Rescued (SuperBat fic)

12

Clark's windows are dark as the car rolls up to his building. I check my calendar, to see this evening blocked off in red like I knew it would be, with his name in capitals. Confused, I shoot him a text.
Me: Clark, are you home? We had a plan for tonight.
Clark: Oh I got tied up at work, I'll be back in an hour. Wait for me?
Me: I should be the only one tying you up.
Me: But okay.
Clark: Spare key is under the mat, street door doesn't lock right so it's open.
I reach forward and tap Liam on the shoulder before I step out of the car. The car rolls away quietly as I squeeze through the street door and take the stairs two at a time. The key is where Clark told me it would be, right under the centre of the mat. 
His apartment is dark and quiet. Somehow it still feels warm and full without Lois' things. 
I turn on a couple of lamps, turn on the scanner to have something to listen to, and settle on the sofa.
I flinch myself awake to find the big light on and the ceiling fan going. I can hear Clark in the kitchen, hopping around, singing quietly. I haul myself off the sofa, yawn, stretch, that shake off that sick feeling that comes with wasting time napping. I lean on the half-wall that opens onto the kitchen, watch Clark as he crouches to pull something out of the oven.
He places a glass dish on the stovetop, lifts his arms, shakes his hips and starts to turn. He jumps, then laughs at himself.
"You're up."
"Yes I am. Hi."
I beckon him and he comes close. I fist his sweater and steal a kiss from him. He smiles against my lips, puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes away from me.
I look into his face.
"You cook."
He cocks his head.
"You're surprised?"
"Not really, come to think of it."
Clark steps away and rummages in a drawer, then hands me a couple knives and forks.
"Set the table."
I bite my lip.
"Bossy."
"Could you do any of this?"
I laugh.
"No."
Clark laughs with me.
"Then let me be bossy."
I hold my hands up in surrender and do as I've been asked.
As Clark starts to spoon out the pasta bake into bowls, I open a couple bottles of beer.
Once we're happily sitting at the table together, tucking into his delicious food, Clark asks me about my day. I wave a hand and groan, but that only makes him ask again. I tell him as little as it takes to satisfy his curiosity, that Lucius is still on my ass about this intern and that he wants me to get down to the labs and have some conversations.
"I'm not a mediator! And 90% of my time right now is being taken up by this one outmoded corner of my business. Ugh."
Clark tries to smile for me. He reaches across and takes one of my hands.
"You'll figure it out."
I let out a long breath.
"How was your day sweetcheeks?"
Clark hums.
"Not so bad, but this government source I need is playing hardball, won't give me anything."
"Is there anything you can do to sweeten them up?"
He tilts his head one way then the other, parts his lips, then points his fork at me.
"I think there might be. Thank you."
"We need to do something at the end of this week," I tell him. "Blow off some steam."
"We can do that tonight," he says, winking.
I shake my head.
"No, a date night. We haven't been out together since we had coffee."
Clark looks away, blushing slightly.
"Like what?"
"I'll think of something."
After dinner we stand elbow to elbow and nudge each-other as we do the dishes. And when that's done, I take Clark's hands in mine and sweep him around the kitchen, humming a refrain that could be from an opera I heard as a child as easily as it could be something I've made up. Clark doesn't mind and as we turn slow circles he leans down and kisses my forehead and cheeks. I walk us through to the bedroom and we pass the night gently caressing one another as we blow through episodes of whatever show he's into at the minute. He lets out cute little gasps when the characters exchange barbs and yelps when something dangerous happens and after a while I'm not even watching the TV, just sweeping my eyes over his blue-lit face.
I am up before him again. I creep to the kitchen and get some coffee on the go, leaning on the counter as I text Liam. He gives me an ETA of ten minutes.
I take my coffee to the bedroom and sit next to Clark with my legs crossed. He wakes up as I sip my coffee, stretching his arms wide across the pillows.
"Morning," he says, voice low, dry and rumbling.
"Morning. I put some coffee on."
His smile drops.
"Oh, you're in business mode."
"Sorry sweetcheeks, there's too much on. My car's coming in ten minutes, do you want a ride into work?"
Clark sits up and glances at the clock.
"No, it's too early. You should at least shower before you go."
I hand him my coffee and he accepts it happily, sliding both palms around the mug.
I run out to the car and grab the suit bag from the backseat. I tell Liam to honk if I'm not out in half an hour. Clark shouts to me as I come back in but stays put in bed as I rush into the bathroom.
Liam starts honking as I'm brushing my teeth, with my top button still undone and my tie loose under my collar. Clark bangs a fist on the bathroom door and I end up dribbling trying to smile for him. He leans in and swipes the toothpaste from my chin with a thumb, then puts the thumb in his mouth.
I spit, knock the brush off the sink and replace it in its cup.
"Clark, that should not have been so hot."
He chuckles.
"Sorry sir."
He starts towards the shower. I reach over and smack his ass.
"No you're not."
He puts his thumbs to the waistband of his boxers and pushes them down.
"Yeah okay, I'm really not."
I look at his hard cock.
"Don't jerk off, okay? Save it all for me, for date night."
Clark nods, turning bright red.
"Alright, go," he says. "I don't want to make you late."
We share a short, sweet, routine kiss and then I grab my bag and head for the car.
I am buttoned up and choking behind my tie by the time we pull up outside the labs on the edge of Gotham. Having decided to have them torn down, the buildings now look darker and greyer, and somehow they look like they've started sagging. I leave my bag in the car and head right in, making my way through the maze of walkways until I find the office of the researcher that's causing my headache. I knock once, and walk right in.
The researcher is one I've met before, Dr Hansom. He looks older than he did before, but he's no silver fox. He sits slumped behind his desk.
Between us, the infamous young female intern is sitting straight-backed. Her maroon hair is tied up in a ponytail. Her lab coat covers grungy clothes. A combat boot somewhat ruins the line of the leg she has folded over one knee.
"Alright, is everyone calm?"
They both tell me they are.
"I'm not wasting time here, alright. This should have been a matter for the head of the division, not me."
"I'm sorry, Mr Wayne."
"Hansom, shut up."
He nods.
"Now miss, uh -"
"Heath," she supplies without turning to look at me. "Stone Heath."
"Whatever Miss Heath is doing has increased the efficacy of the products we're researching, and, as I understand it, made them more environmentally friendly. I'm not going to punish her positive results, even if her methods haven't won her any friends."
I take a breath.
"Now I expect that you respect Miss Heath's promotion and find further opportunities for her growth with us. Hansom, if you can't do that, I will hire a researcher who can until Heath is ready to fill your shoes, is that clear?"
He mumbles when he says, "Yes sir."
"Heath, next time, propose before you do."
"Yes sir."
"No-one works alone at Wayne Enterprises; play for the team or don't play at all."
"Yes sir, I understand."
"Alright, now can I get back to more pressing issues?"
They both nod.
I take myself back to the car and phone Tilda. With the call coming through the speakers, I am able to text Clark as I ask which documents Tilda has ready for me.
Me to Clark: Having a good day sweetcheeks?
Clark: I'm on hold but it's giving me time to work out how to get this city official on side.
Me: Kicking ass and taking names, go Clark.
Me: I'm heading back to the office, still have a lot to do. Come by later and give me a goodnight kiss before you go patrolling.
Clark: Absolutely. See you at six. X.
That one letter makes my heart pound and has me distracted enough that I have to ask Tilda what she just said - something I've never done.