Clark is going to do it. He's going to talk to Bruce.
As a grown adult, one capable of holding this entire cruise ship on his smallest finger, it should be a given. Clark and Bruce are butting heads, so he needs to have a conversation. They did this before already, right? So how hard can it be?
Extremely, is the answer. This time, the fault is all Clark's. He was the one who got jealous, he's the one who hurt Bruce, and he's the one who can't let it go.
It's all because of these stupid, stupid emotions. The flutter in his chest whenever Bruce uses that growling voice during a case. Every single time he sees Bruce with his kids, being the best father he can to the rag-tag group he's come to call his family. It starts in Clark's chest and blooms like a flower in his heart. Love. True, pure, love.
He loves Bruce, has loved him ever since Dick was just a teen, and that is exactly why Clark lost control at the bachata class. Because he's so selfishly in love.
And although that may not change -Rao knows he's tried time and time again to put a stop to it- Clark can do what he must to regain Bruce's trust and friendship.
So, Clark wanders through the layers of the cruise ship, following the familiar beating of Bruce's heart. It echoes in his ear like it's his own; and with how well Clark knows it's rhythm, it might as well be.
Turning towards one of the bars on the lower guest levels, the sounds of music follow that heart beat. A song plays by it, the musician's voice smooth and elegant in a way that makes Clark pause. The music is live, Clark realizes a moment later.
He steps through the doorway and into the bar proper, curious at the performance set on the small, lit stage. Clark takes note of the audience -a group counting into the tens, maybe twenty at most.
The very next thing Clark notes is the person standing on that stage. The singer, whose voice eases him automatically. The rich timbre, like the crackle of firewood. Words, smooth and flowing into each other with a slight slur that doesn't ruin the song, but proves the singer may be a little ways past tipsy.
The singer...Bruce.
Clark nearly falls to his knees. He watches Bruce sway to the beat of 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder', the lyrics displayed on a screen beside him.
"Put your lips next to mine, Dear.
Won't you kiss me once, baby?
Just a kiss goodnight, maybe.
You and I will fall in love."
There's a certain sadness to it that pulls at Clark's chest. A sorrow fills those words, one that threatens to rattle him to pieces. Any conversation he planned for has been wiped clear from his mind. All that fills it now is Bruce's voice and the meaning to those words. Words he wishes -hopes- are for him.
"Put your head on my shoulder.
Whisper in my ear, baby.
Words I want to hear, tell me
Put your head on my- Clark!"
The microphone squeaks as Bruce jumps from the stage and races to Clark's side. He smells like expensive alcohol and cologne. It does funny things to him.
"Clark! Come sing with me!" Bruce pulls at his arm, nothing but mischievous grins and eager eyes.
"But it's my turn!" Someone from the audience complains. They're quickly shushed.
Clark resists Bruce's pulling. "Bruce," He says in a near whisper. "What have you been drinking?" He's usually able to handle his liquor. This isn't normal. Has he been drugged? If so-
"Macallan Fine and Rare. 19...97, I think?" Bruce looks off into the distance as he thinks. "No, 1996. Alfred never lets me drink it 'cause of the painkillers in my blood. But 's been exactly five days since I last took 'em and I'm thoroughly enjoying my scotch."
"...Right," Clark clears his throat. "How about we get you somewhere else-"
"Wait! I have a song to sing for you!" And just like that, Bruce breaks away from him and jumps back up onto the stage. The audience holds no reservations it seems, as they let him pick another song without complaint.
"Bruce, shouldn't you let someone else-"
"Clark!" Bruce's voice echoes through the room. "This is for you."
Clark fights the urge to fidget as he hears the music start up again and the lyrics flash over the screen in blue. Bruce holds the microphone up to his lips, eyes half-lidded and positively oozing lust.
Oh, Rao.
"All of my purple life,
I've been looking for a dame
That would wanna be my man
That was my intention, babe"
Cold washes over Clark as he watches the audience staring at the two of them. Then, he flashes hot at the very...risque lyrics. It's a shock, both the situation and knowing Bruce has chosen this for him. A sensual song, directed at Clark.
But he has to be overthinking this, right? Surely, Bruce doesn't...
