Chapter 7: Country Air

It was the sun that woke Bruce up. Pain was the first thing his brain picked up, coming from all directions. He let out a grunt and tried to sit up. He probably attracted the attention of a black and white dog, which came and licked his face happily. Bruce growled twice and the dog yelped back. The billionaire distractedly petted the animal and tried to take stock of what was happening to him.

He was in his underwear and his wounds had been bandaged. Some of his cuts had been stitched up and left out in the open. They had already begun to heal and did not appear to have any infection. Wherever he was, someone was taking good care of him. Even if it wasn't up to Alfred's standards, it was a good job.

He tried to remember what had happened before, after he had escaped from Blüdhaven. There had been that business with that organization, the cover to protect, the beating he had taken, his escape. Then he remembered Clark's apartment, the superhero carrying him on his bed. Clark had nursed him back to health.

He glanced at the environment around him. It looked a lot like a teenager's bedroom, with a poster of the Chiefs football team, one of their quarterbacks, a ball on a shelf, a bookcase, pictures. He saw a bag on the floor filled with clothes, which he recognized. He pulled out some clothes and winced in pain as his movements pulled at his stitches. Then he looked around the room again. Curious, Bruce forced himself to get up and take a closer look at the pictures. He recognized the faces in the pictures. He had done a lot of research on Clark, as he had on all superheroes. It was in his suspicious nature to check up on everyone.

The first photo showed the Kent family. Clark must have been about ten years old at the time. The three of them would be smiling as they took a break in front of a carnival. The second showed a teenage Clark, playing with his dog. It was a sequence of four photos, where the Kryptonian was taking photo shoots with his dog, an Australian shepherd. There was one where Clark was dressed in a nice suit, probably for his prom.

With that, there was no doubt about where he was. He continued to study the place, reflexively opening the drawers of a dresser, where he found in the last drawer a row of spare glasses, phones, cash and even fake papers. It was already telling him how Clark managed to keep his identity secret.

He glanced back at the photos. He had wondered how he managed to stay Clark Kent every time when his superhero status put him in danger, now Bruce had his answer. His gaze went to his desk, where a portrait of his adoptive father lay drawn. Bruce studied the fine pencil work, the details and the shading. He really wondered if Clark had done it. His answer came when he opened the desk drawers and found several notebooks of drawings.

The drawings didn't usually cover the entire sheet, except when they were landscapes. But obviously the draftsman preferred to focus on specific things, and through the drawings Bruce could see the different techniques he used or tried, but also the evolution of his style. What he was drawing was very recurrent. He had spent a lot of time drawing his parents, a young girl, the barn, the dog,... Bruce found something beautiful in these drawings. All of them showed people in the midst of strong emotions, smiling, getting angry, crying. There was something in his drawings that was so realistic that Bruce was able to feel something.

He sat down to look at all the drawings, exhausted from standing. He studied them one by one, discovering scenes from Clark's life that he didn't know. Walks in the woods, animals, classmates reading, playing sports, fighting. College soccer players, men, women, children. Bruce particularly liked one of the drawings, which depicted only parents and their daughter eating ice cream on a bench. Many of the scenes depicted were innocuous, but put in their best light. Bruce was amazed.

"Shelby?" Clark called in a distant voice.

Bruce snapped out of his contemplation when he heard the Kryptonian's voice and the dog came up the wooden stairs to meet his master. Clark then walked through the door to find Bruce in the middle of all his drawings. The Man of Steel was wearing old jeans and a beige long-sleeved shirt, covered from head to toe in dirt and mud.

"You should stay down, Bruce. Your body is not yet recovered. "

By way of response, the dark-haired man merely answered, waving one of the drawings in one hand:

"I didn't know you had such a talent for drawing. It's beautiful. "

Against all odds, the Kryptonian blushed and looked away for a moment.

"Thank you. We'll talk about it later if you want. You should rest, you're still tired. "

Bruce shook his head negatively.

