The Thing Is, Clark Doesnt Even Like Coffee. Yet There Sits A Shitty Drip Coffee Maker, Glass Carafe

The thing is, Clark doesn’t even like coffee. Yet there sits a shitty drip coffee maker, glass carafe and everything, on his worn linoleum countertop. The office was throwing it out, as they had recently upgraded to some single-serve machine (pods full of damp coffee grounds soon filled the break room trash can, and Clark has to hold back a gag every time he passes it) and was giving away their old one.

Clark stares at the chipped black paint on the coffee maker from his bed. Gentle morning light filtered through his curtains in his studio apartment, and Clark turned to watch how the glow and shadows played along Bruce’s bare back. HIs hand starts reaching out of its own accord, determined to feel if the sunlight had warmed Bruce’s skin. But millimeters above a scarred, broad expanse, Clark stops and lets his hand hover.

Because him and Bruce? They don’t do that. There’s no loving caresses, no morning kisses with horrible breath. Each touch is purposeful, yanking off shirts and ripping down zippers. There’s slamming against walls and hungry hands, and, if Clark is really lucky, rough kisses and wine-stain marks left on his neck. Bruce is, if nothing else, an efficient man, so Clark knows why they do this. Bruce will come in after patrol, peppered with bruises, and push Clark against the wall. Or Clark will hover over the entrance to the Batcave after flying halfway across the world for a tsunami, screaming of those he could not save ringing through his head, until Bruce will let him in. They aren't gentle, and they aren’t romantic, and Clark has almost gotten used to having this. Tantalus finally gripping onto the fruit to take a bite, and having it yanked away after the first taste.

Because he wants it all. He wants to cook for Bruce in the early hours of the morning after patrol. He wants to wrap gently around him in bed, for no reason other than he wants to be close, and he wants forehead kisses. He wants to soothe Bruce from nightmares and have dinners with Bruce’s kids. He wants Bruce to look at him with a soft smile and gentle eyes.

He wants to make Bruce coffee in the morning. 

And so the coffee maker sits in Clark’s kitchen, glass glinting as if to make sure Clark can’t ignore it. 

Clark sighs and lays back in the bed with a thump. He glances over to Bruce, sheets pushed around his torso and the rise and fall of his hips,  If this is all he gets, he will gorge himself on these small moments. Clark zeroes in on Bruce’s heart rate (something that is halfway to an obsession at this point. He’ll find himself reaching for the steady beating multiple times a day, just to check, he tells himself. Just to check.) and realizes the tempo has increased too much for Bruce to still be asleep.

Clark doesn’t rouse him with doting kisses on his neck, or wrapping his arms around his waist. He doesn’t thread his hand through Bruce’s foppish hair and he certainly doesn’t run his fingers lightly down his back.

So Clark waits. He glances around his room, something to distract him from gazing at Bruce with what he is sure is an entirely too honest face. His eyes catch on the glare of the coffee-machine in the kitchen once again and he feels his heart pick up its pace.

It was an impulse decision to bring it back to his apartment, fueled by some pipe dream that maybe he could be something for Bruce besides a stress-reliever. He regrets it immensely. Every time he saw it, it was a stark reminder of what he couldn’t have and hopes that would never be realized. He should just throw the damn thing away. Clark rubs his hands over his face and sighs heavily, then glaces over to Bruce. Soft grey eyes peer up at him.

“G-goodmorning,” Clark stammers, feeling caught.

“Goodmorning.” Bruce says, low and even. 

Neither of them move, and for a moment the two meet eyes. In moments like these, where Clark is not only looking, but he’s being seen, that he has hope. He feels it flutter in his chest now as he takes in Bruce’s pillow wrinkled face and sleep-laden expression. 

Clark wants to be brave in love. He wants to reach out and try and not be ashamed if he fails. He wants to stand on that precipice and see if he’s caught when he falls. And as Clark stares, he smiles gently, and swears he sees something reflected in Bruce’s eyes. Bruce breaks contact and looks away, and the moment should be gone. The ache in Clark’s chest should dissipate, and yet he can see a light flush in Bruce’s cheeks.

Maybe Clark can be brave. If Bruce doesn’t leave, if he stays in the bed for one more minute, Clark will ask him. 

So Clark waits, counting silently along with the beat of Bruce’s heart. He stares up at the ceiling, the glow of sunlight trapped in his curtains, down at his hands. He avoids and he waits.

