#kryptonshope

     she looks at her with a gaze of concern, the one that lyta only wore when she really cared.   “ are you alright? ”   slowly she stepped forward towards the blonde with her hands up to ensure the other that she had no ill intentions.

Nothing quite like just getting up and then being pulled into some tender arms that could crush his larynx if Clark wanted to. Fortunately for him, that seemed to be far from his intent and he shakes his head with a quiet laugh while one arm snaked around and along the other's back to gently cradle the nape of his neck.

" There. There. You want to tuck me into bed too?"

" Dear god, Clark. Don't tell me you're going to guess what color my underwear is next? " His voice dripping with exasperation. " You're worse than Alfred, y'know?"

A weary sigh as he turns and faces the other. Arms folded and glaring melting into just plain exhaustion.

" I'm fine. I've been worse."

" You know my suit is lead-free. " He turns ever so slightly in his direction, not enough to hide his smirk. "Right, Superman? "

settling dust prompts / accepting (but slow)

𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨. it’s hardly the first time one of his own staff has dared to betray him like this, but it is the first time in a long time that one of them managed to succeed. he can almost hear his father’s voice, taunting him. ( how could you let this happen, lex? what kind of operation are you running that you can’t trust your own personnel? how did something like this get past the supposed best security team in metropolis? )

there’s a deafening ringing in his left ear, and he braces his palms against the desk as he staggers to his feet. the room seems to sway around him. he squeezes his eyes closed and focuses on the solid feeling of wood beneath his hands instead. one hand presses to his side and winces; he can feel something warm and wet and sticky against his skin, but thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have bled through the blazer.

...though the sprinkler system, at least, appears to be working.

( he certainly picked a hell of a day to wear white. )

the voice draws his attention, and he blinks, eyes burning from the smoke. it takes a moment for his vision to focus, for him to realize that a warm, solid hand has snaked around his elbow, keeping him upright. he needn’t have bothered, though — he’d know that voice anywhere.

Tsk. Blood in his mouth. Burns on his wrists. Sometimes the suit wasn’t enough. He was only human. A pithy feeling still when standing next to a hovering god. But he knows better now, right? He’s seen how gods fall and rise again, hasn’t he? 

He’s one of them now. Sort of. 

Bleeding with a broken rib and a cut next to his brow under the cowl doesn’t feel like it. 

He spits it out in the corner, standing up right even through the dislocated shoulder and the ache that comes with every breath. He watches as he makes good work of the rest of the gunmen that had nearly left him serrated with bullets had he not come in at the last second. 

   “ I had it under control, you know? “ He remarked, almost through gritted teeth, the words scratching against his throat through all the aches and the injury.