Archive of Our Own ^beta

Clark rolled his aching shoulders within the confines of his suit as he stared mindlessly at his computer. It’d been one of those days, again. Luthor’s latest escapade had involved the world’s biggest wave generator in an attempt to flood Metropolis under a tsunami. Luckily, Superman and the rest of the Justice League had foiled his plan at the last minute - although thanks to Luthor’s upgraded exo-suit Clark got a free trip through the walls of an office block for his efforts. He’d managed to recover and smash the device but the shockwave from the destruction had ruptured every major water main and sewer in the city. The League had stopped the worst of it and rescued those in immediate danger, but now the city had a massive and rather unsanitary cleanup situation on its hands. Buildings were flooded, all forms of transport were at a standstill and large portions of the city were quarantined, including Clark’s block. So he sat exhausted at his desk and worked. Or tried to, at least.

The floor of the Daily Planet was a study in chaos as reporters and photographers rushed about, working overtime as they gathered the latest news of the cleanup effort. Clark himself had already filed two stories on the crisis and all he really wanted to do was go home and sleep. He supposed he could just fly home, but recalling the particular smell surrounding his building when he’d dropped by to shower and change quickly killed that idea. Maybe he should just give up and go home to Kansas? The blackberries would be out down by the stream this time of year so he could be assured of some of Ma’s pie. Or he could go to Gotham and curl himself around an equally exhausted and sleeping Bruce in their larger-than-King sized bed. But there was still that prospect of pie... Clark was still musing on his choices when Perry leaned out of his office and yelled across the floor.

“Okay folks, evening edition is a wrap. Get yourself home to look after you and yours. I want finals for tomorrow emailed by 2am and your sorry hides here first thing in the morning.”

A collective groan passed through the room as the frantic pace faded, people dropping handfuls of paper and preparing to battle their way home. Clark heaved a sigh of relief and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. Lois hurried over and began stuffing scrawled notes into her bag.

“Hope you brought your gumboots, Smallville.”

He smiled tiredly at her. “Are you okay getting home? If you want I could-“

“Richard reckons he can land his seaplane at the football field, so he’s going to pick Jason up then come get me.”

“Oh.”

“Sweet of you, Clark, but nothing beats flying.” Lois shrugged into her coat and trotted off towards the elevator doors without a backwards glance.

“Of course.” Clark replied to himself. He organised his own work for the evening and followed the group headed for home. Once they’d all made it to the lobby some of their enthusiasm died. The street outside was flooded and gridlocked; judging by the number of people sitting on and around their cars rather than in them it had been that way for some time. Most of the Daily Planet staff dispersed with grim looks, but Clark stopped just outside the main doors to lean against the wall. His superhearing could pick up the hum of idle engines, the muttering of people stuck on buses and trains and the gentle roar of water flowing for miles around. He was so lost in the music of the city he almost didn't notice Jimmy come up to lean against the wall next to him.

“Hey CK, you OK to get home?”

Clark blinked and came back from his blank-eyed trance. “Yeah, I’ll get there. How about you?”

The young man shrugged. “A friend who lives just around the block has offered his couch for the night. He won’t be home for another hour though.”

Clark watched the young man next to him eye the chaos before them. “You'll be okay until then?”

“Yeah, I'm a big boy now.” The redhead grinned up at him.

“Yeah, I know.” Clark ducked his head. “Just making sure.”

Jimmy playfully punched him in the arm. “You worry too much, big guy. Gonna take more than wet boots to get me in trouble.” He paused as a loud and all-too familiar voice started up around the corner.

“What do you mean you need to refile your flight plan?” Lois was yelling into her phone as she headed back towards the Daily Planet. “Well, screw them. It's not your fault they're inept.” She snapped her phone shut as she came to stand before the two men. “Can you believe this? Richard says he can't land his plane at the field for at least two hours. Don't people know there's a state emergency?” She huffed and started kicking water out of her waterlogged shoes.

“Well Jimmy here's got time to spare too, maybe we could go grab a coffee?” Clark suggested.

“Kent, I don't have time for babysitting right now.” Lois replied, having to raise her voice over a dull roar which started up in the background.
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I'm not actually twelve, you know. I can look after myself.”

Lois threw up her hands but Clark's attention was on growl which was now echoing off the walls of the crowded street. A second later he saw a dark head moving slowly between the traffic. The noise increased as a gleaming black motorcycle slipped out from between the stationary lines of traffic and jumped the kerb. The bike slowly pulled to a stop a few metres away, idling loudly. The rider was clad head to toe in black leather with a full face helmet and mirrored visor completely hiding his face. Despite this it was obvious he was looking directly at the trio. Clark frowned at the new arrival. In all that armoured leather he looked kinda like... oh. He focused his hearing on the leather clad man and detected a heartbeat he knew better than his own. A smile spread across his face as he walked over to the rider, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“What are you doing here?”

Bruce's reply was muffled behind the helmet, but Clark could still hear him. “Get on the bike.”

“What?”

“Get on the bike.” Bruce repeated, with a nod behind him.

Clark eyed the rather precarious little pillion seat of the back of the bike, complete with a matching helmet hung off the back. “Really?”

