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Chapter Text

…it is still unclear why the ‘Bat Man’ has chosen to move to Metropolis. With Gotham’s skyrocketing crime rate, it seems the Bat’s hometown needs him more. But with ongoing debates about whether the vigilante has decreased or increased incidents of violent crime, many Metropolis citizens are worried that the Bat Man is a bad omen. Will he help us, or will he only make things worse?

Clark’s phone buzzed on the library desk, lighting up with a message.

LEX. I’ll be done in 15. Still on for the pre-game at mine?

CLARK. Yes! Be there soon. Meet u in the lab.

Clark skimmed through his new article one last time before shutting his laptop and tucking it away into his bag. He swung his backpack onto one shoulder and started on his way out of the library. It was practically empty - it was 7 o’clock on a Friday night. Clark had wanted to get his last piece done before the weekend, even though the deadline was next Friday.

The cool spring evening was refreshing as Clark stepped out of the library and made his way across the city towards the Metropolis City University chemistry building. The city was loud and busy and so different from Smallville. Although sometimes Clark missed the quiet of his hometown, he loved the city. There were so many people with so many different lives, and there were so many possibilities.

Ten minutes later, he swiped his ID card to get into the chemistry building. After climbing two flights of stairs he found Lex in a lab room. He waited for a moment in the corridor, watching Lex through the glass wall. They had been friends since middle school, and while they had argued a lot in the past, Clark was so grateful they had gone to the same university. Sometimes he didn’t know where he would be without Lex. To see Lex in the lab was to see him in his element. Clark knew Lex’s father wanted him to take over the family business, LuthorCorp, when he finished university. Lex would be good at it, definitely, but business wasn’t where his passion lied - science was.

Lex looked up from his work and saw Clark stood outside. He smiled and waved him inside.

“Clark! Metropolis’ greatest reporter has finally graced me with his presence!” Lex said, smiling widely. Clark chuckled and took a seat next to Lex at the lab bench.

“Bear with me. I’m almost finished.”

“What is that stuff?” Clark asked worriedly, eyeing the bright green liquid that filled Lex’s test tubes.

“This, my friend, is liquified Kryptonite. My father wants to trial it as a fuel source for some of our new technology.”

“That stuff they found in the meteors back home?” Clark feigned ignorance and sat back in his seat a little. Of course Lex was working with the only thing in the world that could hurt him.

“That’s the one,” Lex muttered. He finished corking the test tubes. As Lex pulled his bag onto his shoulder, he knocked into one of the tubes. It became dislodged and rolled across the table before falling and smashing on the edge of Clark’s stool. Bright green liquid splashed onto Clark’s jeans, tshirt, and arms.

“Shit, man, sorry!” Lex said, jumping into action and wiping the chemical off with a towel. “Don’t worry, it’s not toxic to your skin. Won’t even sting.” Lex passed Clark another towel. Clark rubbed the chemical off his clothes to find a stain. That sucked, he’d liked those jeans. They were expensive. When he wiped his arm down, Lex swore. There was an angry green burn where the Kryptonite had touched his skin.

“Shit, sorry man, I swear it’s not toxic,” he said, frowning.

“Maybe I’m allergic to it or something,” Clark said. That was plausible, right? He walked over to the sink to run his arm under water, trying not to stumble across the room. He felt weak all over and his head was swimming slightly. Clark hadn’t been exposed to Kryptonite in a while - he was relatively used to coming across it at home, where meteors had carried the chemical with them when they landed at the same time as he did. Metropolis had suffered no such fate and he wasn’t used to feeling weak anymore.

“Hey, are you okay? You look pale,” Lex frowned.

“Yeah, probably just hungry,” Clark said, smiling wanly.

“Takeout at mine before everyone gets there?” Lex asked, putting his arm around Clark’s shoulder. Clark used to be head and shoulders above Lex, but since they were seventeen they’d been around the same height.

“Sounds good.”

Lex’s apartment was very different from Clark’s. In the huge open-plan penthouse at the top of the LuthorCorp building, Clark still sometimes felt like he was somewhere he wasn’t allowed to be. But when it was him and Lex on the sofa eating takeout, he could forget the floor-to-ceiling view of the city skyline and the fact that the TV cost more than Clark’s family home would go for. It was just him and Lex.

“We need to get you dating, man,” Lex said offhandedly. Clark almost choked on his food. He still felt sick from the Kryptonite, but if he didn’t eat, Lex would get suspicious. Clark was famous in Smallville for eating like a bottomless pit.

“What?” Clark sputtered.

“Yeah. You never really dated anyone in high school, apart from Lana. It’s time you played the field a bit. It’s a shame you’re living with Lois this year… I thought you guys could’ve had a thing.”

Clark made a non-committal noise as he ate. He had thought about it with Lois, of course. She was beautiful, strong, and kept Clark in check. But they lived together, and they were such good friends; he didn’t want to do anything that might change that.

Clark shrugged. “Can’t date a girl you’re living with, man. Everyone knows that.”

“She’s hot, though, come on,” Lex urged.

“Yeah, she’s pretty,” Clark admitted. “But it’s not really like that with me and her.” He didn’t always like talking about girls with Lex. They had very different approaches.

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it, of course I have. She’s gorgeous. But we’re… we’re friends. Good friends. We have a lot of respect for each other. And I’m happy with it that way.”

“Shame. What about Selina? Harley’s friend?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s gay, Lex,” Clark sighed.

“Really? Damn, it’s always the good ones.”

Clark shook his head and finished his meal. “Shall we get the drinks out?”

Lex nodded and went over to the kitchen. Clark picked up the takeout boxes and put them in the bin. He watched in trepidation as Lex opened the door to his father’s liquor cabinet. Bottles upon bottles of alcohol were lined up in neat rows. Lex filled his arms with six or seven of them, and motioned to Clark to grab the other five huge bottles of Vodka that were on the kitchen counter. Clark shook his head and laughed.

“This is a lot, Lex,” he warned.

“Like you couldn’t put it away,” Lex scoffed as they carried the bottles through and arranged them on the coffee table.

Clark had a reputation as an immensely heavyweight drinker. At first, he hadn’t even realised he couldn’t get drunk, so he’d just kept going and going. There had never been an effect. He tried to keep it quiet, like most of his unusual qualities, until Lex had pressured him into ‘showing off’ at a high school party. From that day on, everyone knew Clark Kent had a crazy tolerance. It wasn’t even like Clark was particularly big - he was muscular, sure, well-built, but so were all the other farm kids. His drinking had become somewhat of an inside joke at Smallville High. And, just like Lex (or more like because of Lex), his reputation had followed him to university.

The doorbell rang loud through the apartment. Lex frowned.

“I told everyone to get here for 9,” he said in confusion.

Clark checked his watch. “It is 9.”

“Yeah, but every normal person knows that means to arrive at 9.30,” Lex said.

“Diana,” they both said in unison.

Lex opened the front door, and sure enough, there she was.

“Hi!” Diana grinned. Her long black hair was pulled up into a ponytail. She wore a dark blue sparkly top that offset her tanned Mediterranean skin nicely. “I brought some alcohol for you!”

After Diana, the other guests slowly started to trickle in. Clark knew Ivy from earth sciences, and through her, her girlfriend Harley. He recognised some friends of friends: Gordon, Dent, Selina Kyle. Selina had brought someone Clark recognised, but couldn’t quite place. He was a little shorter than Clark but much bigger - his huge shoulders strained against his loose black t-shirt and one thick arm was about the width of Selina’s waist, where his hand rested.

Clark talked to Diana in the corner for a while. Apart from Lex, Diana was his best friend in Metropolis. She was a hard worker and was very involved on campus, and when she wasn’t at a social or a fundraising event, she was at the gym. Diana was buff. She did competitive sport when she was younger, but her specific answer changed every time; horse riding, archery, javelin, shot-put, track, boxing, fencing. Clark and his other flatmates, Lois and Ivy, had debated over and over which ones she had really done - she couldn’t possibly have grown up doing all of those, they argued. Then again, Diana had been homeschooled before she decided to move from Turkey to America for university. At least, that’s the story she told everyone. Clark knew better. He knew she was from Themyscira, a secret island of Amazon women warriors. He had told her he thought that was much better than being from a blown-up alien planet. She had just laughed.
Diana suggested drinks, mainly for appearances’ sake. She was the only one who knew Clark’s secret. Clark still felt ill from the Kryptonite. He worried if maybe Lex was working with something a little more concentrated. But after Lex’s concern earlier in the evening… Clark didn’t want to give the impression that anything was wrong. He readily knocked back a shot with Diana. He was used to the burning feeling at the back of this throat… and the dizziness was just because of the Kryptonite, right?

Clark stumbled as he was hugged aggressively from behind, thin arms dangling over his shoulders. That could only be one person.

“Harley!” Clark laughed, turning around.

Harley cackled and offered him another shot. “Another, Kent?”

Clark accepted and only slightly regretted it. Whatever Harley had given him was much stronger than what Diana had picked out. Clark loved Harley. She was over at his place a lot seeing her girlfriend Ivy, and she was great fun.

“Have you and Selina met properly?” Harley asked, and Clark noticed Selina, who looked as though Harley had dragged her over. They had to fight to be heard over Lex’s loud music.

Selina smiled shyly and gave a little wave. She was beautiful, with dark skin, dark eyes, and dark purple hair that shone lilac in the light. She had long, cat-like black nails that made her hands look elegant and dangerous.

“Hi! Yes, I think we met at Ivy’s birthday party last year?” Clark said, shaking her hand. Her nails reached his wrist.

“That’s right,” she answered. Her voice was low and smooth.

“How do you guys know each other?” Clark asked, gesturing between Selina and Harley.

“We both do criminology,” Selina explained.

“That’s a popular one, huh?” Clark wondered, looking around the party at Gordon, Dent, Harley and Selina.

“It is when you’re from Gotham, yeah,” Selina said, pointedly but not unkindly.

“Of course. Sorry, I’m still a smalltown country guy at heart,” Clark said sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby, we need men like you to remind us that not everyone is a psycho killer in a weird costume,” Selina said.

“Hey, you watch what you say about my ex,” Harley joked. At least, Clark hoped it was a joke.

“Have you met Bruce?” Selina asked.

“Bruce?”

Selina pointed behind them to Lex’s sofa, where the huge guy she came in with was currently drinking straight from a bottle of vodka.

Selina sighed. “I’m trying to get him out more. He just transferred here from Gotham University. After the bombings and the floods and the gassings, who can blame him. I mean, after Wayne Manor exploded, who wouldn’t want to move away…”

Something finally clicked in Clark’s mind. “Oh! That’s why I recognise him! He’s Bruce Wayne.”

Selina nodded. “Not quite the polished face he shows to the press, is he?”

Clark took a second to really take him in. There were dark bruises under his collar and on his arms, like he’d been in an accident, or maybe a fight. Black liner ringed his dark eyes. Dark brown hair hung down over his face, coming down to his nose.

“Did you meet here?”

“No. I knew him in Gotham.” Selina took a long drink from her cup. “He got me out of a few bad spots. Helped me turn my life around.” Clark found that a little hard to believe, looking at him now. Selina followed his gaze, and his expression. “There’s a lot more to him than meets the eye, trust me. Let me introduce you.”

“Sure.”

Selina led Clark across the room to Bruce. His resting expression seemed to be somewhat murderous, but when he looked up and saw Selina, his whole face softened. He smiled and moved over on the sofa to make room for the two of them. Selina sat on one side of Bruce, and Clark sat on the other.

“Bruce, this is Clark. He lives with Ivy,” Selina said.

“Oh, I know you. You’re friends with Diana, right?” Bruce asked. His voice was deep and quiet, and Clark had to lean closer to hear him.

“Yeah, I love her, she’s great!” Clark said. “How do you guys know each other?”

“She comes along to boxing sometimes,” he explained. His eyes were very dark, Clark noticed. He wasn’t quite sure what was behind them.

“I would hate to face her down,” Clark said, and for once he was being honest. Super strength or not, he would not volunteer to fight Diana. He looked across the room to see her doing push-ups with Harley on her back.

“Yeah, some of these are from her.” Bruce gestured to the bruises on his arms.

“Selina! Dent wants to know what grade you got last week!” Harley pulled Selina away from them and across the party to where Dent and Gordon were standing in a corner a little awkwardly.

“Hey, you know those guys, right?” Clark asked Bruce. “You’re doing criminology, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, as a minor. Gordon and I are friends, but I’m not sure how much Dent likes me,” Bruce admitted. He offered Clark his vodka bottle. Clark accepted and took a big drink. Bruce watched him appraisingly.

“I guess the rumours about you are true,” he said, fixing Clark with an intense look.

“What rumours?” Clark nearly choked on his drink. Was it supposed to taste that bad? You’re weirdly strong, you’re never sick, you always know things you shouldn’t, you don’t look all that much like your parents…

“You can really hold your drink,” Bruce said carefully. Maybe Clark’s worry had shown on his face. The world seemed to thicken as he handed the bottle back to Bruce. Sounds were fuzzier, lights were brighter, movement was smoother. Was he drunk? He didn’t think he’d ever been drunk before.

There was an uproar as Lex announced that it was time to go out. Lex clapped a hand around Clark’s shoulder and led him out of the apartment, the others following behind them. Clark looked behind him and found Bruce’s eyes already on him. He felt heat colour his cheeks and turned around quickly. He had a bad feeling this might turn into quite a messy evening.

Chapter Text

Bruce hadn’t wanted to go out. He wasn’t a fan of Metropolis, and he wasn’t a fan of Metropolis nightlife. It was all too clean. Every club here felt like an extension of one of Wayne Enterprises’ members’ clubs. He missed the grit of Gotham. He missed the fight of Gotham. He missed the Iceberg. But once Wayne Manor was bombed, Alfred had issued an ultimatum. Either stop the vigilante work, or move away for university. Bruce had tried to argue the bombing showed that there was more need for the Batman, not less, but Alfred wouldn’t listen. He said Gotham was too dangerous for someone as angry as Bruce. Alfred had moved into Wayne Tower in the city with Dick. Bruce wished he could’ve just done that. He knew Alfred worried about him when he was away… but Selina had told him it would be good for him to have some freedom and be independent for a while. Bruce could see her reasoning, but that didn’t change that he missed Gotham. Missed Alfred. Missed Dick. Not to mention that moving to Metropolis took him further away from finding the man that killed his parents.

So, Bruce hadn’t wanted to move to Metropolis, and he had not wanted to go clubbing. But when Selina asked him to do something, he found it very difficult to say no.

They walked through Metropolis, a line of relatively drunk twenty-somethings who were warm and pink despite the cold of the night. But Bruce was only interested in one of them. 

He had seen Clark Kent in passing a few times; they had a lot of the same friends. But once he’d spoken to him… Bruce knew he was hiding something. He had this desperate urge to find out what it was. Solve the puzzle, decrypt the code, uncover all the secrets this tall, wiry farmhand from Kansas was hiding. “What rumours?” Clark had looked scared about what Bruce would say next. What was he so worried people would find out?

Selina’s arm slinked around his waist, the points of her long black acrylics digging into his skin softly. 

“Stop analysing him, babe.”

“I wasn’t,” Bruce mumbled. Humiliatingly, he felt his cheeks flush. He dragged his eyes away from the back of Clark’s head and the way Clark’s shirt strained against his lithe shoulders. Clark wasn’t huge, but Bruce could see his strength in the tone of his body and the way he carried himself. Bruce wondered what he would feel like.

Selina made a self-righteous noise and pulled Bruce closer into her. Bruce put his arm around her shoulder and she settled into his side. They just fit together. Bruce was so grateful for the night they’d met, however unconventional it was. 

“He’s hot,” she whispered.

“He’s average,” Bruce responded, deadpan. 

Selina laughed, as if to say, who are you kidding?

When they got inside the club, time began to blur. Selina danced very inappropriately with Bruce for quite a while. He didn’t mind. He hated being around so many people at once, so focusing on Selina worked for him. That was, until Selina spotted a girl she liked the look of and waved goodbye.

Bruce stood awkwardly in the middle of the club in his black hoodie and eyeliner. Everyone around him was wearing bright colours, fancy clothes, sparkles. It was a rich kids’ club. It was every gala he’d ever been to in Gotham, just with a younger average age. He hated it. 

He went over to the bar and ordered something strong. He resigned himself to sit there until everyone left, or until Selina found him again.

He didn’t have to wait as long as he thought. After just ten minutes, Bruce spun around to the sound of “Hey man, the lady said no!” and a square punch in the face. He almost smiled. It felt like home. 

Bruce was deeply shocked when he saw that the man who had been punched in the face was none other than Clark Kent, who had been knocked over and caught by Lois Lane.

Bruce was vaguely aware of Lex Luthor breaking up the conflict, not-so-subtly making it clear to the offender that his father owned 70% of the club they were standing in. The guy seemed to be squaring up to Lex until Diana came to see what the fuss was about. He took one look at the size of her arms and stumbled out of the club, grumbling. But this was all background noise to Bruce. 

Clark was clutching his nose, which was bleeding. His cheeks were flushed with alcohol and his blue eyes were a little glassy. Bruce noticed for the first time the green splotches on Clark’s hand and arm. It looked almost like a burn. Bruce had been too drunk to notice it earlier. What could that be from…?

Lois was trying to help Clark to his feet, but he seemed to be dead weight. Lex put an arm under Clark’s armpit and dragged him up. 

“You can’t keep doing this, man,” Lex complained. That surprised Bruce, too. Clark didn’t seem like the type to get into fights.

Lex led Clark out of the club, Lois in tow.

“You’re going to be obsessed with him now, aren’t you?”

Bruce hadn’t even heard Selina come up behind him until she spoke. He turned to find her looking very exasperated. 

“No.”

Bruce didn’t think about Clark when he walked Selina home. Bruce didn’t think about Clark when he walked back to the rich end of town and went up to his penthouse above the Metropolis branch of Wayne Industries. And he definitely didn’t think about Clark when he laid awake at 4am, curtains wide open to the city skyline. He didn’t have time for distractions like Clark’s smile, Clark’s secrets, and Clark getting punched in the face. He needed to find the man who killed his parents. He needed to go back to Gotham and see Alfred and Dick. He needed to keep being the Batman. He did not need Clark Kent in his life. 

Unfortunately for Bruce, that wasn’t going to happen. 

Chapter Text

Clark’s head was absolutely pounding. 

He opened his eyes tentatively against the morning light. He was sprawled on Lex’s sofa in his clothes from yesterday. The living room was a total mess, empty bottles and cups everywhere. Clark felt something lodged below his back and pulled a shot glass out from underneath him. He shook his head and groaned. His parents were right, as usual. Lex was a bad influence. 

Clark pulled himself up into the sunlight, turning his face towards the window. The warmth washed over him, clearing his head, smoothing out the aches in his body from sleeping on the sofa, and erasing the Kryptonite burn on his arm. Sometimes Clark wished he was human, but sometimes he really loved being an alien.

He fished his phone out of his back pocket. It was nearly dead and the screen was cracked. Great. He wondered how much that would cost to fix. Clark turned it on to check his messages.

HARLEY. can i call you the next time my crazy ex is in town? i might need your ass-kicking services, country boy.

DIANA. Are you okay?

LOIS. Thanks for last night, I hope you’re okay. Come knock on my door when you get home.

IVY. you forgot to water your plant before you went out yesterday. you should be paying me child support for this thing.

“What on earth?” Clark muttered.

Memories from the night before seeped back into Clark’s mind. He buried his head in his hands. The Kryptonite had affected him worse than he’d thought - he had been incredibly drunk. Clark was grateful that apparently no amount of inebriation could make him forget that he was not allowed to hit back. He knew he had his father to thank for that. Jonathan Kent had spent a lifetime reminding Clark, don’t hit back. You’ll heal, they won’t. Clark reminded himself of that so much that it had become like muscle memory to him. Don’t hit back. Don’t let them realise they can’t hurt you. 

Except last night they had hurt him.

Clark resolved to avoid Lex’s lab until he moved onto a new project. One without Kryptonite. 

He wandered down the hallway and into Lex’s room. It was huge and sparse and grey. Lex was fast asleep on top of his unmade king-sized bed, also still in his clothes from the night before. Clark picked up a throw pillow that had fallen onto the floor and threw it at Lex’s face.

“What the fuck, man,” Lex mumbled into his pillow.

“What happened last night?” Clark demanded.

Lex opened his eyes and squinted across the room at Clark.

“Oh man,” he laughed. “You were fucked, dude. I’ve never seen you like that before. How much did you drink?”

“Just tell me what happened,” Clark sighed.

“This guy was getting all handsy with Lois, and she told him no, but he kept trying, and you were all,” Lex put on a deep voice to imitate Clark, “ the lady said no, and then he punched you in the face. Hey, what happened to your face?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your face looks fine. Last night your nose was all battered and bruised.”

Crap. That was another reason Clark wasn’t supposed to get into fights. “Maybe you saw it wrong. You were pretty drunk last night, too.”

“If you say so.” Lex scrubbed his face with his hand. “Man, I feel awful.” He looked at Clark again. “You look fantastic. Why do you always look fantastic? Of course Clark Kent never suffers a hangover, even when he gets beat up.”

Clark scoffed. “Look, I’m gonna head home and talk to Lois. Thanks for bringing me back here.”

“Yeah, of course, man, anytime. Although not too soon, please. Carrying you is impossible. You’re complete dead weight, Clark! It felt like trying to carry a freaking bodybuilder.”

“You were just drunk,” Clark said dismissively. “I’ll see you Tuesday night?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Lex agreed, before rolling over to go back to sleep.

Clark knocked gently on Lois’ door.

“Come in.”

Lois’ room was full of books and pin boards covered in newspaper clippings. She sat cross-legged on her bed in sweats and a hoodie. She looked tired, but more worried than anything else. 

“Are you okay?” She said, crossing the room to meet Clark. Her eyes scanned his face anxiously.

“Fine. Not even a scratch,” Clark reassured her.

“But, last night, your face…” she frowned.

“Everything looks different in club lighting, I guess,” Clark joked. “Even the size of the guys you’re mouthing off to.”

“You didn’t need to do that for me,” Lois sighed. “But thank you.”

“Yeah, of course. You needed help.” It had never been complicated to Clark. If someone needed help, and he could give it, why wouldn’t he?

Lois smiled at him. “You’re a good guy, Clark.”

Clark shrugged. “I just did what anyone half decent would do.”

Lois hugged him. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Clark?” Diana knocked on Lois’ doorframe and stepped into the open doorway. Lois and Clark pulled apart. Diana didn’t say anything about Clark’s face. Although Diana finding out about him had been an accident, he was very grateful that she knew. It was nice to have at least one person who wasn’t questioning him all the time.

“What can I do for you?”

“I think it’s something I can do for you… This is the fourth time you’ve been hit since September.” Clark opened his mouth to object. “And, yes, it’s very noble of you. We’re all grateful for your good heart and your community spirit. But it can’t keep happening. You’re going to join the boxing club with me.”

“Boxing? But, Diana -” Clark glanced at Lois.

“Lois, I’m going to borrow him for a moment.”

Lois laughed and let Clark be dragged down the hallway to Diana’s room. He felt like he was being bullied sometimes, living with Lois, Diana and Ivy.

Diana shut the door to her room. It was simply decorated in white and gold, with some pastel accents. She sat down on her bed and motioned for Clark to join her.

“Diana, I can’t join the boxing club. I’ll punch the living daylights out of every single person I fight.”

“Yes, I know that. But that’s only if you use all your power. Why do you think I go along?” Diana grabbed a fork from an empty plate on her bedside table and bent it in half easily. “I could kill all those guys if I wanted to. But I don’t. I want to be able to defend myself like a normal person, in situations like the one you got yourself into last night.”

Clark sighed. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea. It’s really helped me. I can hit people normally now,” she grinned proudly.

“I would really love to see where you grew up,” Clark said in exasperation.

“Maybe one day. But for now, boxing. You’ll come with me on Tuesday. You can fight me. That way, it won’t matter if you hit too hard at first. Just come along.”

“Why do I have to join the club? Why can’t we just do it at home?” Clark grumbled.

“Clark, it wouldn’t kill you to make some more friends. Sports are the most fun when you’re doing them with other people. You can’t spend all your time writing or playing video games with Lex.”

“That’s not-”

“When was the last time you did something that wasn’t for college or with Lex Luthor?”

Clark opened his mouth to respond, before realising he couldn’t. Every time he hung out with his other friends, it was to study, or something Lex had organised. He shut his mouth in shame.

“Look, I’m not trying to be harsh here,” Diana sighed, taking Clark’s hands into her lap. She’d always been quite touchy. Clark guessed it was because she was used to living in a close-knit female group. Still, he’d never corrected her or pulled away. He and Diana shared something more than he did with anyone else, even Lex - they were different in a way that no one else could ever understand. “I just think that having something else in your life would be a good thing. And if it means you stop getting punched in the face, then that’s good too. To be honest Clark, the more it happens, the more suspicious people will get that you never actually get hurt.”

Clark nodded. He knew that. He just hadn’t wanted to think about it because it scared him. No one could find out who he really was.

“What happened to you last night, anyway? You were actually drunk, and your nose was bleeding all over the place.”

“Lex’s new project is working with Kryptonite,” Clark complained. “He’s using it in a refined liquid form. Some of it spilt on me yesterday. I think it must be more powerful in the form that he’s using it in.”

“Even more of a reason to spend less time with him,” Diana said bluntly. “Actually getting hurt and looking completely fine the next morning is even worse than not getting hurt in the first place.”

“I know, I know,” Clark sighed. “It just sucks, having to think about this stuff all the time. It’s exhausting.”

“I understand,” Diana said. It helped Clark to know that she actually did. “Come with me on Tuesday. You might make some new friends.”

Chapter Text

Bruce’s phone lit up his dark bedroom.

SELINA. it’s fine if you don’t show up to class, but please lmk next time. i had to sit with dent. i would’ve skipped with you. u ok?

Bruce sighed and rolled over in bed, ignoring the message. It was 4pm on Tuesday, and he’d just skipped their Criminology workshop. It’s not that he didn’t find it interesting, or didn’t want to go. He loved studying criminology, and much preferred it to his business major. 

But today was one of those days. 

Bruce kept track of police reports back home in Gotham. On Monday, a young woman had been mugged and threatened with a knife by a man who vaguely matched the description of the man Bruce was so desperately searching for. He’d spent the night flicking through security camera footage and trying to find him. He didn’t. He’d unplugged everything in anger. Then he’d started thinking about Clark Kent again, and what he could be hiding, and the way he’d felt when he’d looked at Clark, and how it scared him. He hadn’t slept until 6am, and had woken up every hour or so after bad dreams. Blackout blinds covered the floor-to-ceiling windows in his bedroom. His head hurt. He didn’t want to eat anything, see anyone, go anywhere. He wanted to go home. He wanted Alfred to sigh and shake his head and force the blinds open, tutting about his circadian rhythm and nocturnal habitats. He wanted Dick to bust the door open and jump on his bed until he had to get up. He wanted his parents back.

Bruce slipped back into unconsciousness.

Someone was pounding on his door.

Bruce groaned and pulled himself out of bed. He stumbled out of his bedroom and through his apartment to the front door. The screen next to it showed Selina Kyle with her arms folded, looking right at the camera. Her purple hair was pulled into a tight, slick-back bun. Her leather jacket was beaten and worn and her dark jeans were fraying at the bottom. Her platform boots scared him.

“Did you change the fucking locks again, Bruce? We talked about this.”

Bruce tapped the mic button on the console. “Go away, Selina.” His voice was hoarse and barely there. 

“No. Open the door. Or I’ll find another way in,” Selina threatened, raising an eyebrow. Bruce sighed. He didn’t want to deal with Selina trying to break into his apartment right now. 

Bruce opened the door. 

