agoodyarn | for perilicious: Do do do do do... do do do... do do do do doooo SUPERMAN

for perilicious: Do do do do do... do do do... do do do do doooo SUPERMAN

It wasn't how he'd planned on doing things. He'd planned on telling Ilya about his idea, breaking it to him gently along with the news of his new job in Metropolis. He'd planned on showing him the costume, letting him see how it looked, warning him so that he didn't have a heart attack when the intel got to him.

And then a plane had nearly landed in the middle of Metropolis and he hadn't had the time.

So now he looked at the news cameras and the excited cellphone snapshots with a vague wince as he let out a deep sigh of relief that he'd managed to balance the weight of the plane just so to bring it down without any casualties...

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Clark definitely had a car. It was an old red honda that had seen better days, but it was a car. It even started up.

"Come on. Get in and I'll get you home and hopefully, the little food cart will be downstars so you can grab something on the way in."

It was perfect for an up-and-coming print reporter just starting to make a name for himself. Illya got in, unable to shake the little smile that seemed to arrive whenever Clark did.

"Your neighbors?" he asked as they started off. "Have you met them? What do you think?"

"They're all pretty nice," he admitted as he pulled out of the parking spot, "there's a place across from mine that's empty, a young couple with a new baby downstairs, and a few scattered independents and oddballs in the rest of the building. It's a pretty small place, honestly.

"Sounds like it suits you," Illya said thoughtfully. "Could be like a small community." Or maybe just quiet people who mind their own business. Either way, it would suit Clark. And of course he would manage to find a place like that in Metropolis so soon after arriving there.

Illya was looking forward to seeing it, even beyond looking forward to helping Clark break it in. The thought of that added a little curl of heat to his smile as he glanced over at him, then out the window, taking note of the route from the station to Clark's building.

Clark couldn't help but catch that little smile and his cheeks went just a little red as he took the exit towards his apartment. It wasn't exactly in the center of the city, as it were, but that was one of the reasons he could afford it, after all.

Even after all this time, it was so easy for him to prompt a blush.

Conversation turned to the train trip, and Illya voiced his complaints about the woman who had been eavesdropping on their conversation. "Switching to Russian helped," he admitted, "but I am not certain she did not just keep listening. Tsch, and then Gaby called me to yell at me for taking mission without her and Cowboy."

He looked back over at Ilya with a raised eyebrow.

"Was she serious?" Because if she was seriously upset... he didn't want to cause any problems between Ilya and his coworkers. He knew how much UNCLE meant to him, after all. And he'd heard plenty of good about...

Well, at least Gaby.

"Or was she just cranky?"

Because he'd heard about Gaby.

"Probably cranky. Cleared all of this with Waverly," he said, just so they were clear he did have the clearance to be here, "but then I did leave without saying. Did not want awkward questions." The awkward questions he'd expected he had just gotten on the phone later. But at least he was already on his way, instead of trapped in a room trying to invent reasons they could not come with him.

"It is slow time in the office. Apart from mystery flying men, there is not much else happening." He glanced at Clark, that lingering, assessing look he got sometimes when he was trying to predict Clark's reactions. "Everything went quiet in the last few days. Think it is because of you."

He pressed his lips together just a little and pointedly didn't look over at Ilya. It wasn't as if he was going to start slow, not when he'd been wanting to help the world for so long. And it felt so good to stretch his abilities, to flex his muscles and make the world safer. People happier.

"I'm just trying to help."

"I know, Clark."

Now he was using the quiet, patient voice not many people realized he even possessed. It appeared when he was on mission and one of his partners was injured, or when Clark was...not himself. But it had been a long time since that happened.

"And you will. But right now, most people are waiting to see what Superman will do next. They don't know you yet."

"It's hard," he said quietly, "I want to do everything, but I know that I can't. It's like when we were kids."

He glanced over at Ilya.

"People still need to do most of it themselves. But there are things I can do and it's hard to hear..." he kept his eyes on the road, but they dropped a little, "it's hard to hear it all sometimes. Now that I don't have my secret to hide behind."

Illya reached over and rested his hand over Clark's, slipped his fingers into the furrows of Clark's knuckles on the wheel. "Yes. They have some of you now. And they will ask a lot from you. But this is not all your secrets," he said quietly. "It is not all of you."

"No," he agreed with a warm little smile as one of his fingers looped up to hook around one of Ilya's. "I suppose not."

Illya left his hand there for the rest of the drive. It wasn't exactly dangerous, the traffic had eased up, and he knew Clark was possibly the safest driver on the road, thanks to his reflexes. Besides, he wasn't ready to give up that little touch.

Clark's building was not in the nicer part of town, but this neighborhood didn't look particularly dangerous either, more like a place for people who worked hard and came home tired. It was a good choice for blending in. And there was indeed a food cart in front of the small, old fashioned building. Falafel in tow, Illya followed Clark to the little elevator. "I like this. It does suit you."

"I'll be honest," he said as they started up the stairs. Clark hadn't been kidding when he'd mentioned it was a fourth floor walk up, emphasis on the 'walk'. "I may have initially stopped in because of the falafel cart. It just so happened the building was perfect. Especially the windows."

He'd show Ilya soon enough.

A walkup only supported the idea of Clark Kent as a reporter just starting out and living within his means. Good cover. And it wasn't as though it would be a struggle for him.

He ate a few bites as they climbed. "I think I know why," he said, impressed. Clark was an adventurous eater, but being a vegetarian tended to block him from a lot of street food.

"What about the windows?" he asked as they arrived on the fourth floor.

Once they got up to the apartment, Clark opened the door and pointed across the way to the window...

Which was just over the top of the building next door, which was close enough that there was no real space between the buildings.

"As exits go, it's practically perfect," he explained with a grin.

Illya grinned as he saw just what Clark meant, but he still set his bag down and made a show of examining the window, and the gap between the two buildings—low visibility, virtually none in the dark unless there were floodlights he hadn't spotted yet. Ideal for Superman's comings and goings.

"Huh," he said, mock-skeptically. "Good sightline. Semi-concealed entry. Not so bad for a secret hideout."

Edited (what are words) 2016-02-19 21:45 (UTC)

"Or a starter apartment," Clark pointed out with a little grin as he started to tweak and nudge the place a little as one always does when they have visitors. But once the door was properly closed and that was done, he made his way over to Ilya to lean in for a kiss.

"And not a bad exit for a spy, if he really needed rooftop access."

"Thinking ahead," Illya murmured, more than happy to slip his arms around Clark's waist and casually back him against the wall, quietly pleased as always at how easily Clark moved for him. "Generous of you to consider that, for any spies you might happen to know."

"Well, they do always say it goes easier for you if you cooperate."

And then jokes were definitely less important than leaning up to press kisses to Ilya's mouth. Mmm. Perfect.

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