After

It was brutal, but it was part of the job. Regardless, it still made Superman's heart ache when children had to see their family hauled away in cuffs or, lord forbid, on a gurney. It hit him hard, but there was someone he knew it hit much harder.

He turned to his partner, who was standing stoic - but not in his usual way. Not strong, numb. Behind the mask he could see his friend stare blankly at the sight below, storms behind his eyes. He wanted so badly to reach out, but he knew better. Bruce did not like being touched, especially in this state. He'd just have to wait.

Clark sighed and shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak but was surprisingly cut off.

"Clark?" The voice was quiet, soft. Uncharacteristic of the bat. 

"Ye- yes?" Clark couldn't help but stumble. The air between them grew heavy as he waited for another sound.

"I'd like to go home." Bruce's head was hung low as he turned to Clark, taking resigned steps toward him. It took Clark a second to make the connection.

"Oh, of course. Do you want me to take you?"

A nod. He cautiously reached out for Bruce, who stepped into his arms to be lifted. The flight to Wayne manor was silent, devastatingly so. He didn't know what to say. He didn't think there was anything to say.

He touched down on the manicured back lawn of the manor, spying Alfred still in his prim suit despite the late hour. Alfred pushed open the grand glass doors and met them outside, extending a hand for Bruce to take while he got down from Clark's grip. Clark had never seen such worry in the old man's eyes, and he wondered how he knew what happened. The whole exchange was alien, just slightly off from the Wayne duo he knew. Bruce's head still hung low as he stepped to Alfred's side, the older man's hands moving up to hold his wards arm. 

"Thank you, Mr.Kent. We'll be retiring for the night, have a safe trip home."

Clark's mouth moved before his brain.

"Are you sure you don't need me here? I've -" he slowed himself down as he caught Alfred's confused glance, "I've never seen him like this." 

Clark picked nervously at his costume, and felt his face go red. He hadn't felt this cocktail of emotions in quite a long time, finding it akin to speaking out of turn to his pa's boss as a child. The seconds of silence dragged, and he wondered if his Kryptonian brain could alter time. 

He noticed an exchange between the two in front of him, if not a verbal one. A look from Alfred to Bruce, then from Bruce to Clark. Clark had noticed many times how strikingly blue Bruce's eyes were, but they seemed even more so tonight. Bruce looked back to Alfred, then to the ground once again. A decision had been made.

"You can stay if you wish to, Mr.Kent."

The two turned heel and lurched back toward the manor. Once Clark processed the sentence he felt a weird rush of pride before remembering the situation at hand…well - what even was the situation at hand?

Alfred made tea, like he always did. Clark always marveled at the resolve the Brit had for making tea in any situation - he could be meeting Satan himself and he'd still offer tea. The smell was nice though. Clark had really never cared for hot tea, but this brew was rather nice. It had a hint of mint and lemon, which made the smell more hospitable. He expected to take a seat at the long dining table as he had many times before, but he found Bruce at the kitchen bar. It was almost funny, the bar was an unofficial kids table at super meetings - usually relinquished to the titans or other young sidekicks while the adults hatched plans. Well it's his house I guess, Clark thought, he can sit wherever he wants.

He pulled up a stool, not too close to him but not so far to seem distant. Clark knew Bruce well by now, and the first thing he learned was his regard for personal space. Not a rule Clark particularly enjoyed, the hugger that he was, but one he would deal with. Bruce had already changed out of his costume, now sporting the same blue pajama set he wore every night. Clark chanced another look at him and his heart sank a little more. It was a night of firsts, apparently, because this was definitely not an expression he'd seen before. Bruce was watching Alfred prepare the tea very closely, worry brimming in his eyes. Why would he be worried? If there was a task he could count on Alfred doing safely, it was making tea. But it wasn't just that, it was mournful. Lonely. Scared. Clark found it completely bizarre - like Bruce was convinced his right hand man would disappear at any moment.

A morbid thought crossed Clark's mind, and considering what had already been taken from Bruce, the worry made a little more sense.

Clark was snapped from his thoughts by the clink of fine china on a silver tray.

"Perhaps we should sit in the drawing room, by the fire. It was quite cold out tonight, hm?"