Selina looked him up and down. The only mirror in the whole place was in the bathroom, but he didn’t need to check to know that he looked like shit. Selina pulled him into a tight hug. Bruce stiffened at first, then started to relax as he felt her familiar body wrap around his.

She stepped back and gave him a stern look. “You’re supposed to call me.”

“I know.”

Selina grabbed his hand and marched him into the kitchen. She dug through the cupboards and found a protein bar and a water bottle, which she filled. She threw them both at Bruce. She then dragged him back down the corridor to his bedroom. “Right. You’re going to boxing.” She opened his black-out blinds and Bruce squinted against the evening light that filtered in. Selina flung open his walk-in wardrobe and pulled out a black hoodie, sweats, and a black track vest. “Jesus, Bruce, why is everything you own black?”

“I’m not going,” Bruce said, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“Yes you are. I’m guessing you were up all night and you slept all day?” Silence. “You’re going.”

“Selina, I-”

“Do you want me to call Alfred?”

“No,” Bruce said quickly. “He should never have given you his phone number,” he grumbled.

Selina laughed and threw the clothes at Bruce. “We text, you know. We have a weekly phone call.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Get changed. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” Selina left, shutting the door behind her.

Bruce sighed. He knew he needed Selina. He loved her for it. He knew that the days when all he wanted was to be left alone were the days when he needed to call someone, see someone, and go outside. But that didn’t make it any easier.

Five minutes later he met Selina in the hallway. She attacked him with a tub of hair product and gelled his hair back so that it would be out of his face. She complained about the hair gel getting under her nails as she washed it off. Bruce complained that she shouldn’t have such long nails. Selina threatened to scratch him with them and Bruce was glad he had a friend that showed up when he didn’t call.

“Please let me know next time,” she said, cupping his face in her hand. Bruce nodded. She pointed a long fingernail in his face. “And we’re going out for food after you get the shit beat out of you.”

Selina linked her hand with his and led him out of his front door, into the lift, and towards boxing.

Bruce loved the boxing gym. 7 til 8pm on a Tuesday was his favourite time of the week. He loved the smell, the sounds, and the feel of his hands in the gloves. He loved that he didn’t have to talk much, and when he did, it was to help people get better. He liked being able to help people learn to defend themselves. The Wayne Foundation did a lot of charity work, but Bruce hardly ever got to see that come to fruition. Making anything better in Gotham was just such an insurmountable task. But seeing the same people every week, watching them get better and more confident in what they were doing because Bruce had taught them - that was a good feeling. He liked seeing the real impact of his actions. That was one reason he started being Batman.

He was, annoyingly, glad that Selina had dragged him out of bed. She’d gone off to a lash appointment, but she was taking him out to eat after. Or rather, she was making Bruce take her out to eat. All he wanted now was to relax, clear his head, hit people and get hit with no other distractions. He didn’t want to think about Gotham. He didn’t want to think about his parents. He didn’t want to think about Clark Kent and his secrets and his nice-looking face. It shouldn’t be too much to ask, Bruce thought.

“Bruce!” Bruce turned to see Diana walking into the gym. “I’ve brought you a new recruit!”

And of course it was Clark Kent who walked in behind her. Of course it was.

Chapter Text

Clark wasn’t sure what he’d done to upset Bruce Wayne, but he was sure he must have done something.

“Bruce! I’ve brought you a new recruit!”

Bruce turned at the sound of Diana’s voice. When he spotted Clark behind her, he glared at him. It was scary. He was dressed all in black in loose sweats, and he was even larger than Clark remembered. He was seriously built. His hair was slicked back, and Clark could finally see his whole face. Bruce had acne scars, high cheekbones, dark eyebrows and a nose that looked as though it had been broken once or twice. Or more. Despite being invulnerable, Clark truly believed that Bruce could hurt him. He guessed he was about to find out.

There was a group of about fifteen other students in the gym putting their gear on. Clark made to join them, but Diana motioned him over to the other side of the room, where Bruce stood, glaring.

“You remember Clark, from Friday night?”

“Hard to forget,” Bruce said monotonously. 

“So you can see why I’m here,” Clark joked, hoping to lighten the mood a little. 

Bruce nodded curtly. “Do you have kit?”

“He’s borrowing mine,” Diana said, handing Clark a pair of bright pink boxing gloves from her bag.

“Thanks Diana,” Clark smiled tightly. 

Bruce walked off to talk to some of the other club members. Clark turned anxiously to Diana.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Diana said, “Don’t worry about him. He gets in a mood sometimes. It’s not personal.”

“It kind of feels like it is,” Clark said nervously.

Bruce set everyone off sparring with each other. Clark assumed he’d be with Diana, but Bruce asked her to instruct some other newcomers and took her place opposite Clark.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Kent,” Bruce Wayne huffed.

Clark rolled his shoulders back and hit Bruce. Well, he tried. Bruce blocked him fast and hard. Clark tried again, faster. Bruce blocked him again. Clark tried to shake off his annoyance. This was what he was here to learn. How to get the better of someone without it being obvious that he didn’t even need to try. He tried a third time and made sure he didn’t use force, but he did use a little of his inhuman speed.

Bruce blocked him again.

Clark blinked at him. He’d just used super speed to throw a punch, and Bruce Wayne had blocked it. What the hell did this guy do in his spare time?

“Come on. Try again,” Bruce urged.

Clark shook his head and focused. He had to at least get one hit in, surely. Otherwise, what was even the point of having superpowers?

He did it again, much faster, and finally managed a blow to Bruce’s ribs. Bruce groaned and clutched his side. Crap. Clark had forgotten to keep the hit soft. He hadn’t used anywhere near his full force, but he had hit him with some super-strength. Clark felt awful.

“I’m so sorry, I-”

Bruce grinned, his eyes lighting up for the first time since Clark had met him. “Now, that’s more like it.”

They fought for a while longer. Clark got another few hits in, but made sure he kept them soft and tempered. Bruce made contact with Clark quite a few times, even when Clark tried to use his superspeed to block him. Bruce was fast , and he was strong too. Although they were only sparring, and it couldn’t hurt Clark anyway, he could still feel the force behind Bruce’s punches.

By the end of it, Clark felt exhilarated. Now that he was in Metropolis and not helping out on the farm, living in the middle of nowhere, he never got to use his powers for anything fun anymore. But this, fighting with Bruce, dodging, blocking, hitting, fighting; it was brilliant. Bruce seemed to come alive, too. He was no longer looking at Clark like he wanted to kill him. He was looking at him like he was something new and exciting, something worth paying attention to, responding to, moving in time with. It was like a dance between the two of them, testing each other’s limits.

While Clark hadn’t even broken a sweat, Bruce was dripping and breathing heavily. He called a time out for everyone. Clark hadn’t realised they’d been going for three quarters of an hour already; their time was nearly up.

Bruce went over to a bench on the wall and pulled a water bottle out of his bag. Clark watched as he drank, long and steady, his head tipped back and his Adam's apple bobbing. Bruce caught Clark’s eye as he capped his water bottle. Clark flushed and looked away hurriedly. He felt caught, but in what he wasn’t sure.

“Hey! That looked like it went well.” Diana clapped Clark on the shoulder. Like him, she didn’t look at all fatigued, but had a glow about her. 

“Yeah, it did. That was… that was fantastic. Thank you so much for bringing me along, Diana.”

“Any time. I told you you’d like it,” she winked. She went over to talk to Bruce. They shared a few words, and then Bruce called for everyone’s attention.

“Great work today everyone. It’s great to see how quickly you’re all coming along. As a special treat, because you’ve all worked so hard today, Diana and I are going to spar for you,” he explained. His deep voice carried well across the gym. Diana grinned at him and he smiled begrudgingly. They both made their way into the ring. The other students circled them excitedly.

It was, frankly, insane. Clark had never seen anything like it. He knew Diana wasn’t using her full strength. They had once gone out of the city to a field in the middle of the country to show each other what they could really do. It was still one of Clark’s favourite days of his life. But this was something else, to see her fighting, even when she was holding herself back. She was so quick, so agile, and there was so much power behind her movements. Everything she did was purposeful. Clark wondered for a moment how people didn’t see anything otherworldly about her.

But Bruce was just as good. He was just as fast as he had been with Clark. He landed hit after hit on Diana, even when Clark could tell she was using superspeed. He hit her hard, matching her blows. He was steady on his feet and didn’t let her cover any ground. He blocked all but her quickest manoeuvres, and took her hits with nothing but the occasional grunt. He was insane, Clark decided.

They both called it quits after about ten minutes. It was clear they were just as good as each other. Clark gained a secret pride in knowing that Diana could have beat him, but her self-control was almost more impressive. She jumped down from the ring without a hair out of place and hugged him excitedly.

“That was amazing!” Clark exclaimed. “That was awesome. You’re awesome.”

“Thank you! It was so fun,” Diana grinned as she pulled away.

While the other students were chattering about their techniques and who they think would have won in the end, Clark saw Bruce steal away and leave the gym.

“I wanted to thank him,” Clark said to Diana. “I had a really great time today. It seemed like he enjoyed it, too.”

“I can give you his phone number, if you like. He doesn’t have social media.”

“Of course. I almost keep forgetting he’s famous. He’s just so… normal. Apart from the way he fights,” Clark mused as he and Diana crossed the gym to where they’d dropped their bags. He took his gloves off and passed them back to her. 

“No, keep them. They suit you,” Diana grinned. Clark groaned in mock exasperation and put them in his bag, smiling. “Yes, Bruce fights like a maniac. I love it. I’m sure you had the same experience. It’s so fun to fight someone where you actually have to use some of your…” Diana looked around to check no one was paying attention. “... extra strength to stay on top of things.”

Clark nodded. “Exactly. Thank you, Diana. I think this is going to really help.”

Diana smiled brightly. “I’m so glad.”

“Oh, crap.” The smile dropped from Clark’s face.

“What is it?”

Clark stared in horror at his phone screen.

LEX. Hey, you coming?

LEX. Are we still on for tonight?

LEX. I’ll just meet you back at my place.

LEX. Dude, seriously, where are you?

“It’s Tuesday. I was supposed to meet up with Lex tonight, like we do every week. I completely forgot to tell him I was going to be busy…” Clark felt horrible.

CLARK. Hey man, I’m so sorry, I had something on. Totally forgot to tell you. I can come over now?

Clark finished packing up his bag nervously. It was only a few minutes before the reply came through.

LEX. Don’t bother.

CLARK. How can I make it up to you?

CLARK. I’m so sorry.

Clark bit his lip anxiously. Diana came up behind him and rested her head on his shoulder, reading the messages too. She laid her hand on his upper arm protectively.

LEX. Dad’s in town Friday. Wants to go out for dinner before he heads back to Smallville. Be my back-up?

CLARK. Always.

Clark found it hard to get to sleep that night. Diana had told him not to be so hard on himself, that he always put others first, it wasn’t a crime to do something for himself for once. Clark knew she was right, but he still should’ve told Lex rather than standing him up. He felt like a terrible friend. And now he had to have dinner with Lionel Luthor, who Lex, and therefore Clark, hated. Clark sighed and rolled over restlessly. He found himself in a moment of jealousy for normal people, who could sleep easy after an evening of exercise. Clark found himself staring at the clock as it moved past 11pm, 12pm, 1am. He wondered if Bruce Wayne was already asleep. Bruce, with his slicked back hair, dark circles under his eyes, scratchy voice and broken nose. Bruce, who could really get a hit in. Bruce, who could move as fast as Clark and Diana. Bruce, who could pose a challenge to Clark and Diana. At least, when they were trying to seem like normal people. Bruce Wayne, who was covered in bruises from fights he always won and didn’t speak much but loved to hit people and be hit back. What a mystery.

When Clark woke in the morning and checked his phone, he saw a message from Diana.

DIANA. +1 640 222 800. 

DIANA. So you can say thank you.

Chapter Text

Bruce was digging through an expenses spreadsheet for his Business class when the message came through. 

+1 620 553 366. Hey, thanks for showing me the ropes on Tuesday. I had a great time. Looking forward to next week!

+1 620 553 366. This is Clark, by the way. 

+1 620 553 366. Kent. 

+1 620 553 366. Diana gave me your number. Hope that’s okay. 

Bruce stared at the screen. Selina peered across Bruce’s kitchen table at the messages and raised an eyebrow at him. They sat on the plush black booth seating that was tucked into a corner of the spacious open kitchen and living area. 

“Don’t,” Bruce said. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Selina said innocently, going back to her criminology reading.

“I’m going to be having words with Diana,” Bruce huffed, but started typing.

BRUCE. No problem. I had fun too. 

“You saying you had fun with someone is basically the same as you saying ‘I love you,’” Selina teased, still reading over his shoulder.

“I’m going to call Alfred and tell him you’re bullying me.”

“He’ll just take my side. He always does.”

Bruce gave up, knowing it was true. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Clark Kent. He was suspicious of him, for starters. It was clear that Clark had secrets, and was very anxious about keeping them. He could keep up with Bruce in a fight, and he was as fast and strong as Diana, which was a skill level Bruce had yet to find anywhere else. He got into fights for people he cared about and lost, despite his obvious strength. He was a journalism student who wrote for the school paper, as Bruce had found out during a late-night google search after boxing earlier that week. Most of his articles were about college sport, but there were a few social-justice type pieces that seemed to be written with a bit more passion. And he was hot. Bruce had to admit that to himself. Clark’s dark curly hair, soft blue eyes, farm-tanned skin and low Southern voice were hot. But that didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean Bruce felt a certain way about him. He was just curious about him. In a normal way. He wanted to solve crimes and understand people; thinking about Clark was just an extension of that.

Bruce’s phone rang and jolted him out of his train of thought. 

“It’s Alfred,” he told Selina. Her face lit up and she scooted over to Bruce’s side of the table. 

Bruce answered the call and his phone screen lit up with Alfred’s unimpressed face. He was pushing 60 now, and Bruce was all grown up, but seeing that expression still sent a bolt of fear through his stomach. It was Alfred’s someone’s-in-big-trouble face, which he had developed when he was in the military and perfected while raising Bruce.

“Hey, Alfred, what’s up?” Selina asked, who had only once been on the receiving end of Alfred’s wrath and didn’t have quite the same generational fear of it that Bruce did. 

“Hello, Selina, Master Bruce.” Bruce missed hearing Alfred’s clipped English accent every day. ”I regret to inform you both that Master Dick has been sent home from school early.”

“What happened, is he okay?” Bruce said hurriedly. He knew he shouldn’t have left Gotham. Selina put a comforting hand on his knee under the table.

“Master Dick is fine. Unfortunately, the child that he punched in the face is not.” Bruce punched the bridge of his nose. Kids. “Now you begin to understand a fraction of the anguish I have endured while raising you, Master Bruce,” Alfred said smugly. Selina smirked but stopped when Bruce glared at her. “Master Dick has been demanding to speak to you ever since I picked him up.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “Hand him over.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Bruce! He started it!” Dick’s indignant eight-year-old face made its way onto Bruce’s screen. 

“Dick, we’ve talked about this. Just because someone else starts it, doesn’t mean you won’t get in trouble for finishing it.”

“He deserved it,” Dick mumbled. He looked down in the way he did when he was trying not to cry and didn’t want Bruce to see. 

“What did he do?”

“He told me that my parents were freaks and that whoever killed them had the right idea,” Dick choked out. “I wanted to talk to you because I knew you’d understand.”

Bruce clenched the fist that wasn’t holding his phone and felt his whole body go tense. He heard Selina take a deep breath beside him. Her hand found his and she squeezed it under the table. 

“I do understand,” Bruce said firmly. “You’re right, Dick, he did deserve to be hit. But just because someone deserves something, it doesn’t mean you have the authority to punish them. That’s your teacher’s job. Alfred and I will both be talking to your school about this, but if anyone ever tells you something like that again I want you to go straight to a teacher. Do not start getting into fights. Trust me, it doesn’t make anyone’s lives easier.” Dick swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. He nodded. “And Dick, listen to Alfred. There’s nothing I know that he doesn’t, and plenty of things he knows that I don’t,” Bruce smiled. 

“Thanks Bruce,” Dick sniffed. “When are you coming home?”

Bruce missed home like he would miss his heart from his chest. “I’ll be home in two weeks, okay?”

“And Selina’s coming back, too?” Dick asked hopefully. 

Bruce turned the phone so that Dick could see Selina next to him. She cracked a grin. “You bet, sweetheart. You’ll be hard pushed to get rid of me.”

“Two weeks is sooooo long. You’ve been away for ages. Can I come and visit you in Metropolis? I’ve always wanted to go.” Selina laughed at the idea, and Bruce chuckled a little. “I’m serious,” Dick protested. “I want to come!”

Not quite sure what he was agreeing to, Bruce said, “I’ll talk to Alfred. I make no promises, but I’ll see what we can do. And Alfred can punish you for this problem at school any way that he sees fit, including saying no to this.” Dick groaned. “Now pass me back to Alfred please.”

“Very well done, Master Bruce. Although I don’t know if I would have told Master Dick that the young man deserved to be hit…” Alfred chided. 

“Some people do deserve it, Alfred, there’s no getting around it. That kid especially. I’m going to call the school tomorrow and I want you to talk to them when you drop him off in the morning. I want that boy to face consequences for what he said.”

Alfred nodded solemnly, then raised an eyebrow. “All this talk of Dick not taking justice into his own hands is good advice… and a little hypocritical don’t you think?”

“Yes, well when Dick’s twenty-three, not eight , he can decide if he wants to be a vigilante too. Would that make you happy?”

“We both know it wouldn’t, Master Wayne,” Alfred said smoothly. “And what’s this about Dick going to Metropolis?”

Bruce sighed. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Alright then. We’ll talk again soon. Goodbye, Master Bruce. Take care of yourself. And you, Selina.”

“You too, Alfred.”

“Bye, Alfred!” Selina called. The line went flat. 

Bruce put his head in his hands. Selina placed a hand on his back comfortingly. 

“You handled that really well,” she reassured him.

“Thank you. I think I just spoke more to Dick than I have to anyone all week. Sometimes I find it hard with him. It’s like looking in a mirror and seeing myself when I was that age. God, I really don’t know how Alfred did it. I was way worse than Dick when I was younger.”

“Yes, and you’re so much better now that you dress up as a bat and go around fighting people at night.”

Bruce was about to retort when his phone buzzed on the table. 

DIANA. Hi Bruce, I’m having a birthday party on Saturday night. I’d love for you to come if you’re free!

“Ooh, let’s go! Please. I know you don’t have anything better to do this weekend,” Selina gushed. 

“I do have to find time to beat up criminals, you know, Selina. Besides, you might not even be invited.”

DIANA. Selina is also invited!

Selina laughed. Bruce thought it sounded like an evil laugh. It definitely felt like it was at his expense. And he knew he was going to Diana’s birthday party whether he wanted to or not. 

Then Bruce felt something almost no one else in the world ever felt. He couldn’t wait to go home to Gotham.

Chapter Text

On Friday night, Clark found himself in a restaurant where he thought their meal would cost more than his rent per month. He and Lex sat across from Lionel Luthor, who had already interrogated Lex on what exactly he’d achieved this term. He seemed to be moving on to Clark.

“So, Clark, Lex tells me you’ve taken up boxing?” Lionel asked politely.

“Yes, sir.”

Lionel nodded approvingly. “A real man’s sport, boxing. You’d do me a favour by bringing Lex along, you know. He spends too much time in those labs. He’s looking skinny, don’t you think, Clark?”

Clark opened and closed his mouth, not sure what to say. He and Lionel had gotten into a huge argument when Clark and Lex were around sixteen. He couldn’t take the way Lionel talked to Lex and had just started shouting at him. Lex had showed up to school the next day with dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes and a bruise on his cheekbone. He said he’d tripped and fell into a coffee table. Clark hadn’t spoken back to Lionel Luthor since then. He didn’t care what Lionel would do to him; it wouldn’t hurt him anyway. But what happened to Lex was a different story.

“All my time in those labs, father, is for your company,” Lex said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, and how is your fuel project coming along?” Lionel asked, in a tone that suggested he expected nothing.

“Very well, thank you. We should be ready for some real trials soon,” Lex explained defensively.

“Good.” Lionel nodded curtly. He turned his attention back to Clark. “Now, you’ve been writing for the school paper, haven’t you, Clark?”

“Yes, sir. Mainly college sport, but I put a new article out today about the Batman.”

“Ah, now that’s an interesting topic. Whether you agree with vigilante justice or not, you have to admire a man who takes matters into his own hands. I respect a strong man who is trying to be the best he can be,” Lionel said, giving Lex a passive-aggressive side-eye.

The rest of the meal was just as painful. Lionel made digs at Lex wherever he could, Clark was frustratingly polite, and he could feel Lex get more angry and more defeated by the minute. Finally, the ridiculously high bill was paid and Lionel stood up. Clark and Lex followed suit.

“It was good to see you, as always, Clark.” Lionel had made his peace with Clark years ago when he realised he could use him to shame Lex. Clark shook his hand, firmly, and with a little super strength. Lionel winced slightly and Clark smiled passively at him. “Keep Lex on track for me, will you?”

Clark nodded stiffly.

Lionel shook hands with Lex and told him to take care. Clark hauled his overnight bag onto his shoulder and they left the restaurant. Lionel headed in the opposite direction, towards his car and Smallville. Lex and Clark started towards Lex’s apartment. They walked home in silence.

Clark knew his biological parents were dead. It was something he struggled with a lot. He hated the unknown of it; would he have been happier if he’d grown up on Krypton, with his birth parents? Would they have been kind and nurturing, like the Kents had been? Or would they have been controlling and cruel, like Lex’s father? Clark would never know. Sometimes that killed him. But sometimes, usually when he thought about Lex and Lionel, he was glad. He had no idea what his biological parents would have been like, but he knew that his adoptive parents had done their best and given him all their love. He couldn’t ask for much more than that. It was more than a lot of people got.

Clark found his mind wandering to Bruce Wayne. He hadn’t thought of it when they’d met, but now he remembered that Bruce’s parents had been killed in a violent crime. Clark remembered being young when he’d seen it on the news, probably around eight or nine. He wasn’t sure what was worse; never having known your parents at all, or knowing them and losing them. 

Lex didn’t speak until they were back in his apartment. He closed the door behind Clark and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Fuck,” he sighed.

“I’m sorry, man. Sometimes it feels like me being there just makes it worse,” Clark apologised, walking through to the living room and dropping his bag next to the sofa.

“No, no. Thanks for coming. It does make it easier to have you there. At least I know not everyone at the table hates me.”

“I don’t think he hates you, Lex,” Clark sighed. Lex scoffed. “I don’t. I think he just has impossible standards that he expects you to keep up with.”

“Yeah, well we can’t all have the Kents as our parents,” Lex muttered.

Clark wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “You know you’re welcome any time,” he tried. “Why don’t you come and stay for a while over spring break?”

Lex shook his anger off and smiled tiredly. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“Look, no more thinking about your dad. You’re coming with me to Diana’s party tomorrow night.”

“Clark. I already told you, I have to-“

“Work, I know. Lex, take a night off and do something that’s not for your father. For me,” Clark insisted. Lex was the smartest person Clark knew, he was good to the people who were good to him, and he had gotten Clark out of more bad situations than he could remember. He hated to see Lionel getting in Lex’s head like this. 

Lex sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

They had a few minutes in silence as Lex booted up his Xbox. Clark found himself glad all over again that they had gone to the same college. His routine with Lex of video games and late nights was special to him. 

“Hey. Can we start hanging out on Thursday nights instead of Tuesdays? I think I want to keep going with the boxing club,” Clark said. 

“Yeah, of course. Maybe I should come along some time,” Lex wondered. “I’d like to see what you’re getting up to.”

“Sure,” Clark agreed. He wondered how Lex and Bruce would get on if they started to get to know each other. They were very similar in some ways but very different in others. Not to say that Clark really knew Bruce. He was quite a difficult person to get to know. But Clark wanted to know more. 

By the time they made their way back to Clark’s place, it was 6pm and the drinking had started. 

“Clark!” Harley squealed as Clark went into the kitchen and living room. Clark spotted an empty vodka bottle on the kitchen counter behind Ivy.

“Hi Harley, Ivy. Where’s everyone else?”

“Lois and Diana went to buy more drinks. Everyone else is getting here at 8.”

The next two hours passed in a haze of drinking, laughing, and decorating. Harley had overbought on decorations; they had three different ‘happy birthday’ banners. Clark enjoyed drinking alcohol with none of the consequences this time. Lex was drinking like he wanted consequences. 

“What happened to him? ” Lois asked, gesturing to Lex going back for another drink. 

“His dad was in town yesterday.”

Lois shuddered. “Imagine having that for a father.”

“Yep.”

“Hey,” she hit him gently on the shoulder. “That Batman piece. That was good.”

“Really?” Clark raised his eyebrows. Lois was a better journalist than him. That was a good thing; it meant she pushed him to improve. But it did mean that he didn’t often get praise from her for his work that wasn’t surrounded by constructive criticism. 

“You could do with a bit more evidence, maybe some interviews…” there it was. Clark scoffed. “But it was good, Clark,” she insisted. “Your writing is so much better when you’re writing about something you’re passionate about. You’ve gotta do more of this stuff, and less for the sports column.”

“Thanks, Lois.”

“Did you hear that he was out again last night? The Batman? Beat up some guy trying to rob a corner store. I mean… maybe in Gotham that’s normal. Anywhere else… a guy dressed like a bat beating up criminals. How did he even come up with that?” Lois wondered.

The doorbell rang, and from that point on guests streamed in. There were a few girls Clark didn’t recognise that had similar mannerisms to Diana - he guessed these must be the friends from home she’d mentioned inviting. They were all beautiful and totally jacked, with hair down to their waists and the same bracelet cuffs on their forearms as Diana. More people arrived, who Clark recognised, and some he didn’t. He hadn’t realised how many people Diana actually knew.

The party was getting rowdy by the time the doorbell rang at half past 9. No one else heard it, and if Clark hadn’t been there he doubted anyone would have. Superhearing could be a nightmare for him (overhearing things he didn’t want to, hearing too much at once, not being able to sleep), but sometimes it was handy. 

Clark made his way down the hallway and cringed when the party didn’t get any quieter the further down the hall he moved. He was sure their neighbours wouldn’t be happy with them. 

Clark opened the door to Bruce and Selina. Selina was wearing a black tube top and black denim miniskirt, with thigh-high black heels. Bruce was in a loose black t-shirt and dark jeans. His t-shirt had ‘COME AS YOU ARE’ written on it in big grey letters. Bruce carried both their jackets.

“Hey! You came!” Clark smiled widely. Selina grinned and held up two bottles of alcohol excitedly. Clark thought Bruce tried to smile, but it came off more like a grimace. Clark noticed a long red cut on his cheek. 

“Hey, what happened?” He asked, gesturing to the same spot on his own face as Bruce and Selina came inside. 

“Kitchen accident,” Bruce mumbled. 

“On your face?” Clark asked, incredulous. 

“I’m a very bad cook,” Bruce said, deadpan. Clark tried to hear his heartbeat to tell if he was lying, but the music was too loud. He wasn’t sure whether to take him seriously or not so he just led them down the hallway into the kitchen.

Clark burst out laughing as he went back in. Lex had managed to get one of the Amazon girls to dance with him and anyone would have thought it was his birthday. Harley and Ivy were kissing on the sofa. Gordon and Dent were loudly trying to out-drink each other in a corner. Diana stood on the coffee table demanding someone do shots with her. She spotted Bruce, who Selina dragged across the room and pushed up onto the table with Diana. Bruce and Diana clinked their shot glasses and did several shots each. Everyone started cheering and Bruce actually smiled. A real smile, with perfect white teeth and eyes that crinkled at the corners. Clark’s stomach flipped. Bruce caught his eye and Clark realised he’d been staring. He flushed and pushed his way through the crowd of people to a corner of the kitchen where he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. 

Unfortunately, someone else was already there. 

