It was just one of those days that Clark loathed. Sitting alone in his motel room while caressing a bottle of light drill which sat half empty in his hands while frozen to his bed. Every now and then he would take swigs of the unworthy taste that made his senses grow warm and immobilize his train of thought. Only for a moment, however, since he wasn't human and so such a make wasn't strong enough to completely wipe him out. If only he had his hands on the special booze created on his planet, Krypton, he'd be unconscious for a week at best. He sighed for the fifth time that day and took another sip out of the sweaty bottle which he stole from the JL's cafeteria.

Irresistible blue eyes, dark chestnut hair which you would just want to run your hands against, a firm build - he wasn't called the Man of Steel for nothing - and not to mention his secret identity which only a few were really aware of - including her - which he had assumed would strengthen the bond he had once found inseparable. And yet she had completely turned him down in the worst way possible. When she had once said she loved him, needed him, and now where was she?

He glared towards the garbage can where possibly dozens of magazines and newspapers were held captive. Oh right, he knew exactly where she was and who she was with. And to make sure of it, he had visited her window to confront her only to turn heads when he saw the two figures in her bedroom which confirmed the rumors.

He took another swig of the sore liquid and took a deep breath, swallowing down his sobs. And in the heat of the moment, he threw the glass bottle at the wall - shattering it carelessly - even though he knew his neighbors were bound to complain. But he really couldn't care less at the moment, because at the moment he was troubling himself with the same question, and that was 'why?'

Why him? And why not him? When she said she loved him... no, that wasn't right, she loved Superman. Superman fought against all injustices in the world with his almighty charm and rock solid body that made all the girls squeal for a touch. Clark Kent was a dorky reporter with rectangular shaped glasses and nothing going on for him but a series of depressing turmoils. A big nobody. She loved a piece of him, but not the other - and he couldn't be surprised, because they all preferred that side of him anyway.

He heard a firm knock to the door and buried himself further within the bed. With all the noise he was (almost always) emitting, it wouldn't be a surprise if it was the superintendent asking him to clear out.

The knocks continued to frequent, though he hid himself under the covers having no intention to deal with anyone that night.

I'm sorry Mrs. Beadabantian. I'll stop using the walls to vent Mrs. Beadabantian.

He continued to breathe slowly, lousily - holding himself tightly - and it seems like his attempts of completely ignoring the problem worked for the frequent knocks ceased after a few seconds. He rolled over on his stomach and proceeded to get some shud-eye for tomorrow while trying to kill the growing headache.

The sudden vibration of his phone caused him to jolt and search within his damp pockets. Only a selected few knew his cell-number, and so he knew that there would be trouble if he avoided it. He struggled to pull out his phone, but when he found it, he lightly played with the buttons before he placed it to his ear, "Hell-o?" He asked with obvious exhaustion.

"You idiot, come out here and open the door!"

Clark blinked at the voice. All tiredness replaced with surprise and curiosity as he forced himself to sit up, "Bats?"

"Get on with it!"

It took a few moments for Clark to collect himself. He took a breath and slowly opened the door when he was unable to see anything through the peep-hole. Heads turned his way before Bruce Wayne, the impatient billionaire, bowed in politeness and retreated inside. Clark shut the door almost instantly and held his breath as he leaned against it, the grumbles from outside growing quieter as Mrs. Beadabantian retreated back to her chambers.

"She's been eyeing me since I got here. The least you could have done was keep the window open." Bruce grumbled in annoyance. Clark muttered an apology under his breath. Bruce huffed, and in doing so, caught a whiff of the scent surrounding the apartment, "... This place wreaks of alcohol. What the hell have you been doing since you left the station?"

"Sorry." Clark said again, the sadness evident in his tone.

Bruce could only stare at him, disgruntled, "How on earth did this happen? He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Why are you here Bats?"

Bruce sighed. This was much worse than he thought, "Honestly, I caught you leaving the cafeteria with the bottle. Actually, we all did—"

"Really?" Clark questioned. He would have been horrified if he had the energy.

"Well you didn't seem to do a good job of hiding it." Bruce pointed out, while holding a hand out as a potent gesture. "We all know you aren't that big."

Clark scowled in reply, finally taking the time to turn around and look at him all while leaning against the door. He looked almost glued to it, Bruce noted as his eyes trained over his unsteady demeanor. He was sweating like crazy through his white striped shirt which was torn at the bottom and his pants hung over his hips which threatened to come loose at any second without the support of its belt buddy. "I'm.. not in the mood for this..."

"So I've heard.. and seen.." Bruce mumbled, initiating another doubletake over his figure. "You can't say you didn't see this coming. I mean, you and Lois were practically falling apart from the get go."

Clark frowned, "Now I wouldn't say that — "

He shrugged his shoulders at Clark's disapproval. "Is it such a surprise that she's marrying Luthor anyway? I get that you're brooding, but what flabbergasts me is the fact that you're drinking over such a pathetic topic."

