Clark noticed it the moment it entered the manor and he felt his heart shatter on the floor. A lead box - big enough to contain a reasonable shard of Kryptonite - remained in Bruce's pocket at all times. Dates, missions, the goddamn dinner table. It was all he could do to stop from flinching, because every time Bruce was mad, his hand rested over his pocket, over the box.

The first night he brought it to bed, Clark got up and hid in the bathroom. Once Bruce's breathing evened out, he snuck to a guest bedroom instead and cried himself to sleep.

"It makes sense," he told Ma when he arrived in Smallville a week later, all his possessions in a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "He lets an invincible alien around when he's most vulnerable - gotta defend himself somehow." His voice broke. "I just thought he trusted me."

He soon learned Bruce was looking for him and he moved again, keeping his Ma out of the fight that would inevitably come.

Eventually, Bruce caught up to him. He was dressed as Batman, so Clark put on Superman and went to meet him.

"Kal," Bruce gasped and lunged for him.

Clark steeled himself for the hit, the sting, the burn, but it didn't come. Bruce was - Bruce was holding him.

"You're safe. I thought - I thought..." Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter. You're here - you're - Are you crying?"

He was. He drew in a watery, shaky breath and pressed his forehead to Br- to Batman's.

"Kal, who hurt you?" Bruce demanded.

"You..." Clark's breath hitched, he licked his lips and tried again. "You don't trust me, not even when we're alone. You still have it," he sobbed.

"Have what?"

"The Kryptonite!" Clark trembled, gasping for air. "You brought it to bed, like I was going to attack you or - or like you were going to have to kill me in my sleep."

"Kal-"

"And when you got mad-"

"Kal," Bruce stroked a gloved thumb over his cheekbone. "This isn't Kryptonite." He held up the box and Clark flinched away.

He closed his eyes, waiting. Until something small and metallic was pressed into his palm. He looked down to see a ring.

"I just wanted it to be a surprise and I wanted to have it with me the very moment I needed it." Bruce swallowed. "Dick wanted to help me pick it out, but I did it myself. A diamond," he tapped the centerpiece stone, "for your pure heart, and topaz on either side because it reminds me of your eyes, and titanium for your strength of spirit, and on the inside... 'nan rup khuhtov zhor, Kal-El'."

Clark fell to his knees, sobbing with relief as he cradled the ring.

Bruce knelt beside him and cupped the back of his neck with his hand. "Don't say yes," he begged. "Not like this. Just - just come home - just come home to me, Clark."

"Okay," Clark sniffed, and Bruce wiped his tears away as he looked up. "Okay, let's - let's go home." He hesitated. "Khuhtov zhao."

Bruce gave him a bittersweet smile and kissed him gently before standing and holding out his hand. "Let's go home, meyn oytser."

...

Translations:

Nan rup khuhtov zhor, Kal-El - (Kryptonian)
You are my heart, Kal-El

Khuhtov zhao - (Kryptonian)
My love

Meyn oytser - (Yiddish)
My treasure