The city was beautiful. Their hotel suite was in the luxurious Widder Hotel, overlooking one of the oldest roads in the city. Their suite was gorgeous, almost a small apartment. It was still large for a hotel room, but still intimate and cozy, with a huge bed and a beautiful bathroom that had a rain-shower shower head and a bench and massaging shower attachment that they took advantage of together. Immediately. And repeatedly.

Things changed in Zurich. Bruce had six meetings and two dinners scheduled over the two weeks. He had several days off, but they spent all of his free time together, either touring the town or staying in. Clark was less afraid now, but there was no cotton candy clouds and rose-colored glass. They took their time with each other, argued once or twice—or more, really, but solved each tiff without further incident.

Clark finally got the nerve up to ask Bruce about his family. As Alfred predicted, it instantly soured his mood.

"Bruce?"

Bruce had been smiling over breakfast, sipping at his coffee. "What's up?"

"Um... Alfred..." Clark sighed. "He said something that stuck in my head, and I want to ask you about it."

Bruce's smile lessened. "What is it?"

"He said you never talk about your parents because nobody ever asks."

"Or because I don't want to talk about it," Bruce said flatly. He stood, leaving the majority of his breakfast there and walking out of their hotel suite without so much as saying goodbye.

He'd spent the whole day cursing himself for bringing it up. At night, Clark slipped into bed anxious, laying down alone and closing his eyes, hoping to have the chance to apologize in the morning.

I better be ready to grovel.

No way. You better just pack your stuff now. He's going to throw you out, just like they always do. You fucked up again. Why do you always do this to yourself?

I thought he was it this time. Clark curled inward, trying to keep the pain away, but it was already crushing him. I wanted him to be in

He sobbed until he fell into a light, restless sleep.

He was roused by soft kisses on his skin and fingers through his hair. He stiffened, confused. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that the clock read 2:37am and that it was pitch black.

After a moment of silence, Bruce spoke, his voice a almost a whisper. "I was seven. My parents took me to see a movie. I was insisting on watching The Mask of Zorro, and my father finally gave in. Of course that movie was... way too old for me. We left early. We were going to where we parked when a guy came out of the alley. Now when I think of it I know he was waiting for us, but in the moment it was just another robbery. He took my dad's wallet and watch, and he wanted my mom's jewelry, but my mom... she started screaming, or maybe she was crying. Or both, I don't know. My dad..." Bruce swallowed. "He tried to talk him into letting us go. He got what he wanted. We just... wanted to go home. But he fired anyway. My mother took one to the throat, and my father took two center mass." He took a deep breath. "That was the official autopsy report. I just remember my ears ringing—the gun was so loud—and then I was running. I don't know how long I ran before I had to stop."

Clark sat up and turned the lamp on, and then he turned around and wrapped his arms around Bruce's middle, holding him tightly.

Bruce continued speaking, leaving his fingers tangled in Clark's hair. "Alfred is right. After that night, I sort of... shut down. I felt dark and afraid. I felt guilty for making my parents take me to see that stupid movie, and even guiltier that I lived and they didn't. I felt like if people could just kill whenever and however they wanted, with no regard for what the consequences were, then I didn't have to give a fuck either. So anyone close enough that they did ask me how I was doing never got an answer. I pushed them all away. Even Alfred, for a while. But... well, Alfred knows me better than I know myself, and he's better at playing that game than I'll ever be."

Clark chuckled. "I got that vibe from him."

"Yeah. I couldn't win against him. But the rest... and, you know, eventually, there would be new people that would want to be a part of my life, but I was always leery. They never caught my parents' killer. I don't know who that man was or why he was waiting for my parents. I don't know why he killed them. That detail has marked me, in a way. I don't like not knowing people's motives. It made me keep everyone at arms' length. And eventually, they all just stayed away, unless they wanted something from me. That made me keep everyone even farther away."

