Spring storms and warm beds
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Clark woke to the sound of rain. The sky was dark and cloudy, and the windows were foggy with raindrops slicing unpredictable lines across the planes. The rain was fast and harsh against the window, and Clark knew no farm work would be accomplished today besides the daily feedings and clean-ups.
He blinked languidly, his body lax and comfortable as he focused on the steady breathing next to him. In true Bat fashion, Bruce was dead to the world, sleeping on his stomach, arms buried beneath the pillow with his head facing Clark.
He looked so peaceful in Clark’s bed, heartbeat calm, and Clark smiled as he nudged a hair strand away from his eyes.
Clark felt no shame in the fact that he loves watching Bruce sleep. There’s something intimate about sleeping together, especially given Bruce’s tendency to be paranoid. So to see the physical proof that Bruce, after years of teaming together and months of dating, can trust Clark so much that his body naturally crashes? That the fluttering eyelids and twitching fingers are a result of deep sleep, and not from a decade of living with hypervigilance.
How can anyone expect Clark not to treasure this?
Rumbling sounded outside, flashes of light breaking through the gloomy sky, and Bruce’s face furrowed as he curled to his side, towards Clark’s unnatural body heat. Clark shifted in response, letting instinct guide him as he pulled the blankets further around them, adjusting Bruce closer so that his nose was buried against his side, hands curled between them in what Clark lovingly refers to as the raptor hands.
Clark traced patterns where his hands lay against Bruce’s back, a fond smile forming as Bruce’s face went back to the relaxed state from before.
From across the hallway, he heard Ma’s bed creak, feet shuffling against the cold floor. He knows that he should be responsible and get up too. Help out with the barn at least, while Ma can focus on the house chores.
But Bruce’s body lay heavy against him, and his heartbeat remained slow and steady, and the last thing Claark wanted to do right now was leave this warm bubble of his boyfriend sleeping next to him.
Fifteen minutes, he told himself, pressing a kiss against Bruce’s hairline. Then he’ll get up.












