Nervous raccoon hands. Bruce holds him more securely again, returns his kiss, but with much more care. Trying to think about tipsy first-timers instead of his own tried and true routines. He nuzzles close, winds his arms around him, protective. Resists the urge to ask Are you sure you're all right, sweetheart? for eight hundred million reasons, but mostly because he's sure Clark has no idea if he's all right or not.

Heart beats. Soft kisses. Why is everything that happens to you my fault?

Bruce is so gentle with him as he comes down from everything, definitely more in control of himself after that stop-start moment. He's nervous still even when the readings even out and Clark's left simply tired, too nervous to allow him to take a shower for fear of temperature changes impacting his blood pressure, instead simply herding him to bed. Bruce's. He leaves the glass clear instead of setting the dimmers, so that when the sun rises, it'll find Clark right away.

Sleep is for people who aren't paranoid over their drunk alien boyfriends.