"Of course it would," Clark whispered. "Of course it did. That must have been so lonely," he said mournfully. He sat up and pulled himself against Bruce, wrapping his arms and legs around him and guiding his head to rest on his chest. "I didn't mean to bring up something so painful," he said quietly. "But I'm glad you were able to get away that night. You have taken that experience and used your hurt and anger in a way that helps the people of Gotham City, both as the Batman and as Bruce Wayne. Your parents, if they could see you, would be proud. I know I am."

Bruce nodded against him, burying himself fully in the comfort Clark was giving him. "Thank you, Clark," he whispered. Then he swallowed. "I... I'm sorry about this morning."

Clark nodded. "It's forgotten," he said easily.

"Seriously? That simple?"

Clark smiled, but it was a smile Bruce hated because it was a sardonic smile with no light in it. "Normally this would be the point where I pried too far too soon into someone's business, and they hate me for it and bail. I won't lie to you, I thought that this was it."

Bruce felt like a fish, the way his mouth opened and closed. He decided to leave it closed.

"You could have told me that you were secretly the zodiac killer, and I would have just been happy that you didn't kick me out."

Bruce let out a snort. "Doubtful. Besides, I'm not old enough to be the zodiac killer."

"You would have had him for breakfast."

Bruce smiled. "Maybe." Then he pushed Clark onto his back, laying on his side and propping up on his elbow so he could meet his eyes. "There are always going to be things I hate to talk about, Clark, things that you'll want to know and I'll be shitty about. I apologize for today, and in advance. Know that, even though those things make me upset, I'm not going to leave you for asking."

Clark swallowed, feeling all of his anxiety melt away. "Okay."

Bruce leaned down and kissed him sweetly. "Thank you for caring, Clark."

Clark startled, his eyes widening. "W-what?"

Bruce sat up and frowned, confused. "I said, thank you for—"

"I know what you said, but... why? Isn't that... I don't know, too much? Why aren't you berating me for prying or being too nosy?"

Bruce's frown deepened. "Because you're not being nosy. You're caring about my feelings and my state of mind," Bruce answered like it was obvious. "Who the fuck told you it's wrong to ask about someone's feelings? Especially someone you're dating?"

Clark was frowning now too. "I don't..."

"Clark?"

"What?" Clark asked, completely confused.

"You can ask me whatever you want. I promise to try not to be an asshole. No guarantees. But I will try. Okay?"

Clark nodded. "Okay, but... why?"

Bruce seemed suddenly vulnerable, in a different way than he'd been explaining all about what happened to his family. "Because there's literally nobody in the world like you. Because you're the most giving person I've ever met. You're so disarming… I never once felt uncomfortable telling you about me, or about Gotham, or my projects. You listened to all of it without judgement despite what was probably a horrible first impression. You're always like that. Even now, I knew I was going to answer your question because I trust you not to hurt me with what I tell you. I did from the beginning, that's why I told you about Gotham." He sucked in a breath, his hands suddenly trembling just a little bit. "Because you won me over in minutes, and I will never shake the feeling that we're supposed to be together," he whispered. "Because I know the only reason you're ever going to ask is because you love me, just like the only reason I'll ever answer is because I love you too."

Clark's eyes were instantly full of tears. "You... you do?"

Bruce nodded. "I do. I love you too, Clark. Thank you for caring. Thank you for trusting me with your soul. It's as beautiful as the rest of you."

Clark scrambled into his lap and kissed him hard, pouring all his emotion into it, as if it were water that he could pour straight onto Bruce's tongue.

Bruce slipped his hands up under Clark's tee shirt, that warmth of his skin making his palms hot. He smiled when Clark raised his arms over his head, facilitating the removal of his shirt. He shuddered as Bruce's fingers traced over his skin, sending tingles skittering across his skin. He remembered how his eyes had followed the movements of his hands while he talked, thinking about how they would feel against his skin. But now, as Bruce's fingers teased the edge of his shorts and slipped over the muscles of his back, he decided not for the first time that his hands were much better than he had imagined.

Bruce was taking his time, trailing soft, loving kisses over his whole face, down the side of his neck, nipping at his throat, and across his clavicle to his shoulder. He kissed all the way to Clark's fingertips, meeting his eyes as he did. I love you, Clark thought Bruce's eyes said as he nipped at the very end of each finger.