Bruce shuffles to sit up in bed around the 45 second mark, and Clark’s heart drops. But Bruce simply props his pillow up and lounges, glancing over.

“Clark,” Bruce clears his throat. 50, 51. “Are you..alright?”

Desperate to not lose count, Clark holds up a finger. 58, 59, 60.

He finally turns and faces Bruce, only to see a softly furrowed brow and concerned eyes. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

His heart drops and Clark wants to be brave. He can feel each word lodged in his throat, ready to be spit out, and distantly he’s aware that he is simply about to ask if Bruce wants coffee, as any mid-westerner raised properly would. But he knows Bruce, despite the distance the vigilante tries to create. He knows what this invitation would mean to both of them.

You are the ledge I leap off of, and you are the ocean I fall into, he thinks.

“Bruce, would you like some coffee?”

Bruce schools his expression immediately and Clark feels the wind whipping his clothes as he falls.  Clark glances down at his hands curled in his lap, and he waits and he waits. He hears Bruce clear his throat once, twice.

“I would.”

Clark feels a grin lift his lips, unbidden, and he laughs a gentle huffing thing.

“Yeah?” He looks over at Bruce and sees a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Let me, um, let me get that started then.”

He lifts the sheet and quickly walks over to the nearest pile of clothes (he may have superspeeded a bit) to grab a shirt. He throws it on and walks towards the kitchen, hearing a shout of, “It better not be that awful bottled shit you drink, Kent!”

Clarks laughs again, giddy, and yells back, “Shucks Bruce, I had just picked some up at the gas station for you!”

CLark moves around his kitchen, grabbing a mug and the bag of grounds he had picked up the day prior, before moving over to the coffee machine. His coffee experience is limited to glass bottles of cream and sugar with the barest hint of coffee in only the direst of circumstances (days of no sleep or after battles with kryptonite), so he tries to emulate the movements he’s seen at the office. He dutifully fills the carafe with water and pours it into the machine, then reaches over to grab one of the filters he had stolen from work. After successfully filling the filter with grounds, he reaches over to flip the switch and … nothing. He hears a teasing huff from behind him.

Bruce leans against the counter and Clark marvels at how quietly the man moves. Bruce forwent a shirt, standing only in boxers. Clark stares for a moment, taking in sharp hip bones, a stark v-line, and pale skin before realizing Bruce had spoken.

“I’m sorry?” Clark asks and tears his eyes away back to safety.

Bruce huffs once more.

“I said the machine wasn’t plugged in.”

Clark flushed and quickly went to plug it in, fumbling on the way there. He tried once more to push the button, and lo and behold, the machine started with a small whirr. Coffee collected and dripped into the glass carafe, the sound filling the silence left in the kitchen.

The light had shifted to something brighter, heartier as it fell through Clark’s windows. It hit the side of Bruce’s face and Clark let himself look unabashedly, for once. He felt almost hedonistic, basking in the presence of a sleep-warm Bruce and the morning light.

“So you’re a big coffee drinker, huh?” Bruce said, a smile playing at his lips.

“Rao, no.” Clark protests. “I just thought it might be nice for when I have, uh, guests over.”

Clark can see the ghost of a smirk and has never felt more transparent. He takes the leap.

“You’ve never stayed.” 

“You’ve never asked.” Bruce replies and the two let that hang in the air.

“I wanted you to一 want you to.” Clark breaks the silence with a sheepish smile. “I just never thought you’d want the morning-afters.”

Bruce moves to grab a mug from the counter and starts to fill his cup up. He takes a sip, and Clark knows that the coffee is too damn hot just as he knows Bruce needs a second to process. And he’s more than happy to wait.

“I wasn’t sure of the parameters of … this. So I erred on the side of caution.”

Clark stares at him for a moment, trying to decipher what Bruce meant. Reading Bruce has become a skill (an artform) that he’s honed over years. He tries to rid himself of a hopeful bias as he discerns what Bruce meant, but it almost sounds like一

“I was happy to take what I could get too.” Clark says softly. He can feel every desire he has bubbling in his chest, fueled by hope. He wants to say it all, but he swallows down his words. He couldn’t break this fragile moment. Now was not the time. But there would be a right time, Clark knew now. 

They let the minute stretch quietly, both content. Bruce takes another sip of coffee and grimaces.

