“Look, it’s Superman!”
“Not a bird?” He murmurs wryly, as Clark lifts his hand to wave at the goggling boy in a Green Lantern costume, “or a plane?”
“Come on, that hasn’t actually happened in years,” Clark mumbles in reply, fondly smiling as the boy blinks once and then spins on his heel to go fetch his friends, “I think he recognized you too, you know, so there’s no need to start pouting.”
“I don’t think that I have ever pouted in my life,” he grumbles, affronted despite himself. Refuses to be even the slightest bit charmed by the way Clark flushes, hides a smile behind his hand, “besides, I do not care if I am recognized.”
“Sure you don’t,” Clark says, still barely hiding his smile.
“I am starting to feel, in fact, that it is better if I am not,” he scowls at Clark for a second, finds himself falling into a morose sigh the next. The colorful decorations around them are suddenly less fascinating, and more a reminder of the brightness that Clark deserves in a lover but that he is no longer capable of, “it might not be the best idea to run the risk of revealing our relationship in this setting. It might be a better idea for me to just return to the watchtower, and relieve Bruce from his duty early.”
“J’onn,” Clark murmurs, smile disappearing and hand lowering as his mood becomes clear. The man doesn’t hesitate for even a second, before reaching out his now free hand to wrap warmly around his own, “that’s not a better idea at all.”
He stares down at the joining of their hands, human-seeming tan wrapped around green like it’s natural. Clark has a talent for that, for making even the most absurd things – like asking him out on a date, like going for a picnic in the middle of Metropolis at Midnight, like kissing for the first time in the long grass with the full moon above – seem entirely and charmingly ordinary, “isn’t it?”
“I would happily kiss you in front of the president if you allowed me to,” Clark says stubbornly, still holding on as tightly as possible, “I’m not at all ashamed of our relationship, and I don’t care how it’s revealed.”
“And you can’t sequester yourself away in the watchtower forever, not when there’s so much to see down here and so much I want to show you,” Clark interrupts him, but not rudely. That old handsome smile has returned to his face, is glowing there like – as ridiculously romantic as it sounds – a beacon of hope, “And ... Well, you’ve only given Bruce as hour or so of brooding time yet. Do you really want to deal with him sulking at you for weeks, if you go back now?”
“Clark,” he says again, but can’t help a smile of his own from curling his lips. It’s amazing, how he hadn’t smiled for hundreds of years before he met Clark and now suddenly finds himself unable to stop, “you make several good points, I must admit.”
“Maybe I’m not as bad a journalist as Lois says,” Clark teases, fingers moving up his wrist in a soothing stroke. He’s not quite as sensitive there as a human would be, but he still appreciates the gesture “...If you do want to go somewhere a little quieter, though, just say. I like being out on the streets, amongst all the people, but if you want to go somewhere quieter I grew up in Smallville and-“
“I’m fine here,” he replies calmly, lengthening his fingers a little so he can run them over Clark’s pulse point and watch his eyelashes briefly flutter.
“Are you sure? Because I know of a few quiet little side streets, where we could-“
“It’s the Martian Manhunter!” A little girl, dressed as Wonder Woman complete with a lasso made of spraypainted golden string, yells from behind them – entirely ignoring the frantic pointing of the little boy dressed as Green Lantern beside her, “he’s my dad’s favorite! Mr. Manhunter, Mr. Manhunter, is Superman your boyfriend or-?”
“I’m sure,” he says, releasing Clark’s hand and fondly watching as his cheeks go bright red, “there will be time for quiet side streets later, after all. And for now... Well, I would rather let you show me the things about this world that you love.”