So... daemons. Animal of a different gender from yours = your soul. Tag one of the characters on here with a starter, post your own with or without a request for one of mine or play here as you like.
Neoma takes the grape with careful claws, sliding the side of a wing against her paw as she does as a thank you. Nee feels so special. And a little giddy, which as far as Clark's concerned, is literally the most adorable thing.
Clark takes his time eating his breakfast before neatening the plate and placing it on the coffee table. Then he pulls out his phone and fiddles for a bit until Bruce makes his way in. He's greeted with a smile.
"Hey. You get Dick to school all right? Sorry if I made you oversleep."
"Yes. No, it's fine. I don't know why I didn't wake up on my own earlier."
As he talks, Caterin transforms to a skunk and hurries over to his feet, sitting and giving him a Look. (Look Translated: Are you flippin kidding, you stayed asleep because you were happy and comfortable and safe.) He stares down at her for a moment before bending to scoop her up, letting her burrow her nose against his throat.
"I'm sorry I ran out like that. I try to miss as few mornings as possible. It can get hard, with being out all night."
"From what Alfred was saying, you probably needed the rest," was all Clark said on the subject, "and to be fair, it was probably good for me too."
He straightened his shirt, sat up a little, and smiled over at Bruce.
"Now, I've already leaned on your hospitality long enough, but did you want me to stick around or should I get out of your hair? I don't have anything scheduled for the day." A little blush. "I kept it clear since I wasn't sure if it might get interrupted."
Bruce eyes the tidied remains of breakfast, as if suddenly considering Alfred's meddling for the first time. Caterin continues to snuggle him, obviously happy to be back with her human. (The distance is hard on her, he knows it is. It's not natural.)
"Oh-- I." His guarded look is his own version of deer in headlights. "You don't have to stay, I'm sorry if you felt held hostage."
Bruce is out of his depth. He's not going to make a decision-- he's going to defer to what Clark says, or he's going to end up assuming, and his assumption is always going to be the most negative thing.
Clark considers that question for a moment before smiling again up at Bruce and Caterin. There's a glance at Neoma, who does the bat equivalent of rolling her eyes before Clark lets a single chuckle rock his shoulders. Then his focus is Bruce.
"If you didn't have to worry about anything else in the whole world, no one's approval or disapproval, no deadline or work, no fear or worry. Total choice: what would you want to do?"
The deer-in-headlights expression gets worse. Might be teetering on bluescreen.
I would like to cease to exist, because I would have no meaning.
"Asking me questions like that doesn't go anywhere productive," he says after a little while. "Can we-- I'm sorry." Abrupt change in demeanor, his gaze moves away, looking anywhere but Clark. "I'm not any good at this."
He considers that with a little sigh. Clearly, he's not 'tired' of Bruce. But it's just as clear he wishes he could do something since he seems so... disturbed? Unsettled?
"No, what were you going to ask? 'Can we' what?" He looks up at Bruce. "The only one who seems to think you're not good at this is you, though."
He finally decides to lean in, putting his elbows on his knees.
"I was just trying to find out what you might enjoy doing. If you just want to make out on the couch, we can do that. If you want to go practice your katas in the cave, I'm happy to watch or read a book. Sometimes, it's just nice to spend time with people. 'Be alone together' is the way my mother always put it. Whatever sounds good to you."
He can't help another smile.
"You light up when you're enjoying yourself. What I want is to see that again, like when we were watching the movie together."
Bruce considers Clark's words, looking at him seriously. After a moment he steps forward and sits down next to him on the sofa, and Caterin tucks herself in against his knee, not yet wanting to move away from him.
"I do have things I need to do today," he says, looking at a space between them - Clark's hands, maybe. "Making out for a while sounds pretty good, though."
Caterin gives Bruce a sharp poke with her nose, encouraging, before she panders for a quick pet. After nuzzling into his hand for a moment she retreats, going to find a spot to sit (and maybe entice Neoma over?). Bruce watches her go, a little bit amused, before he looks back at Clark. Almost shy. He's hesitant to get too physical-- he doesn't want Clark to think he's some kind of sex-crazed weirdo, given what his drive is.