"I've slept enough. Why are you in such a state? "

The Kryptonian glanced down at his outfit, then looked up to answer:

"Ah, we'd better get cleaned up, we've been plowing a field. "

Clark left the room, and Bruce could hear him say louder for him to hear:

"Make yourself at home! "

Bruce got up from the bed and walked the floor of the famous Kent farm for the first time. Many times he had wondered what the place where Superman had grown up, discovered his powers, built himself as a person might look like. He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Clearly, Clark had thought of him and left pancakes, juice and water on the table. Bruce was completely out of sorts. He wasn't hungry, only sore and didn't even know what time it was, nor he had become familiar with the environment he was in, although it was warm looking.

Barking drew his attention to the outside, and Bruce went out the back door to look. He rounded a wall of the house and headed for the barn to come upon a more than unusual scene. Clark, armed with a water hose, was spraying his border collie, which seemed to have embedded itself because it was obviously aiming at something bigger.

The large, white animal played with the water jet to Clark's laughter. The scene made Bruce smile and he leaned back against the pickup. The Kryptonian was having fun spraying his two dogs, one of which looked more like a giant white wolf than a real dog. The wolf was covered in mud and Clark was watering it to clean it up a bit, and with them he was getting soaked too. The scene reminded Bruce of the happy scenes Clark depicted in his drawings. If Bruce could have done that, he would have. But he didn't have Clark's drawing skills.

Clark stopped the spray when the white wolf jumped on him and the border collie joined in.

"Easy, boys!" he laughed.

He stood up, gently pushing the two dogs away, and met Bruce's eyes. He approached him with a bright smile on his face. Bruce could not help but appreciate the view he was getting. Clark's shirt was so wet it was sticking to his skin and plating his steely muscles. And then Clark's messy, wet curls set off shivers in Bruce that he didn't want to repress.

"I'm failing in all my duties," the dark-haired man said as he approached, the blue of his eyes glinting in the sun.

He stopped in front of Bruce.

"I want you to meet Shelby, our dog. And this big monster here…" Clark patted the wolf's side "…is Krypto. I thought he could use a little vacation and company, too. "

Bruce seemed to be thinking. Krypto, the guard dog of the Fortress of Solitude. It all made sense. Clark grabbed a towel from the pickup and wiped himself off, leading Bruce inside the house. Before he stepped through the doorway, he looked back at his two playmates:

"You guys don't come in while you're wet. "

Bruce doubted their ability to understand, but when they entered, they were not followed. The Bat walked over to the couch and sat down on it, feeling the familiar breeze from the supervisor's office blow his hair back and forth. When Clark sat down next to him, he was wearing a new outfit and holding the plate of pancakes under his nose.

"Eat a little, you need to get your strength up. Then you'd better go back to bed. "

"I'm not tired, Clark, and I'm not made of sugar either. "

Clearly, he must not have been as firm as usual because the Man of Steel poured maple syrup over the pancakes, cut a piece and, poking it with a fork, handed it to him.

"Don't make me give them to you myself. "

The dark-haired man was no longer smiling. His tone had been firm, and it was unusual for Clark Kent to be firm. Bruce picked up the fork and plate and forced himself to take the first bite. He had to admit that it was particularly good, but his stomach didn't seem to appreciate the intake of food. Satisfied, the brunet got up and prepared two cups of coffee before sitting down again next to his friend.

"You want to tell me what happened? "

Bruce didn't feel like talking about it.

"Dick needed help in Blüdhaven, so I went there. "

Clark stared at him with his blue eyes.

"And helping him meant having you tortured? "

The Bat didn't feel like answering him, he'd had a bad enough time as it was. But at least he was sure that what he had done had been worth it. Dick was out of danger and his cover wouldn't be in doubt for a long time. Silence fell between them, and the reporter, out of patience, spoke again.

"You come into my house in your suit, bleeding to death on my floor, and you won't tell me what happened in Blüdhaven? "

"Thanks for looking after me. "

Bruce didn't look Clark in the eye. He could feel his heavy gaze weighing on him. Clark swallowed his cup in one gulp and got up from the couch. He went to the back door of the kitchen and let the two pets in, while he went out again.