"We can fuck until the dawn
Making love 'til cherry's gone
Erotic City, can't you see
Thoughts of pretty you and me,"
Okay, maybe he does. Maybe Bruce wants Clark physically and he's trying to express it by singing in front of a crowd of people. But he's also drunk and Clark can't put that fact aside.
So, as soon as Bruce has had his fill with the song, Clark gathers him from the stage and steers him out of the room. They walk several paces down the hall before either speaks again.
"Did you like it?" Bruce asks with a sly smile.
Clark fights for a neutral expression. "Let's go somewhere more private."
Bruce's face lights up, then darkens with that same look. "Oh, I'd like that very much, Mr. Kent. I'm sure the girls wouldn't mind us enjoying ourselves a little." Bruce's fingers trace Clark's sleeve, giving it a tug.
Heat rises up Clark's neck and he coughs to regain his composure. "Bruce, I didn't- that's not what I meant."
Never deterred, Bruce simply raises a brow. "A conference room, then?"
"No," Clark grimaces. "Nowhere with a bed, or desks, or chairs or...or walls. None of that!"
Bruce frowns. "That doesn't make any sense. And we aren't young enough to go at it on the floor-"
Clark stops them. He has Bruce by the shoulders, his fingers threatening to squeeze more than he should, but Clark takes a breath and reels in his strength. He looks at Bruce only once he's ready to.
"We aren't going to...to have sex, Bruce." Clark ignores the crestfallen reaction that earns him. "You are very drunk right now and I'm not. It wouldn't be right."
"I could buy you a few drinks," Bruce suggests, almost eagerly.
"That's not how that works and you know it. Just..." Clark lowers his eyes, suddenly unable to look at the other man. "Bruce, we need to talk about this when you're sober. Because if you like me as much as you think you do right now, then...well, we'll just have to talk."
Bruce's pout eases into something more akin to his natural frown. He's clearly more sober than he was a moment ago, but it's still a far cry from Batman. "Fine," Bruce nods. "Sorry about...all that."
Clark finds himself genuinely smiling. "It's okay, Bruce. You have a very nice singing voice."
This time, Clark is confident he's not imagining Bruce's blush. "I took lessons as a kid."
Clark hums as they start walking again. "That makes sense. Lois said I sing like a crow and Jimmed seems to agree."
"I'd have to hear it myself," Bruce says it with such confidence that Clark nearly takes him up on the offer. Nearly.
They'll go back to the room and settle down. Clark will watch over Bruce, make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit or anything. He'll take care of him. Then, once Bruce has what he needs to fight off the massive hangover, they'll talk.
"You seem surprisingly...fine." Clark blinks in awe as Bruce goes about his morning routine the same way he has the past two weeks.
Lois and Diana are curled up in each other's arms, which isn't new for the two, but there's definitely a wall crossed between them that Clark will definitely be pestering Lois about later.
"Have you ever fought Bane?" Bruce asks in a dry tone.
"Uh, no. No."
Bruce gives him a look. "I'll just say that a hangover is much preferred to how I wake up after a run-in with him."
"Fair enough," Clark mutters.
Another two minutes of silence has Clark shuffling in place. He hardly rested over the night, but his Kryptonian biology does what it can to refresh him from the morning sun. Bruce rested soundly and that's all he cares about.
Said man steps out of the bathroom dressed in a button-up and shorts. He beckons for Clark to follow as he steps out onto the balcony for a moment of privacy. After checking that Lois and Diana are still asleep, Clark joins him, closing the door behind him.
Again, they stand in silence, neither quite looking at the other.
"About last night-"
"Bruce I just want-"
Bruce slaps a hand over Clark's mouth, his eyes narrowing. Clark freezes in place.
"I'm talking first, okay?" He doesn't wait for Clark to nod. "Last night, I was... emboldened. I stupidly let myself get intoxicated and belted out my sorrows to a crowd of strangers who would never really know me. Not the way you do, at least. And after receiving such positive feedback, I turned that same need onto you. I'm sorry for coming onto you strongly and inappropriately. No matter my feelings, it's not your job to take care of my mess."
Clark's heart skips a beat. He pulls Bruce's hand from his lips and stares openly at the other man. "Your feelings? Bruce, are you being serious?"