“Hey, man! I know you, don’t I?” Arthur Curry slurred. Clark thought Arthur had probably drunk more than anyone else there from what he’d seen. He was a huge Hawaiian guy, even bigger than Bruce. His wavy brown hair reached past his shoulders and he had tribal tattoos on both his arms. 

“Yeah, think so. You do earth sciences, right?” Clark asked politely. He didn’t want to do small talk right now. He wanted to stand in a corner and pretend to get drunk and not think about Bruce Wayne. 

“Yep. But I do marine biology too. That’s my main thing.”

“Oh really?” Clark asked absently. 

“Oh yeah. Big on the fish. Love those guys,” he said enthusiastically. “They’re so funny. You can’t even imagine how funny those guys are, dude.” Arthur seemed as though he was being completely serious.

“Right,” Clark said, smiling awkwardly. What was he even meant to say to that?

Clark was saved from talking about fish by an uproar in the crowd. The group parted to show Bruce Wayne pulling his soaked shirt apart from his body as Harley apologised over and over, holding an empty bottle. Bruce scanned the crowd and found Clark looking at him. He made his way across the room. 

“You don’t have a shirt I could borrow, do you?” He raised his voice over the sound of the music. 

Clark nodded and led Bruce out of the kitchen and down the corridor to his bedroom. 

Clark felt a little self-conscious about his bedroom once they were inside. All of his furniture was second-hand and a bit beaten up. He was of course used to comparing the way he lived with billionaires; he just preferred it when it was Lex Luthor, his best friend, as opposed to Bruce Wayne, who he still felt like he barely knew. 

Clark opened his wardrobe and grabbed the first t-shirt he could find. He handed it to Bruce and turned around so that Bruce could change. Clark heard Bruce pull his shirt off and make a noise of disgust.

“I’m sorry, could you hold this? It’s soaking and I don’t want to put it down on anything.”

Clark turned back to Bruce and had to stop himself from gasping. Bruce held his soaked shirt out to Clark with one hand and held Clark’s t-shirt in the other. He was ripped, with huge pecs and a solid six pack. But what shocked Clark the most was the dark bruises, angry scrapes and long scars all over him. He was absolutely covered. Clark found himself wondering again, what on earth did Bruce Wayne do in his free time?

Bruce caught Clark’s eye. “Boxing,” he said by way of explanation. His tone dared Clark to challenge him. Clark flushed and nodded. The music had been turned down a little, and Clark could hear Bruce’s heart rate speed up. He was lying. Bruce was far too good of a boxer for that to be believable anyway, not to mention the cuts. So what had happened?

Clark awkwardly took Bruce’s wet shirt and put it in a spare plastic shopping bag. When he turned back around Bruce was wearing a red shirt that said GO CROWS. 

“Fan of birds?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It was my high school mascot,” Clark explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Smallville, right?” Bruce asked. Clark nodded. “I’ve never been.”

“There’s not much there,” Clark shrugged. “Just lots of fields.”

“Very different to Gotham,” Bruce smiled softly. 

You could do with a bit more evidence, maybe some interviews…

“I’m, uh, writing some articles about the Batman for the college paper. You’re a pretty important person from Gotham, and that is where he started. Could I maybe interview you some time?” Clark asked awkwardly. 

Bruce looked surprised. He tipped his head to the side for a moment, considering. An almost amused smile spread across his face. “Yeah, sure. Why not? After spring break? These last few weeks of term are busy for me.”

“Yeah, sure! Thanks a lot!” Clark smiled too. 

“ 3 Doors Down ?” Bruce said, gesturing behind Clark to a poster above his bed. “Good taste.”

“Uh, thanks. What do you listen to?”

Bruce pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Rock, mainly. Nirvana. If you couldn’t tell.” Bruce gestured to the plastic bag with his shirt that Clark was still holding. 

“Oh, right.” Clark handed the bag over to Bruce. “The Nirvana song. I thought it was the Christian thing, come as you are. ”

“No, definitely not,” Bruce scoffed bitterly.

“Grew up religious?” Clark asked. 

“No, not particularly. But I was told many times when I was younger that everything happens for a reason, and that didn’t go down too well.”

“Of course,” Clark said softly. Bruce had a pained expression on his face, but when Clark made eye contact with him it changed to something more guarded. 

“How about you? Small town in Kansas, I’m assuming you were brought up Christian,” Bruce said. 

“Uh, yeah. I still go to church sometimes. Usually when I’m not sure what I’m doing with my life,” Clark admitted. Sometimes the idea of a higher power helped him put his own power into context. Having more power than others and using it to help was an ideal he had always got behind. But sometimes it just made it harder. As an alien, someone different, someone maybe dangerous, where did he fit into it all? “I try not to think about it too much. I just try to do the right thing when I can.”

Bruce nodded. “Well, thanks for the shirt. I’d better, um…” he gestured behind him towards Clark’s bedroom door. 

“Yeah, of course,” Clark said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Bruce shut the door behind him and Clark sat down on his bed. He tried to relax. He felt so nervous around Bruce. Probably because he was a famous billionaire. But then, so was Lex. Bruce just unnerved him. Clark couldn’t get the image of Bruce’s chest out of his mind. It was clear that he worked out; he was huge. But he always wore such loose-fitting clothing. It was usually impossible to see quite how ripped he was. And the state of him… Clark had never seen someone who had clearly been so continuously beaten up. It didn’t make any sense. Who was Bruce fighting like that, and why? And why was Clark still thinking about him shirtless?

Clark decided he wasn’t going back out to the party. Instead, he opened his laptop and started typing.

Chapter Text

Bruce woke up on Diana’s bed with one arm underneath Diana and Selina laying on his chest. His head was pounding, he felt sick, and he was sure that the night before he’d told Selina that he wasn’t going to get too drunk, and she’d said no, me neither! And here they were in Diana’s bed the next morning. And what the fuck was he wearing?

Bruce looked down at the bright red t-shirt that read GO CROWS. Oh, that’s right. He’d borrowed it from Clark after Harley spilt half a bottle of Vodka over him. He had no idea where his shirt was anymore. The night before started coming back to him. He had Diana to blame for his current state. She kept making him do ‘birthday shots’ with her, whatever those were. He thought about Clark on the other side of the wall. He realised with a jolt that he had seen him shirtless, with all his scars, cuts and bruises. Clark had stared at his cut up torso in shock. What were the chances he would believe they really were from boxing? Clark wasn’t stupid. Bruce groaned. He wanted to be friends with Clark. He liked him. A lot. But he was worried that Clark would see through him. Selina knew his secret, and he got the feeling that Diana knew something but just never said anything, kind of like a silent agreement between them. They were both much stronger than either of them had any right to be, and that was where they left it.

Bruce tried to remember the rest of the night. Lex Luthor had cornered him at one point to talk ‘business’, despite both of them being completely hammered. I’m working on this new fuel… it’s called Kryptonite. It’s very powerful. It can be toxic, but… Lex had shrugged. It works. I can hook Wayne Industries up with some if you want. Here, take this sample. I meant to drop it at the LuthorCorp labs earlier, but I forgot. I won’t miss it. Lex had handed Bruce a small corked vial of bright green liquid. Just don’t tell Clark. He had raised an eyebrow conspiratorially. He hates the stuff. Can’t bear it. Not that he’d ever have the money to run anything on Kryptonite anyway… and the conversation had devolved into a jumbled discussion of money that Bruce hadn’t really cared about. Wayne Industries was doing just fine. Besides, LuthorCorp didn’t exactly have the best reputation. There had been more than a few scandals in Smallville and at other LuthorCorp plants around the country - poor treatment of workers, chemical leaks, local produce contamination. It wasn’t a company Bruce wanted to be associated with. Still, the mention of Clark’s aversion to Kryptonite interested him. He’d heard of it, of course. Lex was right, it was a strong power source. But it was finite, created from meteor rocks. He wondered what Clark’s problem was with it. Maybe something to do with LuthorCorp’s mishaps in Smallville? Bruce found it strange sometimes that Clark and Lex were such good friends when it seemed that they came from such different worlds. 

Although, that was just like him and Selina, Bruce thought. They had met when Selina broke into Wayne Manor to steal from him. He’d admired her skills - she’d made it all the way to the vault in the library before she tripped an alarm. Most people didn’t even get up the driveway without flashing lights and sirens. They’d talked, and he’d asked her what he could do to help. They’d been friends ever since. Even dated, for a while, before Selina realised she was a lesbian. Bruce couldn’t imagine his life without her now.

Selina stirred by his side and opened her eyes. She looked around, then up at Bruce. “I’m going to have to do a walk of shame? I thought those days were over for me,” she moaned.

“If it makes you feel any better, so am I,” Bruce said.

“ Go crows,” Selina smirked as she read off Bruce’s chest. “Wearing each other’s clothes already? You move fast, Bruce.”

Bruce pushed her off the bed.

The next week passed in a rush. End of term assignments loomed over Bruce’s head. He spent his days working and training, and his nights on the streets of Metropolis. He had a new, stronger suit made with more armour. It wasn’t often anymore that he came across a criminal he couldn’t fight. He knew Alfred and Selina hated it, but he loved it. It made him feel alive.

He kept the Kryptonite that Lex Luthor gave him in the door of his fridge, wrapped in some bubblewrap. He didn’t know what else to do with it. Maybe he’d give it back to Lex. More likely, he’d take it to the Wayne Industries labs for analysis.

Tuesday came and went. Bruce gave Clark his shirt back and paired him with Diana. He was embarrassed about last Saturday and didn’t want to talk to him. Though he had remembered he’d agreed to give Clark an interview about the Batman. Why the fuck had he done that? He didn’t think he’d ever had a worse idea. But Clark was so sweet and polite, he didn’t think he had it in him to say no. He could just avoid him a little. And watch him fight Diana from the other end of the gym. He was only watching to see how Clark’s sparring was coming along. He wasn’t watching because Clark’s hair was particularly curly that day, or because he was wearing a tight white t-shirt. He wasn’t watching Clark because he liked him or found him attractive. That would be foolish, and not sensible at all, and a distraction from the more important things in life, like beating up criminals every night and passing his exams.

 On Thursday, Clark published a new article on the university newspaper’s site. Bruce had signed up for their newsletter to read Clark’s articles. Because they were about the Batman. Not because they were written by Clark.

VIGILANTE VIOLENCE CONTINUES, the headline read. Citizens of Metropolis continue to worry about the potential escalation of violence that the Batman could bring. Meanwhile, in Gotham City, violent crime has risen even further in his absence. Edward Nigma, also known as the Riddler, broke out of Arkham Asylum earlier this week. His whereabouts are unknown. The question stands: if Gotham seems to need him so much, why is the Batman in Metropolis?

Bruce had been wondering the same thing himself. The Riddler’s breakout worried him, but he couldn’t do anything from Metropolis. He just had to hope the police had it covered. Bruce almost laughed out loud when he thought that. The next two weeks couldn’t go fast enough for him. Gotham needed him, and he wasn’t there.

Finally, Saturday came around. Bruce drove through the lashing rain and crowded streets of Metropolis to the outskirts, and to the airport. Although he hated the fame, being a billionaire did have its perks, Bruce thought to himself as he pulled up next to a Wayne Industries private jet. He got out of his sleek, black Murcielago Lamborghini and put up his umbrella. The door to the plane slid open and eight-year-old Dick Grayson ran down the stairs in a bright red and yellow hoodie and bright green trousers. He grinned when he saw Bruce standing next to the car.

“Bruce!” He yelled and ran across the tarmac. He hugged Bruce with so much force that he had to take a step back to steady himself.

“Hi, Dick,” Bruce laughed softly.

Dick kicked his feet out in front of him in the front seat of the car, perched on a booster seat. He craned his neck to look out of the window as they drove through Metropolis, looking up at the skyscrapers and taking in every detail.

“It’s all so clean!” He exclaimed, wide-eyed. Bruce laughed. “Do you like college? Is it fun? Have you made loads of friends? How’s Selina? Will I get to see her? Can I meet your friends?”

“Easy on the questions, Dick,” Bruce smiled, looking over at him. “Wait until we get home. Selina’s coming over later to watch a movie with us.”

Dick grinned excitedly. He looked at Bruce for a moment and his smile dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce frowned, glancing between Dick and the road.

“It’s not the same without you at home. I miss you,” he mumbled.

Bruce’s heart ached. “I miss you too,” he sighed. “But I’ll be home with you again soon. And, if you play your cards right, you can come and visit me next term, too.”

Dick smiled. “Okay. Good.”

By the time Bruce had set Dick up in his spare room, which contained a treadmill, punching bag, and sofa-bed, Selina was ringing the doorbell.

“I’ll get it,” Dick insisted loudly. He ran off down the corridor to get to the door before Bruce.

Bruce smiled and finished making Dick’s bed up. Dick and Selina had always got on well. She was as much a part of the family as he was.

“Who are you?” Bruce heard Dick ask from the corridor. Frowning, he went down the corridor and into the entryway.

“Dick? Who is it?” Bruce asked. He rounded the corner to find Clark Kent stood in his doorway, looking awkward, completely soaked and dripping onto his doormat. “Clark,” Bruce said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Clark’s dark curly hair had droplets of water running off it onto his face, which was flushed from walking in the rain. He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out Bruce’s t-shirt from the previous Saturday. “I felt bad that I forgot to give it back to you on Tuesday, and I was in the neighbourhood, so…” 

Bruce took the t-shirt from him. Dick stood between them, looking up at them both curiously.

“Thanks, you didn’t need to come all the way out here. How did you know where I live?” Bruce asked suspiciously. The last thing he needed was Clark digging into his personal life.

“Uh, well Lex lives in the penthouse above LuthorCorp… I took a guess that you might live above Wayne Industries. I asked at the front desk and they sent me up. I hope that’s okay.” Clark rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Of course, Bruce thought idiotically. His name was plastered on the outside of the building.

“I’m Dick,” Dick announced, extending his hand for Clark to shake.

Clark looked a little taken aback, but shook Dick’s hand. “Hi, Dick. I’m Clark. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Dick said politely. Bruce smiled in amusement. That’s what being raised by Alfred did to an eight-year-old.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Clark said to Bruce.

“I’m his son, ” Dick corrected him pointedly, and took Bruce’s hand in his protectively.

Clark couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. Bruce felt the heat in his face as he flushed. He wasn’t sure why he was embarrassed; he loved Dick, and was proud to have adopted him. But seeing Clark look at him like that, in total shock, wasn’t a feeling he liked.

“Oh. My mistake,” Clark apologised.

“I adopted Dick about a year and a half ago,” Bruce explained. “He still lives in Gotham with my adoptive father, Alfred. He’s just here to visit for the weekend.”

“How do you like Metropolis, Dick?” Clark asked. Bruce found it difficult to read his expression.

“It’s great! It’s so shiny. Much shinier than Gotham,” Dick told Clark excitedly.

Clark laughed, and the sound warmed Bruce all the way through. “I’m very glad you like it. Well, I won’t take up any more of your afternoon,” Clark excused himself. “Bruce, I’ll see you on Tuesday. Goodbye, Dick. Enjoy your time in Metropolis!” Clark waved goodbye to Dick, who waved back.

Clark shut the door behind him as he left. Bruce wasn’t sure how he felt. He wondered if he should have asked Clark if he wanted to stay. Had he been rude to leave Clark standing there dripping in the doorway without inviting him in? He could hear the rain hammering down on the windows. Bruce bit his lip anxiously. Clark would probably still be waiting for the lift. He hesitated by the door. Dick was a special part of his life that he was very protective over. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to share him with anyone except Selina. He looked down at Dick.

“He seemed nice!” Dick said happily. Then he frowned “Why didn’t you invite him to come in? Alfred says you should always ask someone to come in, if you know them.”

Bruce sighed. He guessed the decision was made. He opened the front door to find Clark stood in front of the lift doors as they slid open.

“Clark,” he called.

Clark turned round, his wet shoes squeaking on the floor. His wet curly hair caught on his long eyelashes. He looked amazing. Not that Bruce noticed.

“Do you want to come in for a bit? The weather’s awful,” he offered.

Clark raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Uh… sure, as long as I won’t be getting in the way of anything?” He asked, looking between Bruce and Dick.

Dick noticed, and said, “Come in!”

Bruce tried to smile at Clark but worried it may have come off as more of a grimace. Clark looked between the two of them, unsure. Thunder clapped deafeningly above the building and a bright flash of lightning lit up the corridor.

“Yeah, okay,” Clark said sheepishly. “That would be great, thanks.”

Clark shut the door behind him. He dropped his bag by the door and pulled off his soaking wet hoodie. As he did so, his t-shirt underneath began to ride up. Bruce caught a glimpse of Clark’s tanned abs before he pulled his shirt down. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

“Do you want to see my toys?” Dick asked Clark.

“Yes, please. I would love that,” Clark smiled.

Dick let go of Bruce’s hand and took Clark’s instead. He all but dragged Clark through the apartment to the living room where he directed Clark to take a seat on the sofa. He then ran off to his bedroom.

Bruce awkwardly walked over and sat down on an armchair. He’d lit the fire when they got back from the airport, and the fireplace was crackling happily through the thunderstorm. Clark looked around the open-plan apartment, taking in the bookshelves with two urns, the flatscreen TV above the fireplace, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the polished black-and-white kitchen, the booth seating at the dining table, the huge alcohol cabinet, and the grand piano. Bruce felt self-conscious. He’d been to Clark’s apartment, and had been in Clark’s room. He knew they came from very different worlds. He didn’t want Clark to think that this was all that there was to him - a lot of money, and a big penthouse apartment in the building of his family business. He was more than that.

Clark caught Bruce’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he gushed. “I wouldn’t have… I mean, I didn’t know you had company,” he said, gesturing down the hallway where Dick had run off.

“It’s okay,” Bruce said as thunder rumbled outside again. “Dick’s been asking to meet my friends. Thank you for bringing my shirt back. I’m sorry I forgot it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Clark said.

“Selina’s coming over soon. We were going to have dinner and watch a movie. You’re welcome to stay, if you’re not busy,” Bruce said, his guest-training from Alfred taking over.

“Oh, I don’t want to push myself in where I’m not wanted-” Clark started, but Dick came running back down the corridor, his arms full of action figures, and jumped up onto the sofa next to Clark. He shoved a Green Lantern figure in his face and started showing him all the different positions you could put the character into.

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” Bruce told Clark, who smiled.

It was another half an hour before Selina rang the doorbell. Dick had finished showing Clark all his toys and had managed to convince Clark to play with him while Bruce started cooking dinner.

“ I’ll get it!” Dick shot up from his spot on the floor and ran to the entryway. 

Clark looked incredulously up at Bruce.

Bruce actually laughed. “He really loves answering the door. I don’t know why. Maybe because he never gets to do it at home.”

Clark laughed too. He put down his Green Lantern action figure and went over to join Bruce in the kitchen. 

“He’s a really sweet kid,” Clark said, leaning back against the kitchen counter next to Bruce and crossing his arms. Bruce tried to focus on the onion he was chopping and not Clark’s arms and the way Clark smelled after being in the rain and how close Clark was to him.

“He is,” Bruce agreed proudly. Across the apartment, they heard Dick ask Selina if he may take her coat, and Selina graciously accept his offer. “Adopting him is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.” He glanced up at Clark to find Clark already looking at him, intensely. Clark looked like he was trying to figure Bruce out. Bruce hated it.

“Hey, Clark! I didn’t know you were coming over,” Selina called as she came through the living room. She dumped her bag on a side table and joined them in the kitchen. She raised an eyebrow subtly at Bruce, who glared at her, not-so-subtly.

“It wasn’t planned,” Clark admitted.

“Selina, come and watch!” Dick called from the living room. She smiled at the two of them and went to go and watch him do a blackflip off the sofa.

“Should he be doing that?” Clark asked nervously, watching Dick laugh and do a double back-flip off an armchair while Selina clapped for him.

Bruce waved his hand dismissively. “He’s fine. He grew up in the circus.” Clark looked at him blankly, like he wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “No, I’m serious. The Flying Graysons,” Bruce insisted. “He was in a travelling circus before I adopted him, doing acrobatics.”

“Wow,” Clark murmured as he watched Dick show Selina how long he could hold a handstand for. The sound of Bruce chopping vegetables caught his attention. “Can I do anything to help?” Clark asked.

“Uh… could you grab the tomatoes from the fridge?” Bruce asked.

Clark nodded and crossed the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and groaned uncomfortably. “Hey, man, I think something in your fridge has gone… where did you get this?” His voice turned defensive. The bright green vial of Kryptonite wrapped in bubblewrap in Bruce’s fridge door had caught Clark’s eye. It seemed to be glowing through the layers of protection. Clark quickly found the tomatoes and shut the door, putting as much distance between himself and the fridge as he could. He shook his head and blinked hard.

Bruce was watching him steadily. That was quite a reaction. “Lex gave it to me at Diana’s party. He said it was a sample of what LuthorCorp could offer Wayne Industries. He said you hated the stuff.”

“I, uh…” Clark cleared his throat. “No, not a fan. I’m allergic to it.”

But he didn’t even touch it, or smell it, Bruce thought. It was sealed. What kind of allergic reaction was triggered just by being nearby something in a sealed container? Clark’s list of secrets just seemed to keep growing. Bruce would definitely be getting that ‘sample’ analysed.

“I don’t think I’m going to be taking Lex up on his offer,” Bruce explained as he started cutting the tomatoes. “No offence to him, of course, I know you guys are good friends… but they don’t have the best reputation.”

Clark shook his head. “No, they don’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “It was a big problem in my hometown. People kept getting laid off every time they complained about the terrible working conditions. Lex had ideas to improve things, but his father…” Clark stopped himself, like he was worried he may say too much. “His father is a true businessman. Money comes above all else for Lionel Luthor.”

“I know a lot of people like that,” Bruce sighed. Many of the board members for Wayne Industries cared more about pumping money into arms deals than local social projects. Bruce knew which one he would choose every time.

Bruce listened to the sound of Selina and Dick laughing as he made dinner. As Clark boiled the kettle to cook pasta, Bruce thought about how nicely Clark could fit into his life. If Bruce wasn’t Batman. If he wasn’t such a difficult person to get close to. His only friends were his butler, his son, his ex-girlfriend, and a scary woman built like a mythical  warrior who Bruce had been too scared to refuse the friendship of. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that the bigger his circle got, the more people he could hurt, and the more people he could lose. He already felt like his circle was getting too big. If he lost Diana or Selina, or God forbid Alfred or Dick… it would be like his parents all over again. Bruce thought Alfred or Dick would be worse, if that was even possible. He was, honestly, scared to let people in, because he knew what it was like to have them taken away. He didn’t want to worry about losing another person. And he was worried Clark would work out his secret. If he kept writing about Batman, and he and Bruce kept getting to know each other, Bruce worried he would put two and two together. Especially when he was moving back and forth between Gotham and Metropolis. There was just too much risk involved. 

But as Dick barrelled into Clark in the middle of the kitchen and Clark lifted him up to carry him on his shoulders, and Dick reached for the plates in the highest cupboards and passed them down to Selina, who set them on the counter next to Bruce, he thought, this would be nice. To let people in.

Chapter Text

The credits of the movie rolled and Clark woke up a little. It wasn’t very late, but the storm had made it completely dark outside. The sound of the rain and the crackling fire was so relaxing. Clark couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so chilled out. He hadn’t expected Bruce’s apartment to be so cosy and to feel so much like a home. Lex’s apartment still felt like just a place that Lex happened to live in. Bruce’s apartment felt like him. 

Clark stretched and looked over to his left. The others were all on the sofa. Selina was curled up on the right with her head resting on her knees. She looked over at Clark and smiled tiredly. Next to her, Bruce and Dick were fast asleep. Bruce was slumped down in his seat, with his head resting on the back on the sofa. Dick was curled up by his side, sleeping soundly with his head on Bruce’s chest and Bruce’s arm draped protectively around him.

“I never knew,” Clark murmured, looking at the two of them.

“It was in the news when Bruce adopted him,” Selina said quietly, trying not to wake them. “Though everything to do with Bruce is a bigger deal in Gotham. I think that’s one reason why being in Metropolis is good for him. He’s still famous, but he’s not, you know, the number one celebrity like he is back home. He’s kept quiet about it here. He’s very protective over Dick.”

Clark nodded. “I noticed. Why did he do it? If it’s okay to ask,” he asked. “Twenty-one is young to adopt a kid.”

“Bruce is actually twenty-three. He had a few years after college where he trained at Wayne Industries for a bit, and then… well, then Dick happened.” Selina bit her lip. She sighed, looking at the two of them, as though she was working out how much to tell him. “Dick’s parents died in front of him about two years ago. Their trapeze ropes were cut during a performance. He watched them fall to their deaths.” Clark looked at the tiny child asleep on the sofa and couldn’t imagine such a horrific thing had happened to him. His heart hurt for him. “They were murdered,” Selina continued, her voice heavy. “It turned out to all be part of a mob scheme. Nothing to do with Dick’s parents at all. Bruce took him in.”

Clark looked at the two of them. Asleep, Bruce looked so peaceful. His frown lines were smoothed out, his hair gently brushed his face, and Clark could hear his heart beating, slow and steady. Dick looked safe and relaxed and like a small, innocent child. Clark almost couldn’t bear thinking about what had happened to them both so young, so horrifically, all while they watched. It made him hurt from the inside out.

“I’m glad they found each other,” he said quietly.

“Me too,” Selina smiled sadly.

Clark left soon after, quietly so as not to wake Bruce and Dick. Selina was staying the night. They said goodbye at the door. Selina hugged him, which was unexpected, but nice.

“He’s warming up to you,” she whispered to Clark, glancing back towards Bruce asleep on the sofa. “Be careful with him.”

Clark nodded earnestly and left. 

He thought about Bruce and Dick on the way home. He thought about Bruce and Dick when he brushed his teeth. He thought about Bruce and Dick when he got into bed. He thought about Bruce and Dick when he laid awake staring at the ceiling, not able to sleep.

He hadn’t expected that from Bruce. He just seemed like such an insular person. To think of him adopting a child, one that had been through the same thing that he had… it changed the way Clark saw him. Clark hadn’t really known how to feel about Bruce before that evening. He had thought he was intimidating, serious, a little moody. Now, he felt like he’d seen through a crack in Bruce’s walls; seen who Bruce really was, underneath his defensive exterior. And he wanted more.

Clark was restless on Sunday. The Batman hadn’t been active all weekend, and he had finished all his final assignments early. He had nothing to distract himself from thinking about Bruce Wayne. And that was all he could think about.

“Hey, Lois, how’s the article coming along?” Clark asked as he fell down onto the sofa next to her.

“Fine,” Lois said shortly. She hated being bothered when she was writing. Clark knew that. He was just so desperate for a distraction that he would even take Lois yelling at him. Ivy shot him a warning look from where she sat on an armchair.

“Have you finished your lab report already?” Ivy asked in surprise.

“Yep. Finished it this morning,” Clark said, twiddling his thumbs.

“Man, what is wrong with you?” Lois snapped. “Did you have too much sugar or something?”

“No, I’m just…” Clark sighed. “I don’t know. I just need a distraction.”

Ivy raised her eyebrows as Lois went back to her writing. “What does Clark Kent, resident ray of sunshine, need a distraction from?”

“I can’t stop thinking about Bruce Wayne,” he admitted. Lois not only looked up but also shut her laptop halfway. Clark felt anxious, like he shouldn’t be talking about this for some reason. Lois and Ivy looked at him questioningly. “Did you guys know he has a son?” Clark asked.

“Yes,” they both said in unison.

“Honestly, Clark, don’t you ever read the news?” Lois asked. “You really should. You are doing a journalism degree.”

Clark sighed. “I’m sorry I don’t keep up with celebrity gossip! I only vaguely knew who Bruce Wayne was, let alone his son. ”

“Why are you so upset about this?” Lois asked.