".. You should know." Clark sighed, and Bruce felt the impact of his breath on his face even though they weren't quite in distance with each other. "You loved her too at one point."

"Infatuated more or less. But I was aware of her intentions which is why I didn't let her in."

"You don't let anyone in Bats. And besides, she was the one who dumped you."

The two went quiet. Clark wondered, when he didn't get any further reply, if he was right all along and yet Bruce hadn't allowed him to carry that thought further as he sent Clark the most darkest glare he could muster. Which worked, shockingly, when Clark flipped his mouth closed and looked down almost immediately while starting to shake. Bruce's expression melded into confusion and panic.

"... Oh gods." Clark slobbered, his hands pressing to his face. "Why — why..? I.. I loved her so much Bats. I thought it would go somewhere. God, I'm such an idiot!" He hit the side of his head repeatedly though it did seem a tad bit extreme for him especially with his headache that was passing on and that unpleasant feeling that arised within his stomach. "I knew she loved Superman, and I thought she could love me too! Why, why did I think that? I should have seen this coming though. She absolutely detested the glasses and refused to visit my home town even though I visited hers. Something about the smell she hates. Said she wanted to avoid that as much as possible unless she absolutely needed too." Batman honestly couldn't even see how he liked her so much.

"You've always been an oblivious man, Kent." Bruce argued considerably. And an idiot. He was slowly closing the distance between them—comfort reasons of course!

"As Superman or Clark?" Clark mumbled under his breath.

"Both. You're practically the same person."

Clark folded his arms over his chest and shook his head lightly, "That wouldn't make sense then. Why would she love Superman more than she does Kent?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, and continued forward—just a few more steps until he was right in front of him, "I don't know, ask her — maybe it's the suit?"

"... Well the suit is pretty cool.." Clark thought to himself with his arms crossed. By then, Bruce was already standing inches away from him with a curious expression on his face. They were practically eye level and yet the idiot wasn't even aware he had gotten that far or maybe he just didn't care. Which excited Bruce to no end, shameful to admit, "But you know.. " Clark started which made Bruce's eye furrow, "You and Batman are a lot different."

"... Oh?"

"Yes, I mean.." Clark conjured up, "You show more emotion than he does. Batman wouldn't even have thought to come here — possibly send me a message in my email instead which is already filled at this very moment with all that junk mail I get!"

"So you're saying I show more emotion than myself?" He asked blankly. And yet he knew what he was talking about.

"Yes."

... Whatever. Bruce rolled his eyes, before he looked upon him once again with a serious expression on his face and the memory seemed to seep through his thoughts.

"What is this?" Batman asked as a magazine was thrown in front of him — New York Weekly—with a frighteningly noticeable picture of Lois Lane on the front cover attached to the arm of one Lex Luthor. As a business guy, he had to be on top of things and one thing was to be aware of what was happening around them.

Flash shook his head. It was only minutes ago that Superman had walked out with a bottle of john and he had contemplated on following him. But he wasn't his best friend, oddly enough — Superman always had a special place for Batman in his life more than he did others.. Strange with how much they bicker with each other. "Luthor and Lane are getting married.. It's why Superman's been so depressed this entire week, you heard?"

"I have." Batman mustered out, as he looked down to his hands clasped together and situated over the table. "But I don't get how that remotely affects me."

"Well you just saw what he did! Seeing this made him go mad!"

"And?"

".. I think you should go after him."

There was silence — Flash shut his eyes quickly before one opened to look at his reaction. Batman was simply staring at his hands, though he wasn't able to decipher his expression at the moment from the way his mask covered most things. "And why would I do that?"

Flash contemplated whether he should bring it up or just go find Superman himself. The second idea was seeming quite better. For one, there was a lesser chance of him bleeding to death. "Because you're his friend and I've seen the way you look at him Bruce."

Silence, again. It felt simply horrific - more for one than the other. "What are you on about West?" He asked bitterly under his breath.

"Listen, all I know is that he needs a friend right now and you're one of his most valuable friend. And plus, you both could probably .. you know, empathize with each other! I mean you both dated Lane at one point and time!"

Batman looked at him which caused him to take a step back — from his explanation and from the table.

"It's your decision if you want too, I mean — I'll go over there tomorrow." He looked around at the others situated at the other tables before he took a daring step towards the table and placed his hands over it, leaning into his eye space. "Clark is probably there all vulnerable right now and begging for his luscious red lips to be tak—"

"Hold your tongue." Batman growled, but Flash quickly noted the large man sink into his chair, looking alert. Bingo.

"All I'm saying is that you're losing your chance if you don't go now. And if you lose this change, then someone else won't-" He turned on his heels and walked away though he hadn't expected to have tray thrown at his head. Blinking, Flash stared at the ground wondering what had just happened and rolled around to look back at the table but Batman was already gone.

"... Ow." He grumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck. He totally saw that coming.. They all did.