But...
He leans in and kisses Clark, casting aside his worry.
He doesn't need to worry about that. Once he's been told that they're making out properly, once he feels Bruce lean in and kiss him, casting aside some worry as he is, Clark ignites like a well-prepared fireplace. Nothing uncontrolled, nothing wild, but there's still a roar there and a definite heat. Yes, this says every kiss, every touch, more, please.
While Nee eagerly heads over to Caterin without a pause or concern. Because clearly, they're going to hang out.
Hang out they shall. Caterin is hoping for a cuddle, too, and maybe they can play with the crayons Dick left behind. (She really is so childlike sometimes.)
Bruce, though. There's nothing childlike about the way he responds to that sudden fire - it's like permission, or something finally said in a language he understands. He kisses Clark and touches him, fitting them closer together, climbing half into his lap. Clark tastes so good and he's so warm and every time he touches Bruce it feels like electricity.
Neoma immediately offers a wing for cuddling and she wouldn't mind at all if Caterin wanted to play with the crayons.
Clark, on the other hand, was going to pull Bruce as close to him as he could get him, in his lap if it worked out, so he could get his hands on the other man and kiss him without interruption. It is
Well, it's everything he's been dreaming of when he thinks of Bruce, thinks of kissing Bruce, only a thousand times better and he'd start tugging off Bruce's shirt to feel his skin if he didn't think he might spook him.
If Clark wants him all the way on his lap then Bruce is more than fine with it-- neither of them are slight enough for it to seem like it should work, but with how evenly matched they are, it works out. The whole experience of kissing and touching him feels erotic and comfortable at the same time, a strange, intoxicating mix Bruce hasn't experienced with anyone before.
Are they moving too fast? ... Does he care? It's almost unbelievable that Clark wants him so much, but Bruce knows he'd never fake it. He makes a low noise into their kiss, hands clenching on the other man's shoulders.
It's the comfort that makes it seem just right, the comfort that has Clark clutching for him and pulling him tight, kissing him with every ounce of his need and none of his pride. He's too busy enjoying every moment, delighting in Bruce, in the Bruce's own delight and hunger and the clutch of his hands.
He finds himself drawing back just far enough to rest forehead to forehead, to smile up at Bruce with such happiness.
Bruce's answering smile is small and shy - funny, to be shy after he and Clark have been eating each other's faces, but it's the emotional intimacy he's hesitant over. And there's no denying that between them, emotions are running high and strong.
"I almost can't believe it," he murmurs, raising his hands to touch the sides of Clark's face. "I wouldn't, if I didn't want you so much."
He's too selfish to shove it away out of disbelief.
It's so sweet. It says so much to him about Bruce, things he already sort of knew but it puts them in bold, in underline. People have all kinds of responses to what Bruce is dealing with, that hesitancy. This is...
This is all Bruce and it gives Clark a bit more courage to reach up and cup Bruce's jaw with one hand, the side of his thumb running over the cheek with tender affection.
"Believe it," he says with a faint, happy laugh just under his voice. "I'm right here. With you. And there's no place else I'd rather be."
Bruce's cheekbones are tinged with color when Clark says that, and he's immediately embarrassed at how touched he is. It's an effort not to squirm away to hide like a child but he knows that's ridiculous. In the end he leans his face into Clark's hand, into that touch. A little ways away, Caterin is watching them curiously, pink crayon held in her paws, curled up with Neoma. She's happy that Bruce is happy, but still not used to anyone besides her being physically close to him when he's actually being genuine. There's a hint of insecurity in her gaze, but she's too gentle to complain again like she had that day in Bruce's quarters. Instead she buries her nose against the other daemon.
Neoma will do her best to sooth Caterin, nuzzling up to the other creature. She knows how terrifying it is. Clark wears his heart on his sleeve, after all, right out there for people to stomp on it. Hears all the nasty things people sometimes say about him. She understands. And she'll hold Caterin.