“I don’t know,” Clark huffed. “I just… I feel like I should have known? I just stood there like an idiot yesterday when Bruce Wayne’s son opened the door. I was like, who is this kid? Why is there a child here? I assumed he was his brother, and this eight-year-old boy had to correct me. I must have looked like such an idiot,” Clark blurted out.

“Okay, chill,” Lois said, shutting her laptop completely and setting it to the side. “You didn’t know. It’s fine. Neither of them would have thought anything of it.”

“It just… I don’t know. The way Bruce is with him… You know, normally he’s all moody and has these sharp edges and you’re worried that you’ll say the wrong thing to him. But with Dick, he’s so different. He’s so much, I don’t know, softer? I just saw a different side to him.”

Lois and Ivy exchanged a pained expression. Lois opened her mouth to speak, but Ivy tilted her head and looked at her in a way that said no.

“What?” Clark said defensively. He felt like they were having a whole conversation without him.

“Nothing, Clark,” Lois sighed. “I just… nothing.”

Clark thought talking to Lois would make him feel better, but it just made him feel worse. He felt like they were in on something that he wasn’t. 

“What do you guys know that I don’t?” He asked, looking between them. “Something about Bruce?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no-” Ivy started.

“Do you know what, forget it. I don’t know why I thought talking to you would help,” he huffed. He stomped out of the room and walked right into Diana.

“I’m sorry, Diana, are you-” he stopped. Diana was wiping tears from her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I could ask you the same question,” she laughed tearfully. “I’m surprised you didn’t slam that door, too, for good measure.”

“Yeah, well.” Clark rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He was still angry with Lois, but a little bit embarrassed for storming out of the room like he was throwing a temper-tantrum.

“Want to come in?” Diana asked as she opened her bedroom door. Clark nodded and followed her inside.

“What’s going on?” He asked her as she set her bag down and sat back on her bed.

“You first,” she said, settling back against her pillows.

Clark sighed. “Lois was making me angry. I just… I really don’t like the way she speaks to me sometimes. Like she’s smarter than me. I mean, I know she is, but sometimes I could just do without her acting like it.”

“What were you guys even talking about?” Diana asked.

“Bruce Wayne,” Clark mumbled.

Diana clapped her hands together. “I’m so glad you two are getting along. I thought you would.”

“Did you know he had a son?”

“No!” Diana said in surprise.

“Ha! See! Thank you! Not everyone keeps up with that stuff,” Clark said triumphantly.

“Well, Clark, until a year ago, I had spent almost my entire life on a completely isolated mythical island,” Diana said.

“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I met him yesterday. Bruce’s son, Dick. He’s adopted. It just… Bruce… I don’t know,” Clark sighed and paced around Diana’s room. “I can’t stop thinking about him. You know, he saw this orphan who was in the same position he’d been in, who had seen his parents die, and thought, yeah, I’ll adopt him. I’ll take him in.” Clark’s throat tightened. “It’s just… it’s so important. And I know that he knows that, because he lost his parents too. And I…” Clark realised with embarrassment that he was trying not to cry. “My parents, the ones from Krypton… I just wish I could tell them that someone took me in like that. Someone found me, kept me safe, and loved me, without even being asked to. Seeing Bruce and Dick… it made me see Bruce differently. The way my parents took me in as a baby, it changed my life. Imagine if I’d grown up with, I don’t know, Lionel Luthor or someone as a father. Doing that for a kid can save them in ways they don’t even realise. I kind of thought he was just this moody, mysterious billionaire. But what he’s done for Dick… that’s really something.” Clark sat down on the end of Diana’s bed and looked at her for help. “I just… I don’t know,” he said simply.

Diana smiled softly. “That’s a lot you’ve got going on in your head, Clark.”

“Tell me about it,” Clark joked. He already felt better for talking to Diana. He didn’t really feel like he could talk to Lois about his parents. She knew he was adopted, but she obviously didn’t know the whole story. Diana knew Clark’s story, in all its complexities. He hadn’t realised until he was talking to her, and he could just talk, without filtering everything first, that this was all wrapped up in his own feelings about himself and his family. It was so exhausting to have to double-check everything he said to people, for fear of giving himself away. “Anyway, what’s going on with you?”

Diana sighed. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Her gaze slipped across the room to a framed photo above a chest of drawers. The photo showed a young man, around their age, if a little older. He was tan and attractive, with messy hair, scruffy clothes, and a gun slung over his shoulder. The picture was in black and white, and looked as though it could have been taken a hundred years ago.

“Who is he?” Clark asked softly.

“Steve Trevor.” Diana said his name like it was a prayer. She smiled, and her eyes unfocused like she was miles away. “He was the first man I ever saw. I loved him instantly. He washed up on the shore of Themyscira after his plane was shot down over the sea. I nursed him back to health, and eventually, I followed him back to his world. To America. And then to Europe, when the war came.”

“The war…”

“The Great War, it was called back then. Before there was another.”

“Wow. I mean, you told me you’d been around for a while, but… I didn’t think you meant that long,” Clark admitted. 

Diana nodded. “Steve was fighting in the war. I fought with him for a while. Every day, I loved him more. He was so brave, so kind. He was everything a man should be. Then he… there was a plane, full of poison gas. The suffering it would have created…” Diana shook her head. “He got the plane into the air. I let myself hope that he was flying away, escaping… and then he blew it up, to save everyone else.” Tears slipped down Diana’s cheeks. “After he died, and the war was won, I went back to Themyscira. I couldn’t live in his world without him; it all felt wrong. I only came back a year ago. It had been over a hundred years. There has never been anyone else for me since him. I’m not sure if there ever will be. He made me feel things I had never felt before, and showed me a world I had barely even known existed. I think about him every day.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “The Metropolis Museum just opened a new First World War exhibition. I went to have a look, of course. See if there was anything, anyone I recognised. And there it was. A letter that he’d written, but had never sent, because he couldn’t, because he died. It was for me.” Diana was really crying now, and Clark moved up on the bed next to her to hold her hand. “He wrote it before he died. I never saw it. I took a photo.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to Clark.

Diana, he read.

I’m sorry. I hope you’ll understand why I did this. I’ve got to have hope that the future will be better. I’ve got to give humanity that chance. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise.

You are the greatest blessing I have ever received. I never could have imagined someone like you existed, but now I can’t imagine what my life would have been without you. Ever since I first laid eyes on you on that beach, I knew. I knew that I would love you for the rest of my life. I just didn’t think the rest of my life would be so little time. I’m sorry, my love. I would have loved you for a century more. But two years is all we get. I hope you can keep loving the world of man, as you call it. Keep loving it, for me. And I will keep loving you. I will see you again, even if I have to wait a while for you to join me.

All my love and more,

S.

Clark’s heart broke for her.

“Diana, I don’t even know what to say,” he said quietly, passing her phone back to her.

“Can you just stay for a while?” She asked. Clark nodded and shifted to sit back against her pillows. He put his arm around his shoulder and she folded into his chest, crying into his t-shirt. Clark sighed. He’d never known. He’d always wondered who the man in the photo was, of course. All of the other pictures in Diana’s bedroom were nature photos, he assumed from Themyscira. The only photo of a person in her bedroom was the one of Steve. Clark had always been curious, but he and Diana didn’t tend to ask each other questions. They just listened when the other wanted to talk. But now he knew. And he knew what he had to do about it.

Clark rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had slept badly the night before, kept awake thinking about Diana and her lost love. He had woken up early and decided to head off to the library, even though he had no classes on a Monday. It was now around four in the afternoon and Clark had reached his limit. He picked up his phone and texted Lex.

CLARK. Hey, do you have any connections at the Metropolis Museum?

Lex replied quickly.

LEX. What, for work experience or something?

CLARK. No, I want to get a hold of an artefact. Something that belongs to Diana’s family.

LEX. No, man, sorry. Only guy I know is the one in charge of security.

Clark sighed defeatedly. He packed up his things and left. 

He passed one of the campus coffee shops on his way home, and was too tempted to walk past without stopping. He got his drink and was just about to leave when he heard his name.

“Clark!”

Clark turned and saw Bruce and Dick sitting at a table. Bruce was drinking what looked like black coffee, and Dick had a huge milkshake in front of him. Dick was waving enthusiastically and had been the one to call him over.

“Hi, Dick! How are you?” Clark asked.

“Very well, thank you! And you?”

Clark laughed. He didn’t think he’d ever met a more polite eight-year-old. “I’m good, thanks. Are you having a nice day?”

Dick nodded enthusiastically. “We went to the Museum! We saw so much cool stuff.”

Clark had a lightbulb moment. “Bruce,” he said cautiously, “do you know anyone high-up at the Metropolis Museum, by any chance?

Bruce looked up at Clark. He looked better than he normally did - less stressed, less moody, more relaxed. The cut on his face had healed up. But there were still dark circles under his eyes and bruises under his collar.  His dark hair hung down in front of his eyes. Clark found himself wanting to brush it out of the way. Then he wondered why he’d thought that. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Why?”

Clark sighed in frustration. “No worries. Diana found something in the new First World War exhibition that belonged to her family. I wanted to see if I could get in touch with someone and maybe get it back for her.”

Bruce watched him steadily. “What was it?”

“A letter,” Clark explained. “It was, uh… from her great-grandfather to her great-grandmother,” he lied. “It means a lot to her.”

Bruce nodded.

“Are you coming to boxing tomorrow night?” Dick asked Clark excitedly. “I am. I can’t wait!”

“Yes, I am,” Clark smiled at him. “I’ll see you there!”

“Goodbye, Clark!” Dick waved.

“Goodbye, Dick. Bye, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded at him again, but he looked lost in thought. Clark wondered what went on in his head.

Clark was attacked as soon as he walked into the boxing gym.

“Does that hurt?” Dick asked, as he pummelled Clark with his boxing gloves on.

“Ah, you’re so strong!” Clark pretended to cower from Dick’s punches. 

“Dick, leave him be,” Bruce called from the side of the hall. Dick ran happily over to Bruce and climbed up onto the bench next to him. “No Diana?” Bruce asked as Clark followed Dick.

Clark shook his head. “No, not today. She’s, um… not feeling well.” Like Diana, Clark couldn’t get sick. But she was still shaken up about Steve’s letter, and had been holed up in her bedroom for a few days.

“That’s a shame,” Bruce said. “I wanted to talk to her, and I was hoping to spar with her at the end of the class today, to show Dick.”

“Clark could do it, couldn’t he?” Dick asked, tipping his head back to meet Clark’s eyes.

Clark laughed awkwardly, but Bruce looked at him appraisingly. “Yes, actually. It would be a good chance to see how you’ve been getting on.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Clark agreed cautiously.

Bruce paired Clark up with some of the other students for the main session, and walked around the class with Dick trailing behind him, holding his hand. Clark got hit in the face once or twice because he was distracted watching Bruce teach Dick how to throw a punch.

Finally, it was time for Bruce and Clark to fight. They both stepped into the ring. Dick perched on the ropes in-between the posts, watching excitedly. Clark felt horribly self-conscious, with everybody watching him. What if he did something too fast, or too strong, and everyone saw? He wasn’t as practiced as Diana at controlling his power.

Bruce squared up to Clark. There were bruises under his collar, along his arms, on his knuckles. His eyes were dark. His hair was held back by a wiry headband. Clark felt uncomfortably warm. 

Bruce threw the first punch. Clark was caught off-guard, and it hit him square in the face. He found himself glad that Diana wasn’t there to see him be so thoroughly embarrassed. Bruce even looked surprised that Clark hadn’t even tried to defend himself. Clark felt his cheeks flush in humiliation. He hit next, and Bruce blocked him. Clark tried again, and Bruce blocked him, then got a cut in to Clark’s ribs. Clark shook his head. He needed to concentrate. He bobbed over to the left and went for Bruce’s head. Bruce blocked it. Clark feinted right and aimed a cut up to Bruce’s stomach, and used a little of his super-speed. He managed to get it in, and Bruce staggered backwards. He came forward towards Clark with renewed vigour, rolling his shoulders back. Bruce went for Clark’s chin, and Clark clumsily blocked him. Clark’s weight shifted and he lost his balance. His foot caught on Bruce’s ankle and they fell over in a tangle of limbs. Clark panicked and twisted at the last moment, pulling Bruce on top of him to avoid crushing him with his alien strength. Bruce threw his arms out and caught himself before he smashed into Clark’s face. Clark lay on the gym mat, stunned, looking up at Bruce. Their legs pressed against each other. Strands of dark hair had come loose from Bruce’s headband and hung down over his face. Bruce’s face was inches away. They stared at each other, breathing into the same space. Bruce’s gaze dropped, away from Clark’s eyes, down towards his mouth. Clark couldn’t breathe. He felt his cheeks burn. His heart was pounding. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the bridge of Bruce’s nose, to stop them from wandering anywhere else.

“Who won?” Dick asked, and broke the spell. Bruce pushed himself up, away from Clark. Clark rolled over in the opposite direction and got up hurriedly. 

“It was a draw,” Bruce muttered, and hopped out of the ring, leaving Clark standing there to watch him leave.

Clark forced the front door open when he got home. He’d hoped the walk home would help him calm down, but it had wound him up even more. He didn’t even know where to start. He felt completely lost, and confused, and wanted to see Bruce again immediately, and also never wanted to see him ever again.

As he pushed the door open, he felt resistance. He shut the door behind him and bent to pick up a small package that had been put through the letterbox. It was addressed to Diana.

Clark knocked on her bedroom door. “It’s me,” he announced.

“Come in,” Diana called.

Clark found her at her desk, doing some homework. She looked better, but not her normal self. That letter had really shaken her.

“Post for you,” he said, passing her the package.

“Are you okay, Clark? You look all flustered.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak, then realised he had no idea how to explain what had just happened. “Yeah, fine,” he sighed in frustration.

Diana raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him as she ripped her package open. She pulled out the contents and gasped.

“What is it?” Clark asked.

“It’s the letter from the museum,” she said in shock. “It’s Steve’s letter. How… did you have anything to do with this?”

“No,” Clark shrugged. “Is there anything else in there?”

Diana pulled out a small folded note. It’s yours, to keep, it read. “That’s Bruce’s handwriting!”

Of course it was. Clark felt completely helpless. Why did Bruce have to be such a good person? And how could Clark ever repay him for this? And how was he supposed to see him again, after what had happened earlier?

Clark had never been so glad for spring break. He wanted to go home, see his parents, play video games with Lex until the small hours of the morning, see his dog, and completely ignore everything to do with Bruce Wayne. He didn't think that should be too much to ask.

Chapter Text

Clark had gone home early for spring break, and Bruce felt like he was going insane.

He had spent all of last week spiralling about what had happened at boxing. Once Dick left, he only had his exams to distract himself with. He’d hoped to see Clark on Tuesday and somehow smooth over their developing friendship, and try to make Clark forget that Bruce had looked at his lips while practically lying on top of him. But no. Clark had gone home. Fuck.

Bruce had told Selina what had happened almost immediately. She had just laughed at him. He didn’t want Clark to know how he felt about him. He didn’t want anyone else to have noticed. He didn’t want anything to change between them. He regretted everything. He kept replaying that moment over and over; him on top of Clark, their bodies pressed together, Clark’s breath moving Bruce’s hair, and Bruce having no control as his eyes fatally flicked down towards Clark’s lips, wondering…

Bruce shook his head to dispel the thought. He was on a plane back to Gotham, finally. Selina sat opposite him, curled up on a plush leather seat, looking out of the window. 

“Looking forward to going home?” Bruce asked her.

“Yes and no,” she smiled wryly. “Not all of us go home to mansions, babe.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Bruce said. “I think Alfred would actually swap you for me. Dick too, maybe.”

“I know, and thank you. But it’s not my home,” she sighed.

“I understand.”

The first week of Bruce’s spring break passed quickly. Although Wayne Manor had been bombed around six months ago, it was almost completely restored now. It felt good for Bruce to be back in his own bed, in his own room, with Alfred forcing open his curtains and the sounds of Dick running down the hallway to wake him in the mornings. Selina was there more often than not; to help Alfred make dinner, to play video games with Dick, to trim the dead ends from Bruce’s mop of hair. Bruce met Gordon and Dent for dinner, and they talked about university and Gotham and, drunkenly, about what they would do to make the city a better place, if it wasn’t bleeding from every crack. Selina took him on a night out with Harley at the Iceberg, which was gritty and low-lit and full of turning down drugs and accepting drinks. He and Selina got home at four in the morning, and Selina bumped into a suit of armour as they stumbled down the corridor to Bruce’s room. Dick emerged from his bedroom, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and fell asleep in-between the two of them on Bruce’s king bed. Alfred loudly woke them up in the morning, aggressively letting the morning sun into the room, and reminded Bruce of the Wayne Industries shareholders meeting he had to attend next week, and Bruce was home.

At night, when Selina hadn’t wrangled him into her social calendar, he put the suit on. Black, sleek, tough, strong. Bruce felt invincible in it. Or at least, he had in Metropolis. The Riddler’s breakout from Arkham Asylum worried him. He was someone you wanted to be one step ahead of; Bruce felt several steps behind, having not been in Gotham for weeks. There had been a few attacks on political party members, company board members, and judges. It seemed almost entirely random, and then Bruce spent six hours sitting on his bedroom floor mapping out all the information he had. The Riddler was going for the rich and powerful, just as he had before he’d been put in Arkham. There was a different undercurrent to it this time, Bruce could tell. He just wasn’t sure what it was yet. He could tell that the criminals in Gotham were worse than they had been before, and he always went home with his fair share of bruises. Selina and Alfred shook their heads when he came home with a black eye. Dick thought it was cool, and that was enough for Bruce.

Selina kept him busy. Dick kept him busy. Being Batman kept him busy. Bruce should have had no time at all to think about Clark Kent. But he thought about him when he watched movies with Dick and Selina, remembering when Clark had sat in his apartment and Bruce had watched him instead of the TV screen; the steady rise and fall of his chest, the veins in his hands, his curly hair as it dried from the rain. He thought about him when Harley mentioned her girlfriend Ivy, who lived with Clark, in the apartment where Clark had seen Bruce shirtless. He thought about him when Selina cut his hair, thinking back to when his hair had hung down in front of his face as he and Clark stared at each other, mere inches between them. He thought about him when they went clubbing, and someone was punched in the face, and Bruce drunkenly, hopefully thought for a moment that it was Clark again. He thought about him when he played with Dick, and how Clark had done the same when he’d first met him. He thought about him when he got a text from Diana saying thank you for sending her the letter from the museum. He thought about him when he couldn’t sleep at night, which was often, and wondered if Clark was sleeping on his family’s farm in Smallville, or if he was laying awake staring at the ceiling, too. Bruce was fully aware that he had a crush on Clark Kent. The more time he spent away from him, the more he realised that he couldn’t convince himself otherwise anymore. He wanted Clark. He just doubted that Clark wanted him.

As much as Bruce loved being home, he always found it hard. He was in the same house that his parents had lived in. He walked past what used to be their bedroom every day. He saw their pictures on the walls every time he went anywhere in the manor. As much as he tried to avoid it, sometimes he found himself in that part of town, and saw the theatre, and always looked away before he saw the alleyway. He checked police reports most days, hoping to find the man who took them away from him. He felt compelled to prowl the streets at night, sometimes hopping across rooftops, sometimes skulking through the shadows on the ground, trying to make sure it never happened to anyone else. Their faces greeted him from a memorial mural in the Wayne Industries building every time he went in for a meeting. He drove past the cemetery where they were buried when he went out of the city for a day trip with Dick. They were everywhere. Bruce had at one time found that comforting; they were still there, in a way, watching over him, or whatever it was people said. Now that he had been somewhere else, and been able to forget a little bit some of the time, it suffocated him. They were everywhere . He almost didn’t feel like his own person. He was Bruce Wayne, the orphan, the son of Martha and Thomas, and don’t you remember what happened to his parents? He felt most like himself when he was with Dick and Alfred, or when he put the mask on. When he was Batman, he was everything he wished someone else had been a long time ago, when his mother’s pearls scattered, his father’s voice trembled, and two gun shots rang through his ears as the world stopped for a moment before it carried on as though nothing had happened. Just another violent death in Gotham City. And Bruce couldn’t let that happen anymore. He had to do something. He had to try.

It was a rainy Tuesday morning when it happened. Bruce and Dick sat in the back of one of Wayne Industries’ company cars, on their way to a business convention. Bruce hadn’t wanted to go, but Dick had wanted to wear a suit and ‘network’, as he called it. He spent too much time with Alfred. But Bruce thought it was funny, so he agreed. Dick straightened his clip-on tie anxiously in the reflection of the blacked-out mirrors.

“You look great,” Bruce smiled.

“I hope so,” Dick said worriedly, smoothing his hair down.

Bruce laughed softly. “Don’t worry. You’re eight. They’ll just be impressed by your suit and the fact that you even know what ‘networking’ means. Actually, do you know what that means?” Dick looked blankly at him. “Nevermind.”

Bruce’s phone pinged from his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a news alert.

GOTHAM GAZETTE: NEW RIDDLER TARGET KILLED IN BOMB ATTACK.

Bruce skimmed the article and read the name of the victim. He only vaguely recognised the name; he was high-up in the GCPD. Bruce remembered his name being mentioned in similar circles to himself… why was that?

“Are we there yet?” Dick asked impatiently. “And what’s that noise?”

An insistent beeping noise had started up. Bruce leaned forward to ask the driver if a warning light was on, but he shook his head and shrugged. He kept thinking. Where did he know that newest victim from…?

A news story. A few years after Bruce had lost his parents. The Chief of a local GCPD station, murdered with his wife on his way out of work. They left behind a son…

It all clicked in Bruce’s mind. Orphans.

“Driver, stop this car now! Dick, get -”

The world was bright, and then it was nothing.

Chapter Text

Clark’s spring break had been quite unremarkable. His parents had cooked a ridiculous amount of food to welcome him home with. Lex spent far more time at the Kents’ house than he did at home with Lionel. Clark spent a lot of time working on the farm, and a lot of time working at a cafe in town. He tried to push back his worries about money by working as much as he could, and drinking and playing video games with Lex when he got home. His dog, Krypto, laid between them, thumping his tail on Lex’s lap and slobbering all over Clark’s trousers. That is, when Krypto wasn’t chewing cables, digging food out of cupboards, or tracking mud systematically through the entire house. It was hard enough to get him to not use any of his superpowers while Lex was around; anything more than that in terms of good behaviour was just wishful thinking.

Clark didn’t think about Bruce Wayne. He didn’t think about his hair, his arms, and his adopted son. He didn’t think about what he’d done for Diana. He didn’t think about him when Gotham crime statistics showed up on the news. He didn’t think about him when he laid awake at night, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t think about Bruce Wayne, because he didn’t really have a reason to, and he didn’t want to think about why he was on his mind so much. He didn’t have time for that. It wasn’t important. He wouldn’t think about it.

It was Tuesday afternoon in the second week of spring break, and Clark had been given the day off work. He was sprawled across one end of the sofa, with Lex sat at the other. They were in their third hour of first-person-shooters and junk food. Lex’s phone sounded a news alert and he checked it absent-mindedly. 

“Another bombing in Gotham,” he muttered. “I swear, that city’s never going to get any better.” Clark hummed in agreement as they lapsed into silence again and carried on shooting. Krypto ran into the room and pounced on Lex’s feet. Lex yelped and lifted his feet up hurriedly from the floor. Clark laughed at him, which was a mistake, because it drew Krypto’s attention to him. Krypto took a few steps back and then jumped right onto Clark’s lap, smashing their heads together and jumping all over him.

“Krypto! Down!” Clark sputtered through mouthfuls of Krypto’s shaggy white fur. Lex was now laughing at Clark as he pushed his disobedient dog off of him.

Lex’s phone pinged again.

“Oh, fuck…”

“What?” Clark asked. Lex’s face had dropped. He looked genuinely worried. Lex flipped his phone around and held the screen out for Clark to see.

DAILY PLANET: BILLIONAIRE BRUCE WAYNE AND SON DICK DRAYSON ATTACKED BY RIDDLER IN FIERY CAR-BOMB.

The live feed showed a car in the streets of Gotham, flaming and smoking. Clark’s stomach dropped. He felt like the world had been turned on its head. He made to get up, but Krypto jumped onto his lap again and laid down, then turned to look up at him. Clark was grateful. His first instinct had been to get up and run, full-on super-speed, to Gotham, to see if Bruce and Dick were okay. He still wanted to do that, badly. But Lex was right there. And Lex could never find out about Clark. Never.

Instead, he grabbed his phone and found Bruce’s number, his eyes flicking back and forth between Lex’s phone and his own. There was no news on whether Bruce and Dick had actually made it out of the car. Clark pressed the call button. It rang out. He tried it again. It rang out. He and Lex sat arm-to-arm on the sofa, watching Lex’s phone screen in horrible silence. 

Two shapes appeared in the corner of the frame, crawling out from underneath some rubble. A wide man with dark hair, and a young boy held in his arms. Clark finally breathed again. He scrubbed his hand across his face and breathed deeply. Fuck.

“It’s okay, man, they’re fine,” Lex said, placing his hand reassuringly on Clark’s back. “They’re fine.” Clark sat in silence for a minute, holding Krypto. The way he’d felt when he’d thought for a moment Bruce was gone… it hadn’t been bearable. “I didn’t know you guys were so close,” Lex admitted.

Clark took a shaky breath. “Not… not really. I mean, I don’t know. I’m just glad they’re okay.”

Lex’s snoring kept Clark awake through the wall that separated the two of them. Lex had his own draw in the spare room. While Clark’s parents remained a little cautious of Lex, they were the kind of people to open their door to anyone in need - as Clark knew all too well. 

Clark stared at the ceiling. It was 2am. He rolled over and checked his phone again. He stared at the screen, the same as it had been all day.

CLARK. Are you and Dick okay?

No response from Bruce. Clark wasn’t particularly expecting one; Bruce surely had enough to deal with. But he was desperate to hear from him. There had been no more news, other than that the two of them were alive and in Gotham General Hospital under guard. Clark was desperate for news. He didn’t have Selina’s phone number. He’d texted Harley, but she knew as much as he did, which was nothing. He’d tried to hear what was going on, but Gotham was such a font of chaos that picking out a single voice, especially when he was so anxious anyway, proved impossible. He wanted more than anything to fly across the country and just be there. But ‘under guard’ stopped him. There was just too much risk. Besides, in what way would him going all the way to Gotham be a justified reaction? He barely knew Bruce. They were just barely friends. Weren’t they? 

Bruce’s legs pressing into Clark’s. Bruce’s eyes meeting his. Bruce looking at his lips. Clark’s heart beating out of his chest. Clark forcing himself to only look at Bruce’s eyes, and not his red cheeks, his pink lips, his pale skin and his dark bruises. 

Clark rolled over in bed again. None of that meant anything. That was a normal reaction to someone landing on top of you. 

Krypto got up from his bed on the floor in Clark’s room and jumped up next to Clark. He curled up in Clark’s arms, sighed, and went back to sleep. Clark buried his face in Krypto’s fur and tried to do the same. 

By the time Clark got up, it was nearly midday. His mother knocked on his bedroom door and gently opened it, letting a crack of light through. 

“Morning, sweetheart. Any news?” Martha asked softly. 

Clark checked his phone groggily. Krypto leapt up off the bed and started jumping up at Martha. 

No messages. No change on the news sites. 

Clark was a mess all day. He almost burned through his phone with his laser vision every time a notification went off. He was in such a weird mood that Lex just went home. Clark paced around the house, flew halfway to Gotham, flew back, and paced around the house again. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t understand how he was feeling. He just needed to know that Bruce was okay. 

By five o’clock, Clark was ready to go over to Gotham, no matter the consequences. Or at least throw his phone into the sky so hard it landed there, for all the good it was doing him. He sat anxiously on the edge of the sofa, with the news playing on the TV. 