"Yes. I wouldn't lie about something like that."
He certainly would and has, but Clark isn't about to argue that point right now. He has to grapple with the fact Bruce does like him as more than a coworker, more than a good friend.
"Alright," Clark collects himself. "Alright, alright. You like me. Like...really like. Romantic stuff."
Bruce's eyes narrow further. "Yes, I do."
Oh wow. "Alright. And that's why you weren't talking to me after bachata too, right? Because you like me?"
"...Yes."
This is so elementary yet it has Clark fighting off a grin. He grips at his own shirt with both hands. The sound of fabric tearing goes ignored.
"Clark, I promise this won't complicate our work-"
This time, Clark's the one silencing Bruce.
"My turn, Bats." Clark takes in the feeling of Bruce's lips on his skin -even if it's the palm of his hand- before he speaks. "I love you. I've loved you for years but I never wanted to burden you with that knowledge. I know how you are, I know you take responsibility for things that aren't yours to bear. But I do love you all the same. I love how smart you are, how you pick people apart with your mind. I love how much you're trying for your kids, even if it's not perfect. I love Batman and what he does for Gotham, even if it's so different from Superman. I love you, Bruce."
Slowly, Clark's hand moves back to his side.
"You..." For once, Bruce seems at a loss for words. "I never knew. I mean, I thought, sometimes, that you might like me. But I didn't think...God, Clark."
"To be fair, you didn't tell me either!" Clark defends.
"I didn't know until that bachata class!" Bruce groans.
"You- what?!" Clark suddenly feels like a fool. "You didn't-"
Bruce holds up a hand. "I didn't realize I loved you until then. I thought the feeling was...something else. Anything else."
Clark goes quiet. His fingers tingle and his mouth waters more than usual. He isn't sure what to say about all of this. Last night, Clark expected to have a semi-awkward conversation about letting this all go and never thinking about it again. But now...
"Do we..." Clark starts. "Do we kiss now?"
Bruce looks uncharacteristically flustered. "Do you want to kiss?"
After a moment to think it over, Clark nods. "Yes, please."
They remain on opposite sides of the balcony.
"I'll start," Bruce dares to step forward. His hands reach out, but stop just shy of touching. "You still want to, right?"
Clark nods.
"Okay," Bruce holds his face so gently, it's painful. Bruce's eyebrows furrow in concentration as he looks directly at Clark's lips. He leans in, pulls away with a frown, then tries again with another angle.
After the third try, Clark says, "Uh, Bruce? Do you need help?"
"No," Bruce snaps. "I know how to kiss, Clark."
"Just checking."
To prove his point, Bruce finally gives Clark a little peck. It's barely there, but the contact is enough to pull Clark out of his mind and into motion. He holds Bruce tight and kisses him properly, letting years of yearning seep into the touch.
He says 'I miss you when we're apart' with his lips. He tells Bruce of the mornings he lay awake, staring at Gotham's harbor. He recounts the moment of dread when he feared for Batman's life, when he feared for the man who would never become his lover.
He kisses Bruce, 'I've needed this far longer than I've known how to breathe'.
"I love you," Clark gasps as soon as they break away. "I love you so much."
"Thank you," Bruce's lips brush his, pulling him back into the depths of that love.
Lois hugs Phyllis goodbye as they exit the ship, luggage in hand. The cruise was the perfect getaway and Clark couldn't be happier he went along. It was a much-needed break from life. And now that it's done, Clark is ready as ever to get back to his city and the Planet respectively. He has more pressing matters to catch up on.
Some that involve getting to know Bruce as his lover, as well as a partner.
"I'll keep in touch!" Lois promises as she kisses the woman on either cheek. "And I never break a promise!" Lois returns to the group, her arm swinging over Diana's shoulder. "I can't wait to brag to the Planet about this. You think Jimmy will beg for pictures?" Lois throws a look back at Clark.
"Don't brag too much. This is still strictly League business."
It hits Clark, then, that this was a mission. And he completely forgot on their day out in the Dominican Republic. Dread rolls over him like kryptonite, making him nauseous.
"Wait!" He shouts. "What about Adam West and Lynda Carter?! We didn't catch them!"
Both girls exchange a wide-eyed look. Bruce's face becomes very serious.
