Clark should be working. He should be working tirelessly until the sun sets on Smallville and he's forced to retire his tools. However, Bruce is here. Bruce who's curled up in Clark's pickup truck with a book in his hand and blanket draped over his lap. He looks warm, inviting. 

A cool, brisk chill has hit the air and he's in one of Clark's thick sweaters. He can see Bruce's eyes leave his book to peer down into his lap where Binny is, no doubt, trying to get comfortable. 

So, with such an obvious and delightful distraction, Clark only manages to get half of his workload done. The skeleton now has walls, floors, half of a roof and functioning electricity and plumbing.

He can't help the way he finds himself lingering, watching. Part of it is adoration, the other fear. He'd taken his eyes off of Bruce for a couple of hours and had awoken to him writhing in pain. Bruce was trying to move on, acting as if it hadn't shaken him, but Clark could see it in his eyes. He could see the worry compounding in them. He can see the way Bruce holds his breath when it's been too long, for his liking, since the baby kicked. The sigh of relief and the tension leaving his jaw when he finally feels something.

He knows it's coming. Steels himself for it with each passing day, each distressed pause and shaky sigh of relief, the impending crash. 

So, that's why he drops Bruce off and heads into town. 

"I'll be back soon. I just need to pick up some things." He informs Bruce, who looks curious, but doesn't protest as he allows Clark to peck him on the forehead. 

Ma manages to temporarily distract him with a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup while Clark slips past the screen door.

He was starting to realize that Bruce needed a bit more than a break. With a break, he could climb into his own head and allow his thoughts to fester into new worries. He needed something that kept his brain busy enough that he could relax. So, Clark takes advantage of Ma's upcoming, week-long "girl's trip" to plan something to keep Bruce from working himself up. Then, once he'd managed to loosen the man up a bit, maybe he could get him to talk.

So, he makes his way into the grocery store and dodges every granny with a granddaughter to pawn off until he's in a row of self-care aisles. He finds himself sniffing a concerning amount of candles and bubble bath. He settles on something subtle, the least likely to give Bruce a headache. He gets a bottle of massage oil and hides it under a mountain of Bruce's current favorite snacks. Then, he actually buys groceries. 

He's halfway to the truck with his haul when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He pops open the passenger side door and puts all of the bags on the seat before slipping the device out of his pocket.

"'Lo, what's up?" he mutters as he makes his way around to the driver's side. 

"Nothing interesting. What's up with you?" 

Clark wondered when it would come, Lois' uncanny ability to catch him. She always knew when he was on the cusp of losing his shit. 'Cause as much as he wanted to give Bruce some relief, make him feel as if everything was going to be alright, he was also worried. He also paused to just listen to them. Both of them. 

Clark lets out a sigh, eyes going towards the doors of the supermarket as he watches patrons make their way towards their cars.

"Clark?" He hears Lois timidly call from the other end of the line. 

"We had a scare." he sighs out, eyes finding anything to look at to keep him from taking in his own words. 

"What happened?"

What happened? What actually happened? They'd made a couple of assumptions. One, they assumed that there wouldn't be any more changes after the initial ones. Two, they hadn't planned for the 'just in case'. Honestly, that was usually Bruce's area of expertise, but they'd both been a bit distracted by everything else lately. Three, they assumed that if there were any other changes, they would be pretty much painless. Six months in seems like a dangerous time to experience such a painful process. Maybe it wouldn't have felt like anything to a Kryptonian, maybe it would've felt like a bit of discomfort at most...

Still, he was sure it would make anyone who was expecting freak out.

It wasn't even the baby. The baby was fine. However, for Bruce, for a solid ten hours, he wasn't sure. That's what was plaguing them. The after effects of the unknown. 

 "Uh, Ma was out of town. We were supposed to be having a weekend to ourselves..." He fails at trying not to sound bitter about that, "team called. Sounded like a serious emergency, so I went."

