They were laughing, stumbling, not knowing where they were headed. At some point, Clark had completely lost his orientation. Bruce pushed him down onto a leather couch. It was broken, torn, and the leather didn't have the slightest shine remaining. Yet Clark didn't struggle. Bruce got on top of him and kissed him with fervor. He was always beautifully demanding, stubbornly dominating.

"Where are we?" Clark asked in the short moments between Bruce's claims on his mouth.

"What does it matter, Boy Scout?" Bruce managed to scoot underneath him and exchange positions. "Is there a house rule that you have to go home before ten?" His smirk was characteristically sly.

"We don't want to get caught having sex in a Gotham alleyway at three in the morning, do we?"

Bruce pulled him down by the collar. "Unfortunately for you, that proposal sounds quite appealing to me."

"You need serious help, Bruce."

"Why else would a grown man be dressed in an animal costume?"

Clark pulled away in a sudden astonishment. "Did you just mock your own Batsuit? You would never have done that in the past."

"We're not here to discuss the past." Bruce bit his earlobe as he hissed, just a soft breath against his sensitive skin. "It's all about the present. Seize it or lose it."

Clark struggled to clear his head. "We might have had too much to drink."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Oh for God's sake, stop spoiling the mood."

Clark grinned. He had never been so eager to oblige.


It was morning when Clark was awakened by a rough yank on his half-open shirt. "Jesus Christ, Kal. Do you know how long I've been searching for you?"

He opened his eyes to a middle-aged man, with salt-and-pepper-hair and a chiseled face. The man glared at him in frustration. Somehow his features were quite familiar. Those clear blue eyes were reminiscent of someone Clark once held dear. It seemed that Bruce wasn't the only one with memory loss. Bruce woke up the moment Clark was pulled off the couch. The man was incredibly strong.

"You didn't leave any message at the Fortress, and there was no GPS on you. I scanned every street in Metropolis and Gotham looking for you. Did you know how worried I was?" The man rambled on.

At the corner of his eye, Clark noticed Bruce's eyes narrowing in annoyance. The man triggered the wrong pair. "I'm sorry, Sir, I think you've gotten the wrong man." Clark tried without resorting to using his strength. Such mornings were rare, and he didn't want to ruin it with flying punches.

"Why are you calling me…?" The man's grip on his collar loosened. His eyes widened, his jaw slacked.

"What's your problem? You're looking for a fight?" Bruce came up and snapped. He glared at the man until he backed away.

"Kal. You-" The man stumbled away, falling on his behind. He scrambled up immediately. Horror filled his expression. "Dinah was right. I didn't want to believe it, but she was right." he uttered.

"Get out before you get yourself hurt." Bruce snarled. That was the last warning the man needed. He leaped back, and to both of their surprise, flew off into the sky.

"Looks like superpowers aren't all that rare." Clark muttered after a stunned pause.

"Hmph. Drunkards." Bruce laid back onto the couch and shut his eyes.

"Did you see his shirt? I quite like it." Clark climbed back onto the couch. He drew his finger teasingly across Bruce's chest. He was tracing a letter that once meant something significant to him. In that moment, it was just one of twenty-six alphabets. Nothing truly mattered, not when he was holding Bruce in his arms.

"Yeah, a big 'S' at the front, who hasn't seen that before? Self-entitled little shit." Bruce said sarcastically. "Tell me something I don't know."

"You sure?" Clark laid a gentle kiss on Bruce's nose. "I was going to show you."

Bruce smirked and drew him down again. "Don't make me beg for it."