aftermath

sixteen

XVI one. conclusion

Bruce doesn't remember what happened afterwards.

The first time he comes around, he's lying on the infirmary bed, cowl off. He's bare-chested, covered with a thin blanket. He sits up immediately, sight blurry, recognizing the League's concerned faces looming above him.

"What the hell-" Bruce, as usual, tries to climb out of bed.

J'onn stops him. "Batman, you must rest. That demon took a lot out of you."

Demon. Akem Manah. The terror that had run through his veins, the fear of Superman approaching, the struggle within the smoke. The memories come rushing back. But in the end, he had destroyed the fear, the fear of-

He looks around, belatedly realizing that out of the faces there, Clark is not one of them. His relief and startling happiness slowly dissipates.

The Flash enthusiastically retells events. "The monster thing was all in your head, and Superman was losing, but you totally slammed him! The demon, I mean. You just yelled and this smoke exploded out of you"- he mimes an exaggerated combustion -"and slashed at it, and it just crumbled to pieces! It was so badass! Superman was so surprised. Then the demon just kind of, well, evaporated, and next thing, you're falling, but then we kicked Luthor's ass right after-"

"I think that's enough, Barry," Diana raises an eyebrow, but there's kindness in her voice.

Allen rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry, it was just exciting. Feel better, though, Bats."

Having listened to these events in quick succession, Bruce rolls over onto his side and throws an arm over his eyes. "Thanks, Barry." Then- "Now everyone, get out. Leave me be."

He predicts that their eyebrows are raising, exchanging surprised glances, but then turning up their lips in amused smiles: same old Bats. Hal says, "Grumpy already, Spooky? That might actually be a new record."

"Especially you, Jordan, you're a pain in the ass," Bruce mutters, but complying to his wishes, the League begins to exit the infirmary. "Call if you need anything," Diana tells him by his bedside, and then she's gone, too.

Something hurts his mind, though. Where is Clark?

Bruce lets himself slip into the darkness.

When he opens his eyes again, the view of outer space is still much the same. Distant stars twinkle in and out of view, occasional streaks of fiery comets streak by, and the Earth, steady and blue-green, rotates slowly beneath them, as always.

But what's changed is the nervous looking man frozen in an awkward position in the corner of the room: halfway between standing and sitting in a chair. A familiar pair of round frame glasses are perched to the small table nearby. "Bruce, God, I'm so sorry- did I wake you? I didn't mean to, I'm-"

Automatically, Bruce sits up and almost regrets it, at the sharp pain flaring in his ribs. Almost, because Clark is here, and a small flower of elation blooms in his chest.

"Clark," he only says, and the man is at his side in a second, pushing him back down onto the bed.

"Lie back down, are you crazy? You're hurt," Kal-El exclaims frantically, while Bruce resists.

"Where were you? When I woke up?"

Clark's face falls. "I'm sorry, Bruce, I really am, I came as soon as possible when I heard you were awake, but you were sleeping, and I just- I waited. I was going to get coffee, right now."

"Coffee? How long was I out?"

"From the last time you were awake? Fourteen hours, maybe." He pauses. "You're drained."

"Where were you?" Bruce doesn't know what makes him cling onto the question. It just seems important.

"I was- I... I just..." Kal-El stops and takes a breath. "I didn't know if you wanted to see me, Bruce." His voice is low, quiet, unsure. "I thought... I could guess what that demon made you see. I didn't know... God, I..."

And in the middle of it all Bruce latches onto something in his heart.

"Kal-El," he whispers, and the tenderness and intimacy and unexpectedness of it has Clark momentarily still. Bruce breathes in the scent of his Clark, the sight of him, and his chest seizes in something far from pain.

Bruce takes the opportunity, and pulls the other man down by his shirt until their lips are meeting, like two long-lost lovers. Now, he only tastes hisKal.