Alfred laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder, and waited for his small nod before leading the trio to the drawing room.

Like everything in Wayne Manor, the room was large, gothic, and expensive. He pulled at the collar of his suit as he took the hosts lead sitting down - this was not the type of furniture you sit on, this was the type of furniture your grandparents put plastic on and told you not to touch.

The only light was the roaring fireplace, which Clark didn't really mind. He always loved fires like this, though he was more accustomed to the camping kind. He could stare into them for hours, basking in their warmth, which was a welcome distraction from the otherwise eerie quiet.

"Clark?" Bruce broke the silence with the first thing he'd said in hours. Even Alfred's tired eyes widened in surprise. Clark fumbled with his cup, narrowly avoiding spilling the boiling liquid into his lap, but managed to speak up.

"Y - yeah? What is it, B?

Bruce raised his head to look him in the eye, that same desperate look returned to his features.

"...Would you mind staying the night?"

Clark was glad he didn't need to breathe, because he hadn't in a good thirty seconds. He looked into his friend's eyes, now misty and tired, and felt a knot deep in his stomach.

"Of course, B. Anything you need."

Relief washed over Bruce's face and Clark felt his chest rise again. He could hear a quiet, breathless thank you under Bruce's breath, like he'd just saved him from a burning building.

Alfred collected the now tealess cups back onto a tray, ready to return them to the kitchen. Before he left, he took a knee next to Bruce's chair and gently laid a hand on his leg.

"How about you show Mr.Kent your screening room, Master Bruce. I bet he'd love to see your collection."

Those blue eyes seemed to light up at the thought, a tiny smile creeping onto Bruce's lips.

"That's a good idea. Clark, do you want to see?" 

Bruce looked up at him hopefully, and Clark marked another first on his list. For one, as silly as it sounded, he didn't know Bruce had interests. 5 years of knowing each other and this was the first Clark was hearing about any collection. He'd shown Bruce his stamp collection the second time he came to Metropolis, he could've at least mentioned it- Clark pushed aside the thought for later. This was no time to criticize. He mustered his warmest smile.

"Of course, lead the way."

Bruce's screening room was stripped back compared to the drawing room, more modern. It held a few rows of black leather reclining seats, and a floor to ceiling screen to project onto. It wasn't purely of the era though, an old fashion film camera taking the place of the usual projector. By the time Clark was done marveling, Bruce was already lost in the shelves of old film reels, shuffling his way through the boxes. Clark found him on the floor, looking through a box that was significantly more beat up than the others. He took a seat beside him, but before he hit the ground Bruce was already questioning him.

"Pretty cool room, huh? I've collected the films from a lot of private auctions, the one over there is from Taiwan. Do you like the Grey Ghost?"

Clark had to recover from the whiplash of the last 20 minutes. Bruce had graduated from somber silence to three consecutive sentences - a new record outside of league business. Once he'd regained his shred of composure he answered -

"I read the comics, but I don't think they played the show in Kansas. I think I saw some reruns once."

"Oh, neat. I watched all the episodes when they were on, then I met the grey ghost - well, I met Simon Trent, he played the grey ghost but he wasn't him in real life - until he was, which was really cool - but that's how I got all the reels. Oh and these are the only ones, from Mr.Trent's personal collection. What episodes did you watch?"

Clark considered the possibility he was dreaming. It was like he was talking to a different person. Was this the fabled 'Brucie' persona? He couldn't imagine that was the case, he had a sense for dishonesty and this was the most earnest he'd ever seen Bruce or Batman. In his state of shock he hadn't realized Bruce had continued rambling on.

"- or it could be 'The Jade Railway', which is the one where the Grey Ghost tries to stop a museum heist but ends up getting kidnapped and his assistant has to save him. Those are the only episodes that are open to syndication because an editor had the backups at his house when the studio burned down. Was it that one?"

"Oh um, I don't know, it was a long time ago. Sorry, bud," he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember if it was okay to call Bruce bud. 

"That's okay, we can watch the first episode then. It's not very different from the rest of the episodes but this one goes over the grey ghosts origins in the first half, usually they summarize it in the introduction." Bruce pushed himself off the ground and sidestepped the still seated Clark, going straight for the projector without so much as a glance.

