~4~
"You doing okay?" Clark asked, glancing away from the road long enough to take in Bruce's pale skin and tired eyes.
Bruce let his head fall back against the headrest with a small grunt. "You're taking us back to Smallville, right?"
"I don't think I should carry you that far when you're hurt."
"You're not missing out on any more of Christmas than you already have. Drive if you don't want to carry me."
"You can't just go home and rest, can you?"
"I'll rest wherever you take me, but I'd prefer we go back to the farm." Bruce paused and his mouth quirked up. "Those are words I didn't anticipate ever saying."
Clark chuckled and said little else for the rest of the trip to the manor. Pulling into the driveway, he glanced over to find Bruce's eyes closed and his breath coming in long, slow beats.
"Hey," he said quietly, reaching over to brush a hand over Bruce's forehead in a move he knew the other man would mock him for if he hadn't been doped up on painkillers.
"Sap," Bruce muttered anyway.
"We're at the manor."
"That's not Smallville."
"You need to put on warmer clothes first."
Bruce opened his eyes and shifted up in the seat. "Good point."
It was late by the time they arrived at the farm. Clark settled Bruce onto the couch when he protested being put to bed like a child.
"Painkillers make you cranky, don't they?"
"I'm not cranky."
"You're practically pouting." Bruce's expression shifted into a glare. "Alright, I take it back." Clark's grin faded a few seconds later. "So are we going to talk about this now or in the morning?"
"Now," Bruce drew in a deep breath. "Better to get the famous Clark Kent lecture over it." He glanced up at the silence that followed. "I didn't mean it like that."
"I know. You're tired and hurting, and you don't have a filter on the best of days."
Bruce started to protest but shook his head and laughed lightly when he saw Clark's smirk. "Don't tease the injured man."
"Gordon filled me in on the details from before they lost contact with you. When the League went looking, they found two dead men in an empty room. What happened?"
"Revenge. Poison Ivy didn't like how I treated Harley when you were-" He paused to draw in a deep breath. "When you were missing." He glanced down at his splinted fingers and the cast that covered his arm to the elbow. "She thinks I killed Joker."
This was something they hadn't talked about in detail yet, dancing around the subject instead. Clark cleared his throat, stalling for time while he tried to phrase his next question.
"I didn't." Bruce sensed the question and headed t off. "It was Oliver. Joker was about to finish me, and Oliver killed him first." Clark nodded without a word. "I wanted to. But you were gone, and I was down, and it just didn't seem worth fighting for."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, side-by-side and facing forward with Bruce's hand still held loosely in Clark's. In the corner of the room, the soft white lights of the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft glow. The minutes ticked by, and Bruce was nearly asleep when Clark spoke.
"When I woke up and you weren't there, I was more scared that something had happened to you than about what was wrong with me. I used to think that I had to be alone to do what I do. I could go back to being alone if that's what it came down to, but I would lose a part of myself without you."
"I don't have plans to go anywhere."
"Most people don't plan to die, Bruce. It just happens."
"We both know death is inevitable, Clark. That doesn't matter."
"What matters is the here and now, I get it. Just promise me you won't take off like that again."
"I won't make you a promise I might have to break."
"Promise you'll try?"
"Okay."
"We need to find her."
"We will. There's time. I think she's finished with me for now." Bruce fell silent, considering how to broach the next subject.
"She knows who you are, doesn't she?" Bruce cast a glance at Clark from the corner of his eye, making a soft noise of assent in the back of his throat. "Then I need to find her now."
"And do what, Clark? She left me alive for a reason."
"She killed those two men."
"Thug #1 and Thug #2 as I like to call them. They were hired help, and she didn't want anyone out there to tell the tale. I don't think they saw my face, but I doubt she wanted to take any chances."
"She's a threat."
"I know. We'll deal with her, Clark, but it's not going to be tonight. It's Christmas and we're together with the people we care most about. Let's just not think about this, alright? Not tonight."
"Lois is going to have a field day, you know. She'll want to know how you got from here to Gotham and back. Not to mention the digging she'll do about your injuries. She'll either start calling you Bats or be oddly oblivious. It's how she works."
"I never quite understood that one. She still doesn't know about Oliver?"
"It's one of those things she knows but doesn't talk about."
"If she calls me Bats, I can't be held responsible for what I may do to her. Anyway, we can deal with Lois in the morning."
Clark laughed and turned to face Bruce, leaning in enough to press a kiss against his mouth. "I should take you up to bed. You must be exhausted."
"I like the bit about bed, but I'd prefer to pass on the sleep in favour of other activities."
"When my mother's not asleep in the next room and you're not about to pass out, we'll talk."
"You're going to deny me sex the whole week we're here, aren't you?"
"You talk too much; she'd hear you," Clark said as he stood.
"You talk just as much as I do." Bruce allowed himself to be picked up and pulled close against Clark's body, losing the battle against medication and pain.
"He said, she said, either way you talk too much."
"You're the girl in that equation, you know."
"Whatever you say, dear."
"Remind me to hit you as soon as my hand is healed."
"So you can break it again?" Clark moved them up the stairs slowly, trying not to jostle Bruce with each step up.
"You're getting squishy in your old age, so I'd be fine."
"I'm not –"
"Shh, you'll wake your mother."
"We'll finish this in the morning."
"No we won't. You'll be too speechless over what I got you."
Clark's voice dropped to a whisper as he pushed open the bedroom door with his foot. "What did you get me?"
"You'll see in the morning."
"Tell me now," Clark said as he set Bruce down on the bed and batted his hand out of the way when Bruce tried to stop him from pulling off his clothes.
"It would ruin the surprise."
"I can just x-ray the box, you know."
"That would be cheating." Bruce settled himself back against the pillows and shifted over enough to make room for Clark.
"You're the one who brought it up to begin with." Clark turned out the lights after stripped down to a t-shirt and boxers. "So if anyone is cheating, it's you." He climbed into bed next to Bruce and turned on his side to face him.
"Go to sleep."
"Tell me."
"You'll see in a few hours."
Clark rested one hand across Bruce's abdomen, carefully to avoid the places he knew would hurt. "I love you."
"Still not telling you."
Clark laughed and pulled the covers up higher, settling them across Bruce's chest. "It's okay, I'll see in a few hours."
