A/N: decided to split this chapter into two. 

Honestly, Clark should've moved out months ago. It'd occurred to him on several different occasions that he should start packing up his apartment. The only thing that kept him from doing so before was the subtle pout on Bruce's lips as his eyes followed Clark through the screen door. Bruce wasn't clingy. He relished his alone time. It was rare for him to get this way, rare for him to openly express that he didn't want Clark to leave. He only got this way when he was wound tight. 

This time it was nesting. Bruce was finally able to and Clark was heading out of town. It took several months to build a house from scratch. Now, it was finally in a phase where Bruce could start executing whatever plan his mind had been cooking up over the last couple of months. It wasn't as if Clark was crucial to the process. Kara was still visiting and, in private, she'd offered to help with the heavy lifting. Clark knew because he'd been the one who put her up to it. Just in case Bruce couldn't wait but was holding off to spare Clark's feelings. Bruce had declined.

In fact, apparently, there was something so disarming about Kara that he'd unabashedly admitted that he wanted Clark specifically. It shouldn't be surprising, Clark being his partner, but this was Bruce. Bruce, who was stubborn, but who also never spoke so plainly in regards to Clark. There always needed to be a logical, sound reason for Clark to be around:

Clark needed help with Luthor. Bruce injected himself with Clark's cells and needed to get to the ship. Bruce needed help keeping the pain at bay. Bruce was pregnant with Clark's baby. 

It was rarely ever just: Bruce wants Clark and refuses to settle for anything but Clark. 

This time there were no excuses, just somber looks as Clark climbed into his truck. 

However, as much as Clark wants to put off his departure, he really can't afford to this time. Clark had made plans that he desperately wanted to keep. 

So, he doesn't waste any time. As soon as he makes it into town, he b-lines it for his apartment. Lois is already upstairs waiting for him. She's leaned up against the door, heeled feet crossed as she watches him make his way up the stairs. She pushes herself off the wall before pulling him into a hug as if they'd never see each other again.

"It's only Smallville Lo'. Plus, I'll pop back in plenty once the baby's here." He reassures her, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

She rolls her eyes as if she doesn't believe him before turning to survey Clark's former, tiny living space. 

"So, how are you gonna do it?" she starts, grabbing the roll of bubble wrap and one of the boxes she'd brought and heading for the framed pictures on one of the shelves. 

"I was thinking over dinner." He answers, grabbing a box of his own and heading for the kitchen. 

"You're not gonna put it in his food, are you? That's a hazard waiting to happen." She says, looking over Clark as if he'd mentioned it. 

"No, I was thinking I'd put the ring box in a wooden box I made and put it next to his sparkling water." He informs her and watches as she frowns. 

"What no grand surprise?" 

"He hates surprises, Lo'. If I try anything more surprising, I'm going to end up sleeping on the couch." 

"Wooden box it is then, but you could at least get him some flowers." 

Bruce is annoyed. 

He's trying his best to keep it at bay, but the delivery service that is supposed to be bringing the fridge to the new house is an hour late. There was something about standing in the house, knowing that he couldn't move anything over a pound or two without Martha casting him a disapproving glance, that was driving him crazy. That mixed with the fact that Clark was off in Metropolis for the day has him irritable.

He'd bought the fridge a while ago and had scheduled it to be delivered with the thought that Clark would be here. 

Eventually, the truck does pull into the yard and out hops some shaggy-looking kid, no older than twenty-four, with pimples and a clipboard. He saunters up to the screen door like he has all the time in the world. Bruce pushes the door open before he can knock, and immediately realizes his mistake as the boy's eyes light up at the sight of him before slowly taking their time raking over Bruce. 

He wasn't exactly at his best, hair disheveled from air drying, and body drowning in an oversized dark blue, Christmas-themed sweater that stopped at his knees. It was clearly doing too good of a job at hiding just how pregnant he was. He'd barely even bothered to shave the stubble off of his chin. There was nothing to ogle. Nothing to be impressed by.

Bruce clears his throat, an unimpressed glare already plastered on his face by the time the lanky boy's eyes meet his. 

"Nice house you got here, Mister..." The kid finally says, lopsided smile in place. 

He probably thinks it's charming. It doesn't have any of the sincerity that came with Clark's particular brand of charm. It looks about as manicured as a politician up for re-election. He'd practiced...and this was what he'd come up with. 

"Thanks. Clipboard." Bruce airily mutters, holding out his hand.

