a/n: hopefully changes are saved. xo.

The switch from the warm, crisp air of the farm to the stiff, putrid atmosphere of Gotham is palpable. The air is cold and harsh against Bruce's skin, the smell of pollution thick in the air. He rummages through the to-go bag he reserved for emergencies, ignoring Clark's quirked eyebrow as he slips into a sweater.

Even through the thick fabric, Bruce could see the slight swell. It was becoming more and more obvious by the day and, despite how discreet Clark tried to be, Bruce could feel his eyes taking in Bruce's body.

Clark was adamant about driving Bruce home before he made any arrangements in Metropolis. He was serious about moving to Gotham, helping Bruce, and something about that seemed to wake Bruce up.

He hadn't been thinking about the baby as an actual tangible human. He'd been thinking about them in the abstract. Thinking about what it was doing to his body, what he needed to do to make sure the process of the pregnancy was as easy and inconspicuous as possible, and worrying about Clark. Clark becoming too attached, Clark not realizing what he was getting into, Clark being disappointed. He hadn't stopped to wonder about things simply regarding an actual baby.

Did he want to raise them in Gotham?

"So, you're not planning on building a family in this hell hole?"

He'd seen the underbelly of this already vile place. No amount of money and privilege was going to stop the depths of this city from wriggling out and snatching his child under. He couldn't allow that to happen to them. Not knowing what he knew.

Though, he couldn't just disappear. He had a public image to keep up before he had to stop being seen by the public altogether. Batman had already made an abrupt exit, making Bruce Wayne's quiet exit a couple of months later less suspicious. That, and Gotham is currently the safest place for him to be. He had safe fails in place and a system that could tap into the ship at any time if the issue wasn't human.

So, for now, he saunters into the house.

Bruce manages to get one foot in the cave before he's bombarded with questions from an irritated-looking Diana.

"Where have you been?"

Dick, who's tinkering away at something on the work bench, gives Bruce an apologetic smile that slowly morphs into a grin.

Bruce is sure he looks perplexed by the change of expression until he realizes that Clark's caught up with him. He's hovering behind Bruce with a blanket in his arms. Inside, Bruce can hear the quiet whine of a puppy.

Bruce reaches for the dog, moving the blanket so that she can get a better view of the room, and watches as her little head pops up and her eyes begin to survey the space.

He gently places her on the floor and watches as she slowly inches away to sniff at a table leg. It takes a moment before he finally peels his eyes away from her to see that he's being watched himself.

"A puppy?" Robin asks distractedly, "You're gone for a day and you come back with a puppy?"

The kid lets out a quiet gasp as she finds her way over to his pant leg and begins to investigate.

"I was gone for a day and I came back with you." Bruce quips shuffling over to busy himself with the data his computer has managed to collect while he was gone.

Anything to distract from the way he can feel Diana analyzing him. Or, even worse, the pride he can feel radiating off of Clark.

He can hear Robin babbling nonsense to the dog before he can hear her little feet make their way over to where Bruce is seated. She settles herself down next to him.

"Does she have a name?" Robin calls despite knowing he's not going to get an answer.

Bruce expects they'll saunter around him for a couple a of minutes, making a show out of being perplexed by his seemingly out-of-the-blue decision, before dispersing. It's unlike him, he's aware. He's done a lot of things that he wouldn't, shouldn't, but that doesn't seem to stop him nowadays. He's allowed himself to want within reason for the time being. 

 Robin eventually goes back to whatever he's working on. Clark stops his ogling long enough to seat himself on Bruce's desk. However, Diana stays for a while, posted up against the workbench, eyes never wavering.

"Sir, the food you requested." Alfred announces as he makes his way down the staircase.

The car ride had been longer than any distance, Bruce is sure, the tiny dog has ever travelled. He'd requested, before they'd even made it into the city, that Alfred pick up a couple of different kinds of food to see which one she liked most.

He watches as the man saunters down with two trays. One is unveiled to be kibble, which he hands off to Clark to place on the floor, and the other is pot roast.

"I made enough for seconds and leftovers." He informs Bruce before swiftly gliding back upstairs.

Bruce nibbles at the food, but his mind is on the hand resting on his lower back.