Lois listens intently on the other end, only shifting to take a sip of her coffee.

"I got hit with some Kryptonite, blacked out for a couple of hours," Clark pulls out of his parking spot, needing something to do with his hands after putting the phone on speaker and placing it into a cup holder, "I lost like three hours." 

"I eventually got home, passed out, and when I woke up..." he finds himself staring blankly forward, brain remembering being so confused, "he'd called Ma, told her he was in pain, asked if she could come home to help take care of me." 

'Cause of course he did. 

Clark won't allow himself to get irritated at Bruce. He was in so much pain, Clark's not sure if he could even make his way downstairs to wake Clark. Ma may have tried several times to wake him and he just hadn't woken up. There was only so much either of them could do. 

Clark wasn't even sure what else was happening in Bruce's head. What else had he observed? What else, besides the pain, had convinced him that he should be worried? He had yet to disclose any of that to Clark.

"Thought he was having a miscarriage, so I took him to the ship. Turns out it was basically nothing serious. Something we knew could happen...disregarded."

"But you're both still worried." Lois finishes his thought.

"He doesn't have the same abilities I do, Lo. He can't listen in, see that everything is alright. God forbid Peanut decides they want to take an afternoon nap! If I'm not there...." He huffs, trying to relax before he accidentally ripped out the steering wheel. 

"Sounds like you're both wound a bit tight." she says pointedly, "Anyway, he owns a company full of tech genius'. Can't he get them to make whatever he needs to monitor Peanut?" 

Clark feels a bit ridiculous for forgetting who exactly Bruce Wayne is. In Clark's defense, he'd been out of commission for months at this point. The public hadn't seen Bruce Wayne since he'd drank a flute of poison and passed out at an event before being "whisked off to a nearby hospital". Though, they didn't even need Bruce Wayne for this, they didn't need a room full of tech wizards. Bruce was a genius himself. He just needed the tools. 

If that, he may already have something cooked up, he just hasn't been able to get to his lab. 

"There are rumors spreading that you're a grieving widow...I don't think anyone is going to be brash enough to run a Bruce Wayne expose with the possibility hanging in the air." 

"A widow?" Clark almost mutters a second too late. 

He hadn't gotten around to telling Lois about how he'd accidentally married Bruce under a dead planet's law and he really doesn't feel like explaining any more Kryptonian bullshit today.

"Yeah, they think you two snuck off at some point, before the infamous event, and got hitched." 

It's quite the story to be circulating, specifically around Bruce Wayne of all people. There were actual magazines last year printing out stories back-to-back about each model they thought he was with each week. Now they thought he'd secretly settled down enough to get married to a journalist. 

"Are you thinking about popping the question?" Lois tries to casually slide in before taking another sip of her coffee. 

Clark quietly hums. 

He'd thought about it a shameful amount. However, he knew Bruce had a limit. He had a limit of how much he allowed himself to have before he felt it was too much. That combined with his mind being clouded by fear, now wasn't exactly the oppurtune time to discuss them getting married.

In all honesty, he wants to ask before the baby arrives. As sweet as a wedding with an arch, an oversized cake, and all of their closest friends would be, Clark would settle for signing a couple of documents and kissing in front of a priest for the time being. 'Cause hell, maybe Bruce wasn't the only one who needed a bit of reassurance. 

"I'm working on it." Is what he settles on as he pulls the truck into the yard. 

"Alright call me when he says yes." she demands before hanging up.  

Clark lets out a sigh before grabbbing the bags and heading into the house. Bruce is waiting for him on the couch, Binny curled up next to him. He eyes the bags in Clark's hands suspiciously, but accepts the kiss pressed to his lips. 

Clark can hear Ma upstairs packing up a bag. Clark takes the opportunity to steal another. Only slightly surprised by the quiet groan it elicits from Bruce. 

"How about we spend the weekend on the ship?" he whispers as if it's some kind of secret meant to be shared between just them.