"You live here alone?" The kid wonders aloud, pretending to take in the house, but Bruce can feel his eyes on Bruce's forehead as he signs. 

"No, with my husband." He sighs before holding out the clipboard and pen for the gangly mess of limbs before him.

"Oh, must've forgot your ring." 

It sounds as if it's supposed to be smooth. Like, Bruce is supposed to be startled by being "caught". Like he's supposed to find it sweet that some random kid cares before rattling off something about how he and his husband's marriage is on the rocks or something. Willingly give 5'9, axe-wearing baby Romeo an opening to slip in. Like, they're in some cheap porno.

Bruce fixes him with enough of an icy stare that he can see the boy's confidence falter. 

"Must've left it on the counter." He concedes, voice sounding less and less like his own and more and more like an irritated, arrogant rich brat with no manners and a party to get to. 

The answer and tone seem to confuse him, but it doesn't stop him from opening his mouth again.

"Can I come —?"

"Kara the fridge is here!"

They're done packing in about an hour, Clark only grabbing his clothes and sentimental items and leaving the rest to be sold. In all honesty, he's more interested in getting down to the little store next to one of his favorite coffee shops. The one that he'd usually look over, instead heading into the bookshop on the other side of it. It was in a peculiar spot, but Clark could see how it fit. He could see some young couple on a coffee date passing by as they headed for the bookshop. He could see a pair of eyes catching on the sign before they drifted to the glass cases as they walked by. 

Maybe, one day, that could be him and Bruce. An anniversary perhaps. 

He was getting ahead of himself. 

Clark wanders inside, ignoring the curious look he is getting from the woman behind the counter. She looks as if she's about to follow up her stale greeting with some snide remark before Lois pops up from behind him. Then, he can see the dollar signs in the stranger's eyes. He gets it. He's dressed in plaid with his favorite jeans that have grass stains on the hem. He doesn't look as if he belongs. He rarely does. Even in his best ill-fitting suit. However, Lois is dressed in a dark burgundy turtleneck and a black mini skirt with dark tights underneath. Over the top is her favorite, real leather coat that looks as if it was made for her figure. She's donning a pair of stilettos that she'd slipped back into after everything was packed and on the back of Clark's pickup truck. There's a pair of diamond earrings in her ears and shades balanced atop her head. She looks expensive and pampered. She reminds him of Bruce. 

She casts the woman a rigid smile before beckoning Clark over to join her in front of one of the cases.

"See anything you like?" 

He can see the perturbed expression flash across the woman's face before she quickly masks it with another empty smile. She begins her pitch, but Clark isn't listening. His eyes scan over the bands slowly. What would Bruce like? Something silver? Something black maybe? Nothing too garish, something simple. 

Clark thought it'd take him a minute. He hadn't been looking beforehand, too busy wondering when he should pop the question...if he should pop the question. What if Bruce didn't want to be legally married to Clark? There were other factors. Bruce was a fairly private man and marriage tended to impede on said privacy. However, Clark would kick himself if he didn't at least ask the question. Allow Bruce to make that decision. He finds what he wants almost immediately, wordlessly pointing to it before looking up at the woman behind the counter.

"Simple." she says it like an insult. 

"Elegant." Lois provides as an alternative. 

Bruce watches as Kara grabs the dolley, smiling at the boy as if to placate him. He's shaped like a hand-carved No. 2 pencil and can barely maneuver the wheeled contraption up the driveway, let alone up the steps. The kid stares at Kara as if he can't believe his eyes as she pretends to put in a little effort as she wheels the fridge up the stairs and into the house. 

"I can help you get it off the..." he says, gesturing to the dolley and Kara only smiles at him as if he's a cute, little toddler. 

Bruce can feel his eyes dart over to where Bruce is curled up on the couch. He doesn't look up from the book he's reading, pulling the blanket further into his lap before turning the page. 

"Is he actually married?" Bruce can hear the sad excuse for a whisper leave the boy's mouth. 

Kara looks at him for a long moment before leaning over and intentionally whispering at a volume that she knows Bruce can hear. 

"Trust me, bud. You don't want those problems." 

She slaps his shoulder as they both slump forward under the weight of the answer.  

"Now let's get this fridge to the kitchen!"

Honestly, Clark should've known it wouldn't be long before a camera was shoved into his face. He should've planned for it, maneuvered around it, but he'd gotten so used to normal that he'd forgotten about Bruce Wayne's celebrity status. He'd forgotten about Clark Kent's proximity to the celebrity Bruce Wayne. The first flash is a surprise. He catches it out of the corner of his eye as he's talking to Lois. Once the first goes off, it seems as if all of the decorum leaves with it as about four or five flashes go off over and over. 