In complete silence, Clark prepared dinner in the kitchen. Bruce remained on the couch, watching the sun set through the window. For the first time in his life, the silence between him and Clark bothered him. A lot. He wasn't used to the Kryptonian not engaging in conversation. And he didn't like it, because he knew that if he wanted to get out of this discomfort, it would be up to him to talk. And he didn't want to do that. It wasn't like him to act that way.

Shelby came and laid his head on his lap. He looked at the dog for a moment, wondering what it was thinking. The dog squeaked and Bruce came over and patted its head. The border collie sat next to him, its head resting on his lap. Against all odds, this relaxed Bruce. It must have been true when they said that animals could sense moods.

"Let's eat, if you feel like eating. "

The billionaire ran a hand through his dark hair and joined the man of steel. Clark had prepared veal chops and a pan of vegetables that, he had to admit, smelled really good. The Kryptonian served him and sat down opposite him. Bruce ate a few vegetables, more than his stomach could handle. Not much, really. He finally put his fork in his plate and broke the silence.

"Are you angry? "

Clark looked into Bruce's lighter blue eyes.

"Believe me, you've never seen me angry. "

He finished his plate and left the table.

"I left your suit at the Cave. I took the liberty of taking some things, even your phone. You have some medicine to take. The prescription is on the bedside table, along with the medicine. You've been unconscious for over a week. I told Tim you were with me, I know he is on his new team but I wanted someone to know. The world is still turning and Barbara is running Gotham. Alfred is also on notice, I insisted he not come home early. In exchange, he cleared your schedule for two weeks. "

Bruce didn't even think to ask for all this. He was more exhausted than he thought he would be.

"Thank you. "

Clark didn't look back. He washed the dishes and fed the leftovers to the dogs when he realized that Bruce wouldn't eat any more.

"Do what you want, this is like your home. "

He changed language as he walked towards the door and, from Krypto's reaction, he understood that he had spoken in Kryptonian again. Then without a backward glance, the dark-haired man left the house, the wolf following him like his shadow.

Clark was sitting at his usual observation post in his barn. He had preferred to get away from Bruce to vent his frustration and relax. Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe he was a little angry. But the truth is, he was mostly hurt, hurt by Bruce's reaction, hurt by not being told. And even so, he was so concerned about his condition that he wasn't looking at the stars, but watching his own house.

Bruce was sleeping. He had turned on the TV after he left and had fallen asleep shortly after. But he couldn't bring himself to go home. Seeing Bruce in such a weakened state reminded him of what he was: someone from another world. But realizing that there was this huge gap between the two of them was soul-crushing. He felt emotionally exposed and he tried to hide it.

He had realized, in the time Bruce had been unconscious and he had been caring for him, that he felt too deep an attachment to his friend. Too much affection. Not to mention her obsessive attraction to him. And in spite of the behavior of the other, which in the end, did not owe him anything, he could not remain calm. To act normally. Maybe he couldn't do it anymore.

Krypto bit his hand to get his attention and get him out of his thoughts. His wolf understood him well and knew that at this moment he would need comfort. Clark was lost in his feelings. Was this all just a physical attraction ?

On top of that, Clark was getting little or no sleep. What Caulder had told him remained in a corner of his head, and whenever something went wrong, he thought about it. He was afraid of losing control of his powers and, little by little, he was losing confidence in himself. And he was even more tense, when Diana had made the remark to him, the day before.

Eventually he went back to the house. He too was tired, but he wouldn't go to sleep. He cleared the bed, putting away his drawings with a certain touch of nostalgia. To think that his last drawings, the ones he had done in Metropolis, were mostly of Bruce. In a way he was glad he hadn't come across those.

He went downstairs to get Bruce and took him to his room. He undressed his friend and slid him into bed. He took a quick look at his wounds and pulled the sheets back over him. As he had done every night since he had brought him to the farm, Clark watched him sleep for a moment. Then, like every night, he ordered Krypto to guard the house and flew out of Smallville.

The warmth Bruce felt when he woke up next to him made him relax despite the pain. It had been three days since Bruce had regained consciousness and everything had been the same as when he had woken up. Clark was running away from him, but he was still taking care of him.