His phone buzzed from the other side of the living room. He leapt to it, using his super speed and colliding with the table where his phone sat. 

BRUCE WAYNE. We are both fine.

Clark was so relieved he needed to sit down. He clutched his phone in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world to him. Bruce and Dick were fine. Everything was going to be okay. 

Without even thinking, Clark pressed the call button. 

“Hello?” Bruce’s hoarse voice echoed down the line. 

“Bruce?” Clark said softly. He was hearing his voice. He was okay. They were fine. Clark cleared his throat. “I just, uh… wanted to make sure you guys were alright. I was worried.”

“Yeah, we’re okay. We just got home from the hospital. Dick has broken his arm, but he thinks the cast is cool, so that’s okay…” he heard Bruce smile. “I’m a bit beaten up, but mostly fine.”

“But the explosion…”

“I realised what was going to happen right before the bomb went off. I was able to push Dick out of the car just in time. The door was blown off and it hit me in the back. It hurt like hell, but it meant neither of us were burned. The driver was a different story, though.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Just… I don’t know. It’s…” Bruce sighed. “The whole city is just fucked.”

“It was Riddler, right? Where’s Batman when you need him?” Clark scoffed.

Bruce actually laughed at that, but stopped quickly and groaned like he was in pain. Clark wished he could be there with him so badly it hurt. “Clark, I’m glad you called. I wanted to talk to you. Are we… is everything okay? You just left.”

The truth was, Clark hadn’t wanted to see Bruce again and didn’t want to deal with what had happened between them. But he couldn’t tell Bruce that. Because what had happened between them?

“Yeah, man, we’re fine,” he said lightly. “I just wanted to come home, is all.”

“Right.”

Clark heard a small, far-away voice through the phone. “Is that Clark?”

“Yeah, you want to say hello?” Bruce asked Dick. 

“Hi Clark!” 

“Hi, Dick.” Clark grinned. Dick still sounded chipper, despite yesterday’s events.

“My arm is in a cast! Will you sign it for me when I’m in Metropolis?”

“Yeah, of course, buddy.”

“Thank you! You can have it back now,” he said.

“Is he coming back to Metropolis soon?” Clark asked, once the phone had been passed back to Bruce.

Bruce sighed. “Yes. I’m debating just having him move there with me. Gotham is… I thought he’d be safe here, living in the part of town that we do. But now that the Riddler’s escaped… I don’t know. I think he’d be safer in Metropolis. With me.”

Clark nodded, then remembered Bruce couldn’t see him. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“I don’t know. Alfred will never move out of Gotham. He’s stubborn like that, and his daughter’s here. And I do want to come back here… I can’t just leave the city like this. I can’t. But Dick’s just a kid… he deserves to feel safe when he’s growing up.” Clark listened quietly. Bruce had never said so much to him before. “But then what do I do with him when I have class? I don’t know… I’ll figure it out.”

“I mean, it’s up to you. There’s a lot of reasons for and against. But you have more than enough people in Metropolis who would help you with Dick. Me included.”

“Thank you, Clark,” Bruce said. He sounded surprised. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m so glad you guys are okay,” Clark sighed. “I was so worried I could barely sleep.” There was silence on the other end of the line. Clark worried he’d said too much. “When are you going to be back in Metropolis?”

“I’m going back tomorrow, and Dick is coming with me. Alfred is going to stay with his daughter for a few days in a different part of town. We all need to get away for a while, let this thing with Riddler blow over.”

“Will the cops catch him again?”

“I don’t know. They’re useless or corrupt a lot of the time. But we can hope.”

“Maybe Batman will do it,” Clark suggested.

“Maybe,” Bruce said heavily.

“Clark, dinner’s nearly ready!” Jonathan called from the kitchen.

“Sounds like you have to go,” Bruce said tonelessly.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too. See you, Clark.” Bruce hung up the phone and Clark wished he could be there with him in Gotham. He wished he could just be with him. But he was in Smallville, miles away. Although he’d been desperate to go home, Clark now wanted nothing more than to be back in Metropolis and to see Bruce. It was only when he was scared he would lose him that Clark realised how much he had begun to care about him.

As a friend.

Clark was drowning in homework when Bruce texted him. He’d been back in Metropolis since Saturday, and had been unpacking and working solidly since then. It was Tuesday morning, and Clark was in his bedroom writing another article about the Batman and his  return to Gotham city, before his notable absence ever since the latest Riddler attacks. And he was thinking about Bruce.

BRUCE WAYNE. I won’t make it to boxing tonight. Diana will be running the session if you still want to go. Dick wants you to sign his cast. Come over later?

Clark stared at the message. He hadn’t heard from Bruce at all since their phone call the week before. He wanted to see him, to check that he was okay. Bruce skipping boxing worried him. He should go over and see if he was alright.

CLARK. Yeah, sure! Sounds good. I have a lot of work to do. Is it okay if I come round after boxing?

Clark had been looking forward to getting back to boxing ever since the attack in Gotham. He needed to let some energy out, and he wouldn’t mind hitting a few people too. His phone pinged.

BRUCE WAYNE. Great. See you later.

“You are doing terribly. Your mind is somewhere else,” Diana told Clark bluntly. She had just punched him squarely in the face, quite hard, because Clark wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m sorry,” Clark sighed. “I’m just worried about Bruce. Have you seen him since you’ve been back?”

“No.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t usually miss Tuesday nights.”

Clark sighed in frustration. “I just… I don’t know. It’s messed up, what happened.” He glanced around the hall to make sure no one else was listening. “Do you ever think about… doing something about it?”

“About what?” Diana tipped her head.

“Crime. People being hurt. There’s so much we could do. The idea of everyone finding out about me terrifies me, sure… but I just don’t know if that’s a good enough reason to sit by and watch bad things happen anymore. I could help. I should help.”

“What, like Batman?” Diana asked sceptically.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Not dressed up as a bat,” Clark shrugged. “But maybe something like that, sure. I mean, I’m literally invulnerable. I just can’t shake the feeling that I should be doing more with the gifts I’ve been given. What’s the point of being this powerful if I don’t do anything about it?”

Diana nodded. “I understand, and I agree. I think it just comes down to, are you ready for the world to see who you are?”

Clark sighed. He barely understood himself most days; how could he expect the world to understand him? Especially a world that was not known for openly accepting people’s differences. It would be a big step. Was it one he was ready for, when he couldn’t even tell his best friend? What would people think? And was that really more important to him than doing the right thing?

Clark rang the doorbell in front of Bruce’s apartment. He’d showered at the university gym after boxing, and his curly hair was still wet. Dick opened the door, as expected.

“It’s Clark!” He announced excitedly. His left arm was in a bright yellow cast, which hung in a sling around his neck. Other than that, he looked completely fine. Clark was relieved.

“Let him in, then,” came Bruce’s amused voice from around the corner.

“Can I take your… oh, you don’t have a coat,” Dick said disappointedly.

“You can take my hoodie, if you want,” Clark offered.

“It would be my pleasure,” Dick said politely.

Clark laughed as he pulled his hoodie off. He only realised then that he was wearing the same GO CROWS t-shirt that Bruce had borrowed from him weeks before. Dick stood on his tip-toes to hang Clark’s hoodie on the coat rack in the entryway. He then took Clark’s hand and marched him through the apartment into the living room.

Bruce stood up from his place on the sofa with a groan. He looked awful. He was even paler than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced. He held himself like he was in pain. There were long scrapes and big dark bruises down his arms.

“Not the best I’ve ever looked, I know.” Bruce attempted to crack a joke.

Clark rested his hand gently on Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay, man.” Bruce flushed and avoided Clark’s eyes, looking down at his shirt.

“Go crows,” Bruce said, smirking. Clark smiled and shook his head.

Dick tapped Clark’s arm and held up a sharpie.

“Right, of course! That’s what I came here for.” Dick sat on the sofa and held his arm out. Clark crouched on the floor and wrote his name just below Dick’s elbow. “Do you want me to do a drawing, too?”

“Yes please.”

Clark thought for a moment, then drew a cartoon-style rocket ship at the top of the cast.

“Thank you!” Dick said excitedly, showing his arm excitedly to Bruce. “Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked Clark.

“Dick, I’m sure Clark has things he needs to do. You don’t have to stay,” Bruce said cautiously.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve done everything I need to do today,” Clark shrugged. Dick grinned, and Bruce’s face was unreadable. Dick launched into movie options, and dragged Clark up onto the sofa so that Clark and Bruce sat on either side of him. Clark wanted to ask Bruce, is this okay? But then Dick was sitting back against Bruce’s side and putting his feet up on Clark’s lap and Clark was exactly where he wanted to be, and everything felt right again.

Chapter Text

Bruce knew he liked Clark. A lot. He had come to terms with it. He was a walking ray of sunshine, a total sweetheart, and pretty much the nicest and most genuine person Bruce had ever met. But Bruce was just as sure that Clark would never like him that way. For starters, he was pretty sure Clark was straight. He certainly seemed that way. And Bruce was also aware of his own general moodiness and slightly depressive personality. So Bruce had resigned himself to the fact that it was never going to happen between them, and he might as well just try and get over it.

The moment Clark walked into his apartment with wet hair in his red high school GO CROWS t-shirt, Bruce’s hopes came crashing down and he realised that he could not, in fact, just ‘get over it.’ Clark’s look of concern when he saw the absolute state that Bruce had got himself into was both embarrassing on Bruce’s part and endearing on Clark’s. When Bruce had got Clark’s phone call over spring break, he hadn’t known what to make of it. Things between them were still so up in the air. But it had been good to hear Clark’s voice, soft and reassuring over the phone. It eased Bruce’s blinding pain for a moment, reminding him that the world was bigger than Gotham, and all the horrors that the city contained and maintained and let fester.

Bruce had taken Dick back to Metropolis with him, just for a few weeks. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Dick in Gotham. He would spend every waking moment wondering what could happen to him without Bruce there to protect him. It kept Bruce awake at night that he had almost failed to protect Dick. If he had connected the dots just a few seconds slower, or God forbid, not at all… it wasn’t even worth thinking about. As it was, they had both been protected by the blown-off car door, and Bruce had wrapped himself bodily around Dick and taken the full brunt of the impact. It had been terrifying. When Bruce was Batman, he felt almost invincible. And even when he was beaten up, he didn’t mind - it was his favourite adrenaline kick. And it made him feel as though he had a purpose, almost as though he was taking someone else’s place by getting in the way of a criminal. But when he was Bruce Wayne, he felt entirely different. He felt awkward, and unprotected, and anxious. But the worst thing about the attack hadn’t been his own security; it had been Dick’s. Fear had shot through Bruce’s body faster than he could even think, and he was wrapping himself around Dick before he heard the explosion. Protecting him had been the only thing that mattered in that moment. What was the point of being Batman and trying to make Gotham a better place if he couldn’t even protect the people closest to him? The thought kept him up at night. He was woken by nightmares of Dick dead, burned and ashen, in the backseat of the car; Alfred, shot and convulsing; Selina, running away from Gotham, from her home and her family. When he thought about it, it became very tempting to push people away, to keep them safe. Everyone else just seemed very determined to not let him do that. Especially Dick, who seemed to be managing Bruce’s social calendar via his cast-signing requests.

Dick had, once again, fallen asleep on the sofa. However much he denied it, he rarely made it to the end of a movie if they didn’t start it until after seven o’clock. Dick’s head rested on Bruce’s arm, and his feet were in Clark’s lap. Bruce watched the steady rise and fall of Dick’s chest, and was grateful for it. Bruce also stole a glance at Clark, who was endearingly very immersed in the Pixar movie that Dick had chosen for them. His hair had dried now, and had curled into messy ringlets. His arms were spread over the back of the sofa, showing the definition in them. Bruce thought he was beautiful. He looked away quickly before Clark caught him.

The movie finished, and Dick was still asleep. Bruce was tired, and sore, and everything hurt, and he could quite happily have gone to sleep there. 

“Should we get him off to bed?” Clark murmured, looking down at Dick. Bruce nodded, and made to get up. “No, no, I’ll do it,” Clark insisted. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Bruce felt himself flush and was glad the room was dark. Clark gently moved Dick’s legs off his lap and picked him up in his arms. He lifted Dick like he weighed absolutely nothing. Bruce struggled up from the sofa and watched Clark carry his son down the hallway, carefully, as though he was the most precious thing in the world. To Bruce, he was. Bruce opened the door to the spare room and pulled the bed covers back. Clark lay Dick down softly on the mattress and stepped away. Dick stirred. Bruce pulled the duvet up and smoothed his hair away from his eyes.

“Goodnight, Dick,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Dick whispered before going back to sleep.

Bruce felt as though he had been dropped from a great height. Dick had called him Dad. He looked down at him, curled up in bed, sleeping with a smile on his face, and knew that Dick was the best thing in his life, and probably always would be.

Bruce motioned Clark out of the room and softly shut the door. “He’s never called me that before,” he told Clark quietly, as they went back to the living room. Clark opened his mouth in shock. Bruce smiled. 

“He’s a really sweet kid,” Clark said. “If you decide to keep him here in Metropolis, I’d watch him for you any time.”

“Thank you,” Bruce nodded. “I still haven’t decided yet. I don’t want to move him away from Alfred, and his home, and all his friends… but his safety is more important than that.”

“You’re good with him,” Clark said softly. His eyes met Bruce’s. “He was lucky, being taken in by you.” Bruce wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t always feel he did the best job with Dick; it was nice to hear otherwise. “I’m adopted,” Clark continued. Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t really advertise it,” Clark admitted. “People tend to ask a lot of questions. I never knew my parents. They both died shortly after I was born.” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this… no, actually I do. It’s because when my parents took me in, it changed my life. I could have been taken in by anyone, by someone awful, or just left in the system until I aged out. But I wasn’t. I was taken in by good people, who raised me with love. And that’s what you’re doing for Dick. I just want to say… you’re making a big difference in his life. And you’re doing a good job. Don’t feel like you aren’t because of… because of what happened in Gotham last week.”

Bruce didn’t know what to say to that. He felt as though Clark had reached right into his heart and soul, found the thing he most needed to be told, and told him right then and there. He looked up into Clark’s blue eyes and earnest face and had never wanted to kiss anyone so badly.

“Thank you,” Bruce forced out. He cleared his throat. “That… that means a lot.” His phone buzzed in his back pocket, and kept buzzing. He pulled it out. Selina was calling him. He clicked it off. A few seconds later she tried again. “Sorry, do you mind…?” He asked Clark, who nodded politely. Bruce inwardly cursed Selina for ruining the moment.

“Bruce, turn on your TV.” Selina’s urgent voice crackled down the phone line. “Right now. Any news channel.”

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked, as he did what she said.

“It’s the Riddler. He’s live streaming a statement about the attacks.”

Bruce’s stomach dropped. He switched the TV over to a news channel. The Riddler’s green mask and plastic glasses stared back at him out of the screen. He felt Clark tense next to him on the sofa.

“I wanted to tell you… why… I’ve been doing this…” Edward Nygma’s unstable tirade made Bruce shift uncomfortably in his seat. He had always unnerved him. “The orphans.” The Riddler giggled. “I wanted them to know… that even if you think everything important has been taken from you… even if it was a long time ago… Gotham can still come for you now. You rich people in your positions of power… you don’t do enough. You don’t do anything. This city is… festering, while you watch, and go home to your… mansions… and move away to other cities. You don’t do anything for us. Why should we do… anything for you? When we can do things to you. We can still… finish the job.” His wide eyes stared out at Bruce from behind his glasses. There was no light behind them. “But I didn’t… finish the job. Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson… Gotham is coming for you.” The broadcast ended.

“Bruce, I-” Selina started. Bruce hung up the phone. 

He barely even felt it as Clark rested a protective hand on his knee. Barely even heard as Clark said, “Bruce, I’m sorry. He’s insane. I… I don’t know what to say.”

“I think you should leave,” Bruce said quietly. “It might not be safe here.”

“I doubt the Riddler would leave Gotham… it’s safer for him there. No offense, but your police are pretty corrupt, and there’s no better place for a criminal to hide,” Clark reasoned.

“He has people working for him.” Bruce felt like the walls were closing in on him. “They could be anywhere.”

Clark put his hand on Bruce’s jaw and turned his head around so that he looked Clark in the eye. The touch shocked Bruce so much that it broke his panicked train of thought.

“You and Dick are going to be fine. I am not going to let anything happen to you,” Clark said firmly.

“Clark, that’s very noble, but what can you do against the Riddler?” Bruce sighed in exasperation.

Clark took his hand off Bruce’s face and rubbed his brow in frustration. “I…” He sighed, almost angrily. “I just… I won’t let you be hurt by him. Not again.”

Bruce was worried he was going to fall in love with this sweet, bull-headed farm boy who could just barely take Bruce in a fight, let alone against the Riddler and all the weapons at his disposal.

“Clark, I think you should leave. There’s no point in putting you in danger, too. I’ll call my security team,” Bruce insisted. He had enough to worry about with Dick, he didn’t need Clark on his mind, too.

“But I-” Clark cut himself off and sighed, defeated. “Okay. If you need anything , please call me. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” Bruce nodded. He knew Clark meant it. Which is why he was making him leave. 

Clark looked back at Bruce as he walked out of the door, his curly hair falling into his eyes, which showed nothing but concern.

“We’ll be okay,” Bruce said, smiling softly. 

He wished he could make himself believe it.

Chapter Text

The Batman’s return to Gotham seems to have been a brief one. Although the Bat put away 30 criminals (in both jail and hospital) recently, he has vanished since the Riddler’s brutal attack on Bruce Wayne and his son Dick Grayson. Is he biding his time, and working on putting the Riddler back behind bars? Or has he left the people of Gotham once again? Metropolis citizens wonder if the Batman is coming back here, and if so, will he bring the dangers of the Riddler with him?

The rest of the week passed in a haze of back-to-school work and anxiety. Clark had become the college paper’s go-to writer for the Batman, and he polished off his latest article on the Bat’s absence by the end of the weekend. And over and over, Clark found his mind going back to Bruce.

The look on Bruce’s face when Dick had called him Dad played over and over in Clark’s mind. It was, Clark thought, the happiest he had ever seen him. It was such a sweet and vulnerable moment, Clark almost felt awkward that he was there for it. Witnessing that scene was why he’d felt compelled to tell Bruce how important his relationship with Dick was. Clark had initially worried that he’d said too much, but he had soon had much bigger things to worry about.

After the Riddler’s broadcast, Clark had left Bruce’s apartment. But he hadn’t gone home. He’d flown up onto the roof of the building, right above Bruce’s flat, and sat there all night. If anything happened to either of them, and he could have done something to prevent it… it wasn’t worth thinking about. He’d scanned the surrounding streets, watched every single floor with his X-ray vision, and had listened out for any sounds other than Bruce and Dick. He heard Bruce call his security team, and watched the men who stood outside his apartment door in case they were working for Nygma. He’d watched and listened as Bruce lay down in bed next to Dick and didn’t sleep until he nodded off unwillingly. He’d heard Bruce’s heart race as he woke up in a panic to check that Dick was still there next to him. He watched Bruce text Selina that they were both fine. He wished so badly that he could be there in that room with them. But there had been no plausible reason for him to stay. As touched as he was that Bruce wanted to keep him safe by sending him home, all it had done was frustrate Clark that keeping his powers a secret was hindering his ability to help people. This made him realise that hiding just wasn’t going to work for him anymore. If Batman wasn’t going to show up to protect Bruce and Dick, maybe someone else would have to.

On Sunday night, Clark was pacing his bedroom, thinking about what he was going to do. Diana was out, and he couldn’t talk to her. Besides, she’d made her standpoint pretty clear. It was up to Clark what he did; he just needed to be brave enough. But Clark didn’t think he could do this on his own.

The phone only rang twice before it was picked up.

“Well, hi Clark, how are you?” Martha Kent’s voice spilled out of Clark’s phone.

“Hi, Ma. I need to talk to you and Dad for a minute, if you’re around.”

“Of course! Let me just call him in. JONATHAN!” Clark held the phone away from him and cringed at the loud noise. “He’s comin’. What’s this about?”

“I… I think I’m ready.”

“For a girlfriend? Oh, Clark, that’s lovely! We were really starting to wonder-”

“What? No! What? How many conversations have you guys had about my love life?” Clark asked indignantly.

“Well, your father and I just think it would be real nice if you met someone, that’s all…”

“Mom, stop. This is not why I called you. Just…” Clark sighed. “Is Dad there yet?”

“Hiya Clark. What’s going on?” Jonathan’s voice filled Clark’s ear.

“Can you put me on speaker?”

“Oh, how do we do that again?”

“Oh my God.”

“Clark Kent, do not take the Lord’s name in vain. Have pity on your struggling parents.”

“Just press the button with the speaker on it, Ma.” Clark heard several dull noises as though his mother’s phone was being poked and prodded at. 

“Okay, I think we’ve done it,” Martha announced.

“Right. Well, I called because… I want to do something with my powers. I want to help people. I want… people to know about me.” That last part was a lie. Clark did not want people to know about him. But he wanted to help people, and he could help people, and he’d decided that was infinitely more important than how comfortable he was.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Martha said. She paused for a moment. “That’s an awful big step. Are you sure?”

Clark sighed raggedly. “Honestly, no. But there are people out there who need my help. Bruce…” Clark trailed off. He didn’t even want to speak about it.

“Honey, we know. We saw the news. It’s just awful. And that little boy being mixed up in it, too…”

“His name is Dick,” Clark said firmly. “He’s sweet, and kind, and stupidly polite. Ma, Pa, I can’t let anything happen to them. And they’re not the only ones. Every day, people get hurt, and threatened, and need help. I can be that.”

“Yes, you can. Just… Clark, be careful. Not everyone will accept you. Not everyone will like you. This will be difficult,” Martha warned.

“I know, I know. But I can’t just sit by and do nothing anymore.”

“You’re doing the right thing, son,” Jonathan said firmly. “I’m so proud of you. We couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Well, what are you going to wear? You’re not going to dress as a bat, are you?” Martha asked cautiously.

“No, Ma,” Clark laughed. “No. I have a suit… from the ice fortress. With my family- my birth family’s symbol on it.”

“Clark, people can’t know it’s you. That’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Clark shrugged. 

“Since when have you needed glasses?” Lois asked Clark at the dinner table on Tuesday night.

Clark nervously pushed them up the bridge of his nose. “I normally wear contacts. I thought I’d give these a try.” He didn’t admit that he’d tried to cook a whole roast chicken with his laser vision when he was fifteen and had strained his eyes so much he’d needed glasses ever since.

Lois tipped her head to the side as she took him in. “You look really different with them on.”

“What, do they look bad?” Clark asked anxiously.

“No, not bad, just different,” Ivy said placatingly.

“Good, good,” Clark nodded as he finished his dinner. ‘Different’ was the goal.

“Your Batman article was interesting,” Lois allowed him. “But you still need an interview, Kent.” She pointed at him across the table with a fork loaded with spaghetti.

“Yes, I know, thank you, editor-in-chief,” Clark rolled his eyes as he left the table to wash up.

“Harley’s coming over on Friday night, if that’s okay with everyone,” Ivy said, clearing her and Lois’ plates. Clark and Lois nodded and made varying agreeable noises.

“When are you going to bring someone home, Clark?” Lois teased.

“Jeez, can everyone get off my back about this?” Clark moaned, scrubbing his plate a little harder. It shattered in his hands.

“Damn, Clark, sorry, I didn’t know it was such a sore topic…” Lois held her hands up defensively, looking cautiously at the fractured pieces of his plate floating in the soapy water.

“Just… my parents have been on at me, now you too…” Clark grumbled as he threw the broken plate pieces in the bin.

“I won’t mention it again,” Lois said apologetically.

“You’re not dating anyone either, Lois,” Ivy pointed out. Clark was relieved that she seemed to be on his side this time.

“I don’t want to,” Lois said matter-of-factly. “I’m married to my work.”

“That old laptop keeps your bed warm, does it?” Clark joked. Lois swatted at him with a tea-towel. Clark yelped and scooped water up from the sink to splash her wish. Lois gasped and cracked the tea-towel like a whip.

“Ready to go, Clark?” Diana’s head appeared around the corner of the door.

“I think that would be a good idea,” Ivy said sensibly.

Clark wasn’t expecting Bruce to be at boxing that week, given the imminent death threat he’d received a week earlier. So he was surprised to walk into the gym and see Bruce walking around the class with Dick on his shoulders.

Clark and Diana were late because Lois hadn’t let Clark go quite so easily. She had taken Clark’s glasses hostage, and he had eventually admitted defeat and just left them there with her. He couldn’t wear them for boxing anyway, even if it did mean everything was a little blurry. Clar and Diana slotted into place on a spare mat and put their gear on, and got to sparring. They had an easy rhythm now, and had reached the point where they could push each other further, with faster, stronger hits. Some of Diana’s punches had really started to hurt, and it was exhilarating. Diana’s body moved in time with his, swaying to the movement of their fists. Clark had forgotten everyone else in the room. It was just him and Diana and the way their powerful bodies worked together.

“That looks great, Clark!” Dick’s comment broke Clark’s focus. He and Diana stopped for a moment. 

“Thanks, Dick! How are you doing?” Clark asked. He scanned the gym. Bruce was halfway across the room, instructing another pair. He still held himself like he was in pain, and he looked exhausted. His eyes kept darting around the room nervously. It broke Clark’s heart.

“I’m good,” Dick said, but he wasn’t quite as confident as he normally was. “Bruce is very stressed. He said someone wants to hurt us. I don’t understand why, though.”

Clark looked to Diana for help, but she seemed as upset and hopeless about the situation as Clark was. Clark crouched down to be level with Dick. “Well, sometimes people take their anger out on people who don’t deserve it. It’s not fair, but it happens. But don’t worry. Bruce will keep you safe,” Clark reassured him.

Dick nodded. “I know he will.”

Clark looked across the room again to see Bruce looking at him. Clark smiled and waved. Bruce nodded to him, but didn’t smile. He looked miserable, stressed, and tired. Clark wanted to take it all away from him. He thought about his suit, which now sat in a box under his bed. He thought about his laser vision, his super strength, his ability to fly. He didn’t feel ready, but he didn’t think he ever would. He just needed to do it.

CLARK. Hey, are you free on Friday? I’m writing a new piece on the Batman and I would love to catch you for that interview if possible.

BRUCE. Yes I can do Friday. Are you okay to come to my place? We have all the security set up. Should be safe. Can you come at 8?

CLARK. Sounds good. See you then! :)

Thursday rolled around and Clark still hadn’t done it. He had taken the suit out of its box, sat on his bed with it in his lap, and stared at the bright red S shape on the front, and then put it back in the box and back under his bed. He hated himself for being scared. He hated that he couldn’t show the world who he was. But he couldn’t help it; it was terrifying. What if everyone hated him? What if everyone knew it was him? What if…? The possibilities kept Clark up at night. 

“The glasses suit you,” Lex said. Clark made a vague noise of thanks in return. “Dude, what is wrong with you? You’ve barely said two words since you got here,” Lex complained as he killed Clark for the sixth time on Star Wars Battlefront. They were posted up on Lex’s sofa in their third hour of video games. The city skyline was bright against the night behind them.

Clark didn’t know what to say. He’d always been in constant debate with himself whether to tell Lex about his alien origins or not. On the one hand, Lex was his best friend. On the other, he was already doing research for LuthorCorp on Kryptonite, and Clark didn’t want to risk exposing his only weakness to a company with such questionable morality.

“I… I’ve just got a lot on my mind at the moment,” Clark shrugged. Sometimes, he came so close to telling Lex the truth, and then chickened out at the last second.

Lex paused the game and turned to face Clark. “Dude, you can talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Lex, I…” Clark sighed. “I’m trying to work up the courage to do something. I just don’t know if I have it in me. I really want to, I just… I’m scared.”

“Is Clark Kent finally going to ask a girl out?” Lex gasped.