He should expect it. He'd been M.I.A for months now and no one knows where Bruce is. However, that doesn't seem to stop the way his heart drops to his ass. He had a long drive back to Smallville and he knew the story would break before he could get Bruce alone. 

Fuck. 

When Bruce first reads the headline, he thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. He's glanced at the screen too quickly, distracted by Kara's humming and Martha's insistence that he try the icing she's whipping up, his brain must've misconstrued something. He pauses, eyes running over the words again. And then again. 

"Clark Kent, boyfriend of Bruce Wayne, seen out ring shopping!" 

Bruce's eyes blink a couple of times before he slowly begins to scroll down the page, unable to quell his curiosity. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest as the page slowly loads, Martha's wifi much slower than what Bruce is used to. He can barely stand it as the article slowly appears. He switches to data and reloads the page. 

"Clark Kent, age 32, was spotted at a local jewelry store in downtown Metropolis. After months of inactivity, the man was seen ring shopping with a mystery woman on his arm."

"Bruce?" 

There's a picture. The photo seems to have been taken from outside of the store. Clark is standing up at a glass counter, a grin plastered on his face as he looks over at Lois. 

Bruce can feel his heart contract. 

"Bruce?"

 It could mean anything. But Clark had never mentioned marriage to Bruce — getting legally married. He hadn't ever broached the subject, seemingly content with the pretend marriage that was only valid on a dead planet. Honestly, Bruce doesn't think Clark would've ever even told him about it if Kara hadn't brought it up, ambushed him. He'd never asked Bruce if he wanted a ring. 

"Bruce, honey, are you okay?" Martha's voice barely manages to pierce through the veil. 

"I need to sit down." He thinks he says. 

"Okay, okay," he hears her respond, "Are you in any pain?"

Pain.

He can't peel his eyes away from his phone, away from their faces, his face. 

"Here, sweetie." Martha softly mutters. 

He finally looks up to see that she's holding a cup of water, looking at him with a worried expression that looks a lot like Clark's. 

He doesn't remember making his way over to the couch, but he's sitting now, feet pulled up as far as he can get them as he folds in on himself. Kara places a blanket on him that smells like Clark's body wash. He pulls it closer despite himself. 

Bruce feels so stupid. His stomach twists at the thought of being deceived so thoroughly. 

Clark wouldn't...

As soon as Martha's returned to the kitchen to make Bruce some tea, Kara scoots closer, voice barely above a whisper.

"What happened?" 

Her eyes flick down to his phone which still has the article on display.

Bruce can't even bring himself to look at it again, to look at them smiling happily at one another as if the world doesn't matter. As if he didn't matter.

"A stupid article? They write think pieces about me all the time. You get used to it eventually." she reassures him, rubbing gentle circles on his back.

"I would suggest not looking for them."

 She looks like she's about to say more when the words on the screen seem to finally register. She scoops the phone up, staring as if she's shocked. Not in quiet horror, but in guilt-ridden silence.  As if she knew. 

"Hey, don't cry —!" she starts, but he doesn't stick around for whatever lie she's about to spin to cover for her cousin. 

Clark's phone is ringing. He's not surprised by it, but he dreads answering his cousin's call, hearing of the potential damage. Maybe Bruce hadn't seen it. Maybe she was just calling to tell him how dinner was coming along, how well their distractions were working, how oblivious Bruce is to their plan. However, he highly doubts it as Kara's voice finally hits his ears. 

"God, I hope you bought chocolate." Is the first thing out of her mouth. 

"Kara..."

"Don't worry about the flowers; Auntie Martha is whipping up a bouquet." 

"Kara."

"Maybe get him a nice gift to go with the ring. Maybe some olives and pineapples, he's been craving those lately."

Clark pauses, eyes staring out the stretch of road in front of him for a moment before letting out a tired sigh. 

"It's that bad, huh?" 

Honestly, he was hoping that Bruce would trust him, but that wasn't really what Bruce was known for. He was cynical first. Always. Even with his best efforts. And Clark couldn't blame him this time. Clark just wanted to have one surprise. One surprise, outside of the little melon-sized miracle, that was just for Bruce. 

He'd initially planned to take Kara, but Bruce needed someone to be there when the fridge arrived. Now, there were probably pictures of him and Lois scattered throughout Metropolis and Gotham. Pictures of him smiling like an idiot while holding up a ring box. 