“Clark, this is terrible.”

Clark laughs, a bright, surprised thing and looks over at Bruce. Both men are smiling, carrying a lightness that Clark hadn’t seen before. 

You are the ledge I leap off of, and you are the ocean I fall into, but you are the hand I grip as we slip off the edge. Clark thinks.  

Superbat (Clark Kent / Bruce Wayne)

I will add more in a near future

Please, give me suggestions for this blog and submit your own fics

These are listed by size - wordcount

Keep reading

I need more Bruce interacting with Jon and Conner. Bruce mother henning Conner despite the mf being a tank on two legs and pretty much indestructible.

Reminding him to eat, and sleep, and put a jacket on whenever he steps outside, even if Kon has no need for them. Who tends to his wounds after battle.

Long trips to the medical bay. Kon pretending to be sick, struck down by some Kryptonian illness, cause he learned from Clark Bruce makes a great chicken soup.

Bruce scolding him for pointlessly throwing himself at danger for the sake of showing off, "Benched. 2 weeks. No fussing."

" Yeah, whatever, mom."

Someone's waiting for Bruce to correct him. They'll be waiting a long time.

Bruce goes from " Mr. Damian's Dad" to " Bruce" to " Pa" with Jon; The transition is cleaner and smoother and faster than Bruce expected, but he's not complaining.

Give me Bruce who patches up Jon's uniform, who tells him it's perfectly fine to still have toys at his age (it's not about objects, but the familiarity they bring) and he takes them with on patrol. Just in case.

Bruce who picks him up from school, who tells off bullies for him with a tongue so mean Jon actually gulps, who picks him up when he pretends to sleep in the Batmboile.

Bruce who has their favorite snacks on his utility belt, who just slightly overprotective and tells Clark please, don't throw their kids into the oxygen layer because they dared you to.

"Our kids?"

" I don't mean to overstep. I apologize. I'll be more mindful of my language in the fu--" Clark is crying and hugging him and Bruce simply pats his back.

Lois: Clark..why are you wearing a sweater?

Clark: it's a bit chilly today, don't you think?

Lois: [quietly] But it's the middle of June

Perry: uhh…nice fashion you got there, Kent

Clark: [awkwardly] thanks

Sometime later..

Clark: this won't work for long

Bruce: [chuckling sheepishly] Why, what happened?

Clark: why you ask?

[lifts his sweater to show the huge iron press mark]

Clark: you know, people looked at me like I was a lunatic

Bruce: [dying of laughter] I would make sure to do better next time

Clark: by better, you mean not burning it and not you being creative while burning it, right?

Bruce: [feigning innocence] oh my, definitely dear

Clark: that doesn't sound too reassuring..

Imagine Alfred goes on an extended vacation to England and Clark notices that after a week of him being gone, Bruce is wearing new clothing everyday. So he asks about it and Bruce just shrugs and says 'I don't know how to do laundry' and Clark is aghast because how can Bruce know how to run a company but not know how to do his own laundry. So Clark endeavours to teach him but after three attempts resulting in pink tinged shirts, Clark gives up and says he'll do it for Bruce until Alfred gets back.

After a few weeks, Alfred returns and he and Clark catch up over tea as Bruce gets ready for work upstairs. Clark mentions the laundry situation to him, something along the lines of 'you've taught Bruce how to cook, how come you never taught him how to do his own laundry?' And Alfred says, 'oh I have. Master Bruce simply detests doing laundry.' And Clark gets a confused little frown on his face and says 'but Bruce said...' and Alfred looks up from his cup of tea, a small smile on his lips, and says, 'Mr. Kent, I thought you of all people would be able to tell when Master Bruce was lying.' And Clark just snaps his mouth shut and realises he's been played like a damn fiddle.

Meanwhile, Bruce puts on one of the shirts Clark washed for him; wearing a small smile of his own.

Batman Fic Recs Feat. Identity Reveal

ALL of the fics are complete or oneshots. Mostly gen, but there will be a few with ships. I’ll mention in description if there are any ships :)

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He Knows by Ortholeine

“Timothy Drake is a civilian, a normal boy. Kind of. He's normal in that he keeps secrets and has some hobbies. Those secrets and hobbies, though, are a little unique...and completely, 100% revolve around the crime-fighting family of Gotham.

