Bruce can feel the smile pressed into his shoulder, and Clark responds to the hand at his hip by pushing in a little closer where he is, leaning. More incidental bodied contact than articulate hands and kisses, although he keeps those up too. The water streams around them like an embrace, and between them like something more intimate than that, and the best thing about a moment you hope goes on forever is knowing that it won't, but you'll get it again sometime.

The sudden absence of water is a surprise (at least physiologically), Clark having sneaked his other hand around Bruce to flip the tap with the edge of his little finger.

"Guess we'll never find out," he murmurs into his hair, kisses his ear, and detaches.

Ruthlessly cheerful, cheerfully ruthless, but Clark is good enough to toss Bruce his towel before using his own to lash around his waist. He is still dripping wet when he casts him another megawatt smile and makes to go.

Down the hallway— "Do we need plates?"