Numb, he waited for his body to wake up before opening his eyes. He came face to face with a mass of black and white hairs. And what's more, he wasn't even facing Shelby's head. Bruce slowly got up and patted the dog affectionately. He'd come to terms with this tender, cuddly ball of fur. He got along with Shelby, but Krypto remained loyal to his master. So much so that even sometimes, when Bruce had tried to approach him, the wolf had interposed himself, as if to protect Clark.

He got dressed and went downstairs to the living room. He could hear Clark talking quietly, probably so as not to wake him, as the smell of pancakes wafted through the air. Bruce had discovered over the past few days that Clark was a pretty good cook and tried to vary his dishes.

Clark, with a dishtowel over his shoulder, his head bent over the other and both hands busy making the pancakes, didn't seem to have noticed his presence, so he didn't make a comment. He preferred to listen.

"Yes, I'm working on it. The Fortress gave me a solution, don't worry ... No, according to the results, it's not that serious... Yes, yes I know. I know that. Look, I'm fine...Yes, he's fine too, he's recovering well. His longest recovery will be for his lung, that's what makes him tire faster. "

There was a long pause, where Clark seemed to listen to what was being said. And he seemed to be visibly annoyed by this, as Bruce noticed by his tense gestures. Then suddenly the person must have said something he didn't like, because Clark reacted immediately, straightening his posture and speaking in a louder voice:

"No Diana! You're not going to do it. If anyone is going to tell Caulder about this, it's me and no one else. "

There was a few seconds' pause, and the next moment Clark threw his phone against the wall in a rage. He turned off the light and divided the pile into two plates. Then he leaned back on the counter and sighed, obviously trying to relax. Bruce didn't like to see the Kryptonian exposed like this. He knew that if Clark couldn't contain himself, it was because he was really in trouble. He decided to show himself. The reporter was direct:

"How much of this did you listen to? "

Clark didn't turn to him. He preferred to keep his head down on the work surface. Bruce then spotted the debris from Clark's phone and picked it up, placing it all on the table. He was pretty sure he hadn't noticed. He must have just known him well.

"Probably the one you wouldn't want. Where's Krypto? "

"Outside. "

The Kryptonian sighed, as if to give himself courage, and retrieved the plates to serve them. Bruce raised his head to observe him. He had obviously opened his eyebrow. It worried him. He immediately thought of what had happened to Kara.

"What happened?

The dark-haired man knew very well "what he was talking about. So he didn't try to divert the subject.

"A big drilling site collapsed and the whole structure with it. I intervened with Diana and Victor. While evacuating workers, a crane collapsed on top of us. "

Clark put down two cups of coffee and drank from his.

"Was there any kryptonite around? "

The alien's jaw tightened.

No. I was... hurt.

There was a long silence. Bruce was already considering what might happen if Superman lost his powers. This was a matter that needed to be dealt with urgently.

"Clark, tell me what's wrong. You're not good at keeping things to yourself. You should have healed by now. "

The Kryptonian was tense. Very tense. Something was working on him.

"I just need to rest. "

Bruce attacked his plate, deep in thought.

"How long has it been since you slept?" he said after several minutes of silence.

Clark had just finished his plate and his second cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question, before standing up straight.

"Someone's coming. "

The dark-haired man planted his friend in the kitchen, as he stormed out to let Krypto in. The big wolf went upstairs, followed by Clark. When he came back down, Shelby was with him and he was wearing his glasses. He seemed to look around to make sure everything was in order and left the house. Bruce finished his plate and looked out the window to see the newcomer from the road. But there was nothing. He decided to wash the dishes to look natural if someone came in, but he even had time to finish them.

"Are you sure about this? "

Clark gave him a dark look. He opened the door for Shelby and walked out with him. A few seconds later, Bruce saw a cloud of dust rise as a vehicle pulled into the yard. A very Kansas-looking man got out of a muddy old truck. He looked to be in his mid-sixties and chatted with Clark at length, occasionally pointing his finger in one direction. Beside him, Clark nodded as he listened, flashing a smile from time to time. A smile that disappeared from his face when he was with Bruce. There was something seriously wrong with him.

