Comfortably neutral proximity that feels like it's on the verge of being something else, to Bruce. What, he isn't sure - or maybe it's just that it could go either way. Bruce could leave; Bruce could reach out and put his hand on his waist, pull him closer.
Bruce should leave. Smallville sounds awkward and full of nothingness, and beyond that, full of reminders of the close community and acceptance that he's been desperate for his entire goddamn life but been unable to hold on to. Full of reminders of how destroyed it was by the Kryptonian insurgents, and how the people here still rallied around Clark, protected him and his secret.
Incredible how that never gave Bruce a fucking clue.
Anyway.
For a long, excruciating moment, Bruce seems caught somewhere too inexplicable for an answer, draining his coffee like it's buying him a stay of execution. Say no. Go to the airstrip, go home.
no subject
Bruce should leave. Smallville sounds awkward and full of nothingness, and beyond that, full of reminders of the close community and acceptance that he's been desperate for his entire goddamn life but been unable to hold on to. Full of reminders of how destroyed it was by the Kryptonian insurgents, and how the people here still rallied around Clark, protected him and his secret.
Incredible how that never gave Bruce a fucking clue.
Anyway.
For a long, excruciating moment, Bruce seems caught somewhere too inexplicable for an answer, draining his coffee like it's buying him a stay of execution. Say no. Go to the airstrip, go home.
"All right."