He's there, suddenly, although it was probably the collapse that summoned Clark faster than his name. Arms around Bruce to help him up all the way onto his feet. For a second, though, it probably registers as some guy helping him up, even if that some guy is particularly strong—just not a demigod.

"Sorry," he huffs, keeping his hands on Bruce, a not very dignified clenching onto his shirt as if that would stand a chance of directing another fall than anything else. "I tried catching you and—"

Bruce is bleeding from his nose and they are fucking with dangerous forces with themselves as guineapigs, but Clark's helpless smile breaks unstoppably across his face. At least he doesn't laugh.

Yet.

"You're heavy. Are you okay?"