As if on queue, Alfred stepped through the door, cradling a neatly folded blanket and set of clothes in his arms.

"Before we get that started we should let your friend change out of his suit," Alfred set the pile down on one of the chairs, handing the clothing to Clark. "If you're going to stay the night I assume you don't wish to sleep in your cape. There's a bathroom down the hall, we'll be here."

Alfred wore a fond smile, unfolding the blanket and holding it open for Bruce, who quickly wrapped himself in it. Clark couldn't help but share the expression as he walked off to change.

Clark hadn't actually seen the Grey Ghosts origin story. He picked up the comics somewhere in the middle of the run, so he knew the broad strokes but not the detail. Bruce, however, clearly had the whole thing committed to memory. It was surreally endearing the way he quoted every line under his breathe, leaned forward in his seat, his expression a mimic of whoever was speaking. Clark less learned the story through the screen, but secondhand from Bruce himself. Once the credits began to roll he was met with Bruce's blue eyes yet again, this time filled with more joy than he'd ever seen them.

"That was pretty neat, huh? Actually this story is a little different from the comics because in the comics he was going to a movie when he got stood up but in the show-"

Clark was barely following but he nodded nonetheless. As Bruce rattled off his facts he played with the blanket draped around him, feeling along it's seams and frayed edges. Clark watched as his fingers halted in their well worn track, noticing the sound had stopped as well. He looked up at Bruce and chest felt hollow.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

Clark had never responded so fast.

"No, no, of course not! It's really interesting that they changed that detail, why did they do it?"

Pride filled Clark's chest again as the glint returned to Bruce's eyes.

"Oh, well the director thought that seeing him watch a movie would break the immersion because…"

By the next hour of their marathon, Clark was truly beat. He'd already been exhausted when he stepped foot in the manor, but he didn't have the heart to stop Bruce's fun just yet. He'd never seen him so excited about something, it was a whole new side of him that Clark just adored. He wasn't the only one who was tired though, as Bruce's monologues had slowed down to accommodate his yawns. When the credits rolled on the next episode, Alfred reached over and tucked Bruce further into his blanket.

"I think that's quite enough for tonight. You can show Mr. Kent more in the morning,"

"What?" Bruce rubbed at his eyes and stifled another yawn, "but I'm not tired yet," he lost his battle with his sleepiness and stretched out his whole body in a yawn.

"Well, a certain butler would love to get some sleep tonight," Alfred chuckled and lowered his voice to a whisper, " Besides, it's far past your bedtime young master." 

Bruce hummed in agreement, "I guess so, Al. Good night, Clark" Rather than stirring from his comfortable spot, Bruce turned over into the recliner, inciting another chuckle from Alfred.

"That will be terrible for your back, my dear boy. Let's get you to bed,"

Bruce mumbled, pulling the blanket back up over his head. Clark got up from his chair and stretched, finding some way he could be of assistance.

"Come on Bruce, I'll getcha' there."

He knelt down on his knees and extended his arms as he'd done many times before, and Bruce fell into the familiar hold. He nodded to Alfred to lead the way, and they journeyed off to Bruce's bedroom.

Clark took a moment to admire his handiwork. He had gotten Bruce, who was known to have to be heavily sedated to get a proper amount of sleep, tucked into bed snoring soundly. It wasn't entirely his of course, the main mother-er currently arranging a chair beside the huge bed.

"Don't tell me you're gonna stay here all night? You need some sleep too, Pennyworth,"

Alfred let out another tired laugh as he brushed a few stay hairs from his ward's face.

"Just until I know he's sleeping soundly,"

Clark took in the sight. He knew how dear the two were to each other, but it was nice to see their familial bond in action. As relentlessly formal as the two were, sometimes even Clark worried things would be left unsaid between the two of them.

"Thank you, for the clothes and everything." Clark was always taught to be gracious to the host.

"Oh it's you I should be thanking," Alfred sat back in the seat and looked to Bruce again, " It can be so hard, so…lonely, when he gets like this. He truly is lucky to have a friend like you."

Clark tried to contain his pride. He was many things, a son, an alien, a superhero - but by far this wad what he held in the most high regard. A friend.