Clark's smile will, somehow, get just that much brighter when Bruce leans in. Because Bruce has so much sweetness, he's so beautiful, and he sees it. He sees it and he doesn't know how no one else sees it but he won't turn away from it. Not when it seems that he makes Bruce so happy, especially.
Caterin appreciates Neoma's comfort. She's so protective of Bruce, and honestly, she feels a little protective of Neoma, too. It must be exhausting to keep up with someone like Clark; Caterin is on the opposite end, always left behind and hidden away.
And then--
Bruce's eyes go wide for a second, like a small startle when he hears the word love. His heart picks up against his will. He forces his gaze away, even more embarrassed at that reaction.
"I..." don't know what to say. He looks at Caterin, and despite her nervousness, all she offers looking back is support, and strength. "Ten minutes after we met," Bruce says quietly. "I knew I wanted to be with you."
And he was ornery and argumentative and hostile, yeah.
Neoma's used to it. And she has her own resilience. They will, she decides as they curl around one another, protect one another.
Clark smiles, but there's a bit of a wince in the smile, because he heard that heartskip and it gave him so much hope. He feels, immediate and bright, and he'd had to stop himself from saying what he'd wanted to say. Now he wishes he had.
"It took me a little longer," he admits, soft. Still so happy. "About half an hour. Forgive me for being slow?"
"Well I wasn't very nice about it," he murmurs. Bruce leans in to touch their foreheads together again. It feels good to be closer-- he wants to feel his skin pressed against Clark's, he wants everything. He's been so convinced it won't ever be real that he can't get enough now that it is. "I can forgive you, if you can forgive me."
"Good," he says, soft, still close, "Good and true. They're always better than nice."
He tips his chin, presses their lips together in the barest brush.
"Forgiven. And never forgotten."
The way he'd felt his whole world bend and shift and curl around this man who made the world better not through power but by grabbing it and forcing it into what it should be, tirelessly and without even the barest desire for thanks. He knew what it felt like when all the air left the room but this was different. This was everything fading away, something he hadn't felt since his senses had come into their own. Focus. Clarity. And a magnet pull from his chest towards this man.
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Clark takes his time eating his breakfast before neatening the plate and placing it on the coffee table. Then he pulls out his phone and fiddles for a bit until Bruce makes his way in. He's greeted with a smile.
"Hey. You get Dick to school all right? Sorry if I made you oversleep."
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As he talks, Caterin transforms to a skunk and hurries over to his feet, sitting and giving him a Look. (Look Translated: Are you flippin kidding, you stayed asleep because you were happy and comfortable and safe.) He stares down at her for a moment before bending to scoop her up, letting her burrow her nose against his throat.
"I'm sorry I ran out like that. I try to miss as few mornings as possible. It can get hard, with being out all night."
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He straightened his shirt, sat up a little, and smiled over at Bruce.
"Now, I've already leaned on your hospitality long enough, but did you want me to stick around or should I get out of your hair? I don't have anything scheduled for the day." A little blush. "I kept it clear since I wasn't sure if it might get interrupted."
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"Oh-- I." His guarded look is his own version of deer in headlights. "You don't have to stay, I'm sorry if you felt held hostage."
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"I wasn't held hostage," he says, keeping any laughter out of his voice. He doesn't want Bruce to think he's laughing at him, not at all.
"I was fed a delicious breakfast and got to take a little nap with the girls here."
He looks up at Bruce.
"I just don't want to overstay my welcome. But if you wanted to spend a little more time, I'd love to. That's why I stuck around."
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Bruce is out of his depth. He's not going to make a decision-- he's going to defer to what Clark says, or he's going to end up assuming, and his assumption is always going to be the most negative thing.
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"If you didn't have to worry about anything else in the whole world, no one's approval or disapproval, no deadline or work, no fear or worry. Total choice: what would you want to do?"
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I would like to cease to exist, because I would have no meaning.
"Asking me questions like that doesn't go anywhere productive," he says after a little while. "Can we-- I'm sorry." Abrupt change in demeanor, his gaze moves away, looking anywhere but Clark. "I'm not any good at this."