It's been a while. He'd made sure of it. Despite the odd slip up, Bruce was intentionally placing a boundary between him and Clark. Yes, they'd had sex before, but that was done. They'd done it for a reason and now that reason was no longer there. They needed to stop. They'd already crossed several lines, which would make future issues for Batman, Superman, the League. As nice as going to the farm and pretending like they were just two normal people was, Bruce knew that it couldn't happen again. They didn't need an on-going, unstable relationship between Bruce and Clark to cause some kind of an actual problem. So, it was just best if they left it to their own weird form of co-parenting.

That doesn't stop the way the hand feels like a brand against Bruce's skin. He can feel his back bow at the contact, despite himself.

He's sure it's another one of Clark's quiet ways of showing his approval along with his almost inaudible hums, but that doesn't seem to change the way Bruce's skin flushes, suddenly overheated in his sweater.

He didn't get this way. Though, he assumes it has something to do with Clark.

"Welp, I gotta get going!" Robin loudly announces, putting away his gadget and grabbing for his mask.

He skitters out of the cave before Bruce can even turn his head, but once he does, he's met with Diana averting her eyes. Diana's not exactly one to get embarrassed by much of anything. She wasn't raised by humans like Clark. She had to be reminded that certain things were private and meant to be kept that way.

Though, there was something about the way she spins around that gives Bruce pause. Something about the way that she doesn't make some uncomfortable and yet somehow comforting comment. Instead, she simply turns for the stairs. It's peculiar within itself, but when he turns around, he's even more confused by the look on Clark's face.

Something had clearly happened without him. Clark's looking at him with such an intense gaze that Bruce almost forgets to chew his food.

He's not sure he'll ever get used to the feeling. The way the man seems disarm him with such ease. Bruce isn't even sure what it is about Clark. Despite having it happen to him a concerning number of times, he still couldn't quite place his finger on why Clark so easily entranced him. It could be the organ that seemed to be running his life lately or maybe it was the baby. Either way, he could so easily just fall into Clark and worry about the consequences of his actions later, but he'd promised himself to at least stick to his guns on this one. As freeing as it was to give himself some leeway, after everything was said and done, he still had certain responsibilities.

"I should make sure Alfred picked up everything we need." he excuses, standing abruptly from his seat.

Clark's not sure why he's still surprised by Bruce. They hadn't really touched each other in almost a month. Though, in his defense, they'd just had what Clark thought was a date. So, excuse him for thinking they were something.

Instead, he finds himself sitting his suitcase down in a room down the hall from Bruce's. The room has clearly been altered to fit Clark. The furniture is all warm and made of actual solid wood. The floor is carpeted in a warm cream color. The curtains are sheer enough to let sunlight filter through them. The duvet is thick, soft cotton, spread over a king-sized bed.

Yet, somehow, he's never felt more uncomfortable in his life. The bed may be warm but it feels empty.

Though, in the time that he spends alone in the manufactured warmth, it dawns on him that maybe this is just Bruce wanting space again. So, he sticks to the room he's assigned, only coming down to eat and chat with Alfred.

Bruce is there. With his new need to actually eat regularly, he saunters into the kitchen a lot more often. He's there and Clark can feel his presence, but Clark resists the urge to touch him, kiss him, want him.

He respects the man's boundaries, keeps his distance, until he thinks maybe it's his fault. Maybe something about Clark is too overbearing. Maybe, when Bruce was letting him in, he was doing things that made Bruce uncomfortable.

Though, by the second day, Clark's sure Bruce is just taunting him. He's convinced himself that the man is playing some kind of mind game and Clark is losing.

Bruce saunters into the kitchen dressed in a thin t-shirt that draped over his form but somehow accentuated the baby bump. The shirt is sliding off of one of shoulders as he sleepily sips away at the mug of tea that Alfred has placed on the granite counter top. His hair is damp and disheveled and his cheeks are bright red from the shower he's clearly just taken, but he smells like Clark.

It's the t-shirt. Clark knows it's the shirt, knows it belongs to Clark. Bruce had taken it at some point and apparently was wearing it to bed.

