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Fly
by afrai

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Batman keeps his eyes trained straight ahead. Clark's hands are warm and terrifyingly gentle.

"I'm not sure what the aim of this exercise is," Batman says. He feels Clark's smile as a bright vibration in his hands. Words like that seem to cluster around Clark: bright. warm. gentle.

"Come on, Bruce," Clark says, easily. "We'll get there faster this way."

Clark calls him Bruce when he wants to feel close to him. Batman doesn't know if the thought that Clark knows him so little makes him sad, or relieved.

It's a moot point anyway. He'll never admit to either emotion.

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