Part 1 is here
Title: Take The Ride, part 2
Pairing: Bruce/Clark (Kon, Tim, Bart), Clark/Lois
Rating: Adultish, R
Length: 2001 words
Spoilers: some mild ones for old events
Warnings: slash, humor, angst
Disclaimer: Not mine, seriously. All belongs to DC Comics, CW/WB and Al & Miles.
A/N: This Bart is definitely a Smallville version.
Summary: Clark decides to play a joke. It backfires.
Clark refocused to where he was standing in the study. "Oh God," he said, "They think we..."
Bruce took off his earpiece, slid it back inside his pocket. "Weren't you listening, Clark? They think we aren't. Apparently, I sit here and pine after you."
Clark smiled. "I think they said something about mutual pining. Beautiful and tragic. Oh Bruce, my star-crossed love, if only we'd realized sooner..."
Eying him coolly, Bruce just said, "Very funny, Clark. The young always think everything comes down to sex. They don't understand mutual respect, friendship accrued over time—What? Why are you still laughing?"
And Clark was laughing, softly so that the kids wouldn't hear. He leaned in slightly, the two of them still close as if they had been conspiratorially listening at the door rather than using super-hearing and technology to listen in. "Wouldn't...wouldn't it be funny if...if they caught us?"
But Bruce didn't say anything. A shadow passed over his face, the afternoon sun behind him, as he stood stock still, motionless. "That wouldn't be funny at all," he finally said.
"Oh come on, Bruce. Can't you just see the looks on their faces?" Clark said, hands now on Bruce's shoulders, still laughing.
Removing himself from Clark, he said, "Fine. But they won't fall for it." He pointed to the sofa. "Go over there and lie down."
Clark leaped that impossible distance, floated down. Placing his hands behind his head, he toed off his shoes, got comfortable. "I love it when you talk dirty."
Bruce only spared him a quick sidelong glance as he walked over to the stereo system. "I believe this is supposed to be our song," he said as he pushed play and "Let's Get It On" wafted through the room.
"You seriously have this?" Clark put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. His other hand unbuttoned his shirt as he lay back. "Take me, Bruce. Take me!"
Unlacing his own shoes and unbuttoning, Bruce said, voice low and listening for the hall. "Could you be any less believable? Remind me never to take you undercover."
And Clark did hear noises from the upstairs hallway and then the top of the staircase. "Hurry!" he hissed. "They're coming down!"
Bruce nodded, climbed on top of Clark.
"Wha...What are you doing?" Clark whispered as he felt his belt buckle opening and his pants being roughly pulled down. Bruce was now doing the same with his own.
"Shut up! You want this to be realistic? Not even a child would believe we'd dry-hump on the couch." Bruce adjusted. "Move your legs. Open up, Clark, this was your idea."
Clark just looked up, Bruce's stern and now determined expression. "We're not really..."
"Of course not! Just appearances."
Committed now, Clark wrapped his hands around Bruce's neck, brought his legs around his back, and nodded into Bruce's shoulder.
"Good," Bruce whispered, mouth now open but only ghosting Clark's neck. "This they might believe." Bruce moved his hips, a rhythmical motion. "Don't just lie there, Clark."
Clark nodded again, moved. Relaxed. It became funny again. He threw back his head and moaned. Bruce gripped his shoulders, breath a shudder on his neck now, and moved harder.
"Oh my God!"
Two thumps sounded from the doorway, Kon dropping both Bart and Tim to the floor.
Kon's voice. "We...we were just...Oh God."
Clark could feel Bruce pull away slightly, stilling, but not quite. "Leaving," Bruce said calmly. "Be back by eight, Tim. And get the door."
Clark turned his head into the couch back, the appearance of shame. He kept his laughter silent. Three pairs of almost silent feet retreated. The door to the study quietly latching behind them.
"Ohmygodohmygod," Kon couldn't stop repeating as the three of them stared at each other at the top of the manor steps. "They're fucking! They're actually fucking. In there. Right now."
Bart shook his head, then grinned, adjusted his backpack. "That answers that question."
"What? I know. They are. Jesus!"
"No, I mean who's taking it. What did I tell you?"
Tim said nothing, just stared down the manor drive, hands in his pockets.
"So what?" Kon said, huge grin romping across his face. "Don't you know what this means?"
"Earth logic, Super-lite."
Kon flung himself down the steps, somersaulted in mid-air, landed at the bottom and faced them. "It's true! Don't you get it? Clark was dead, right? The love of his life. And Bruce is a genius, all scientist. He snuck into Cadmus and got one over on them, on Luthor. You, my friends, are looking at the marvelous Kent-Wayne love-child, the living memorial to their beautiful man-love. Ta-de-fucking-da!"
"You write conspiracy theories between catching up on the soaps or something? Because that, I'm so sorry, dude, is pure wack."
Kon just glared, reached up and tugged on his own hair. "You see this gorgeous full head of dark hair? The blue eyes? I get it from both sides, Flash In A Pan!"
Bart snorted. "If you managed not to sleep through bio, you'd know that dark is dominant. So's bald. You're so going to be doing the comb-over by twenty-five."
"Blue eyes, dumb-ass!"
Shaking his head, Bart let his pack slip from his shoulders, sat on the top step. "You're just not letting this go, are you? So they're screwing around, doesn't make it about you."