Bruce gave him a deadpan look through the helmet that said ‘No, not really. I give orders I expect people to ignore all the time. Idiot.’. Clark didn't even have to look through the mirrored visor to see the expression – it was something about the set of the shoulders and the air of superior exasperation that Bruce could inflict.

Clark looked over his shoulder at Lois and Jimmy, who watching their conversation with a great deal of interest. Jimmy was studying the growling sportsbike almost as much as the mysterious rider. Lois was standing with her mouth agape and her arms crossed. Clark turned back to Bruce. “Aren't you going to take off your helmet?”

“No.”

“Paranoia isn't healthy, B.”

“No, but appropriate security measures are. Are you coming or not?”

“Hold on a moment.” Clark held up a hand before quickly walking back to Lois and Jimmy. “Hey guys, looks like I'm getting a lift home after all.”

“You're what? Who is that?” Lois demanded.

Jimmy just broke into a huge grin. “Sure thing, CK. I’ll cya tomorrow.”

Clark felt slightly guilty as he turned his back on an indignant Lois and grabbed the spare helmet. He really should stay and make sure his friends got home safely. But, as Jimmy said, they were adults and could look after themselves. And Clark was about to drop from exhaustion himself. He climbed onto the back of the bike. As soon as he settled behind Bruce he realised there was nowhere for him to put his hands... besides the obvious. He gingerly placed his hands on Bruce's hips and then gripped tighter as Bruce accelerated and moved back into the traffic. The bike slipped easily through the lines of stationary cars, gridlocked for unknown hours. The water on the road was getting deeper as they headed further into the city, throwing up a spray of water behind the bike. Clark was settling into the feel of movement and the bike underneath him when Bruce's voice loud in his ear made him jump.

“So how long were you going to stand outside the Planet like a lump?”

It was then Clark noticed the communications system built into the interior of the helmet. Very pre-emptive, Batman.

“Not long. But why do you care? What are you doing here anyways?”

Bruce never acknowledged the stupid questions. “I’m keeping an eye on the ground for Luthor, in case he gets any bright ideas. And taxiing stupid lumps, apparently.”

Clark snorted. “So where are we going, O valiant saviour?”

Bruce made a choking noise that could have been a laugh. In some distant universe. “Your place is under quarantine. The apartments I hold here haven’t been affected.”

Clark hummed in agreement. The bike continued to slip through the traffic, weaving around people and abandoned cars. They turned a corner to find a bus stranded across the street, blocking both lanes. Bruce had to break quickly and Clark found himself suddenly plastered against Bruce’s leather-clad back.

“Sorry, there’s pillion sliding problem on this bike. It’s a known issue.” Bruce said.

“I noticed.” Clark replied dryly, but found he didn’t really mind. He liked the feel of Bruce against him; he could feel the leather seams on Bruce’s pants against the inside of his thighs, though the thin wool of his work suit. Bruce jumped up onto the kerb again, threading through the sparse pedestrian crowd until the road was less congested. Clark pressed himself closer to that warm back against his chest. Clark slid his hands forward to fall into Bruce’s lap and the bike lurched Bruce almost missed a gear change.

“Maybe I should reconsider this mode of transport.” Bruce muttered through the com link.

Clark grinned in his helmet. He closed his eyes and rested, trusting Bruce to guide them safely to their destination. With his eyes closed other senses became more apparent. The vibrations of the bike underneath him became stronger and he felt his cock start to twitch under all the stimulation. Clark started to shift on the narrow seat to relieve the pressure, enough that Bruce eventually turned to see what he was doing. Clark smiled sheepishly, which of course Bruce couldn’t see. He wondered if Bruce suspected... hell, of course he did. He’d probably anticipated it, so to real question was what was his intended goal?

Even after all these years of working side by side Clark still couldn’t call Bruce’s cards before he was prepared to show them. Sneaky bastard. Thankfully, Clark didn’t have to endure long. When the roar of the engine started to echo loudly he opened his eyes to see they were in a parking garage. Bruce pulled the bike to a halt and killed the engine. Clark pulled off his helmet and stretched luxuriously before hopping off the bike. He took the chance to eye his transport over and smirked when he saw the badges.

“Your bike is a Ninja?”

“Alfred gave it to me as a gag.” Bruce explained as he locked the machine and stepped off.

Clark laughed, the sound echoing in the empty concreted space.

“What?” Bruce demanded with a half-smile. “It’s an in-joke.”

“No, it’s just... No one else I know would be given a motorbike as a joke. Rubber chicken, maybe, but not a bike.”

“Now I know what to get you for your birthday.”

“A motorbike?”

“Guess again, Sherlock.”

Bruce turned move away but Clark grabbed him, pulled him close so Bruce’s back was once again pressed against his chest. Bruce turned his face back and up to look at him and Clark used the opportunity to drop a kiss on his ear.

“Thanks for the ride.” He breathed in Bruce’s ear. His partner leaned back against him, strengthening the contact between them. Clark slipped an arm around his waist.

“So, you’ve brought me back to your ridiculously expensive penthouse on your ridiculously expensive motorbike. What now? A night of fine
dining, debauchery and passion?”

Bruce chuckled low in his throat. “How about post-mission report writing, surveillance analysis and take out Thai?”

Clark grinned. “Sounds like a date.”