Work Text
Under the wide Kansas sky, outside of a small barn, Bruce methodically examines its fading red doors. Pa had mentioned at breakfast that he'd like to check the wooden doors for any warping and the hinges for loose screws, but he's not as spry as he once was. Bruce smiled as he took the hint and volunteered to help. Clark's pitch-perfect rendition of 'Walking on Sunshine' filters down from the roof where he's working on repairing the shingles, causing Bruce to sigh and shake his head in fond exasperation.
"Working hard or hardly working?" Clark calls out.
"What do you think?" Bruce retorts without any bite behind his bark.
It had taken a few days with them before Ma and Pa saw past Bruce's high-strung city slicker exterior and were pleasantly surprised to find him to be nearly as resourceful as their son. Clark's brought him back home a few times already, but this is the first time Bruce is staying for an extended visit. In addition to Clark wanting a vacation, Alfred had insisted on Bruce spending time away from the doom and gloom of Gotham.
"The kids will be just fine, I assure you," he said with a wry smile as a scuffle broke out in the main sitting room behind him. "The rogues' gallery seem to conserve their energy in this awful heat; the city will survive without you for a month."
Alfred doesn't waste his words. He saw no point in mentioning that in case of an emergency, Clark would have them both back within seconds of hearing an alarm.
Bruce knows he doesn't need to impress the Kents, and that with Superman as their son, the bar is pretty damn high, but Bruce takes to maintenance around the farm like a duck to water.
Clark chuckles. "I think your work is making quite an impression on my parents. And I think you look mighty fine in those overalls."
"They're your overalls," Bruce mutters. "When do we need to have this place cleared out?" he asks without raising his voice. One of the many perks of having a partner with super-hearing, he muses as he secures the final screw in place.
"An hour or so before sunset," Clark replies, hovering beside Bruce. "I'd figure around seven thirty." He places a soft kiss on Bruce's forehead before setting his feet down on the ground.
"If it's all right with you, I'll stay here and get things set up for dinner. I'm not…" Bruce trails off. "I'm not sure I'm ready to go to shul with you."
Clark's firm hands gently land on Bruce's shoulders and pull him in for a hug. "Sweetheart, it's more than all right. I know being out here isn't easy for you, and I'm so proud of you for setting this boundary."
Bruce opens his mouth to protest that helping Ma prepare Shabbat dinner for their neighbors is hardly worthy of praise, but Clark's steady heartbeat against his own quiets all lingering doubts.