Bruce took his other hand and repeated the treatment in reverse, tickling his palm with his tongue, that tender expression on his face that had made Clark want to run at first. Now he reveled in the pure affection that he was receiving following Bruce's declaration of love, which would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn't been sitting down. When Bruce reached his neck again, he wrapped him in a tight embrace. After a moment, his hands slipped down over his back again, massaging lightly for a moment. He tapped on Clark's shoulder, and both smiled brightly as he scooted off Bruce's lap and laid down on his back. Bruce took his time again, exploring and worshipping Clark's skin. He teased the small bud of his nipple with his tongue, grinning when Clark sucked in a sharp breath. It wasn't until he felt Bruce's hands on his thighs that he realized that he'd spread them wide for him to lay between as his lips and tongue continued trailblazing all over his chest, sucking against his other nipple and causing him to moan.

"Bruce..."

"Yes?" Bruce asked, looking up and grinning. He still had a little section of Clark's skin between his lips. He trailed his tongue down the outlines of his ab muscles, moving slowly lower and lower as he made sure to lavish every reachable inch of Clark's skin.

Clark forgot what he was going to say, his words dissolving into another moan.

"Can I take these off?" Bruce asked with a grin, his fingers teasing at the edge of his sleep shorts.

"Yes please," Clark pleaded.

Bruce took his time again, letting his fingers trail over his muscled thighs, over his calves, lightly tickling his foot as he finally slipped them off, leaving Clark completely bare. He gave the same loving treatment to the foot he'd caused to twitch, apologizing with his eyes as he kissed each toe and gently massaged the arch. His lips left a slow, simmering trail of feather light kisses and gentle nips from the ball of Clark's ankle to the side of his knee, and then his tongue slipped and tasted all the way up the inside of his thigh.

Clark trembled and panted, each little nip or sweep of Bruce's tongue making him warmer and warmer until heat was taking over his entire body, the sweetest slowest burn his skin had ever experienced. It was slow enough to sink into his bones and leak into his blood, burning away the oxygen in it and leaving him gasping.

This is what that night should have been like. Clark startled as he followed that thought up. There had been sparks on their first night. A hot, bright flame that burned intensely and flamed out quickly. Clark had been happy with it then, when he thought that was the only way he could ever get warm. But Bruce had offered him this, this warmth that wouldn't just go away in the morning. Instead of taking it, he'd left. He'd chosen the cold over this? He couldn't help the sound that fell out of his lips as Bruce's arms wound around him, his fingers kneading into his butt cheeks as he rained kisses all over Clark's stomach, teasing the area around his navel.

He could never be in the cold again after this. He didn't want to be, and he knew that Bruce wouldn't let him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Suddenly, tears were clogging his throat painfully. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I hurt you when I left. But I hurt myself too. I wish I could take it back."

Bruce's hands reached up and took his, but he didn't move to detach his mouth from the very bottom corner of Clark's abdomen, right where the V of his hips began. Instead, he lapped at the spot with his tongue, driving Clark to distraction, until all he wanted was for Bruce's mouth to lap and suck and kiss where he needed it the most.

Then, without letting go of his hands, Bruce trailed his kisses upward, causing a whimper of protest from Clark that made him chuckle. He placed a gentle kiss just left of the center of Clark's chest, just over his heart. Then he said, "Everything happened just the way it was supposed to," he said quietly. "I wouldn't change any of it." Then he leaned up and took his lips, kissing him slowly. "You are worth it," he whispered, "and I won't waste this chance."

Clark was alive as their lips moved together. He figured love that wasn't unrequited would do that to him. "I love you," he said happily.

"As I love you," Bruce answered. He felt Bruce's fingers finally wrap around his erection, stroking as leisurely as his kisses had been, and then releasing him to ease inside of him. They both groaned as his fingers worked to ready Clark, slicked by lube Clark didn't know when he'd gotten.

When Bruce finally took him, he had a new sensation he hadn't felt before:

Peace.