Bruce shook his head out of his thoughts and looked back at Clark's ranting frame. The thought of kissing those salvageable lips, taking those glasses and throwing them aside, pecking each eye and running his hand down his damp yet silky hair wasn't as far fetched as it was when he was practically pounding on the door cursing Flash for his insites. On the other hand, would it be wise to berate him while he was looking like death?

He was here for the purpose to comfort him, though how far would he be able to push? His curiosity caused him to take his chances, as his hands snuck over Clark's loose tie and press a light kiss over his lips.

Seconds went by with no reaction: Bruce wondered if it was a victory after all. He slowly pulled away to inspect his expression, and it wasn't really the one he was expecting. Oh hell — "Clark, damnit no!"

"BLARGJH!"

—

Clark groaned from where he was.

Slowly, his eyes turned towards his bedroom door as a shadow moved into view, "Bats..?" He mumbled gently, "..erm .. what happened?" He never expected the young billionaire to still be here.

"You threw up." Bruce grumbled, annoyed, in a matter—of—fact manner. He thought that part was obvious, "I carried you to bed, and you've been going through these ongoing episodes of conscious and unconsciousness ever si— don't you dare fall asleep again!" He growled as Clark's eyes suddenly began to waver, but Clark quickly averted them wide in order to stay awake.

"Okay and okay!" He called, his hand resting over his stomach as he felt a little spark through his body. Bruce didn't sound mad at him- more exhausted than anything, "Alright..."

Bruce stared back at him, waiting for him to react to the previous events. Did he completely forget what he just did to him? "You're a pretty big man, Clark, so I hope you take the hint. Nothing's free in this world, remember? By the way, I saw some glass on the ground.. I swept it up, but I have a question—what was broken glass doing on the floor in the first place?" And how long has it been there?

Clark blinked. He had to take a few moments to remember the earlier events before giving a proper explanation—sinking deeper into the bed as he remembered what had got him into this position in the first place, "Ughm.. well you know how my neighbor—"

"Mrs. Beadabantian - "

"Yeah, her, complain about the noise? Well.. that was the noise."

He shut his eyes as he could only imagine what expression Bruce was wearing, and it took a few moments for him to realize what was going on as he felt the bed jiggle by the weight Bruce placed on it. Bruce's knee flicked over the edge of the bed, and he moved forward slightly to take advantage of their closeness.

Clark opened his eyes to look up at Bruce's figure and he was only able to stare in awe up at him.

"Kent.." Bruce questioned him slowly, "Do you remember what happened before all this?"

Clark thought about it—feeling an uneasy pang in his chest although he blamed it on the alcohol. ".. Lois..?"

"No." Bruce said firmly which made Clark blink, "You and me."

Clark wondered what he was going on about. Him and Bats? What happened with him and Ba—hold the phone, "Y.. you kissed me!" He fumbled out, "Why?"

Bruce's head swung downward as if he was facepalming. He moved on his knees, trapping him between his legs, "Oblivious as always." He grumbled under his breath, "I like you, you idiot."

"... What?"

"I've held myself back because I thought you were straight.. and then I got to know you and realized, yes maybe not."

Clark's eye twitched and he stared at him—from below—with a blank expression over his face. "But what about.. and how about.." He stumbled for his words, "... So you like me?"

"Yes."

"Superman or Kent?"

Groan, not this again. Bruce silently moved forward in order for their faces to be aligned as he looked him down intimidatingly in those dark blue eyes of his causing Clark to shift uncomfortably below him, "Does it really matter?" He asked, leaning forward although a tad bit hesitant as he didn't want to scare him off.. or possibly get another round of vomit on his shoe. He would be patient of course, "I like you. The shy scheming reporter and the man of steel."

The tears had came as fast as both of them really expected—and he felt almost ashamed of showing Batman this side of him. It was the alcohol, he tried to reason! Bruce felt slightly uncomfortable and Clark knew it over the tenseness. His hand went to his face as he attempted to move his glasses out of the way - which were surprisingly not on him - rubbing his eyes with the back of his other arm which was firmly pulled away from his face to stare into those slightly emotionless twinkle that Batman so carried. "Bats.." He mumbled under his breath.

"Just call me Bruce." Bruce replied as he pressed a cold kiss over his mouth—over those bitter yet sweet lips—that created a sensation of unharmful bliss between the two.

".. Bruce.." He repeated the name under his breath, "But what about...?"

"She saw Superman rather than Clark Kent. Obsessed with more of danger - than a shy scheming reporter, but I like you for everything you are and I'll never hurt you like she did."

Clark sniffled, "... You really like me?" He asked again, needing confirmation, needing to hear the words.

Bruce sighed, "... Call your manager first thing in the morning. Let's go visit your hometown and I'll show you how serious I am."

Clark stared at him with wide-eyes, "What?"

And although Bruce knew that would probably never happened, he leant in for another kiss and simply enjoyed the feeling of Clark kissing back.