeting you, Bruce.”

“Likewise.” He paused. “I’ll make sure Clark gets you those documents.”

“Alright,” Lana laughed and waved at him as he started the car. He wondered how much of Clark had rubbed off on her during their childhood friendship and dating through high school. Or maybe it had been the other way around. Clark probably wouldn’t be who he was today without her, or without anyone here for that matter.

------------------------------------------------

The jet was placed imminently in front of them, Smallville and its normalcy reduced to a memory on the far horizon. Bruce turned around and looked at Clark, his hair windswept and glasses placed awkwardly back on his nose. Here to see him off to Gotham.

“Thank you for having me.”

Clark laughed. “Thanks for staying.”

“I would almost say it would be acceptable to do this again some time.”

“Almost?”

“Well.” Bruce shrugged. “Minus the alien invasion.”

“Of course. 4th of July? Bring the kids?”

“That could turn out worse than an alien invasion,” his own laugh surprised Bruce.

“I mean… we’ll have Alfred to keep them in check,” Clark argued. “Ma would love having all of them over.”

“I’ll give it some consideration, then.”

“Hmm, so that’s a yes?” Clark grabbed his waist and brought his face close to Bruce’s. His triumphant, beautiful grin was the most annoying thing in the world that Bruce could only wipe off with a long, slow kiss.

Behind him, the engines of the plane roared and it was really time to say goodbye. To Clark, if only for a couple days. To Clark’s parents. To Kansas. Godawful, unpredictable, and beautiful Kansas. Just like its most important (former) inhabitant.

------------------------------------------------

Out of the window of the jet, he watched Clark, the town, and finally the cornfields disappear, and he sighed contently. Smallville. His secret was safe here.

#superbat #write write #I worked on this for like two weeks and i'm like genuinely proud of it #farm fic #pls don't be weirded out by baby clark.#...it's canon

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