“What? No! Look, just forget it, man,” Clark rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on! Who is she?”

“That’s not - nevermind. Why is everyone on at me about this? Forget I said anything,” Clark huffed.

“Clark Kent. Always so secretive,” Lex pondered. That made Clark feel even worse. He wanted to tell Lex. He really did. He just couldn’t. It was like every time he tried to say the words, I’m an alien, his voice failed him and he couldn’t say a word even if he wanted to.

“How are things with your dad?” Clark changed the subject.

Lex sighed and looked out of the window darkly. “The same as usual. Nothing I do is ever good enough for him. I’m nearly finished on the Kryptonite project, though. I’ve almost worked out how to refine it into energy cells.” Great, Clark thought. He really hoped Lex’s Kryptonite-fuel didn’t take off any time soon. That would be pretty bad for him. “I called my dad and told him. He said, that’s great Lex, but what are you going to do when you run out of meteor rocks? As if I hadn’t thought of that already,” Lex scoffed and shook his head in anger.

“What are you going to do when you run out of meteor rocks?” Clark asked nervously.

“I don’t know,” Lex huffed. Clark breathed a covert sigh of relief. “But the point is, I know that’s an issue. I have thought about it. He just thinks I’m an idiot.”

“You know that’s not true, though,” Clark insisted. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

“Thank you, Clark. Yes, I know I’m not an idiot. And as much as I do appreciate hearing it from you, it would be nice to hear it from my father every now and then, too.”

Clark rested his hand on Lex’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. He just sucks.”

Lex nodded. “Yep. Oh well. What can you do? Some of us have shitty parents. Good thing I have you, Clark.” Lex booted up the Xbox again and they went back to trying to kill each other.

Finally, Friday came. At half 7, Clark set off for Bruce’s place. He was surprised that Bruce had invited him over, given the circumstances, but he was relieved. He was worried about Bruce and wanted to check in on him. He had flown over in the middle of the night a few times that week, just to check that he and Dick were still safe. Every time, they were, but that still didn’t help Clark relax. The Riddler was still out there.

Clark went through three different security checkpoints to get to Bruce’s front door. He had to show his ID each time, and explain who he was, and why he was there, even though Bruce had said he’d told them Clark was coming. Clark couldn’t imagine living like this.

He rang the doorbell, and was surprised when Bruce answered, not Dick.

“Where’s your usual concierge?” Clark joked.

Bruce smiled softly. “He’s in bed. Come in.”

Clark followed Bruce through the apartment and into the living room. Bruce settled into a corner of the sofa and gestured for Clark to take up the other end. Clark took a second to look at Bruce. He was wearing black jogging bottoms and a loose black t-shirt. Clark wondered how much of those he must own. His hair was getting long and the front hung past his cheekbones. His bruises seemed to have healed somewhat, but he still looked exhausted. Clark knew from his occasional late-night vigils of his apartment that he was barely sleeping. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you at boxing on Tuesday,” Clark said.

Bruce shrugged. “Dick wanted to go. And we can’t put our whole lives on hold because of Nygma’s threats… that would just be giving him what he wants.” Clark nodded. Bruce scanned his face. “I like the glasses.”

“Thanks. I normally wear contacts.” Clark explained, pushing the frames nervously up to the bridge of his nose.

“You look different in glasses,” Bruce said. He stifled a groan as he settled back against the cushions. Clark wished he could extend his healing powers.

“How are you doing?” He asked softly.

Bruce’s dark eyes said everything that Clark knew Bruce wouldn’t. They were sharp and anxious and tinged with pain. “I’m fine,” he said flatly. “How are you?”

“I’m not the one with an active death threat,” Clark scoffed.

“No, but… you look tired,” Bruce murmured. It was so soft that Clark felt heat colour his cheeks.

“I’m fine,” Clark stammered. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to do this.”

“Of course,” Bruce nodded. He seemed to shut down; all the vulnerability from moments before was gone, and in its place was a billionaire who was heir to one of the biggest companies in the country.

“Do you mind if I record?” Clark asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“No, of course not,” Bruce said.

Clark started recording and placed his phone on the sofa in between them.

“Mr Wayne,” Clark started formally. Bruce raised an amused eyebrow. Clark bulldozed forward. “Mr Wayne. The vigilante crime-fighter known as the Batman has been particularly active in Gotham recently, up until the Riddler’s attack on you and your son. What do you think of his vigilante work, and do you resent him for not being able to prevent the Riddler’s attack on you?”

“Starting me off easy, huh?” Bruce joked. Clark smiled wryly. “Well, while Batman’s work isn’t entirely legal, in a city like Gotham, sometimes the law can only get you so far. As long as he’s helping people, I don’t see a problem with it. As for the second part of your question… no, I don’t. At any given moment, there are probably about twenty different crimes happening in Gotham city simultaneously. The Batman can’t be expected to stop them all.”

Clark nodded. “And what do you think about Batman splitting his time between Gotham and Metropolis? As someone who does the same, do you think one city has more need for his work?”

Bruce frowned. “I think Gotham’s need is more desperate. But Metropolis isn’t perfect either. Doesn’t every city deserve someone looking out for it?”

“I suppose so,” Clark allowed. “What about the claims that the Batman has made things worse in Gotham?”

“I think that’s naive,” Bruce said, rather defensively. “I think it’s more likely that Batman’s activity in Gotham simply means that more crime is being reported on. Sure, some criminals, like Jack Napier, see Batman as a challenge. But that’s the minority. I think for most of them, Batman is a deterrent. There isn’t enough fear of the police among the criminals in Gotham, because a lot of the police are bought off by said criminals. I won’t be popular for saying that, but it’s true. I think Gotham needs a symbol of justice that’s bigger than the GCPD and the Gotham justice system, which has similar issues.”

“You talk about corruption in Gotham. Gotham City is famous across the country for being full of crime and poverty. What is the Wayne Foundation doing to combat these issues? Surely there are other ways to help, apart from vigilante justice,” Clark probed.

“Yes, of course.” Bruce shifted forward in his seat. “The Wayne Foundation is committed to helping Gotham pull itself together. A lot of our funding goes towards orphanages, and some also goes towards safer, cheaper housing projects.”

“Over 90% of Gotham is working class, and lives a very different life to you. What do you have to say about the Riddler’s claim that Gotham’s ruling class isn’t doing enough?” Clark asked. 

Bruce bristled at that. “I think the Riddler is a dangerous man, and that people shouldn’t let themselves get whipped up into a frenzy by his messages. We try to do as much for the city as we can. Whether that’s enough or not… I’m not sure. But we’re doing our best.”

“Cleary the Riddler doesn’t think so,” Clark continued. “He not only said you don’t do enough, he said you don’t do anything . And what do you have to say to his accusation that Gotham’s elite escape the city’s crime problem by moving away?”

“Anyone can move away from Gotham if they want to-” Bruce started.

Clark adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr Wayne, but that just isn’t true. The market in Gotham has all but collapsed, and most families can’t afford to even move to a better neighbourhood in Gotham, let alone out of the city. There aren’t many people lining up to buy property in the worst parts of town.”

Bruce sighed. “No. But… look, fixing Gotham is an almost impossible task. It’s going to take time. People can’t expect the city to improve overnight.”

“No, they can’t, but the city’s crime rates haven’t decreased at all in over ten years,” Clark protested. “Don’t the working-class people of Gotham deserve better?”

“Well, ten years ago, I was a teenager dealing with the death of my parents,” Bruce snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. “We all deserve better.”

Clark flinched. A charged silence spread between them. Clark reached down and stopped the recording.

“Bruce, I’m sorry, I just got caught up in it… obviously I don’t think-”

“It’s fine,” Bruce said darkly. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“I hope the article does well,” Bruce said bitterly, and stood up. 

Clark took his cue to leave.

“Thank you,” he muttered as he left Bruce’s apartment. The door clicked shut behind him and he swore quietly under his breath. That had not gone the way he wanted it to. 

Clark bumped into Lois in the hallway on his way into their apartment. He was tense, and annoyed, and anxious, and by the look on her face he assumed he was glaring daggers.

“Hey,” she said cautiously as she unlocked the door for them. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Clark grumbled.

“Want to talk about it?” She asked as she opened the door to her bedroom.

“No,” he muttered, but he followed her into her room anyway. “Where are you coming back from?” Lois was dressed up in a suit jacket and pencil skirt with her hair twisted up.

“Press conference for Metropolis City Planning,” she moaned. She sat down heavily on her bed and pulled her shoes off. “This internship with the Daily Planet is really good for building up some experience, but man, the stuff they’re assigning me to can be so boring.” She pulled her hair down and shook it out. Not for the first time, Clark thought about how gorgeous she was. Long black hair, deep blue eyes, a bright smile. But, like always, his mind went back to the same place; he just wasn’t sure they were compatible that way. “What’s pissing you off tonight?” She asked as Clark sat down on her desk chair. “Didn’t you have your interview with Bruce?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah. You would probably think it went great… I did get some good material. But, I don’t know… I messed up. I think he’s mad at me. Listen.” 

Clark played Lois the recording of the interview. Hearing Bruce’s deep, scratchy voice on the recording made Clark shift nervously in his seat. He told himself it was because he was worried he had upset him.

“ People can’t expect the city to improve overnight,” Clark’s voice came out of his tinny phone speaker.

“ Well, ten years ago, I was a teenager dealing with the death of my parents. We all deserve better.” Bruce’s heated reply sounded just as bad playing through Clark’s phone as it had in person an hour ago.

Lois sighed. “Well… you’re right. I think it’s a really good interview. You asked some good questions, and pushed him when you thought you could. As a journalist, I’d say, great work.”

Clark felt so miserable that he couldn’t even enjoy Lois’ praise. “But…?”

“But… as a friend… maybe you pushed too hard. I have to admit, I don’t know Bruce very well. And it seems like you guys have grown close recently,” she said, giving him a cautious look. “But from what I do know about him, he’s a very private person, and he’s been through a lot. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional on your part, but… maybe what you said just pushed his buttons. I’m sure it will blow over,” she reassured him.

“I hope so,” Clark muttered. “I’m worried about him, Lois. I’m worried about this situation with the Riddler. I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“Well, that’s very sweet Clark, but what can you do? You’ll just have to hope that the police catch him. Or Batman. There’s not much you can do, really.”

Clark bit his tongue. He wished he could tell her how wrong she was, but, as always, the words caught in the back of his throat.

“Thanks, Lois,” he said instead.

“I look forward to reading that article,” she said, as Clark shut the door behind him.

There’s not much you can do, really. Clark, that’s very noble, but what can you do against the Riddler? I think you should leave. Not everyone will accept you. Not everyone will like you.

Clark lay awake, everyone’s voices echoing in his mind. What was he thinking? What could he do to help? Was he being ridiculous? Would everyone hate him for who he was, if he told the truth, if he showed the world?

You’re doing the right thing, son. We’re so proud of you. We couldn’t have asked for a better son.

Maybe Clark would just have to find out.

Doesn’t every city deserve someone looking out for it?

Chapter Text

He not only said you don’t do enough, he said you don’t do anything.

Clark’s voice played over and over in Bruce’s head as he tried to sleep. When the words had come from the Riddler, Bruce had largely dismissed them. But coming from Clark? Bruce hadn’t been able to get them off his mind. Much like Clark and his accusing tone, his serious face, his new glasses.

He regretted snapping at Clark and showing him the door. He hadn’t wanted the interview to end like that, and for all he wanted to keep Clark safe, he didn’t want to completely push him away.

He said you don’t do anything. Don’t the working-class people of Gotham deserve better?

That had rubbed him up the wrong way. Bruce had a general problem with people assuming his life was easy because he was rich. It obviously hadn’t been. But Clark was right. Bruce could escape the horrors of Gotham anytime he wanted. Not everyone had that option. If Bruce wasn’t running non-profits and being Batman for them , who was he doing it for?

Dick woke him up the next morning by jumping on his bed.

“Bruce, the sun’s up!” He announced, landing on Bruce hard. Bruce groaned and rolled Dick off of him. 

“Thank you, Dick. That’s very helpful,” he grumbled, pushing hair out of his face.

“I thought it would be,” Dick said, pleased with himself. He sat cross-legged on the bed next to Bruce, who pushed himself up onto an elbow.

“Dick, I need to go back to Gotham for a few days,” he said heavily. “Maybe even a week.”

“We’re going home?” Dick asked excitedly.

Bruce sighed. “No. I’m going back to Gotham alone. It’s… it’s too dangerous for you at the moment.”

Dick’s face fell. “Why do bad people keep hurting us? ” He asked cautiously. “Did we do something wrong?”

“No, Dick,” Bruce said firmly, cupping Dick’s face with his hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re… you’re great. It’s just…” Bruce sighed and raked a hand frustratedly through his hair.

“Clark said sometimes people are angry and they take it out on people who don’t deserve it,” Dick mumbled, looking down at his hands the way he did when he didn’t want Bruce to see that he might cry.

Clark. Of course. “He was right,” Bruce said softly. “He’s right a lot of the time, as it happens. Listen, Dick, I need you to stay here. You’ll be much safer here than you would be with me in Gotham. Selina’s going to stay here with you. Is that okay?”

“I get to hang out with Selina?” Dick perked up. Bruce laughed. 

“Careful, I’ll start to think you like her more than me.”

“I do like Selina a lot,” Dick mused. “But you’re my dad.” Bruce smiled softly, warmth spreading through his chest at the word. “Can Clark come too?” Dick asked hopefully.

Bruce sighed. “I don’t know. I… we… I think we argued? I’m not sure.”

“That’s silly,” Dick frowned. “You’re friends. Just say sorry.”

Bruce chuckled. “Thank you. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” He teased, ruffling Dick’s hair.

“Because I’m cleverer than you,” Dick said with too much superiority for an eight-year-old.

Bruce laughed. “You can’t live alone with Alfred much longer. It’s doing damage.”

Later that morning, his bags packed, Bruce stared at his phone. It was open onto Clark’s contact page. He had been trying to work up the nerve to call him for ten minutes now. He had to leave soon.

You’re friends. Just say sorry. Dick’s voice echoed through his mind. He sighed. Why was his eight-year-old better in social situations than he was? But he was still a bit pissed off with Clark…

Bruce pressed the call button.

It rang for a while. Bruce started to worry Clark wouldn’t pick up, and thought about just hanging up the call. But then the line opened.

“Hello?” There was a lot of background noise, and it sounded like Clark was walking away from a loud group conversation.

“Clark. Hi.” Bruce hated how awkward he sounded. He couldn’t help it. Just hearing Clark’s voice was enough to make him forget everything he’d planned on saying.

Clark cleared his throat. “Are you… are we… look, I’m… about last night-”

“I haven’t called about that. I… I have to go back to Gotham for a few days. Maybe a week. Selina’s going to look after Dick at my place. Dick asked if you would hang out with him while I’m away. Would you?” Bruce cursed himself. Why couldn’t he just apologise?

“I- yeah, sure. Of course. Why are you going back to Gotham? Is everything okay?” Clark instantly sounded concerned. Bruce had been rude to him last night, hadn’t apologised, and had then proceeded to call him to ask for a favour. And Clark’s reaction was concern for him . Bruce flushed and put his head in his hands. He was screwed.

“I… there’s some things I just need to take care of. I can’t… I need to… I’m not doing what I should. I don’t want to be seen the way the Riddler talked about me. I need to be more than that,” Bruce insisted.

“Look. Bruce, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I knew what you meant,” Bruce said firmly. “I’ll be back soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Wait, Bruce-”

Bruce hung up.

As Bruce Wayne, he couldn’t be seen to cower to the Riddler’s taunts and threats. As Bruce Wayne, he didn’t want to be seen as this distant figure who didn’t do as much as he could to help the city. As Bruce Wayne, he wanted to be seen doing more. 

As Batman, he needed to find the Riddler, and put him back in Arkham. For good.

Chapter Text

“I knew what you meant. I’ll be back soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Wait, Bruce-”

The end of the line went dead. Clark groaned in frustration and raked his hands through his hair.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Lois followed him out into the hallway of their apartment.

“It’s Bruce, he - he’s going back to Gotham.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, he - he said there were some things to take care of? I mean, what is he thinking? The Riddler is still out there, why would he go back?” Clark paced the hallway anxiously and suppressed the desire to jump out the window and fly all the way to Bruce’s apartment to stop him from leaving.

“Clark.” Lois caught him and put her hands on both his shoulders. “Look at me. Bruce is not stupid. He’s probably just tired of feeling like the Riddler is controlling his life. That’s how I would feel, if it were me.”

“Of course it is,” Clark sighed. “I just… what if something happens to him?”

“Then you’ll be there for him when it does,” she said firmly. 

“I just feel like this is my fault. What if he’s only going back  because I pushed him too hard in my interview?” Clark worried.

“Clark, Bruce is a grown man who makes his own decisions. This is not your fault. He’ll probably be fine,” Lois insisted. 

Clark huffed, unconvinced. He went back into their living room in a hurry.

“Hey, Harley. Would you mind if I called Selina from your phone?” He asked Harley, who was sitting on the sofa with her legs in Ivy’s lap, watching the TV attentively. The girls had convinced Clark to watch Twilight with them, and his phone call from Bruce had been a welcome interruption until they’d started talking. They were on the third movie, and Clark was getting more confused with each film they watched.

“Yeah, of course, hun,” Harley smiled and tossed Clark her phone. 

“Clark, who do you think Bella should end up with?” Diana asked. Despite claiming at first that she thought the movies were trivial, she was now incredibly invested in what happened.

Clark tilted his head to the side. “Edward. He’s way hotter, right?”

“Wrong!” Lois gasped. “Clark, how could you be so wrong?”

Clark shrugged. It seemed like a no-brainer to him. He left the room with Harley’s phone, found Selina’s contact and dialled the number.

Selina picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Harls, what’s up?” The sounds of the city echoed around her. It sounded like she was walking somewhere.

“Hey, Selina. It’s Clark.”

“Clark! Did Bruce call you too?” She asked anxiously.

“Yes. Please tell me you’re going there to stop him.”

“No,” Selina huffed. “Trust me, Clark, once Bruce has his mind set on something, he’s going to do it. There’s nothing either of us can do about it now, except watch Dick while Bruce goes back to Gotham to tear himself apart.”

“What? What do you think he’s going to do?”

“Nothing, I-” Selina sighed. “Come over to Bruce’s later. He still has the whole security team set up. Just give me a couple of hours to get settled with Dick, then we’ll talk.”

“Okay. Just… Selina… is he going to be okay?” Clark couldn’t hide the worry in his voice.

“I don’t know, Clark. I hope so. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.” The line went dead. Clark gave Harley her phone back, extricated himself from another Twilight debate (Carlisle VS Charlie), and shut himself up in his bedroom.

He knelt down on the floor and pulled the suitcase out from underneath his bed. He knew he couldn’t do anything about Bruce. He couldn’t risk exposing his secret to him, and anyway, this seemed like something Bruce was determined to do on his own. The Riddler was his battle to fight. But even if Clark couldn’t do anything for Bruce, he must be able to help someone else. That was more important to him than whatever people would say about him.

Clark sat on top of one of the Metropolis City University buildings in the bright blue and red suit that he’d found in a castle in the ice when he turned eighteen. The material wasn’t thick, but it was sturdy and was unfamiliar to the touch. He wasn’t sure what fabric it was made of. Maybe something you couldn’t get on Earth. It was fireproof, laser-vision proof, and waterproof. Clark had tested it all out years ago. But now he was ready to really use it.

He looked out at the city as the sun glinted off the skyscrapers. He closed his eyes, and listened. All the noise of the city could be overpowering for him sometimes. The cars, the people, the animals, all the machinery. But now he needed to focus. He listened, and jumped around between peoples’ conversations.

“That’ll be twelve dollars fifty cents, please.”

“Did you hear that Kara and Lena started dating?”

“Can you two at least pretend to like each, just for the photo?”

“I’m afraid we’re gonna have to let you go. We’re making cuts.”
“Help! That man stole my purse!”

There.

Clark whipped up into the air, the wind scraping across his face and pushing his cape flat out behind him. He was halfway across the city in a moment, swooping down to snatch a bright red purse out of a man’s clenched hand. The man stopped dead in his tracks and stared, open-mouthed, at Clark. Clark kept a strong hand around his wrist.

“Oh, thank you, thank you! Gosh, you just came out of nowhere!” A middle-aged woman took her bag back from Clark.

“It was my pleasure,” he said, smiling.

“Did you see that? He was flying!” Someone nearby exclaimed.

The man he was holding onto tried to wriggle out of Clark’s grip. Clark almost found it funny; he was barely using any force, and it was clear that the man wasn’t going anywhere. “Are you, Metropolis’ Batman or what?” He asked, looking Clark up and down.

“No, you’re luckier than that, because I’ll take you to the police station, not the hospital,” Clark offered.

“I’ll come with you and give a statement,” said the woman whose bag he’d saved.

“Oh, thank you. Very kind of you,” the man spat angrily. Clark marched him two blocks down to the police station, people staring at them as they went. A few people who had watched the whole series of events started clapping.

“Excuse me, this man just stole this lady’s purse,” Clark said as he walked into the police station.

“What are you supposed to be, Batman in technicolour?” A police officer scoffed.

Clark felt a flush creep into his cheeks as several people in the station laughed.

“Look, man, I’m just tryna help you out here,” he huffed. “This guy is a thief. He should be taken in.”

“This wonderful man got my belongings back for me. There were no police officers in sight,” snapped the woman he’d helped. “If it wasn’t for him, my phone, my credit cards, and everything else in my bag would be in the hands of a criminal right now. You ought to be thanking him. He’s doing a better job than you guys, from what I can see.” Clark felt warm from the inside out. He raised his eyebrows pointedly at the police officer. “Now, you take him into custody and I’ll give a statement. This right here is a superb young man and I don’t want to hear another word against him.”

The police officer who had laughed at Clark didn’t find the situation very funny anymore. He nodded meekly and handcuffed the thief, who Clark finally released.

“Thank you very much,” the woman said to Clark. She shook his hand. “I wish I could repay you. If you ever need a favour, you get in touch.” She handed him a business card and sauntered off across the police station, snapping at an officer to grab a pen and paper.

Clark turned the business card over in his hands. It read, THE DAILY PLANET. CAT GRANT. Senior Assistant to Editor-in-Chief Perry White . There was a phone number and email address at the bottom. Clark tucked it into a pocket in his red trunks.

As he left the police station, he heard one of the people waiting in line say, “Wait, what did she call him? Superman?”

By the time Clark got to Bruce’s apartment, he was buzzing. He’d flown up into the air to get a cat down from the edge of a balcony; he’d flown out of the city to help put out a wildfire; he’d caught a balloon floating through the sky and returned it to a crying child; he’d used his frost breath to stop a broken, leaking fire hydrant, then used his laser vision to weld the metal back together. He hadn’t helped Bruce, but he had helped other people. That had to be enough for now. Now all he had to do was wait and see what the world thought of him. That wasn’t terrifying at all.

Clark rang the doorbell, and was thrilled when Dick answered the door.

“Clark!” Dick yelled, and launched himself at him.

Clark grunted and caught him. “Hi, Dick!” He carried him through the apartment to the kitchen, where Selina was putting three pizzas into the oven.

“Hi, Clark,” she smiled. She wore black leggings and an oversized black hoodie which Clark was pretty sure belonged to Bruce. “What have you been up to today?”

Everything Clark had done flashed through his mind. Nevermind the fact that he had just exposed his secret to the whole world. “Oh, you know. Nothing much.”

“Do you know what my dad’s doing in Gotham?” Dick asked, wriggling out from Clark’s arms. “Selina won’t tell me.”

Selina shared a sympathetic look with Clark over Dick’s head.

“He’s… he’s trying to do the right thing,” Clark said.

“Well, I want him to come back.” Dick crossed his arms stubbornly.

“I’m sure he’ll come back as soon as he can,” Clark reassured him. “Now, do you want to play before dinner? Have you got your action figures?”

Dick frowned and looked Clark up and down, as though sizing him up. “Can I use you as a climbing frame?” He asked, as though it was normal.

Clark’s mouth opened and closed. He looked up at Selina, who shrugged and stifled a laugh.

“Sure, why not?” Clark laughed. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to me today.”

Clark spent the next twenty minutes with Dick climbing up and down from his shoulders. Clark kept moving his arms around, almost like monkey bars. Eventually, Dick stood up on Clark’s shoulders and did a backflip off of him. That was when Clark called it a day, because, as he told Dick, he would quite like to return him to Bruce in one piece, if at all possible.

“Did my dad say sorry to you?” Dick asked Clark, swinging his legs back and forth as they sat at the dinner table.

Clark almost choked on his food. “I, uh… no?”

Dick frowned. “I told him to.”

Clark was lost for words. “Uh… thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

Clark shared an incredulous look with Selina, who had an exasperated look on her face.

They managed to make it through the rest of the meal without any more unexpected questions. Dick chose something for them to watch on TV, and then Selina went to put him to bed. Clark waited in the living room and checked his phone.

LEX. Wanna grab lunch on Monday?

HARLEY. hey i ate some of your snacks by mistake when we got onto the next twilight movie i’ll buy you new ones i promise. sorry!

MA. Well done Clark! Seen the news. Call you tomorrow sweetheart. Goodnight.

LOIS. Have you seen the news? Looks like the Batman has competition. ()NEW HERO SOARS THROUGH METROPOLIS SKIES()

Clark instantly clicked onto Lois’ message. He brought up the news article.

DAILY PLANET: NEW HERO SOARS THROUGH METROPOLIS SKIES

By Cat Grant.

Metropolis finally has an answer to the question posed by Gotham’s violent vigilante - what if he was just a nice guy?

The article went through almost everything Clark had done that day. There were even a few interviews with people he’d helped, which were very complimentary. There was some speculation about him; was he something similar to the Green Lantern Corps? Was he a metahuman? Was he an alien? But it was overwhelmingly positive. Clark beamed at his phone screen. It was everything he’d hoped it would be. He had helped people, and they liked him.

“What are you smiling at?” Selina asked as she sat down beside him on the sofa.

“Oh, nothing. Just a message from Lois, that’s all.”

“Have you two ever…” Selina raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“What? No! I don’t… she doesn’t… it’s not like that between us,” Clark finally managed, flushing.

Selina raised her hands defensively. “If you say so.”

“No, seriously. It’s not like that,” he insisted. “She’s just a friend.” Selina nodded. “Is Dick okay?”

Selina tilted her head back and forth. “He misses Bruce. He understands more of what’s going on than we think he does. He’s scared, but he won’t really admit it.”

“Those two deserve peaceful, happy lives after everything they’ve been through,” Clark sighed. “Not more threats and violence.”

“Did you and Bruce argue?” Selina asked. “What Dick said at dinner, about apologising…”

“I don’t know? I thought so, but then he called me this morning… I don’t know. I interviewed him for the school paper last night. I think I pushed him too hard. I think I made him angry, or upset, or something, and then he called me to say he was going back to Gotham… I feel like this is all my fault,” Clark confessed. “I asked him about the Riddler claiming that he isn’t doing enough for the city.”

Selina sighed. “Bruce never feels like he’s doing enough for anyone, or anything. This isn’t your fault Clark. What you said probably didn’t help,” she admitted, “but it’s not your fault. Ever since the Riddler’s escaped, Bruce has needed to have it out with him. That’s what he’s gone back to do.”

“What do you mean, have it out with him? What do you think he’s going to do?” Clark asked anxiously. He pictured Bruce being blown up, beaten up, shot, and killed in many violent ways.

“I just mean… he needs to show the city who he really is.”

“Whoever that is,” Clark sighed.

“You know him better than you think you do,” Selina said pointedly. “He trusts you. That much is clear from him asking you to help look after Dick while he’s away.”

Clark nodded. “I guess so. I just… this just feels like a bad idea. What if something happens to him?”

Selina shrugged. “Then that’s a choice that he’s made.”

