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clark kent is all kinds of friendly and warm and huge. his arms practically swallow bruce—who isn't a small man himself—as he lifts bruce entirely up out of the mud and carries him behind the stall he mans, displaying all kinds of cheeses.

bruce sits on the lone stool in the cramped space and watches this frankly massive stranger get to his knees to carefully pry off bruce's shoes and check for any injuries. he's at a loss for words.

clark is sheepish about his display of strength, ducking his head with a rosy tint to his cheeks, but bruce assures him he doesn't mind. quite the opposite, in fact. (that gets clark's cheeks burning even hotter.)

bruce elects to stay in clark's stall. to hide from the fans, of course. clark nods along to his explanation and offers him some cheese, and they get to talking.

they hit it off really well, chatting when clark isn't serving customers, trading stories from their wildly different lives. by the end of the day, clark is all sold out, and he shyly asks bruce if he wants to come back to the barn to see his biggest cheese wheel.

bruce, playboy that he is, thinks it's some kind of regional innuendo, and readily says yes. when they actually get to the barn, bruce is preparing himself for a roll in the hay, but no—

there is an actual, real life, massive cheese wheel.

once again, bruce is at a loss for words. clark is all excited about it, telling bruce about his process, his chest puffing out in pride as he grabs bruce's hand to show him a different angle.

bruce can admit it's impressive, and the dedication it must've needed is admirable. clark thanks him with a sweet smile and blushes when bruce compliments it, entirely oblivious to bruce's internal strife.

when clark heads over to lead him out of the barn, bruce throws caution to the wind. he grabs clark's huge bicep and pulls him around, surging forward for a searing kiss.