The Fake Boyfriend

You feel like Home

The streets of Gotham were clogged with police, EMTs and reporters as the penguin incident drew to a swift close. Bruce ignores his phone going off in his pocket as the kids spammed him with texts. He drives through the city like the drama outside his car was an average Saturday, and it probably was for anyone who's grown up here .

They finally parked at a cozy movie theatre, and Bruce insists on getting out first to open Clark's door for him. Nervous, as he always was around Bruce, Clark flashes an awkward grin and follows him into the theatre. His eyes were drawn down Bruce's broad shoulders and trim figure until they landed on his firm, round ass. The skinny jeans look practically painted on. Before he realizes it they are at the ticket counter and Bruce is looking at him. Clark knows his face is red, and averts his eyes, far too flustered to even look at Bruce. He can't believe he got caught ogling him like a pervert. Bruce leads him to the concession counter and buys them popcorn, slushies and candy, despite Clark's protesting that he didn't need to spend money on him.

Bruce then takes his free hand and pulls him toward the hallway that the theatres branch off of. "I hope you like Indiana Jones because it was that or some Disney cartoon."

Clark nods, feeling a little weak in the knees every time Bruce touches him. And when he looks back, their eyes meet and Clark swears his heart skips a beat.

Now, as they get comfortable in the theatre on the fancy recliner seats, Clark is trying to get himself under control.

Every thought stops in it's tracks when Bruce leans his head on Clark's shoulder.

Hesitantly, Clark wraps an arm around Bruce's shoulder to get comfortable and Bruce happily shifts closer to him. Popcorn between them, they enjoy the first half of the movie in silence.

Bruce nuzzles into Clark, content. Clark barely knows what's happening on the screen, every nerve alight and focused on Bruce.

Bruce's hair is soft where it brushes Clark's neck. Clark wonders if it would be weird if he ran his hand through it. His thoughts grind to a halt again, an occurrence he isn't minding as much as he expected, as Bruce's hand wanders to his thigh, stroking absently and innocently.

. . .

Bruce feels so safe. Usually outside of the Batcave he's on alert, uncomfortable with people being too close to him when he's not pulling their strings. And yet, despite their arrangement, this doesn't feel like an act. Clark is so genuine.

Maybe he feels safe having the most powerful man in the world at his side. Or maybe this is what it feels like when people say someone else feels like home. Because Bruce can swear Clark sees right through him. His beautiful blue eyes peering into Bruce's and giving him that security and comfort he longs for.

He wants Clark to love him, but that takes time, Bruce knows that. For now he satisfies his desperate pounding heart by moving the empty popcorn bucket and sliding closer to him.

. .  .

The theatre is mostly empty, everyone else in the middle or front, leaving them alone in the back. Still, Clark feels very visible as Bruce presses against him.

Bruce's body presses to Clark's side making him feel too much at once. He can feel Bruce's body heat and the alternating hard muscles and soft curves of Bruce's body through their clothes. Its exhilarating. Clark is struck again by how delicate Bruce is compared to him as he rests his hand on his hip. He can span most of Bruces lower back with one hand if he tries. Despite how muscular Bruce is, he has slender hips. Thinking about Bruce's hips makes Clark blush deepen.

Bruce gently takes Clark's chin and turns him to face him. Their eyes meet and Clark feels himself tremble, heart racing as Bruce leans in. The moment taking forever, and impatiently Clark surges forward, claiming Bruce's lips with his own.