"Maybe he just needs some time to calm down after the initial shock, y'know?" Kara weakly provides. 

Time won't do much, but make the man more sure that the ring couldn't possibly be for him. As much progress as Bruce has made, he still has a lot of self-doubt when it comes to someone loving him. So, Clark just tries to get home, as quickly as traffic will allow him, without ripping out his steering wheel. 

Binny is trying to comfort Bruce. She's sure that if she just finds the right toy and offers it up with big, round eyes, Bruce will forget all about his worries. She's on her fourth toy, legs still on the short side, even with her growth spurt as she struggles to make her way onto the bed. She dumps the red bone next to Bruce's thigh, sitting down next to it and waiting for him to finally realize that it'll make him feel a lot better. 

He feels bad for disappointing her. 

He reaches out, scooping her up before she starts her search again for something more suitable, pressing her into his side and distracting her with scratches behind her ear. 

She's not the only one craving attention as the baby begins to make his presence known, poking just below Bruce's belly button. He places a hand over the spot.

"Yeah, I know..." His voice is so dejected...worn down, that he almost doesn't recognize it. 

He finds himself reaching for the remote, mindlessly scrolling to the first movie he sees before curling up next to Binny and trying not to think. 

He couldn't bring himself to understand it anyway. 

Why? Why would he do all of this and then choose her? There's a part of him that yearns to know, wants to stare at the article and picture until he can't anymore, but he's so tired. 

Why her?

They'd made it so far. At least, he thought so. 

Why not him?

It's been an hour since the news leaked. 

Clark can feel the worried stares as soon as he steps foot into Ma's house before he takes the stairs two at a time. The guest bedroom door is closed and Clark has to force himself to be patient after knocking and getting nothing in response. All Clark can hear from behind the door is the sound of the TV playing. 

"Bruce, it's me." He calls as if that was suddenly going to make the man answer. 

He waits another minute before reaching to turn the knob, only slightly surprised it's locked. 

"Baby, please open the door." he calls, lightly knocking a third time. 

He listens again and hears the light shuffle of feet and he can't help but feel just a little relief. That is until he sees Bruce. He sees that masked, empty expression that hadn't been aimed at him since he'd been resurrected. It's not a perfect imitation. As much as Bruce tried, Clark could still see the hurt behind that empty stare. 

Even then, the stare doesn't mask his red nose or the dried tears.

Clark's not going to get the proposal he wants. He's not going to get his sweet, sentimental little dinner with the first meal they ate on the ship. He's not going to get to see Bruce's confused pout as he analyzes the little wooden box on the table. He's not going to get to see his genuine reaction. He's not going to get dessert out on the little rickety table where they had their first date. He's not going to play the first movie they watched in his apartment. He's not going to get to run the man a bubble bath before coaxing Bruce into one of his Hanes. He's not going to get to see how snug it fits around Bruce's middle these days. End the night in their house, in their bed. 

Paparazzi had taken that from them. 

So, all he can do is dig the box out of his pocket and pop it open in front of Bruce. 

"I had a plan," He starts with, but he can see that Bruce isn't paying him an ounce of attention as his eyes run over the ring, "like, a really good one. "

"Oh..."

 Clark watches as his eyes soften when Clark's words finally register, the mask disappearing and replaced with understanding. 

"Yeah?" 

Clark ignores the twinge in his chest at just how soft Bruce looks as he waits for more. 

"Yeah, real elaborate, but that can wait." Clark hums, guiding Bruce further into the room before shutting the door behind them. 

He gets down on one knee, fully intending to ramble for the next two to five minutes, waxing poetic about his love for the man in front of him. However, he overestimates Bruce's patience.

"Bruce, I love you —"

He manages to get off before Bruce's lips slam into his. 

"Bruce." Clark admonishes despite the amusement he's struggling to hide.

"Sorry...I love you, too." He mutters, taking a step back as if he was genuinely going to allow Clark to continue.

He's not sure he'll ever get used to the words easily rolling off the man's tongue.

Clark tries again. 

"Bruce, I love you more than life itself —"

"Then, why do you insist on making me wait?" 

As if to punctuate his point, Binny comes over to drop a toy at the man's feet. 

Clark rises from his knee, unable to hold back the laughter that's threatening to spill from his lips. 

"So, that's a yes?" 

"If you don't give me the ring, I'm going to rob you." Gotham's personal bringer of justice informs him. 

"God, you're in a mood tonight," Clark mumbles against his lips, ignoring the nibble that it gets him.