[ The gesture—that smooth roll of the eyes and the way Bruce looks away from him—is so familiar it almost makes Clark want to pull his glasses off in instinct.
Almost.
As it is, he only presses his lips together against a smile and nods his head. Selfishness is something he can indulge in, though he won’t necessarily call it that in his mind; Clark has a tendency to trust too easily and to believe in the best in everybody, and as such calls this a testament to the young man’s heart instead. ]
All right, Bruce. [ Clark finishes the last of his coffee, looks down at his empty mug, and then back up with a smile. ] I will.
I think I’ll just stay here. [ Another part of him wants to explore, to poke at things that aren’t any of his business, but Clark Kent is injured and tired and very, very human. He’ll file this away under things he wants to do later, maybe for the next time he comes here (and he will, if only to repay the debt he now owes). ] If that’s okay.
[ It probably will be.
In any case, the rest of the night (but it’s always night, isn’t it?) runs smoothly, and Clark does as he promised, staying in his seat with his blanket until he’s rested enough that typical humans wouldn’t feel like shit after. The position held that long makes his bones creak, but it’s a small price to pay. The only messages he ends up sending Bruce are May I know where the restroom is? and Thank you so much for letting me stay, Bruce. Hope you don’t mind if I let myself out, I didn’t want to bother. I’ll see you around. :-) with hours set between them.
Clark will clean up to the best of his ability before leaving—whatever it is Bruce doesn’t while he’s sleeping. He’ll find the blanket folded neatly on the seat and the thermos Clark had used washed in the kitchen area. ]
hope this is ok!
Almost.
As it is, he only presses his lips together against a smile and nods his head. Selfishness is something he can indulge in, though he won’t necessarily call it that in his mind; Clark has a tendency to trust too easily and to believe in the best in everybody, and as such calls this a testament to the young man’s heart instead. ]
All right, Bruce. [ Clark finishes the last of his coffee, looks down at his empty mug, and then back up with a smile. ] I will.
I think I’ll just stay here. [ Another part of him wants to explore, to poke at things that aren’t any of his business, but Clark Kent is injured and tired and very, very human. He’ll file this away under things he wants to do later, maybe for the next time he comes here (and he will, if only to repay the debt he now owes). ] If that’s okay.
[ It probably will be.
In any case, the rest of the night (but it’s always night, isn’t it?) runs smoothly, and Clark does as he promised, staying in his seat with his blanket until he’s rested enough that typical humans wouldn’t feel like shit after. The position held that long makes his bones creak, but it’s a small price to pay. The only messages he ends up sending Bruce are May I know where the restroom is? and Thank you so much for letting me stay, Bruce. Hope you don’t mind if I let myself out, I didn’t want to bother. I’ll see you around. :-) with hours set between them.
Clark will clean up to the best of his ability before leaving—whatever it is Bruce doesn’t while he’s sleeping. He’ll find the blanket folded neatly on the seat and the thermos Clark had used washed in the kitchen area. ]