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"No, what were you going to ask? 'Can we' what?" He looks up at Bruce. "The only one who seems to think you're not good at this is you, though."
He finally decides to lean in, putting his elbows on his knees.
"I was just trying to find out what you might enjoy doing. If you just want to make out on the couch, we can do that. If you want to go practice your katas in the cave, I'm happy to watch or read a book. Sometimes, it's just nice to spend time with people. 'Be alone together' is the way my mother always put it. Whatever sounds good to you."
He can't help another smile.
"You light up when you're enjoying yourself. What I want is to see that again, like when we were watching the movie together."
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"I do have things I need to do today," he says, looking at a space between them - Clark's hands, maybe. "Making out for a while sounds pretty good, though."
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"Couldn't agree more. And we're on a pretty good couch for it, honestly."
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But...
He leans in and kisses Clark, casting aside his worry.
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While Nee eagerly heads over to Caterin without a pause or concern. Because clearly, they're going to hang out.
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Bruce, though. There's nothing childlike about the way he responds to that sudden fire - it's like permission, or something finally said in a language he understands. He kisses Clark and touches him, fitting them closer together, climbing half into his lap. Clark tastes so good and he's so warm and every time he touches Bruce it feels like electricity.
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Clark, on the other hand, was going to pull Bruce as close to him as he could get him, in his lap if it worked out, so he could get his hands on the other man and kiss him without interruption. It is
Well, it's everything he's been dreaming of when he thinks of Bruce, thinks of kissing Bruce, only a thousand times better and he'd start tugging off Bruce's shirt to feel his skin if he didn't think he might spook him.
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Are they moving too fast? ... Does he care? It's almost unbelievable that Clark wants him so much, but Bruce knows he'd never fake it. He makes a low noise into their kiss, hands clenching on the other man's shoulders.
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He finds himself drawing back just far enough to rest forehead to forehead, to smile up at Bruce with such happiness.
He's so glad he waited.
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"I almost can't believe it," he murmurs, raising his hands to touch the sides of Clark's face. "I wouldn't, if I didn't want you so much."
He's too selfish to shove it away out of disbelief.
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It's so sweet. It says so much to him about Bruce, things he already sort of knew but it puts them in bold, in underline. People have all kinds of responses to what Bruce is dealing with, that hesitancy. This is...
This is all Bruce and it gives Clark a bit more courage to reach up and cup Bruce's jaw with one hand, the side of his thumb running over the cheek with tender affection.
"Believe it," he says with a faint, happy laugh just under his voice. "I'm right here. With you. And there's no place else I'd rather be."
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Clark's smile will, somehow, get just that much brighter when Bruce leans in. Because Bruce has so much sweetness, he's so beautiful, and he sees it. He sees it and he doesn't know how no one else sees it but he won't turn away from it. Not when it seems that he makes Bruce so happy, especially.
"I love... making you feel like this."
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And then--
Bruce's eyes go wide for a second, like a small startle when he hears the word love. His heart picks up against his will. He forces his gaze away, even more embarrassed at that reaction.
"I..." don't know what to say. He looks at Caterin, and despite her nervousness, all she offers looking back is support, and strength. "Ten minutes after we met," Bruce says quietly. "I knew I wanted to be with you."
And he was ornery and argumentative and hostile, yeah.
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Clark smiles, but there's a bit of a wince in the smile, because he heard that heartskip and it gave him so much hope. He feels, immediate and bright, and he'd had to stop himself from saying what he'd wanted to say. Now he wishes he had.
"It took me a little longer," he admits, soft. Still so happy. "About half an hour. Forgive me for being slow?"
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He tips his chin, presses their lips together in the barest brush.
"Forgiven. And never forgotten."
The way he'd felt his whole world bend and shift and curl around this man who made the world better not through power but by grabbing it and forcing it into what it should be, tirelessly and without even the barest desire for thanks. He knew what it felt like when all the air left the room but this was different. This was everything fading away, something he hadn't felt since his senses had come into their own. Focus. Clarity. And a magnet pull from his chest towards this man.
"I love... you. Too. If that wasn't clear."
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