( Don’t judge me - go eat your corn. )

   He’s not judging you, Bruce. He’s just concerned. That’s different - it comes from a place of care.

“Don’t worry. I have plenty of time to disappoint you.”

“That was a joke, by the way. Although, I’m pretty sure I am a disappointment to Bruce Wayne. I think most people are a disappointment to him.” Probably not you. 

“I’ve got to be honest. Things on my team are rocky right now.” As in he doesn’t even know where Steve is. “But if there’s an emergency, and you need us, we’ll be there. I’ll make it happen.You have my word.”

   “I wouldn’t take Bruce’s estimation of you personally,” Clark says, lips twitching into a brief, fond smile. “He’s hard on everyone.” Himself most of all, Clark thinks, but keeps that to himself. 

   It makes him wonder what it was like to be someone like Bruce, to be someone like Tony; they’d both gotten into the game early, had to do things on their own for a while before anyone else showed up to lend a hand. Even when there were more of them, even when they made a team, it’s difficult to say if that was an improvement or not.

   Therein lies the struggle, the real fear inherent in what they do: are they hurting more than they help? Should he have listened to his father, kept his abilities to himself, not interfered?

   It’s too late to think like that now, but sometimes he wonders. He knows there’s no going back, not for any of them -- that they can only move forward and do the best with what they have. Still, sometimes he wonders if he’s doing the right thing.

   It’s nice to have other people to consult with, people who have done this longer and who understand the enormity of their decisions.

   “The same goes for me,” he says quietly, steadily, his brow pinched. “This is bigger than just Metropolis, just Gotham, just New York. We have to look out for each other when we can. I don’t have a team to offer you, either,” he adds, mouth twisting. “But I know a good man and a good woman who stepped up when I needed them, and I know they’d do the same no matter where the danger was.”

   It’s not a team, and he doesn’t know if it ever will be -- if he and the others will ever be more than unsteady allies when it is required of them -- but he does know that whatever their differences are, they can be put aside for the greater good.

They’re in agreement about Bruce Wayne, so this is already going swimmingly.

He waves off the compliment. Some of his best work in terms of impact has been in the medical tech field. It hasn’t gotten much press, and that’s by design. Developing this stuff is the least he can do. He doesn’t need the world to praise to him for it.

(He doesn’t mind it coming from Clark, though.)

“Well, I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to have a drink with you. Which, by the way, you’re way less of a dick than I anticipated. No offense. I assumed I’d be impressed, but I also assumed you’d be a giant stick in the mud. So congratulations. I guess I’m the dick in this scenario.” 

He’s got to stop making people out to be worse than they really are just so he can avoid disappointment.

He’s also got to stop talking.

   One slow blink later, Clark can’t help the laugh, short and startled. He’s heard a lot about Tony Stark -- who hasn’t, honestly? -- some of it good, some of it bad, some of it worse. Reading about a person doesn’t quite compare to speaking to them face-to-face, though, and no amount of interviews you watch can really tell you much about what a person’s really like.

   He ought to know that already; he’s a reporter. But there’s something friendly about Tony that doesn’t come across in the few press clips he and his mom had watched in her living room, brief sound clips of Tony Stark and then Iron man as he rose to fame, then infamy, then back to fame again. 

   Then again, Clark’s a different person on the other side of a microphone, too.

   “You know, I’m not sure if I should be apologizing right now or not.”

   He turns to fall into step with Tony, hands in his pockets, shoulders loose. In all honesty, this whole liaising between superhero teams thing isn’t really something he’s comfortable with, and not just for the fact that he doesn’t have a team so much as a tenuous alliance with Batman and Wonder Woman. 

   Clark’s really not that great at managing people, and Tony Stark’s spent his whole life dancing circles around them. Even the skills he’s managed to cobble together while working for the Daily Planet won’t do a thing for him in conversation here; best to just be genuine, straightforward, and hope for the best.

                    ❛❛ – ❜❜    he looks like there’s a statement on the tip of his tongue, holding something back. and he’s always calculating what he says - how much he gives away and what consequences he’s willing to be dealt with.

            with Clark – It’s easier to say what would otherwise be harder with anyone else, but it takes longer to say it.

          ❛❛ I hope it doesn’t either. ❜❜    Next time, that decision won’t be so easy to make.

   There’s a half second pause between Bruce’s admission and Clark’s reaction, but his smile isn’t any duller for it; if anything, he’s pleasantly, thoroughly surprised, and the look softens the lines of his face, wipes away some of the solemnity that recent events have put on it.

   “I’ve got a good feeling,” he says, smile warming his voice. “We both want the same thing, so that makes it easier.”

   Once you’ve seen eye-to-eye with someone, his mother liked to tell him, it’s a lot harder to find it in you to blacken it. 

   Thinking of her brings him a rush of guilt, of shame, and he buries that in favor of the conversation at hand. (If there’s one thing Clark had learned to do well as a child, it was swallowing up his feelings -- a necessity, lest they swallow him whole.)

“The one and only. Call me Tony.”

He’s just as impressive in person as he is on TV. Tall, dark, and handsome; strong-jawed bustin’ out of his button down. Surprisingly not imposing, not that he couldn’t be if he wanted to, Tony’s sure. He’s the kind of guy you’d want to grab a beer with.

“Don’t listen to anything Wayne tells you about me.”

   “As long as you don’t listen to anything he tells you about me,” Clark returns, faint amusement coloring his tone as he offers his hand for a brisk, gentle shake.

   (Well. Gentle on his part.)

   “Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

   And a man like Tony Stark is probably perfectly aware of who else he is, but the elephant in the room can be left unannounced, can’t it?

   “It’s a pleasure.” And it is, honestly. “A coworker of mine did a piece on the program you just rolled out for the vets -- nothing tops a Stark prosthetic. But you know that,” he adds, ducking his head with a small, huffed laugh. “And I’m not on the clock right now.”

   Well. Not as Clark, anyway.

what is it with aliens and capes?

   “I don’t think capes are a uniquely alien accessory.”

   I’m not an alien smacks into the backs of his teeth, rattles around in his mouth and is forced back behind a patient, pleasant smile. I’m a farm boy from Kansas dies in his throat, not quite a lie but not the whole truth either, anymore.

   He inhales, exhales, and settles his weight evenly on both feet.

he likes ur tight outfit and your belief in mankind

                       ❛❛ I’d fight you again - in a heartbeat. ❜❜ 

                       and his voice is – well – you can’t really tell.

  there’s an undertone that he’s teasing back - …. but he means what he said. 

   “Knowing that actually makes me feel better,” he admits, posture as relaxed as ever. 

   And it’s true, too -- if there’s anyone out there who can stand toe-to-toe with him, who can make that call and stand up to him when it’s needed -- he knows it’s Bruce. They can balance each other ,he thinks , or they can atl east try.

   It’s a new concept for him, but a welcome one. (This whole business is a lot less lonely, a lot less daunting, knowing there are people like Bruce and Wonder Woman out there with him.)