"Forget the Mile," Kon said, crossing his arms. "Hey, Tim! Let's go to the Cave, run some quick tests, and prove that genes don't lie."
Bart threw up his hands. "Denial! We've been through this already. It sucks, but you've got to deal." His voice softened. "We need you in reality. Serious. Tell him, Tim. He'll listen to you."
Tim still stared at the drive. "The angle was wrong," he said.
Kon said "Huh?" and Bart said "What?", almost in unison.
"It's not like Bruce to leave himself open for discovery. Not like that."
"So?" Kon said. "Heat of the moment, passion. That's pure love right there, dude. Beautiful."
But Bart's eyes widened and he just started laughing. "As much as I like this new PFLAG side of yours, your balloon of happy just got popped."
"Just check it out, use the super-ears."
"No way! That's private time in there." But Kon listened, preparing to be partially scarred for life. What he heard was Clark laughing, and not in a sex way. He narrowed back down, put his head in his hands. "They're not," he whispered, throat suddenly tight. "They fucked with us."
And Bart was on his back again, squeeze and a hug. "Hey," he said. "Hey, get pissed at me. I'm the one who brought it up. I'm the one who's wack. They must have heard."
Kon could hear Tim walk down the steps, quietly join them. "I'll get the corn dogs," he said.
"Why do you two even hang with a crazy dumb-ass like me?" Kon's head was still in his hands.
Bart gave him another squeeze. "Because we love you, man. No lie. We're friends that have been through some crazy shit and can laugh at the end of the day. Just like those two in there." He pauses. "Tim? Now would be a good time for you to say the magic words."
Kon could hear a small intake of breath, a sigh. "It's true," Tim said.
"They fucked with us," Kon said again. "Bruce, I can see, maybe. But Clark?" He let his hands fall away, a slow smile. "That...that's kind of cool."
Bart just laughed against his neck, still holding on, relief. "You can keep your crazy Cult of Clark." He let go. "Come on, let's do the Mile."
They walked down the drive. "Think we'll pull that kind of crap on our kids?" Kon said, shaking his head but still grinning. "They got us good."
Clark stopped listening--and laughing, Bruce still on top of him. He just thought it would be funny, but he hurt Conner...Kon. He prefers Kon. Maybe he should spend more time with him. He'll drop by the farm more often. So Bruce had been right, this wasn't so funny.
"Bruce? They're gone. You can get off."
Bruce, however, didn't stop moving, his eyes half-closed and their groins pressed together, concentrating. "I...I will," he said. "Just...give me five minutes. Two, if you help."
And to Clark's utter embarrassment, he was moving too. Helping, as Bruce put it. Not that the idea of Bruce and himself ever doing this was a completely foreign concept. That was the problem. It wasn't. But he'd always managed to control any...physical...reaction around him. Physical along with all the attachments. But like this? Impossible. Stupid idea. Backfiring joke, totally on him, and with a few other casualties. Stupid.
"Physical reaction," Bruce said, hands still gripping his shoulders, eyes closing all the way now. "Proximity, friction. That's all it is. We can finish. Nothing wrong...not...not sex...natural as masturbation."
Of course it wasn't sex for Bruce. As far as Clark knew, for Bruce, it was only sex with women. He hadn't looked too deep, didn't pry.
"Hey, Smallville," Lois had said one night. "If you and Bruce ever find yourselves doing the nasty, you'll only spend a few nights on the couch."
Clark's eyes had sprung fully open on that one. He rolled over and just looked at her. "Where...where did that come from?" he said.
She smirked. "My ever so keen powers of observation. Investigative journalist here, remember?"
"Lois, really, that's not going to happen."
She rolled into him then, kissed him softly. "He can pretty much talk you into anything, Clark. So I'm giving you your Get Out Of Jail Free card early. You feel guilty about too much already. Don't abuse it. Just come home and get flowers on the way, okay?"
He had just smiled then. "You're crazy and I love you," he said. Bruce, in a million years, would never look at him that way.
"Not sex," Bruce said again now, grinding against him, breath deepening and quicker. "Not..."
Clark hesitated. He could just agree, let this play out. And then, maybe, they could have Not Sex again. They could be Not Sex partners that have lots of Not Sex. But he only had one Get Out Of Jail Free card, and he was pretty sure even Not Sex was a marital felony, so he wanted to use it wisely. He took a deep breath—and a chance. He slowed down, took one of his hands, caressed the side of Bruce's face.
Bruce's eyes flashed open and he stilled.
"What if I want more than five minutes?" Clark said, uncertain. "What if--"
"That's not possible," Bruce said. "Clark, you can't." And Bruce's face broke a little when he said this. "Clark, you can't."
Oh. Bruce hadn't been using the Not Sex line to deny what they were doing. Okay, he had. But not to give himself an out, but to give Clark one.
Clark's face, maybe, broke a little too. He kept his hand on Bruce's cheek.
"You were never supposed to know," Bruce whispered, hoarse. "You were never supposed to want this."
"We only have this once, Bruce," Clark said. "We need more than five minutes."
And the way Bruce bowed his head, nodded slightly, then leaned down to brush his lips, Clark knew he didn't have to explain any more than that. "Upstairs," Bruce said, voice still low. "They won't be back until eight. We have until then."
Five hours. Clark scooped Bruce up, sped up the stairs. Impulsive. It didn't matter if he ran or walked. No matter how fast he ran, he wouldn't be able to buy enough time.