The conversation between the two men lasted more than ten minutes, so Bruce was reluctant to come out and participate. But the man shook Clark's hand, waved as he lifted his cap and got into his truck to drive away. Clark stood outside to greet him until the truck was on the road again. Then he went back into the house and whistled to Krypto. He petted the big wolf as he spoke Kryptonian to it, then turned to Bruce.

"He was a local farmer. They're calling for storms again, I need to get the farm ready. They've been coming to me for help a lot. I'm going to get some boards from the sawmill in Smallville. "

"What do I do if someone else comes? "

Clark shrugged.

"Whatever you want. I'm not even sure they know you. "

The dark-haired man grabbed the keys to the pickup and went upstairs to get his jean jacket and papers. Bruce watched him go, thinking to himself that once again, Clark was dodging him.

Clark had started with the barn. He'd decided to start the job like a human, trying to vent his frustration and anger through his hammering. It was the stupidest idea he'd had all day. He hadn't been able to clear his head and, not paying attention to the blows he was giving, he had broken the barn roof. Twice. The first time had left a hole the size of a hand, the second had destroyed the repairs to the same hole.

So he had continued by hand. Driving the nails into the boards took even less effort than pressing a keyboard key, and he kept this technique up all the way. He was trying to clear his head, to stop thinking about Bruce, busy in the house. He was aware that the billionaire knew he was dodging him. He was also aware that he wasn't well, and that was why he was walking away. Not because he wanted to be alone. Because he didn't feel he could control himself. Because since Caulder had told him that his powers were growing, he was afraid of making the same mistakes he had made when he was younger.

Every now and then, as he tried to shake off his dark thoughts, he would turn his head toward the house. He would follow Bruce's movements, watching him for a few moments through his X-vision. The Dark Knight was probably no better than he was, and he felt ashamed to leave Bruce out when he was doing it enough himself. He knew from witnessing some of the Bat's worst crises and knew that Bruce had a lot of baggage behind him, with a very long list of remorse. He blamed himself for a lot of the drama around him, without really having any basis for it or not. And he carried this burden. A burden that he himself could not help but carry.

He had been working on the roof of the barn all day. So much so that even with his strength, he finished as night fell without even paying attention. And not once had Bruce shown up. This gave Clark a slight smile, recognizing the Bat. He jumped off the roof and walked in through the back door of the house. He cleaned his hands, before opting to take a shower.

"There's pasta if you're hungry," Bruce said in his usual harsh tone.

Clark didn't think anything of it. Then he looked at the time: 10:18 p.m. It had been dark for hours. Bruce had to eat without him, for the first time since he'd been here.

"I'm sorry. I didn't notice the time. But, thanks. "

The Kryptonian climbed the stairs and took a very quick shower. He felt guilty now for not even taking care of Bruce, and for preferring to shore up a roof when he could have done it in minutes. And from the Bat's closed-off attitude on the couch, he knew he had screwed up.

He got out of the shower, dried off and put on an underwear. He hesitated about how to act with Bruce. Should he make the first move? Confide in him? He sighed and put on a clean T-shirt and pants before going downstairs. The Bat was reading on the couch. Clark leaned against the doorframe to watch him for a few minutes. He was focused on what he was reading, the serious look on his face, his relaxed and charismatic posture, his clothes that emphasized the shape of his body. Clark thought he was beautiful. Bruce really only had to snap his fingers to seduce the person he wanted. Remaining in contemplation of the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he finally shifted his vision and checked his health.

His body was slowly healing and despite what Bruce said, the reporter suspected that the man wanted to look stronger than his condition indicated. He was tense, perhaps because of him, or perhaps because of the beating he had taken. He went back upstairs to get some anti-inflammatory cream and decided to enter the room, opening the tube.

"Take off your shirt. "

"I don't need it. "

Bruce didn't even look up from his book. That didn't intimidate him, though.

"Do it and I'll answer your questions. "

This time the Bat looked up.