The ship could provide them with at least a temporary fix for Bruce's current anxiety. 

Bruce looks at him as if he's looking for something, like Clark must be hiding something from him. Clark doesn't show his hand just yet, because Bruce had yet to admit that the incident had rattled him. If Clark made any accusations, pointed out anything, Bruce would get defensive. So, Clark instead pulls out the bubble bath he'd picked up on his trip.

"It's got the best bathtub." He excuses, waving around the bottle. 

Bruce hides his amusement with an eyeroll, letting out a sigh as if a bubble bath was some massive burden. 

Clark flies a bit lower and slower than he usually would. Being as careful as he can with Bruce. That and he doesn't want to drop a half a gallon of milk or a densely packed overnight bag from this far up. It would definitely kill someone.  

They land with a soft thud and Clark immediately gets them inside of the ship. He places their groceries down next to the fridge before popping it open and putting away a couple of items. Meanwhile, Bruce is toddling over to the ship's monitor.

He manages to plop down into the plush chair and place his hands on the desk before all of his scans pop up on the monitor. 

"Ship?" he hesitantly inquires.

"This vessel actively monitors the vitals of Kal-El, Bruce, and baby, " The ship supplies, "if any vital change is to occur, Kal-El and Bruce Wayne's computer shall be notified." 

The ship was answering Bruce, but it felt like it'd rooted around in Clark's head beforehand. Bruce blinks a few times. It's not necessarily new information. They both know that the ship had started sending information to Bruce before there was even a baby to speak of. However, the ship had only ever mentioned monitoring Bruce's vitals when he was on the ship. They'd ask for a check-up; the ship would provide it and then send that information to Bruce. It'd never said anything about monitoring them 24/7. 

Bruce stares for a moment before glancing down at his watch. Clark isn't sure what he sees there, but whatever it is has him placing his head in his hands. 

"Bruce?" Clark calls over, dropping the bag of rice he's cradling to get over to the man.

Bruce attempts to meekly wave him off, but he has yet to raise his head.

"The vitals of the baby and Bruce Wayne are available on Bruce Wayne's smart watch." The ship hums. 

When Bruce raises his head again, his eyes are red and his head is tilted away as if he doesn't want Clark to see. 

The ship must sense that they need a reprieve, because it chooses that exact moment to introduce a stove to the space. The stove is anchored by a cabinet and a sink. This addition has the ship shuffling around the rest of the furniture so that the fridge can be next to them. Clark ignores the ship's antics in favor of comforting Bruce. 

"It's okay," he mutters quietly, pushing Bruce's hair out of his face. 

It was getting significantly longer than he usually kept it. Clark doesn't mention it, likes the way it frames his softening features. 

"It's okay to worry about them, it's normal, Bruce." He assures the man.

"Him." Bruce corrects.

Clark blinks a few times, taking in the information, eyes leaving Bruce's to glance down at his stomach. They hadn't talked about the baby's gender in any actual conversation, but Bruce was adamant that the baby was a boy. Subtly declaring at around sixteen weeks that he'd decided it was a boy with his choices in Google searches. Clark assumed that it was just intuition. Maybe it was then. However, Bruce is currently looking up at the ultrasound on the monitor. 

"It's okay to be worried about him, but stressing yourself out over it can't be good for either of you." Clark says as softly as he can manage. 

He's about to give Bruce some space, finish putting away the groceries, maybe start putting his little relaxation plan into action. However, he's stopped by the grumble coming from Bruce's stomach. 

"How about I fix you something to eat and you go relax in the pit, hm?" he offers to which Bruce eyes the pit as if he'd rather be doing anything else. 

Clark doesn't have to think too hard to figure out why. Bruce can't get out of the dip by himself anymore. As much as he allowed Clark to help him, scooping him up out of the shallow bed seemed to be a step too far for the man. So, he instead makes his over to the couch that's now, courtesy of the ship, on the other side of the room and plops down with a sigh.