"You two didn't tell him?" Bruce demands.
Diana blanches. "You knew?! How?!"
"Alfred! But I thought you told Clark!"
"Told me what?!" Clark cuts in. All three look at him with mixed sheepish expressions. Clark's fear turns into a simmering anger as he crosses his arms over his chest. "What do I not know about?"
Lois bites her lip. "Well...you see, this whole mission was kind of a...fake."
"What?!" Clark shouts. "And everyone knew but me?!"
Again, all three look away in shame.
All of the puzzle pieces finally lock together.
"That's why you two weren't concerned about the mission to begin with!" Clark accuses Lois and Diana. They make no arguments. "And that's why you risked that scotch! You knew this was just a forced vacation!" Bruce coughs into his hand.
He can't believe them. Two whole weeks and no one thought to mention this was all fake. He invaded several people's cabins for nothing!
Why didn't they just ask him to go on vacation? He wouldn't...okay, so he wouldn't have gone. But there was important work to do. What if the Darkseid came back, or Starro invaded? What if the League needed him?
"Clark," Lois touches his shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't mention anything, but you're a workaholic on your best days. You needed a break and your mother thought this was the best way to do it."
"My Ma?!" Her too? How many people were in on this?
"She and Alfred orchestrated this," Diana explains. "And I believe we've gotten much out of it. What's done is done and we're returning to duty as soon as we return to New Jersey."
Sometimes, Clark hates Diana's pragmatism.
"I just want an apology. Two weeks is a long time to have me strung up about something like this."
Diana's face softens. "I truly am sorry. To both of you," She turns to Bruce. "I won't repeat this in the future, you have my word."
"Thank you," Clark accepts the apology. He sets his frustration aside for the moment and sees it the way Diana -no, is Ma, saw it. He works day and night to keep Metropolis and the rest of the world safe. He was getting stuck in a rhythm and needed a break. And as his Ma knows, any suggestion to stop is quickly brushed aside. A false story, while dishonest, was a good motivator.
They pass back through security with no issue and the car is exactly where Bruce left it two weeks ago. They still have a long ride ahead of them, but Clark is determined to enjoy it. He listens to Diana's marveling over her painting and Lois' very obvious swooning. He looks through the little trinkets Bruce got for each kid and comments on how much they'll enjoy them.
This feels like a new chapter in the book of Clark Kent's life. One full of odd missteps and stumbling, but a chapter he'll get through by Bruce's side. Together.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Clark looks on at the busy roads of Florida. He wonders how Dick will take the news; how all of them will take it.
Maybe they should call ahead. Just in case.
"Welcome back," J'onn greets them at the next League meeting. "It will be good to have our trinity back."
"Hope you didn't enjoy swimming all day too much. Or get any cowl tan lines," Hal snarks. John hits his shoulder.
"What do you have for us, J'onn?" Diana asks, all business.
J'onn stands at the head of the table, a file in hand. "It seems your criminals were part of a much larger drug ring than we originally thought. Mr. Napier is a feared name in the underground and we will need to look into it further before it spreads."
"Drug busts aren't usually League business, though," Barry leans back in his chair. "Why don't we tip off the local authorities and let it run its course?"
"Because this particular ring can be tied back to seven others across the globe and they trade more than just drugs." J'onn presses a button on his remote and the projector casts an image behind him. It's not nearly as surprising as it should be, much to Clark's dismay.
"Kryptonite," Clark sighs. How do they keep getting this stuff? It's supposed to be a rare and alien mineral.
He'll blame Lex for it. In Clark's experience, almost everything is Lex's fault.
"They also have been noted to pass on human trafficking deals through the years. This is a very serious issue that cannot continue."
"So, what's the plan?"
J'onn once again looks down at his file. "I believe going undercover to infiltrate their ranks and acquire knowledge would be our best bet. They are too widespread to attack in one area and we still are not certain we can block off their escape routes. So, I would like to open a discussion of who would be best to send on this particular mission."
Oh no.
Thank you all for reading! This was a blast to write! It's helped me to study these characters, as well as learn more about cruise ships than I ever expected to know. Here are both songs: Put Your Head On My Shoulder by Paul Anka, and Erotic City by Prince.