"Mr. Kent is blackmailing me? " he said sarcastically.

"I'm a journalist, I don't always get answers by smiling," Clark replied in a neutral tone.

The billionaire glared at him before putting down his book and removing his top. The next thing he knew, Clark was sitting on the couch and starting to smear cream on his back, where old bruises were still visible. After a short moment of silence, Clark said:

"Three days, to answer your question. "

"Three days you haven't slept a wink or three days you haven't had a full night's sleep? "

One thing was certain, Bruce Wayne never lost track of a conversation.

"First option. According to the Fortress, it's exhaustion that diminishes my powers. "

"Because your regeneration takes care of the lack, I guess. "

Clark applied the cream and began a gentle massage in slow, circular motions. Bruce took a deep breath as he felt the warm hands on his back. The dark-haired man continued:

"I see you've thought about it. "

It was more a statement of fact than a reproach. They remained silent as Clark's hands massaged Bruce's trapezius, stretched to the limit.

"Is it because of my presence? "

The Kryptonian raised his eyebrows, though the Bat didn't see it.

"Why do you say that? "

"Clark, you haven't slept since I woke up, and you've been avoiding me as much as possible. You shut down when something goes wrong.

The Kryptonian laughed.

"It's the pot calling the kettle black. I'm not the one grumbling alone in a Cave. "

This time Bruce turned his head and glared at him.

"No, but you're the one running away from everyone now. And it's not me we're talking about."

"You don't deny it. I'll make a note of it. "

He turned fully around to face the dark-haired man.

"Clark. "

The slight hint of concern on his face made him irresistible. Bruce's clear eyes were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and if Clark looked at him too intensely, he was sure he could drown in his gaze. It was something that unsettled him. Everything about the Bat had that effect on him and he couldn't say why, at that moment he felt even more lost. For a moment, he forgot the main question. It took him several seconds to answer, still confused:

"No, no... it's not you... "

"You don't seem convinced. "

The journalist got up from the sofa, suddenly feeling exposed. He took a step back out of reflex, and he knew that the Bat would analyze it as a defense reflex. Behind him, Krypto automatically stood up. He knew then that he had betrayed himself by his own emotions. Bruce saw the flaw. He would not let go so close to the goal. He stood up in turn, holding his position firmly. He fixed his clear gaze on him. A look that was more than just inquisitive.

"I'm not going to let go until you talk," the Bat said in a threatening tone.

This time Clark bristled. He didn't like being threatened.

"Why should I have to speak when you'd rather not say anything? "

There was a long silence. It irritated the Kryptonian even more, and he left the house again. He couldn't handle being in the same place as Bruce. He slammed the back door and went to the barn, determined this time to look through his telescope. He had to force himself to calm down for a few minutes, aware of his emotional outburst. He felt tingling on his skin, tingling energy spreading throughout his body. This was the second time this had happened.

When the sensation disappeared, he began to concentrate on adjusting his telescope. His observation didn't last long. His muscles tensed as he heard the kitchen door open and heard Bruce's footsteps heading for the barn. The Bat was coming towards him, with a determined step, and climbed the steps to the reporter. It wasn't until he stepped on the last step that Clark turned to face him. Bruce leaned against a straw bale and said:

"I was in Blüdhaven to save Dick's cover. He's only been there a few weeks, but the organization he infiltrated was suspicious of him. He asked for my help. It was a blessing in disguise. Capturing the Batman always makes a good impression. I escaped when I was sure they could no longer suspect him."

"Dick's okay?" Clark asked, concerned.

"When I left him, he was fine. "

Clark nodded. He was still worried about Bruce's first apprentice, with whom he had forged a deep bond. He sighed wearily when he felt it was his turn to deliver information. Bruce knew how to deal with him, obviously. He felt obliged to do it now.