"The bedroom upstairs has also been altered to fit your preferences." The ship helpfully adds. 

Clark had bought food for the weekend-long stay on the ship, but Ma had to shove a bag full of bowls of leftover chicken noodle into his arms before they could stumble out of the door. 

So, he warms up a bowl and hands it over to a lounging Bruce. He gets about halfway through the bowl before Clark's pulling Bruce's feet onto his lap. They're a little swollen, but Bruce had yet to complain about them. The first press of Clark's thumb into the pad of Bruce's left foot gets him a sound that Bruce would never admit to making. A surprised little, breathless mewl that's cut short by him trying to catch his bowl before it slid out of his fingertips. 

"Clark!" he manages to splutter after he's sure his soup isn't going to hit the floor. 

"Hm?" Clark hums, continuing his ministrations despite Bruce's protests. 

He's sure Bruce has more to say, maybe an entire rant to roll off, but he's got an arm thrown over his eyes and his mouth is forming a little 'o' and he's singing like a songbird. Clark is generous enough to move the long-forgotten soup before he tugs at Bruce's pants. He gets a quirked eyebrow in response. 

Clark holds up the oil he'd bought at the store.

"Full body massage." He explains, eyes pointedly finding Bruce's pants before going back up to meet Bruce's eyes. 

Clark gives another yank at them and gets no objection. He eyes the oil yet again before he glances down at the new couch. 

"Probably be best if we did this in the..." Clark starts, head gesturing towards the pit. 

Bruce lets out a huff, rolling his eyes before allowing Clark to help him to his feet. Not even a third of a bottle of oil in and Bruce is whining quietly as Clark digs his thumbs into Bruce's thighs. He's gentle with him around his waist, stomach, lower back, but that doesn't seem to matter. As soft and flowery as Clark seemed to have wanted the gesture to be, Bruce is moaning with every touch, visibly aroused before him.

Clark keeps it as innocent as he possibly can. However, as soon as Clark's hand grazes Bruce's, admittedly, engorged chest, Bruce is tugging Clark down by the front of his shirt. 

Clark is expecting biting kisses and rough touches. So, he's surprised when instead gets hands gently caressing his cheeks and sweet, longing kisses that seem to last forever and yet are over way too soon. 

Bruce is wrapping around Clark like he's afraid to let him go. Instead of a quick half-dressed 'bout that's meant to get them off as quickly as possible, they take their time. Bruce allows it, enjoys it for as long as he can, before Clark makes the mistake of lapping at a nipple. 

The gesture has Bruce cumming so hard, Clark thinks he's gonna pass out. 

"Sorry." Clark hears him slur.

"No, you did good. So good." Clark hums, placing a kiss to his lips. "So good for me." 

He can see the exhaustion in Bruce's eyes, knows he doesn't have it in him to return the favor. However, he also knows that it won't stop Bruce from trying, so Clark moves to climb out of the dip before the man can get his bearings. 

"Now let's get you cleaned up."

Bruce sinks into the bubble bath, back pressed against Clark's chest as he makes himself comfortable. He can barely keep his eyes open in the dim light of the flickering candles. He seems to try his best for Clark.

"We should start finding a name for him." Clark mutters quietly, eyes on the little island Bruce's bump makes in the bubbles.

Bruce lets out a low hum. 

"What do you think his name would be on Krypton?" He poses. 

Clark pauses.

It's not an unusual question. If anything, it just catches him off guard. He's not sure how names were determined on Krypton. Except for the ever present 'K', he wasn't sure if there was any rhyme or reason besides what felt right. However, he has the distinct memory of Ma chuckling about finding a name for him.              

"We almost named you Conner, but it just didn't fit." She reminisced.

"Well if I was naming him and, let's say I chose the Earth name Conner, it would be Kon-El." Clark provides and listens as Bruce hums yet again, clearly about a second away from being out for the night. 

Bruce quietly hums his approval before his eyes shut completely and his breathing evens out.