“Aren’t you worried about him?” Clark asked incredulously. Selina seemed a little too calm.

“Of course I am,” she insisted. “He’s my best friend. But… he’s very stubborn. He needs to do this. I can’t stop him. The best I can do is wait for it to be over, look after Dick, and pick up the pieces afterwards.”

Clark just hoped Bruce himself didn’t end up in pieces.

Chapter Text

Criminals snatched up in the night. Police cells filled to bursting; hospitals, too. Streets were either too full, with people in hoodies with their heads down, or empty and cold. When the sun went down, people went inside. For every hit landed, ten more were given back. Gotham’s thieves and gangsters started watching the shadows. He wasn’t in every shadow, but he could be in any shadow.

The news spread across Gotham’s underworld quickly. The Bat is back. 

Victor was just trying to get through his day. He’d been struggling for money his whole life, and crime wasn’t anything new to him. Some guy had approached him at a bar that night, asked him if he was up for a job. Depends what it is, Victor had said. Easy money, the man told him. Victor had shrugged and agreed.

Now he was holding a spray paint can and standing in front of the Wayne Enterprises building in the middle of Gotham. It was 3am, and the streets were largely empty apart from a few drunk people stumbling their way home. He anxiously adjusted the balaclava over his face, and got to work.

He was halfway through writing the message when he heard something behind him. Victor whipped around to check the street. A cat ran away from an overturned pile of rubbish. Victor exhaled in relief. He hated being out at night. Especially these days. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, like someone was watching him. He looked around again and saw no one. He shook the feeling off. He was just being paranoid.

He finished the message and put the spray can back in his bag. He took a few steps back and admired his work. He had no idea what it meant, but that didn’t matter. The message wasn’t for him anyway.

Victor shouldered his backpack and turned to leave.

A black cowl stood in his way. Dark eyes ringed in dark make-up stared at him, the whites so bright it almost hurt. He stood right in front of him, towering over him. Victor had never even heard him approach. Fuck.

“Look, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Batman grabbed his collar. “Who told you to do this?” He growled. His voice sounded like two slabs of concrete scraping against each other. It barely even sounded human.

“Some guy in a bar! I didn’t even get his name, I swear!” Victor insisted as Batman lifted him off the ground. He had never been so scared in his life.

“What bar?”

“The Eight Bar!”

“When?”

“Uh, fuck, I don’t know, man-”

Batman raised him higher.

“Fuck, okay, okay! Uh, about ten o’clock tonight?”

Batman dropped him carelessly. Victor fell hard on the ground and scrambled away across the pavement.

“Don’t ever let me catch you again. I remember faces,” Batman warned.

Victor nodded and ran.

Batman looked up at the words scrawled across the building.

WHAT SHOULD BE SEEN, BUT NOT HEARD? WHAT RELATIVE SHOULD FLY, BUT FALLS? 

The first one was obvious. A child. What should fly, but falls? Batman read it again, considering. A relative? Of who? Bruce Wayne? Batman? Dick Grayson?

Relative.

Acro bats .

A child.

Dick.

The Riddler was going back to Arkham. Tonight.

Batman went back to the Batmobile, parked in a dark alleyway. He pulled out his laptop from a shockproof briefcase. Most of the city’s cameras were broken, or painted over, or hacked into. That’s why Batman had placed his own miniscule cameras around the city at known criminal haunts. He went back at ten o’clock that night. He watched a man walk in and sit down next to Victor at the bar. He looked around thirty, with a buzz cut and a scar along the side of his face. Batman cropped an image of him and searched. He was a relatively low-level criminal, had been in and out of jail, and Batman had fought him before. The guy threw a good punch, as Batman knew all too well. He used his cameras to follow the man out of the bar. He seemed to have walked in the direction of his listed address. Batman shut the case and turned the key on the ignition. The Batmobile’s engine revved to life, thrumming underneath him. He put his foot on the accelerator and turned out of the alley. As he drove the buildings got smaller, the paint chipped off, and the lights started to flicker. Five minutes away from his destination, Batman pulled over into a warehouse car park. He grabbed a spare tarp and hauled it over the Batmobile to cover it up.

Batman climbed up onto a rooftop, and launched himself from house to house until he reached the one he wanted. He landed on the roof with a thump. He gripped the edge of the roof, turned around, and lowered himself down so that he was in front of a window. A light turned on in the room. The buzzcut man sat up in bed and looked around, having heard the noise. His eyes met Batman’s through the window. His face turned slack with fear as he saw Batman hanging from his roof, looking in at him. Batman pushed himself back off the wall and slammed into the window, kicking with all his force. The glass shattered and Batman landed, crouched, on the bedroom floor. The man yelled and tried to run, but Batman caught him by the arm and wrenched him back.

“The graffiti job you gave to that kid,” he snarled. “Who gave it to you?”

The man’s face crumpled. “Oh, man, I can’t tell you that! You know I can’t tell you that. He’ll kill me!”

“And I won’t?” 

While most of Gotham had figured out Batman’s no-kill rule, when you were actually faced with him, that information didn’t seem very reliable. Batman stared at the man, who started to tremble, and then started to cry.

“I can’t, I can’t-”

Batman twisted the man’s arm and forced him down onto his knees. He hooked a heavily armoured forearm around the man’s neck and squeezed.

“Who gave you the job?” He growled.

“Fuck!” The man choked. “I… I can’t…”

Batman squeezed harder.

“The… Riddler…”

Batman released him. He sprawled onto the floor, coughing. Batman kicked him in the stomach.

“Where can I find him?”

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the man cried, looking up at him. Batman kicked him again, hard. He groaned and clutched his stomach.

“Next one goes to your face. Where can I find him?”

“You’re insane, man. You’re crazy! Somebody, HELP ME!”

Goodnight, Dad. Bruce, the sun’s up! Why do bad people keep hurting us?

Batman knelt on the floor and pushed the man’s head down, his gloved hand crushing his face. The man’s muffled cries filled the room. He slapped his hand against Batman’s arm. Batman removed his hand.

“Where is the Riddler?”

“He’s at the dockyard,” the man sobbed. “He’s at the dockyard. He’s in warehouse 221.”

“Thank you,” Batman growled, standing.

“Fuck. I gotta get out of here. He’s gonna kill me,” the man said, trying to push himself up from the floor.

“That’s not my problem.”

“Hey, man, is this because of last time, when I broke your nose? ‘Cause I’m real sorry about that, and you shouldn’t hold a grudge -” he said, but by the time he looked up, Batman was gone.

The warehouse was almost empty, a stale smell hanging in the air and the metal creaking in the wind. Batman walked in, his heavy boots echoing. All there was in the warehouse was a desk with a few computers, a chair, and the Riddler. Something was off.

The Riddler turned around to face him. His dark green mask covered his face, leaving just his eyes, staring out at him through plastic glasses frames.

“Bruce Wayne…” he muttered. Batman froze. His heart stopped. “...and Dick Grayson. They are the only ones I didn’t get.”

“This ends tonight, Riddler,” Batman thundered as he crossed the warehouse to face his enemy. “No more games. No more tricks.”

“Oh, but there will be!” The Riddler gasped. “Look at this!”

He pulled up a tab on one of the computer screens. Bruce forced himself to stay calm. He was watching Selina, asleep in his bed. Dick, asleep in his spare room. And Clark, asleep on his sofa. Fuck. He couldn’t react. These people should be strangers to him.

The Riddler giggled. “I can’t find Bruce Wayne! I’ve looked everywhere. He must be somewhere very safe… unfortunately for him, he’s left his friends unattended…” Bruce clenched his fists. “So I can still get at least one orphan.”

“What are you going to do to them?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The Riddler laughed. He clapped his hands together excitedly.  “Oh, I’ll tell you. Just this once. There’s a gas, made by a very good friend of mine, that’s all ready to go to be pumped into Bruce Wayne’s apartment. In small doses, it causes hallucinations. In large ones, well… we’ve never tried it before.” The Riddler shrugged, and giggled. “We’ll have to wait and see!”

Bruce was paralysed. What could he do to stop this?

“What do you want, Riddler?” He growled.

“I want the rich and powerful to realise that they are just as vulnerable as everybody else… no matter what they would like to believe,” he explained simply. “Now, if I don’t check in with my team in two minutes’ time, these people will all be exposed. Maybe they’ll die. Who knows? But…”

“But what?” Batman snarled. He was running out of patience.

“There’s one thing you can do to stop this,” the Riddler teased. “One, teensy tiny little thing…”

“WHAT?” Batman roared, as he watched Dick’s little chest rise and fall on the computer screen.

The Riddler giggled. “Oh, my, Batman, calm down. No need to get your knickers in a twist. All I need you to do is to ignore any and all crime in Gotham City for the next six months.”

“As if I would ever agree to that,” Batman scoffed. He thought of all the suffering he wouldn’t be able to stop, all the murderers and criminals that would run free without fear of what would come for them in the night.

“Boss, we’re ready. Time for check-in.” A crackly voice came out of the tinny laptop speakers.

Bruce’s chest constricted. He stared at Dick, Selina, and Clark on the screen. What would happen to them if the Riddler released his gas? What would it do to them, even if it didn’t kill them? Bruce looked at Dick. He was only eight, his lungs were small. What would happen to him? To Selina, who he loved enough to trust with his biggest secret? To Clark, who was brave and kind and the first person Bruce had really opened himself up to in years? And if something happened to all of them… where did that leave him? Alone again, just him and Alfred in that big mansion, with more photos of dead people on the walls, smiling at him, like there was some inside joke they all shared that he just couldn’t get, because he had the misfortune to still be alive.

The Riddler stared at him expectantly, silently. 

“Boss? Are you there?”

“I’ll do it,” Bruce muttered.

“I’m sorry? Say that once more for the room?” The Riddler taunted. God, he hated him.

“I’ll do it,” Batman repeated through gritted teeth. “I will stop for six months if you let these people go. But you will stay in Arkham until that time is up.”

“Oh… happily. Stand down. The Bat has chosen correctly,” the Riddler said to the computer.

“Copy,” came the other voice. The cameras on the screen turned off.

“You’re coming with me,” Batman growled. He grabbed the Riddler by the arms and pulled them behind his back. He withdrew a pair of sturdy handcuffs out of his utility belt. He was surprised at how little the Riddler resisted.

“Remember, Batman, nothing for six months. You might think Gotham is safe again with me back in Arkham, but I have friends everywhere, ” the Riddler warned in a sing-song voice, craning his neck back to look at Batman as he marched him out of the warehouse. “And if you break your promise, people will get hurt.”

“People are going to get hurt by me doing nothing,” Batman muttered.

“Yes, but that will just be normal crime. The kind that happens everywhere,” the Riddler said innocently. “If I see even a hint of your cape for the next six months, the scale of destruction in Gotham will be… unimaginable. ”

Batman felt backed into a corner. The Riddler had already made it clear he had powerful friends. He had proven that he could break out of Arkham. He had cameras and gas in Bruce’s apartment. What choice did he have?

“You’re going to Arkham, Nygma. And you’re staying there,” Batman insisted as he pushed the Riddler into the Batmobile.

“Oh… I hope so…” the Riddler whispered. “I hope so.”

Chapter Text

Clark opened his eyes slowly against the early morning light streaming in through the windows. He was confused for a moment until he looked around. That’s right. He was on Bruce’s sofa. The Riddler had been in the news more and more during the last week as his crimes had increased. Dick had started to grow anxious, and had been so scared to go to bed last night he’d made Clark promise to stay. Clark’s heart had broken, but of course he’d said yes. He and Dick had spent a lot of time together while Bruce had been away. He’d grown closer with Bruce’s best friend, and Bruce’s son, but still felt like there was so much of Bruce he didn’t understand.

Selina padded into the kitchen softly, like she was trying not to wake him. Clark sat up on the sofa and put his glasses back on. He waved good morning to her, and she waved back tiredly.

“What time is it?” Clark asked quietly. 

“About 6,” Selina replied as she rummaged through the fridge for some food. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. Everything okay?”

Selina nodded tiredly. “Bruce rang me at about 4 this morning. The Riddler is back in Arkham. He’s coming back to Metropolis tomorrow.”

“Thank God,” Clark huffed. He grabbed the TV remote and turned on the news. 

“ Gotham City can breathe a sigh of relief now that Edward Nygma, also known as the Riddler, has been placed back in Arkham Asylum by the masked vigilante known as the Batman. Our sources tell us that Batman tracked down several of the Riddler’s criminal team and managed to extract his location from them. He ambushed the Riddler down at the Gotham dockyard in an empty warehouse, before turning him in to the police and escorting the police car to Arkham himself. Many citizens of Gotham are surely grateful to Batman; most of all Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, who were next on the Riddler’s list. Let’s just hope he doesn’t break out again any time soon.”

A grainy photo of Batman leading the Riddler out of a warehouse in handcuffs was shown. The Riddler’s dark green mask and plastic glasses unnerved Clark even through the screen. Batman looked just as terrifying in his black cowl, dark cape and armoured suit. The lower part of his face left exposed by the mask looked purple and red with bruises and blood. Although their methods were different, Clark admired him. He was doing his best for a city that many had abandoned as a lost cause years ago. 

“God, he looks awful,” Selina murmured from behind Clark. He turned around to see her transfixed on the TV, a hand over her mouth. 

“He put the Riddler away, though. That’s something.”

“ Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne has publicly invested more money in multiple social improvement programmes. His speech last week about the one percent’s responsibility to the ninety-nine percent was widely well-received across Gotham, showing his understanding of the growing tensions between working and upper classes in the city. He seems determined to prove the Riddler’s accusations towards him wrong…”

“What’s going on?” A small voice echoed down the corridor. Dick had wandered into the hallway in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

“The Riddler is in Arkham again. Bruce is coming back,” Selina explained, kneeling in front of him. “You get to go home soon.”

“We’re safe?” Dick asked hopefully. 

“You’re safe," Selina promised.

Clark left Bruce’s apartment before he got home. He didn’t want to overcrowd him. He went home, showered, and put on the suit. If Batman could put away the Riddler, surely he could find a way to be useful. 

Clark spent the next two days flying around the city following calls for help. He only stopped for classes, meals, and sleep. There had been no more news about Batman. He seemed to be taking a break after putting Riddler away. 

He was worried about Bruce. He knew the Riddler had been put away, but he hadn’t heard from him since that phone call before he’d left for Gotham. He wanted to know he was okay. But now that there was no real danger to him or Dick, he had no justifiable reason to fly over there and check on them. He thought about it a few times, but stopped himself. If Bruce wanted to see him, he would have called. So Clark ignored the ache in his chest and what it might mean, and stopped car crashes and freed people from a broken lift and stopped more bag thieves and pickpockets. It felt good, and Clark knew he was doing the right thing. He was getting good press, despite the occasional alien overlord conspiracy theory. He was happy. It was everything he’d ever wanted it to be. But he still found his mind wandering back to Bruce. 

Clark had sent him several texts. He knew you weren’t supposed to send too many in one go, but he kept thinking just one more couldn’t hurt. He asked if he was okay, asked if Dick got back to Gotham alright, asked if Bruce needed anything. Nothing. 

By Tuesday, Clark was bouncing off the walls with frustration. He sat on top of the Daily Planet globe in his super suit, looking out at the city as the sun moved across the sky. He was actually starting to hope that Bruce wasn’t okay, because at least that would explain his silence. Clark was worried that he was still angry with him about the interview. His call before he left for Gotham had seemed more to be on Dick’s part than his. The idea that Clark had pushed him too far and accidentally encouraged him to go back to Gotham haunted him. More than that, he was worried that he had ruined his friendship with Bruce. He liked spending time with him, liked the feeling he got in his chest when they were together. He felt like there was something missing in him when he thought about Bruce, and his soft hair, and his taught muscles, and his dark eyes. 

Clark couldn’t take it anymore. He fished his phone out of one of the pockets in his red trunks and messaged Bruce. 

CLARK. Hey, don’t suppose you’re coming to boxing tonight?

Hours later, there was no response. Clark pulled up Selina’s contact; they’d swapped numbers when they realised they would be co-parenting Dick for a week.

CLARK. Hey, do you know if Bruce is planning on going to boxing tonight?

It only took a minute for her to text back. 

SELINA. No, he won’t be, sorry. He’s sick. 

Clark scoffed. In the couple of months he’d known Bruce, he’d never seen him unwell. Beaten up and bruised, sure, but never sick. He was really starting to feel like Bruce was avoiding him on purpose. What if he’d ruined everything between them? 

Clark thought back to that boxing session where they’d fallen over, bodies tangled together, and breathed into the same space. Then he forced himself not to think about it. Him and Bruce were just friends. What else would they be? He just didn’t want to lose a good friend, was all. And he wouldn’t put up with being ignored. 

Clark flew home, changed out of the suit, put his glasses on, and set out again straight away. He wasn’t going to boxing. 

Standing in front of Bruce’s front door, Clark worried he might have made a mistake by coming here. What if Bruce really had been avoiding and ignoring him? What if he didn’t want to be friends with Clark anymore, and turned him away? What if Clark had lost a friend just because he was trying to be a better journalist? Lois was really rubbing off on him. 

Clark was about to turn and leave and run away when the front door swung open.

“Clark,” Bruce said in surprise.

The two stared at each other. Clark was suddenly self-conscious of his threadbare sweatshirt and his jeans that were stained by Kryptonite. But all of those thoughts faded away when he saw Bruce. He looked terrible . Both his eyes were bruised, and so was his nose. It looked a little crooked, like it had been broken and not reset quite right. His cheeks had an unhealthy warmth to them and he looked exhausted. He was wearing a black t-shirt, as always, and Clark could see that his arms were entirely covered in bruises. Clark’s X-Ray vision flashed for a moment, and he saw three cracked ribs, confirmed his broken nose, and saw at least four broken fingers, too. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Clark asked, gobsmacked.

Bruce actually laughed, then winced. “Would you believe me if I told you it was boxing practice?”

“No!” Clark exclaimed, throwing his arms out in exasperation. A thought broached the back of his mind, suspicious and conspiratory. But no, he couldn’t possibly be… 

Bruce laughed again, then started coughing. He groaned and clutched his side protectively, right where Clark had seen the cracked ribs. 

”Seriously, what happened to you?” Clark said, softer this time. He stepped over the threshold and into Bruce’s apartment. He started to reach out towards Bruce to lay a hand on his arm, but changed his mind and pulled it back. “What can I do to help?” he asked instead. 

“You could cook dinner,” Bruce joked.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay. I’ll cook dinner, and you can come up with a better excuse for all of this than boxing,” Clark offered. 

“I don’t want to get you sick,” Bruce protested, but it was half-hearted, and Clark could tell it was just an excuse, a last-ditch attempt to push him away. He wasn’t having it. 

“Trust me, you won’t,” Clark said firmly. 

“Okay, why not?” Bruce sighed and stepped aside for Clark to follow him into the apartment. There was a blanket and pillow on the sofa, and a box of tissues and several ice packs on the coffee table. Clark felt like he owed Bruce an apology for not believing there was anything really wrong with him.

“I’m sorry for just turning up like this,” Clark apologised, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I was worried that we’d argued, and I was worried… about you.”

“Look, Clark, about the interview…” Bruce perched on an arm of the sofa. “I want to thank you.”

“Thank me? I thought you were mad at me,” Clark explained. 

“I was, at first. But… you gave me the wake-up call I needed. I had to go back to Gotham and do something about what was happening there, because some people don’t get that choice. So, thank you.”

“I feel responsible for… this,” Clark gestured vaguely at everything wrong with Bruce. 

Bruce chuckled. “Trust me, this was all my choice.”

Clark felt those words like a shot to the chest. “What happened to you?” He murmured, stepping closer so that Bruce had to tilt his head up to make eye contact. Clark suddenly had the desire to lean in further and close the space between them. He quickly buried that thought. He had no idea where that had come from. 

Bruce looked up into his eyes, pleading. “Please, Clark. Don’t make me say it. I… I think you know. You’re not stupid.” Bruce’s voice was low and desperate. 

“You’re him,” Clark murmured. “You’re Batman.”

Bruce nodded, looking down at the floor. “I think you’ve known for a while now.”

Clark thought he was right. He hadn’t consciously connected the dots, but he wasn’t shocked by the revelation. The constant bruising, the way he fought, the fact Batman split his time between Gotham and Metropolis, just like Bruce. The way Selina had talked about Bruce going back to Gotham. Clark’s obsession with the both of them. It was all one. Batman and Bruce Wayne were one and the same. 

“Why do you do it? You don’t have powers, do you? It’s… it’s so dangerous, Bruce.”

“I need to stop other people from ending up like me. Like Dick. The Riddler was going for orphans. As if we haven’t suffered enough. He was going for Dick. That night, the night I put him back in Arkham… there was a message on the Wayne Enterprises building. He was going for Dick next. I…” Bruce’s voice broke. “I couldn't let that happen. Clark, he… he had cameras in this apartment. He showed me Selina, Dick, and you, all asleep, and told me if I didn’t stop being Batman for six months, he would gas you all.” Clark’s stomach dropped. They had all been in so much danger, and had slept right through it. “We’ve removed all the cameras, but when we searched the vents for gas… there was just a note on a piece of paper that said “thank you.” I… I feel like I’ve just played right into his hands somehow. But I…” Bruce took a deep breath and blinked hard and fast. “What was I supposed to do? Let you all die? I was just standing there, watching you all sleeping in my apartment… I couldn’t let anything happen to you. I just… I can’t go through that again,” Bruce insisted, his eyes shining. 

Clark’s heart broke. He stepped into Bruce’s space and pulled him into a hug. Bruce stiffened, then relaxed, his head against Clark’s chest, his arms curling around Clark’s body. Clark held him for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall, hearing his heartbeat race as their bodies pressed against each other.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Clark whispered. 

“Me too,” Bruce said into his shirt. “You’re so warm,” he murmured.

“You’re too warm,” Clark said, frowning. Bruce’s skin was hot to the touch. Clark pulled back. “Who else knows? About Batman?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Selina and Alfred. I’ll tell Dick when he gets a bit older.”

Clark nodded. “I thought Selina must know.”

“She called me a few times while I was in Gotham. Told me to slow down, or I’d get hurt, or sick. She’s been thrilled with the opportunity to say I told you so,” Bruce scoffed. 

“She cares about you a lot,” Clark said in her defence. “We both do.”

Bruce cleared his throat again. His dark eyes shone as he looked up at Clark. “Thank you for looking after Dick while I was away. It means a lot to me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Clark shrugged. “He’s a great kid.”

“He is,” Bruce smiled. “He’s the best.”

“He’s gone back to Gotham?”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. I wanted him to return to normal life, as much as possible. But he’s going to be coming over to Metropolis every weekend to visit.”

“Good. You do know your son is the only reason I hang out with you, right?” Clark joked. 

Bruce chuckled. “Selina says the same thing. You two have spent too much time together. You’ll be ganging up on me soon,” he said with dread. 

”Oh, yeah,” Clark promised. He wandered over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “What have you got for me?” He did a quick scan of the shelves and was relieved to see the Kryptonite was gone. But if it wasn’t here, what had Bruce done with it? Clark bit his lip anxiously. What if Bruce found out about him? 

Bruce shuffled through to the kitchen and talked Clark through the ingredients in the fridge. Clark started dutifully chopping vegetables as Bruce leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

“So, why bats?” Clark asked.

Bruce sighed. “When I was six, I was playing in the gardens at Wayne Manor. There was an old well that was all boarded up. I jumped up onto it. I can’t remember why. But the boards broke, and I fell. The bottom of the well had been excavated and I slid through a tunnel of rock down into a cave. It was full of bats.“ Bruce’s eyes gained a hazy, far-away look as he remembered. “Seeing the light that was coming through from the top of the well, they all swarmed past me. Most of them scratched me, a few bit me. They flew all around me, until finally they were gone. It was terrifying. I remember thinking, I’m going to die here, because there were so many of them and I couldn’t see anything else in the world except bats. I had nightmares about them for years. I still do, sometimes,” Bruce admitted. “But when I decided that I needed to do something about Gotham, more than just empty promises, I… Some people, especially in Gotham, commit crimes because they’re not afraid of what might happen to them if they do. Most of the GCPD is paid off by one crime family or another. So are the judges. People were literally getting away with murder.” Bruce shook his head and pushed his hair back off his face. “There needed to be consequences. And more than that, there needed to be a deterrent. And that could be me.”

“Don’t you worry about what could happen to you?” Clark asked, looking over at him.

Bruce shook his head. “I only really worry about what could happen to Alfred, Selina, and Dick… and you,” Bruce murmured, his gaze lingering a moment too long on Clark before he looked away again. Clark found himself wishing he would look back again.

“Well, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” Clark promised.

Bruce chuckled. “You have a worrying amount of confidence, Clark.”

Clark shrugged. He liked the way Bruce said his name. He ignored that feeling and put it in the same far-away corner of his mind where he kept his thoughts about how Bruce’s body felt against his and what it might be like to kiss him. He didn’t even like guys. Everyone must think that stuff about their friends sometimes. Right? Yeah. This was normal.

Clark’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and saw MA lighting up the screen. “Do you mind if I take this? It’s my mom,” he said sheepishly.

Bruce shrugged and motioned with his hand, as if to say, go ahead.

Clark pressed the green ‘accept call’ button. “Hey, Ma, what’s up?”

“Clark! Oh, we just wanted to call and say well done for getting in the news again! You’ve done so well these last few weeks. Oh, and that video of you-”

“Ma, I’m, ah, a little busy right now,” Clark said quickly. His mother had a tendency to shout down the phone and he glanced quickly over to Bruce next to him, worrying how much he’d heard.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you with someone?” Martha asked. “JONATHAN! Clark’s WITH someone!” Clark cringed and held his phone away from his head. He shared a look with Bruce, who looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Clark heard his father’s voice, far away, saying, “Then leave him alone, Martha.”

Clark felt his face get redder as each second passed.

“I just wanted to say I’m proud of you, Clark. You’re doing a good job.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Oh, and your father and I are having some work done on the house. The upstairs bathroom’s been leaking down into the kitchen again.”

“Again?” Clark asked anxiously, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “I thought they said last time that they’d fixed it all up?”

“No,” Martha sighed. “Apparently not.”

“Well how much will that cost?” Clark asked, and turned to walk away from Bruce a little. He was a bit embarrassed. Bruce clearly never had to worry about things like that.

Martha sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. “We’re not sure yet, but it won’t be cheap. Anyway, sweetheart… you know how Krypto gets when there’s strange people in the house…”

“Ma. No.”

“Oh, Clark, please. It will only be for a week.”

“What am I supposed to do with him, Ma? I’ve got… I’ve got class. I’ve got a social life. And you know I can’t leave him alone in the apartment.”

“Just take him with you!” Martha said. 

“I can’t!” Clark insisted. “Ma, I cannot babysit Krypto for a week.”

“Well, then, he’s just gonna have to go to a shelter… we’ll have to give him up… it would break my heart to do it…” Martha said. Clark knew she was only winding him up to make him agree, but it worked.

He sighed heavily. “Fine.”

“If you could come and get him on Friday, sweetheart, that would be perfect,” Martha said sweetly. “It will only be for a week or so.”

“ Or so? ” Clark repeated sceptically.

“Well, these things take as long as they take, Clark,” Martha insisted.

“Fine. I’ll come get him on Friday.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Goodbye, I love you!”

“I love you too, Ma. Bye.”

Clark sighed and put his phone back in his pocket. Bruce was watching him from across the apartment with a bemused expression.

“What have you just agreed to?” Bruce asked.

“Having the family dog here for a week,” Clark huffed. “He’s an absolute nightmare.”

Bruce laughed, holding his side where his ribs were cracked. “He’s a dog. Surely he can’t be that bad.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t met him. You’ll see. I’ll bring him over here, and watch you eat your words. While he eats something of yours, probably.”