"I was worried about you, and angry that you wouldn't tell me. Pissed off that you came to me and didn't tell me anything. I thought for a moment that you did it so that you would only have to justify yourself to one person, and not to the whole League. Which, on reflection, is probably the case. "

The journalist was waiting for a reaction from his colleague. He remained unmoved, and was confronted only by the usual impassive Batman. This did not appease his anger, it only fuelled it. The moment he finally snapped out of it, Bruce would be the first to know. He was always emotionally on edge and wasn't likely to calm down anytime soon. Not when his only desire was to break through that mask of impassivity that served as the Bat's face.

"There's something else," Bruce said in his usual firm tone.

"None of your business," Clark replied in the same tone. "We should go home. "

Bruce was roused from his sleep by an unpleasant, insistent buzzing. Still slightly foggy from sleep, he glanced at his phone and saw no call. It must have been one of Clark's phones, which he kept in his drawer. He got up in a bad mood, heading to where the Kryptonian stored his stuff, very poorly hidden. But none of the phones seemed to be on and the vibrating sound could still be heard.

He left his room and found the source of the noise in the next room. Pushing open the door, he found the source of the humming, echoing off the wood of the dresser, displaying the name "Lois Lane." Bruce grunted and cut the call off, when he wondered why Clark wasn't answering. Then he looked up at the bed.

The Kryptonian was more covered this time. Lying on his stomach with one arm under the pillow, he hadn't even thought of closing the blinds in his room. The sunlight was spreading over part of his face. He must have been really sleep deprived not to have heard his phone ring, nor Bruce arrive. Then he saw the white mass lying next to him, ears pricked in his direction. Krypto, with his head resting on his front paws, was looking straight at him. He hadn't even moved a muscle, but his gaze was unmistakable.

The billionaire decided not to wake him up. He had realized in the last few days, and even more so the day before, that Clark needed to rest. He'd never seen him under so much stress lately and he had to admit to himself that he was worried. And Clark wasn't opening up about what was affecting him so much.

But as he thought about it, Bruce traced the cause back to the events with Doomsday. Sure, he could understand that what the Kryptonian had gone through could be shocking, but there had been something else. That conversation with Niles Caulder. A few minutes talking to him in private had managed to worry the Kryptonian. And obviously, it was also in the long run.

He searched the kitchen cupboards to find the pans and set about preparing a simple breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. Classic stuff, which he should be able to do. Thoughtful, it didn't take long before he firmly decided to investigate this conversation. If it was related to Clark's health and powers, the data must have been stored in the Watchtower. He had to know what to expect. In such a psychological state, Superman could become difficult to handle in the field.

Diana. He also needed to talk with her and glean information. This conversation between her and Clark was related to the situation, that was for sure. Bruce knew that, in addition, the two superheroes had often been involved together lately. If there was anything wrong in the field, the Amazon would surely have noticed.

Bruce was brought out of his thoughts when the eggs in his pan began to burn. Hanging on the bottom, he struggled to pick up the eggs, which were getting darker and darker, giving off a thick black smoke. It made him cough as he swore internally. First attempt at a breakfast: failed. But he still had some eggs left. He opened the window to clear the smoke and started breakfast again. He was sure he was on the right track when again the eggs clung to the pan.

"If only someone had told me one day I'd see this. "

Clark's amused voice sounded very close to him. He controlled a startled reaction as the Kryptonian gently grabbed his wrist and directed his movements with an expert hand. He could feel Clark's presence on his back, he was so close he could feel his warmth. It was the first time someone had intruded so much on his privacy. His personal space.

"You didn't put enough fat in, that's why the eggs are so sticky. "

Bruce could hear the smile in his voice. But he couldn't answer, couldn't react. Clark let go of his wrist and pulled away, and he thought he could breathe again, not even realizing he had been holding his breath. He watched for surrounding noises, trying to identify what the reporter was doing, determined not to be fooled again by his silent approach. He heard him feeding the dogs and walking out of the house, causing a slight draft behind him.

He felt his shoulders relax as he still felt Clark's warmth on his wrist. The weird sensations he'd felt in his presence were coming back to bite him. It had been a long time since he'd felt like the relationship between them wasn't going the way it used to. He was aware of that, and knew that the other one was too.