They're alone. Alfred's left the house to run his errands for the day. He could so easily make his way over, close the space between them. 

It feels so obvious to Clark and yet, he finds himself pretending not to notice as he stares down blankly at his computer screen. He was supposed to be writing an email to Perry requesting to work from home for the foreseeable future. Though, he's finding it hard to focus with the quiet tinkle of the puppy's collar as she prances around behind Bruce. She's clearly tuckered out from her morning walk, but that doesn't stop her from following him around as if he'll just disappear if she loses sight of him.

Eventually, the two leave the room, heading for the cave and Clark is finally able to take a breath. He steps away from the laptop to clear his head. Maybe a workout would help.

Clark doesn't expect HQ to be empty. He's not sure there has ever been a day where he had the Watchtower to himself, but he was hoping for maybe a couple of the League's more reserved members to be lurking around. Instead, he gets Barry, Arthur and Diana.

Barry and Arthur are all loud greetings and louder teasing, which in of itself is annoying, but somehow nowhere near as annoying as Diana's quiet observing. No one else in the league was aware of Bruce's condition. They hadn't had some kind of major threat that demanded that they assemble, so they hadn't seen each other in a while. So, they had no clue. No reason to ask any hard questions. Clark could just endure their chatting before slipping away to use the gym.

Diana, of course, was not so easily dismissed. She, of course, followed him to the gym and waited until he had a good 800 Ibs lifted above his head before she decided to open her mouth.

"He didn't want to have intercourse with you?"

The question throws him off so badly that he almost buckles under the weight. It was nothing to him, he lifts entire buildings with ease, and yet the question is so well-timed that sheer embarrassment makes him feel human.

"W-What?" he stutters out, looking over at her as if she's lost her mind.

"You're tense." She gives as a simple enough explanation.

Honestly, Clark could've just talked to Bruce if wanted such riveting commentary.

"No offense, Diana, but there's some stuff we don't need help with." It's said through clenched teeth as he steps over the weight to grab a towel for his nonexistent sweat.

"Yes, but you both tend to overthink things and I like to serve as a reminder of how idiotic you're both being." she informs him.

Great.

"He's self-sabotaging; don't let him." She says it as if it's so simple, as if she'd cracked some kind of a code.

If Clark were cruel, he'd remind her that she and Bruce hadn't exactly lasted very long. Instead, he lets out a sigh, watching as she takes her leave.

Bruce isn't home when Clark returns.

Clark searches the house top to bottom, only to come to the conclusion that the man had simply left without a note or a text. So, Clark, like the idiot he is, waits in the cave. 

Bruce is gone for hours and doesn't return until 3:00 PM in a suit that somehow drapes over his body just right despite the changes. The coat covers his stomach, but the pants accentuate the curve of his ass and the thickness of his thighs.

He smells of strong, sweet perfume and has lipstick smudged on his collar. It'd make Clark's blood boil if he couldn't see the stiffness in Bruce's shoulders, the discomfort in the way he walked. He slips out of the jacket before popping the top button of his pants as if he's loosening chains.

The man lets out a quiet huff before he tugs his dress shirt out of his pants and begins to quickly unbutton it. He doesn't do it as some kind of ploy. In fact, he doesn't even seem to notice that Clark is there.

"You alright?" Clark calls and watches as Bruce whips around as if he's just realized that he's not alone.

"Stinks." Is all he manages as he tugs the garment off of his body and tosses it into some kind of clear tube that immediately closes around it.

Apparently, that's not enough as he immediately begins to strip out his pants.

And Clark can smell something akin to arousal wafting off of him, but nothing else. He'd been around someone else, but they hadn't had sex.

Clark wonders bitterly if it was the perfume. If that was what stopped him from going out and getting his rocks off somewhere else with someone else.

He watches as Bruce shuffles over to the emergency shower and steps inside.

The man eventually reemerges in a towel that slings low enough on his hips for Clark to see his stomach. He'd tried his hardest over the past couple of months to not stare, take too much interest, make Bruce feel uncomfortable. But, for the first time, he allows himself to stare. Just this once.