“I look forward to it,” Bruce said gallantly. “And so will Dick. He loves dogs. He’s always begged me to get one, and I’ve always said no. One small creature running around the house is enough for me at the moment.”

Soon enough, dinner was ready. They ate in companionable silence at the booth seating in the corner of the open-concept apartment. Clark finished his first, as he always did. As Bruce got up to help clear away the plates, he knocked one onto the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, he groaned in pain.

“Are you okay?” Clark asked anxiously, quickly setting his plate down and rushing to Bruce’s side.

“I think…” Bruce said cautiously. “I think I tore one of my stitches.”

“Jesus, Bruce,” Clark breathed.

“You don’t know how to sew, do you?” Bruce cracked.

“I do, actually,” Clark offered.

Bruce turned and looked at Clark with pained, hopeful eyes. “Could you…?”

“I can try,” Clark said. “I mean, I’ve never sewn a person up before, but… how hard could it be?”

He followed Bruce down the hall to the bathroom. Bruce took a small sewing kit out of a cabinet. Clark chose to ignore the dozens of bottles of painkillers that lined the shelves. Bruce sat on the edge of the bathtub, facing away from Clark. He pulled his t-shirt off. Clark sucked air in through his teeth. Bruce’s back was an absolute mess of cuts and bruises. Clark could see where the stitches had torn; there was a long cut along his right shoulder blade. Clark sterilised the needle with a bottle of rubbing alcohol in the little sewing kit, which he guessed was commonly used for doing up stitches. What a life Bruce was living.

Clark placed a hand on Bruce’s left shoulder. Bruce softened under the touch. His skin was warm and clammy. Clark could feel Bruce’s shoulder muscles, hard and tight.

“Okay, I’m going in,” Clark announced. Bruce nodded stiffly. Clark pierced the skin and heard Bruce breathe in sharply. Clark squeezed his shoulder to reassure him. He went through to the other side of the cut and put the needle through, gently pulling the skin together. 

He was surprised when Bruce reached up and put his right hand on top of Clark’s left one.

“To stretch the skin out,” Bruce said, by way of explanation. Clark tried to concentrate on his torn apart back, and not the feeling of Bruce’s hot, calloused hand on his.

Clark carried on until he was finished, and then tied the thread off.

“All done,” he said. 

Bruce dropped his hand and pulled his shirt back on. He pushed up from the edge of the bath and turned around. He tilted his head up to meet Clark’s eyes, as Clark was a few inches taller. They were so close that Clark could feel Bruce’s breath on his face. They stood in each other’s space for a moment, breathing the same air, almost touching. The space between them felt red hot. Clark couldn’t help it. His eyes slipped down to Bruce’s broad shoulders, his crooked nose… his lips. Clark had to stop himself from grabbing the back of Bruce’s head and pulling him in so their lips could meet. When he looked back up, he saw Bruce’s eyes fixed on his. Clark felt his face redden. What was he thinking? What was going on?

“I, uh… I should be going,” Clark stammered, and took a step back. He promptly tripped over the edge of the bath mat and stumbled back across the bathroom. “I’ll, uh.. I’ll see you… around. I hope you feel better soon.”

Clark all but ran out of the bathroom.

“Clark!” Bruce called breathlessly. Clark turned around just as he reached the door. Bruce stood across from him, looking flustered. “I… thanks for coming over. Thanks for… taking care of me,” he said softly. His tone was almost apologetic.

Clark took a deep breath. He was probably overreacting about this whole thing. He was sure Bruce wasn’t having the same thoughts and feelings he was. Clark was making it weird. He should just try and act normal, like he hadn’t thought about making out with his friend. Who was famous. And also Batman. When did Clark’s life get so complicated?

Bruce looked so broken, standing there, beaten up and sick, looking at Clark like he was something special just for coming over to see if he was okay. Clark sighed.

“Of course,” he said gently. “Any time. Seriously.”

Bruce nodded and smiled softly. “See you around.”

“See you later.” Clark shut the door behind him. 

Clark was trying to sleep, but couldn’t. He kept thinking about Bruce. He kept thinking about what he’d thought about Bruce. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t like what he thought it might mean. He didn’t know who to talk to about this. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. If he talked about it, he made it real. Being an alien was different enough. He didn’t know if he could cope with anything else.

Anyway, it wasn’t like anything would ever happen between him and Bruce anyway. They were just friends. And besides, what would Bruce ever see in him? Bruce, who would be running his own company as soon as he graduated. Bruce, who was brave and kind enough to adopt a little boy who lost his parents in front of him. Bruce, who was actually Batman. Clark was still reeling a little from that. But it only intensified his feelings. Bruce, who had no powers, no real protection, and went out at night to fight criminals and try to fix Gotham like some kind of one-man army.

Bruce, who had trusted Clark to look after his son. Bruce, who had trusted Clark to sew his skin back together. Bruce, who had warm dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, acne scars, and long eyelashes.

Bruce Wayne, who Clark Kent was beginning to worry he might really feel something for. And that scared him more than anything. Even more than the whole world knowing he was an alien.

What was he going to do?

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne was in love with Clark Kent.

He was in love with his blue eyes, his curly hair, the few inches of height Clark had on him. He was in love with his kindness, his smile, and the way helping people was second nature to him. He was completely head-over-heels in love with him.

When Clark had held him in the living room, Bruce’s heart had nearly leapt out of his chest. Clark had been so gentle, and so caring, and as always, he was everything Bruce needed. When Clark had said the unspoken between them, it was a relief; Bruce could stop hiding, and stop lying. At least about Batman. When Clark had stitched him back up in the bathroom, Bruce had held onto his hand like just touching Clark was enough to ease the pain. When he stood up, and Clark didn’t move back… Bruce had never wanted to kiss someone so much in his life. And then Clark’s eyes had moved down to Bruce’s lips. Or had Bruce just imagined that? He had been slightly dizzy with pain and fever. Was he just seeing what he’d wanted to see? Then Clark had stumbled back like he’d been struck. Bruce had only just managed to catch him before he left the apartment. Clark had stood there in his old hoodie and stained jeans, and said of course, any time, like it was a promise. And then he’d left.

Bruce spent all week sleeping and catching up on college work. Turns out he’d missed a lot while he was busy being Batman. He slowly started to feel better. He knew he’d pushed himself too far this time, but he had to put Riddler away. He didn’t have a choice. Besides, the broken nose didn’t look too bad. Right?

He had nightmares about the Riddler, and Arkham, and awful things happening to Dick, Clark, Alfred, and Selina. He had dreams about bats again and woke in the middle of the night, breathless and drenched in sweat. He ached to get back out there as Batman, but he knew that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, even if he hadn’t told Riddler he wouldn’t.

On Thursday, Bruce got an email from the Wayne Enterprises labs. They’d finished their analysis of the Kryptonite sample Bruce had sent them. He spun on his desk chair to look at this second monitor, leaving his criminology homework open on the first one. He opened the email and scanned it.

Cannot be found on Earth, except in Smallville and a few other locations… only found in meteor rocks… extraterrestrial origins… low levels of radiation, likely not harmful except in cases of very prolonged close exposure… no visible reaction in contact with human tissue… no immediate adverse effects recorded… 

Bruce frowned. How could Clark have had such a strong reaction to something not even from earth? Maybe he’d been exposed to it as a child in Smallville. Still, the intensity of Clark’s reaction when he’d found the vial in Bruce’s fridge played on his mind. The vial had been sealed. Clark hadn’t made physical contact with the sample, and hadn’t been exposed to any possible particulates. It made no sense. Bruce returned to the feeling that Clark was hiding something. But then, he wasn’t one to talk. He’d been hiding more than enough from Clark until recently. 

The week passed quickly, and soon enough Bruce was picking Dick up from Metropolis City Airport. They only made it as far as the entryway to Bruce’s apartment before things started to go south.

“Dick, can we talk about what happened at school this week?” Bruce asked as Dick dropped his bag on the floor and kicked his shoes off.

“No,” Dick huffed.

“I think we have to, chum,” Bruce sighed, crossing  his arms.

“I don’t want to!” Dick protested. “I don’t want to talk to you! I don’t want to be here!”

As much as that stung, Bruce forced himself to say, “Do you want to go back to Gotham?”

“No!” Dick started to cry. “I don’t want to go to Gotham, and I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere!” He pulled the front door open and ran out of the apartment. He slammed the front door shut and Bruce heard the bell for the lift.

Bruce tried to hurry towards the door, but he couldn’t do anything quickly at the moment. By the time he made it to the lift, the doors were shut and the lift was going down. Bruce swore and hit the wall, forgetting his broken fingers. He cursed again and cradled his hand. Eventually, the lift came back up. But by the time he got downstairs, Dick had vanished. Bruce jogged outside to the street and frantically looked left and right. Dick was nowhere to be seen. Fuck.

Bruce jogged about five steps in one direction before needing to stop. Every breath was murder on his ribs. As much as it (literally) pained him to admit it, he couldn’t do this on his own. And he could never admit to Selina that he had lost Dick.

Bruce pulled out his phone and called Clark.

“Hey, Bruce! You okay?” Clark’s voice filled Bruce’s ear. 

“Clark, I need your help. Fast. Dick’s just run out on me. I’ve got no idea where he’s gone.”

“Oh, crap. Okay. Uh… where are you?”

“Outside Wayne Enterprises.”

“Okay. Okay, don’t panic. I’ll find him.”

“Clark, I… he doesn’t know this city. I have no idea where he might have gone.”

“I’ll find him, Bruce,” Clark said confidently. “I’ll call you back in a minute.”

Clark hung up. Bruce started walking in the direction he’d chosen. If he wanted to run away in Metropolis, where would he go? He looked around anxiously. It was no good. The city was so busy. He had no hope of finding him. Bruce was really starting to panic.

“Bruce!” Bruce spun at the sound of Clark’s voice behind him.

Clark was walking down the street towards him, his glasses askew on his face. In one hand he held the lead for a scruffy white dog who seemed determined to walk in any other direction except the one Clark wanted him to go in. In the other hand, he held Dick’s hand. Dick had his eyes fixed on the pavement and was dragging his feet.

Bruce could breathe again. He moved towards them as quickly as he could.

“How did you find him so quickly? And get here so fast?” Bruce asked in disbelief.

“Oh, I was uh… in the area, on a dog walk,” Clark said, pretty unconvincingly. “Dick hadn’t gone far. He was around the back of Wayne Enterprises, near the car park entrance.”

“Thank you,” Bruce told Clark wholeheartedly, ignoring for the moment the impossibility of Clark finding Dick so quickly. “Thank you so much. As for you,” he said, turning to Dick. “You are in so much trouble.”

“I’ll… leave you guys to it,” Clark said awkwardly, and tried to leave. But Dick wouldn’t let go of his hand. Dick looked up stubbornly at Clark. “Guess not,” Clark shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce sighed. “Would you mind coming up?”

“Sure,” Clark said, smiling.

Dick swung his legs back and forth from the edge of the sofa. He was still holding Clark’s hand, who sat next to him. Bruce sat on his other side. Krypto was walking around the room, sniffing everything.

“Dick, what is going on? What’s wrong?” Bruce asked desperately.

“I don’t want to go back to Gotham,” he said.

“I know that, and I understand. But why don’t you want to be here?”

“Because you just tell me off all the time,” Dick huffed. Clark pulled a yikes face at Bruce over Dick’s head. Bruce suppressed a laugh and tried to go back to being a serious parent. 

“I don’t tell you off all the time,” Bruce protested. “But Dick, come on, we’ve talked about this. You can’t go around hitting people. If you do this one more time, you’ll get kicked out of that school and moved away from all your friends. Is this what you want?”

“I don’t have any friends!” Dick shouted. “I hate that school! Everyone’s rich and posh and no one’s nice to me. They say I’m poor and stupid and they don’t let me play with them.”

“What?” Bruce felt his stomach drop. He looked up at Clark, who looked similarly shocked and upset. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

“I didn’t want to tell you. You’re always worried,” Dick admitted, twisting his hands together in his lap.

“Dick,” Bruce sighed. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “I always want you to tell me about things that are upsetting you. You are the most important person in my life,” he said. Dick looked up at him, his eyes welling with tears. “ Nothing is more important to me than you.” Not even Batman, Bruce thought, thinking of his agreement with the Riddler.

“Please, Bruce, I want to live here with you,” Dick sniffed.

“Krypto, get away from that!” Clark interrupted, motioning for Krypto to move away from the TV wires. “Sorry,” Clark said sheepishly. “I did warn you.”

“Dick, we’ve talked about this…” Bruce said. “It’s not very practical… I’m busy a lot of the time.” Bruce was barely managing to take care of himself at the moment. He wasn’t sure he could look after Dick all the time, too. “Besides, won’t you miss Alfred?” Dick nodded glumly. “Look, you’re staying with me on weekends. All you have to do is just get through the week, and then you can come and see me.” Clark patted Dick’s shoulder reassuringly. Dick moved back on the sofa so that he was sat back against Clark.

Dick wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I guess.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about school? We can move you to a different school, Dick.”

“Can we?” Dick pleaded.

“Of course! I’ll have a look at some different ones this weekend. But, Dick, you can’t keep hitting people. You just can’t.”

“But he kept calling me names!”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep doing it. You’ll get in trouble instead of them, and that’s not what we want. There’s a punching bag in your room here. Why don’t you save up all your punches for the weekends, and get them all out while you’re here?” Bruce suggested.

Dick nodded tearfully. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Great,” Bruce smiled. He leaned forward and ruffled Dick’s hair, ignoring the pain in his ribs. “And say thank you to Clark for finding you. You are never to run off like that again,” Bruce said sternly. “I’m serious. Never again. And we do not tell Alfred about this.”

Dick nodded guiltily. “Thank you Clark,” he said, twisting around on the sofa to speak to the man he was resting back against.

“It was no problem. But, like your dad said, don’t do it again,” Clark insisted. It warmed Bruce to hear Clark call Bruce Dick’s dad.

“Clark, can I play with your dog?” Dick asked hopefully. 

Clark looked expectantly to Bruce, who nodded grudgingly.

“Go for it,” Clark said. Dick jumped off the sofa and ran across the room to Krypto, who instantly jumped into the air with excitement. They started to chase each other around the room, weaving in between furniture.

“Thank you,” Bruce said firmly. “I… I didn’t want to call Selina. I never would have heard the end of it from her. Thank you for finding him for me.”

“Of course,” Clark said. “Always happy to help.” And Bruce knew he meant it, and he loved him for it. “Hey, we should do something fun next weekend, when Dick’s here,” Clark suggested, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “To cheer him up. You guys have had a hard time recently. The weather’s been really nice. Why don’t a bunch of us take the train out of the city and go to the beach? There’s a huge lake my friends and I used to go to that’s only an hour away from Metropolis.”

“Beach?” Dick said excitedly as he ran past Clark, with Krypto hot on his heels.

“That would be nice,” Bruce said, and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Clark, can he do any tricks?”

“Oh, uh…”

Clark was quickly dragged into supervising Dick and Krypto. Bruce watched him, his heart pounding. Clark was perfect. Bruce was worried he would ruin him. If his feelings for Clark didn’t ruin him first.

Chapter Text

It didn’t happen very often, but sometimes Clark wished he had been the only living being to make it off Krypton. Like right now, as Krypto crouched in the corner of his bedroom, backing himself up against the ceiling.

“Krypto, please,” Clark begged. “I need to brush you. You’re shedding everywhere .”

Krypto barked at him in a way that definitely meant no and scrambled further back into the corner. 

“Please, Krypto!” Clark pleaded. 

“Clark! Do you need some help in there?” Lois’ voice came through the door.

“No! Lois, don’t come in!” Clark shouted. “Krypto, get down from there!” He said through gritted teeth. Krypto tilted his head to the side. “I’ll take you to the park later. You can chase squirrels. But only if you come down right now. ”

Krypto barked and flew down onto the floor.

“Clark, what is going on?” Lois asked through the wall.

“Uh, come in!” Clark called.

Lois came in and shut the door behind her. “What have you been doing in here? I could hear you crashing around from all the way down the hall,” she said incredulously, looking around the room. Clark’s bed covers were all over the place, and ripped in some places. Everything on his desk had been knocked over. The wires for his bedside lamp had been ambitiously chewed through.

Clark stood in the middle of the chaos and sighed. “I hate my dog.”

Lois laughed and knelt down to pet Krypto. “But he’s just a little baby!”

“There’s evil in his heart, Lois,” Clark insisted as Krypto panted happily while Lois scratched between his ears. He sat down on the edge of his bed, defeated.

“Why the long face? It won’t take too long to tidy this up,” Lois protested, getting up and surveying the damage with her hands on her hips. She walked over to Clark’s desk. “Clark… why do you have so many cuttings with Superman on them?” She raised an eyebrow as she leafed through the hefty pile. Every one of them had a picture of Clark as Superman. Krypto curled up at Lois’ feet and looked at Clark accusingly.

“Uh… I can explain that…”

“Also, last night, I was sitting in the living room, doing some late-night writing, and who do I see in the corridor but Clark Kent sneaking about in his underwear?” Crap. “You’re gonna have to explain that to me, too,” Lois said, raising an eyebrow.

“What?!” Clark sputtered. “No I don’t. Must have been someone else.” In his haste to get into the Superman suit yesterday evening, and because he then had to fly off to stop an active bomb threat, Clark had forgotten where he’d left his clothes. And he obviously couldn’t go back into his apartment wearing his supersuit. So he’d flown onto the roof, got undressed, and snuck down the fire escape to their floor in his pants.

“We don’t live with any other guys, Clark. And no one else has any reason to sneak around like that.” Lois pulled Clark’s desk chair out and sat down. He felt like he was being interrogated.

“What do you mean by that?” Clark asked cautiously. He didn’t like Lois’ conspiratorial tone.

“I know your secret, Clark,” Lois said simply. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

Oh God. “Look, Lois, I… I haven’t told anyone except my parents. And Diana. It’s all pretty new to me. I was just worried that you would see me differently. It’s hard to admit… that I’m…”

“Into guys,” Lois said, just as Clark said “Superman.”

“What?” They both said at the same time.

“I’m not into guys!” Clark protested.

“You’re Superman? ” Lois asked. They stared at each other for a moment. 

“Lois, I’m - I’m not into dudes!”

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Start talking, Smallville.”

Clark sighed and pulled the case with the suit out from under his bed. He rested it on his lap and opened it, swinging it around for Lois to see the supersuit folded up inside. Lois gasped softly and reached out to run her fingers over the material.

“You really are,” she whispered. She looked back up at him. “I just thought you guys looked really similar, or he was maybe a distant relative or something. I mean… you’re so… normal ,” she protested.

Clark shrugged. “It’s me. You’d be surprised how much of a difference a pair of glasses, a different hairstyle and different body language can make.”

“Clearly,” Lois said. “How am I ever going to be a good reporter if I didn’t even realise my own roommate is Superman? ”

“I mean, it’s reassuring for me,” Clark admitted.

“So… you have superpowers?” Lois asked. Clark nodded. “Show me one.”

Clark put the suit down on the bed next to him and stood up. He started floating a few inches off the ground. Lois looked up at him, then down at the space between his feet and the floor, then back up at him okay.

“Oh my God, Clark!” She exclaimed.

He shushed her quickly. “Please, Lois. This is a secret.”

“So, what, are you a metahuman?”

Clark shook his head. “I’m an alien.”

“No way,” Lois said, her eyes wide. “How did I not know this?”
“I hide it well,” Clark shrugged.

“What planet are you from?”

“Not one you’d know. It was called Krypton,” Clark said heavily. 

“Was?” Lois asked softly.

“It, uh… it was destroyed. The whole planet is gone. I’m the only one left. And my stupid, badly behaved dog who I still love to pieces,” Clark said as Krypto attempted to pull his sock off his foot. 

“ Krypto…” Lois said in realisation. “Of course. What, does the dog have powers too?” She joked. 

Clark smirked. “Krypto, up!” 

Krypto actually obeyed for once and rose into the air. He launched himself at Lois. She caught him and sputtered as he started licking her face.

“Oh my God, Clark, your dog has super powers,” she said, once she’d manoeuvred Krypto safely onto her lap. “I… I never knew. I mean, obviously, but still. I’m sorry. About your… your planet. ”

“I mean, I don’t even know what I’m missing,” Clark admitted. “But… I do wonder. What my parents were like. What it would have been like to grow up there, instead of here. But I couldn’t have asked for better people to take me in.”

Lois nodded. “That’s quite a big thing to have to hide for your whole life.”

“It’s not been easy,” Clark agreed. “I have to watch myself all the time, and make sure I don’t give myself away.”

“Which brings us onto our next topic,” Lois said smoothly, with the air of a reporter finally moving on to the centrepiece of their story.

“Lois,” Clark said disapprovingly. 

“Clark,” she said firmly. “You can’t keep ignoring this.”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” Clark insisted. “There’s nothing to ignore. The Superman magazines, sneaking out all the time… it’s because I’m Superman!”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “And coming home from Bruce’s looking like a lovesick puppy once or twice a week?”

“What? That’s not - I don’t - we’re just friends!”

“Clark.” She looked at him sternly. It was her tell the truth face. It was one of the many reasons Clark knew she would make such a good reporter.

Clark sighed. “I… I don’t know what I feel. He… I… I don’t know what to do, Lois,” Clark said, and he could hear the desperation in his voice.

“You like him,” she said softly. “A lot.”

“I think so,” Clark admitted, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “I think I do. Is it really obvious?”

“No, because you care so much about everyone all of the time,” Lois laughed. “But you seem different when you’re talking about him. I mean, you literally told me and Ivy that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you’ve been quieter recently. You tore yourself apart worrying about him when he went back to Gotham. You dropped everything to help him last weekend. And I know you would do that for everyone, but… when you do it for him it’s different. You come home after being with him and you barely speak. That’s not like you. I could tell there was something going on with you. I just didn’t realise it was… so much,” Lois said, gesturing to the end of the bed where Clark’s Superman suit sat.

“Lois, I don’t know what to do with this,” Clark said desperately. “I… I’ve felt so different my whole life. I thought it was just because I was an alien…”

“Well, that would do it,” Lois cracked.

Clark laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, it would. I just… I never even thought about it. Or I made myself not think about it. I always knew I liked girls, so I never really looked outside of that. But I guess there were times… locker rooms, and sleepovers… but with Bruce, it’s the first time I’ve really felt it. I want to be with him all the time. I want to be next to him, listening to him talk, hearing his heartbeat. I… I want to kiss him,” Clark admitted quietly, like it was something that should be said softly or not at all.

“Look, Clark… you really like him. That’s a beautiful thing. Focus on that. Nothing else matters as much as that does,” Lois said. “It’s scary, realising you’re not what you thought you were. It’s even scarier realising you’re not what other people still think you are. But you will be okay, and people will still love you. I know I do. And you have so much love in your heart. It’s no surprise that there aren’t any limits on that.”

Clark’s chest felt tight. He cleared his throat. “Thanks, Lois.”

She smiled at him gently. “Don’t rush to tell people. Take your time. Sit with it for a bit.”

Clark nodded. She stood up, and Clark followed. She hugged him tightly. Krypto jumped up at them both and barked. They pulled apart and Clark bent down to pet him.

“I guess we should take you out for a walk, huh, buddy?” Clark asked him. Krypto tilted his head to the side and stuck his tongue out, panting. He floated into the air and flew around Clark’s head excitedly.

Lois grinned and shook her head. “I can’t believe your dog has superpowers, dude. And I can’t believe that I know Superman’s identity and I can’t write about it for the Planet! Would you let me do an interview?”

“Never gonna happen.”

The next day, Clark was on his way to boxing with Diana. He was kind of relieved Bruce wasn’t going to be there. He wasn’t ready to face him just yet after Lois had forced him to come to terms with what he’d been pushing down and making himself ignore for months.

“Superman seems to be doing well,” Diana said lightly. “Very positive reception from the media, and the people.” They walked past a tourist stall that was already selling Superman t-shirts. 

Clark nodded proudly. “Yeah, he seems to be doing alright.” He glanced at Diana out of the corner of his eye and they started laughing. 

“You’re doing a good job, Clark. I’m proud of you,” she said. 

“Thanks, Diana. That means a lot. Do you ever… think about getting out there yourself? Batman, Superman… would be nice to diversify the group a little,” Clark suggested. 

Diana chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know, Clark. I… this world took my greatest love from me. I came back because I wanted to love it again. Because he loved it. And I know now that that’s what he wanted… but it’s still hard for me. It’s going to take time. I feel like a stranger here, and I see him everywhere.”

Clark knew the feeling. He’d always felt different, and seen reminders everywhere that he wasn’t the same as everyone else. Small things like his parents never letting him do any sport in high school, and bigger things like not knowing when his real birthday was. His parents had just decided to celebrate on the day that they found him, instead. 

“It’s hard for me too. But I think it’s worth it.”

“Hey, a bunch of us are going to the beach on Saturday. You should come,” Clark said through a mouthful of crisps. He was sitting on Lex’s sofa playing video games, because it was a Thursday.

“Who’s going?” Lex frowned.

“Uh, my whole flat, I think… Bruce and Selina… and I think Diana’s invited Arthur,” Clark groaned.

“What’s your problem with Arthur? He seems like a nice guy.”

“He cornered me at Diana’s party and talked to me about fish for ten minutes. Dude, he said he could talk to them,” Clark explained, wide-eyed.

Lex laughed. “See? Why would you not want him around? That’s brilliant.”

“Not when you’re the only person there,” Clark assured him.

“You and Bruce seem to be getting close,” Lex said, as though he’d tried to say it casually and failed.

“Yeah,” Clark shrugged. Should he tell him what he’d talked to Lois about? Or would telling an old friend make it too real? He thought he wanted Lex to know. He wanted to be honest with him about one thing, at least. “He’s a good guy. We get on well.”

“You just can’t get enough billionaire friends, can you?” Clark could tell he meant it to come off as a joke, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness to it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clark paused the game and turned to face Lex.

“Well, I just… I don’t know, man, this sounds stupid, but I’m supposed to be your best friend. Have been since we were twelve. I just… you spend so much time with Bruce now, and I barely even know the guy,” Lex said angrily. “And when we actually do hang out, you’re way too quiet, like there’s something on your mind. I didn’t ask because I thought you’d tell me if you wanted to. But Clark, it just always feels like you’re keeping secrets from me! I mean, these last few weeks, we’ve made plans and then you’ve cancelled them, or run out halfway through for whatever reason. I just… I feel like I’m barely even part of your life anymore.”

“Lex,” Clark said softly. He had no idea Lex was feeling that way, which made him feel even worse. Clark sighed. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“No. I’m sure you didn’t. That’s just classic Clark Kent, isn’t it. Act first, apologise later,” Lex muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing, man. Just… nothing. Forget about it. You clearly don’t want to talk about anything in your life, so… just forget about it.”

“Lex, come on, man, let’s just talk about this-”

“Do you know what, I’m not in the mood for this anymore.” Lex turned the console off.

Clark stood up cautiously. “Lex, I-”

“I think you should just go, Clark.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday?”

Lex scoffed. 

Clark left his apartment feeling like he’d really, really fucked up.

BRUCE. Hey. What time is our train tomorrow morning?

CLARK. The girls and I are getting on the 10 o’clock. Still not sure if Lex is coming or not.

BRUCE. Everything okay?

CLARK. I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

BRUCE. Well, I’ve got someone here who is very excited to go to the beach.

BRUCE. [image]

Clark smiled at his phone as a photo of Dick wearing a snorkel and grinning around the mouthpiece filled the screen.

The argument with Lex was playing on his mind, but knowing that he was going to see Bruce tomorrow was taking up most of his thoughts. And maybe that was the problem. But either way, it promised to be an interesting trip.

Clark sighed and started getting ready for bed. He was almost regretting his suggestion. But when he thought of Dick’s excited face smiling at him from his phone screen, he knew it would be worth it.