Clark walked back through the door and Bruce didn't have to turn around to see that he was coming towards him. Just as he was serving breakfast. Clark made the coffee and sat down at the table, petting his dog Shelby. The billionaire set down the plates and cutlery and Clark got up to serve them coffee. They settled down and the Kryptonian attacked his eggs.

"It's not every day that Bruce Wayne cooks, I have to enjoy it! "

Clark seemed relaxed. He didn't seem to want to talk about the previous day's discussion and didn't seem to be in a bad mood. Maybe a good night's sleep had calmed him down.

"And I think it's best to keep it that way," Bruce said.

The reporter gave a pinched smile as he chewed his first bite of scrambled eggs.

"I think so too. "

Bruce remained unmoved and attacked his plate in turn. He felt like he had burnt cardboard in his mouth. It was just vile. He looked down at his plate in annoyance, while Clark made an effort to eat his plate.

"It's inedible. I won't be offended if you don't finish. "

The man opposite took a sip of coffee to help himself swallow.

"I'll eat it to the end," he said with a wink.

And he took another bite, while across the street Bruce felt his cheeks colour. He tried to change the subject to regain control of his emotions.

"Lois called while you were sleeping. "

Clark hurried to finish his plate.

"A lot? "

"I thought I saw maybe ten missed calls. I'm not sure. "

"So many calls? Why didn't you say anything?" said Clark, standing up.

He used the supervisor's office to go up and down the stairs, phone in hand. He consulted it as Bruce answered, watching the expressions on the brown man's face. The latter did not seem angry or upset.

"You were sleeping, and you needed it. " He paused briefly, looking at the white wolf lying further back in the living room. "And then there was Krypto. "

Clark smiled as he still consulted his phone.

"Krypto is very protective. "

He put his phone back in his pocket and drank his coffee in one gulp.

"I won't be around much today. I'm going to stop by the neighbors first to check on the roof reinforcements and then go to Metropolis. You'll have to eat lunch alone. "

At his last words, Clark looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I thought you were on leave," Bruce said.

Superman nodded.

"Yes, but we're investigating another lead unofficially. Besides, Lois doesn't know the meaning of words « days off ». "

He cleared away his things and began to quickly wash the dishes, while Bruce tried to give the rest of his breakfast to Shelby.

"Nor the meaning of the word « no » for that matter... " Clark added in a thoughtful voice.

"She's persistent. She always insists on interviewing me. "

Clark smiled and went upstairs when he had finished washing the dishes. Bruce opened the door to let the dogs out and went with them to get some fresh air.

The wind was blowing harder than it had been the day before, but not yet to the point of being worrisome or unpleasant. Bruce stretched with a grimace, lifting his shirt to check the state of his wounds. He was still pretty banged up, and while the visible marks were starting to fade, the internal injuries were taking longer to heal.

He let himself wander around the farm, past the animals Clark had already tended, and went to a wooden fence. He watched the wheat blades lay and rise in the gentle breeze, the propeller of the weather vane spinning in the distance, and the quiet of the Smallville fields.

He thought to himself that Clark had been very lucky, crashing in the area. If he had crashed in the middle of a big city like New York or in the middle of the ocean, his life would have been very different. He might never have been born and would have died on board his ship. It's like everything is about the little things. He stared at the landscape for a moment, wondering what might have happened to the world if something had happened. What impact it might have had on the world, what he would have become or what the world would have done with him. Maybe he would have become a weapon of war. Maybe he would have been a guinea pig for the rest of his life. Who knows, maybe he would have brought humanity to its knees. The Kents had been good parents. Bruce was sure they deserved a lot of credit for creating Superman.

He snapped out of his thoughts when Clark came over to the fence, looking in the same direction as him.

"I'm going to go. If you need me, don't hesitate to call. I'll have the pickup ready for you. "

Bruce nodded and turned to Clark. His hair still damp, he had put his glasses back on and was wearing a light gray, large checkered shirt, but this time he had buttoned it up without showing his shirt underneath.

"Your style of dress really doesn't show you off. "

"I'll make a note of it. "

Clark handed her the keys to the pickup and disappeared in a rush of air.