A good friend of the Waynes, Tim finds himself dodging his heroes' attempts to reveal their identities to him in a misguided attempt to keep the status quo. No one seems to want to let it rest, unfortunately for Timothy Drake.”

Funny, silly, goofy…. Exactly what I want to see in identity reveal fics.

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The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

“Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.

Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.”

this one is on the list because it’s HILARIOUS. I love it so much.

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Plagiarism is Not a Joke, Batman by popsunner

“‘How old are you?’

Bruce very much would like to have the last two minutes back please, turns out, he does not want to trust them with his identity.

‘Twenty-three,’ He growls.”

I love rereading this one…. VERY funny

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Pretty Boys and Identity Problems by DarnGoshit

“In an effort to get over his crush on Robin, Kon pursues a relationship with a civilian Gothamite, Tim Drake.

Or, Tim accidentally Hannah Montana’s his crush... and it works?”

Tim Drake/Kon-El

Ah, secret identity shenanigans…

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Captain Marvel’s Adopted? by Len_suilon_mellon

“When Captain Marvel sends out a distress call, the only League member available is Batman. Bruce comes to his aid, but he finds out that Billy is a 10-year-old homeless orphan with black hair and blue eyes. Obviously, he makes the only logical decision and adopts Billy. Because it's Bruce—who's allergic to revealing life-changing information—the League is left in the dark.”

5+1 fic where the JL discovers Billy’s ID, really cute

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Every Fiber of My Being by navpike

“As much as Dick and his siblings have argued, Bruce has never budged on his "Keeping Secrets Policy". There's not a person alive outside of the family that knows the secret identity of any of the Bats. Not even Dick's boyfriend.
Dick understands the need for some secrets, knows that keeping their identities safe keeps them and their loved ones safe, but when he takes up the cowl, team dynamics aren't the only things that begin to change.”

Dick Grayson/Wally West

In which the whole secret identity thing causes many problems. It’s SO GOOD, I promise

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miss me? by envysparkler

“Jason’s plan to observe his family’s reactions to his resurrection…does not go as intended.”

kind of an identity reveal fic? It’s more the “Jason’s alive” reveal, but I’m going to count it anyway

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knockoff bat by impravidus

“5 times people noticed batman was acting differently + the 1 time someone found out why (+ the time someone finds the real batman)”

Dick Grayson/Wally West and Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent.

There’s a bit of hurt/comfort, but it’s really really good

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Rumor Has It by rotasha

“A rumor gets out about Bruce Wayne and he ends up coming out to the Justice League. This is news to Clark, who has been pining over Bruce for years.”

Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent

okay. So. I have MANY thoughts about including this here, and I could write a lot about how a super hero’s secret identity inherently has many queer themes, but I won’t get into that. I think it counts as a kind of identity reveal, so here we are.

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letter of complaint by envysparkler

“Batman finds himself captured by the new crime lord in Gotham, who has a bone to pick with him.”

one of MANY of my favorite fics where Jason comes back and reveals himself as the Red Hood

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hand in unlovable hand by batmans_cheerleader and leviathans_watching

“A sound caught his attention, and instantly Jason was poised to throw himself at whoever came through the door. Tense, he waited, but when the door creaked open to reveal not one person, but a whole team, he hesitated.

They were carrying someone none too gently along with them, and Jason could only watch, frozen, as they completely ignored him, dumping the person into the cell, not even wincing at the sick sound their head made when it hit the ground.

Jason barely had time to take in that all-too-familiar cowl before the door slammed shut, and he was alone. With Bruce fucking Wayne.

Nausea swirled in his throat and he forced it down. Puking in his helmet was not fun. And yeah, he knew that from experience. What kind of sick abuse was this? Or was it just an awful, awful coincidence?”

yeah. Just. Jason being forced to eventually reveal himself to Bruce when they’re captured together… I ate that shit up

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From the Shadows by Wolfsbanesparks

“All Billy Batson wanted was to survive a particularly rough week living on the streets of Fawcett City. The last thing he was looking for was a new family.

All Bruce Wayne wanted was to ask learn a bit more about his upbeat teammate under the guise of official Wayne Enterprises business. But he could never turn his back on a child in need. Especially one as surrounded by mystery as Billy.”

Featuring identity reveals from both Bruce and Billy. There’s a lot more to the fic than the reveals, but there’s a LOT of suspense leading up to them.