It's not soft just yet, still toned from the immense amount of work Bruce had been putting into his body for years, but it was getting there. It sat out from his chest and hips like he'd had a good meal, nowhere near the size that it would be by the time the baby was ready to make its way into the world. Though, soon it'd be undeniable. Soon he wouldn't be able to hide it behind suit jackets and chunky sweaters.

Clark watches as he slips on the t-shirt from this morning that he'd left hanging over his computer chair. It should probably make the jealousy Clark can feel toiling around in his skull disappear, but instead it has the opposite effect. Instead, it has Clark popping the imaginary bubble he's placed himsef in as he makes his way over to where Bruce is finding some gadget he intends to work on.

His hands land on Bruce's waist and pause there as he feels Bruce stiffen under his fingertips. The man spins around in his grasp and looks up at Clark as if Bruce hasn't been taunting him all morning.

"Clark..." Bruce mumbles, but his eyes are on Clark's lips.

Clark leans in to kiss him, something chaste to test the waters, and meets no resistance. Though, he's sure it's not for a lack of trying as Bruce places his hands against Clark's chest. Clark lets out a low hum, something Bruce can't hear, but can feel in the tips of his fingers, and watches as his open palms turn into fists.

"We can't." he says it so definitively that Clark's almost convinced that he knows something Clark doesn't.

They've created life together. A child that's going to connect them for the rest of their lives. If they were worried about identities and security and secrets, it's a bit late to do anything about it now.

"You think stopping now is somehow going to make things less complicated in the future?" Clark whispers against Bruce's lips.

And he knows it's not fair, knows Bruce's mind is somewhere else, but he just wants to hear the man be honest about them for once. If they wanted to, they could.

He'd done it before. He'd openly dated someone in the League before. Why not Clark?

"How is this any different from you and Diana?"

Clark backs him up until the backs of his thighs are pressed against the workbench. He brings his hands down to grip Bruce's waist, gently lifting him until he's seated on the table. Clark can hear Bruce breathing heavily, heart pounding with anticipation, but Clark refuses to be the one that gives in. He needed Bruce to cave, not because he hadn't been touched in a while, but because he wanted Clark specifically. He wanted Clark and there was no reason Bruce couldn't have him.

Clark, instead, takes the oppurtunity to feel. He runs his hands under the loose t-shirt and rests his hands on Bruce's stomach, fingers running over the taut skin. He pushes up the fabric, eyes taking in every inch he's allowed before he finds himself dipping down to press his lips against the mound.

This seems to crumble the last of Bruce's resolve as his hands come down to rest on Clark's shoulders.

"You're not Diana." He says it in such a somber tone that it has Clark pausing where he is.

Of course, he isn't Diana. He's not the first person that's managed to capture the man's attention in decades. Someone worth bending his rigid rules for. He's Clark. Someone who the rules seemed to be created for.

Clark can't help but feel foolish as his cheeks flush with shame.

He moves to put some space between them only to be stopped by Bruce's firm grip on the back of his neck.

"I can't lose you again."

Most people wouldn't have been able to parse it, but Clark hears the words loud and clear. His head tilts to get a good look at Bruce to see that he's trying his best to seem unphased by the admission, but Clark can hear the way his heart is pounding, waiting for Clark to say something.

"Bold of you to assume you're going to be able to get rid of me twice." Clark huffs, relieved when amusement flashes across Bruce's face.

"But seriously, you're stuck with me so you might as well get used to it." Clark informs Bruce, pecking him on the corner of his mouth.

Bruce seems to mull over Clark's answer for a minute despite refusing to loosen his grip.

"You can't make that kind of a promise." Bruce finally whispers.

"You literally brought me back from the dead," Clark reminds him, "it's a pretty solid promise."

Bruce pulls him up so that Clark's now towering over him before quietly sitting with his head resting on Clark's shoulder. That is, until something dawns on him.

"Alfred's going to be back soon with Robin." Bruce informs him before rocking his hips forward, clearly signaling for Clark to get a move on.

"Robin?"

Why would Alfred be taking Robin somewhere?

"The puppy," Bruce explains as if it's obvious, "Alfred took her to the vet."

Clark has more questions, but he doesn't think Bruce gives a fuck enough to answer any of them as he slams his lips into Clark's.