Chapter Text
Clark blinked in disbelief.
Did Batman want to buy him? It was so absurd, it was almost funny. But he didn't want to laugh, and neither did the leader of the mercenaries.
“Do you think you can buy him? Don't be silly. We are expensive,” he told him, his voice full of pride of someone who had been doing this job for years.
“I'm not worried about money.”
"No? Who do you think you are?"
“Someone who can afford to buy him,” the vigilante said, nodding at Clark. He didn't want to blush, but God, he was close.
“I highly doubt it, human.”
“Tell me how much your client paid,” Batman growled, the tone of someone used to being obeyed and who did something to Clark, even though it was definitely not the time.
“A billion credits,” the leader said, his chest puffing out. “As I was saying, our services are in high demand, and they are expensive.”
Clark had no idea how much a billion credits was, but he guessed it must be a large amount.
Was there really anyone out there who wanted it that much? Unsettling.
Batman didn't seem the least bit fazed by that revelation. Instead, he asked, "How much is it worth in Earth money?"
The alien was taken aback, so Batman continued, “Can a billion credits be converted into this country's current currency? The planet does not have a single currency, so we must rely on that of the country you are trying to conquer."
“We are not invaders, we are here for work and…”
"How. Much." Batman asked again, and that was definitely the tone of someone who shouldn't be contradicted.
Even the leader was startled, even though he had an obvious physical and numerical advantage, but here is the effect that an ordinary human (perhaps) had on powerful alien beings.
“Hey, you,” the alien barked at one of his subordinates. “Bring me a pad. I will show this fly how much the goods are worth.”
Goods.
He knew they were there because some rich guy had paid him, but feeling such a lack of empathy made his stomach clench.
Who knows how many other species they've done it with, he thought, resentfully.
It wasn't right. The thought that people like that existed in the universe made his stomach turn. Someone should stop them.
Why not him?
The thought, as it had come, disappeared almost instantly when Batman, pad in hand, smiled. A real smile that was strange but familiar.
“I'll offer you double,” the vigilante said, and the leader laughed.
He laughed for a long time, probably thinking it was a joke. Then he saw that Batman wasn't laughing, and said, "You're serious. Do you want to give me double…for him.”
"Yes."
“I want triple,” the alien said. “You also have to consider travel costs.”
"All right."
He saw a familiar flash of greed in his eyes. He was sure he would ask for more, but a look from Batman stopped him.
“Well hell, the customer will be unhappy, but even he can't give me triple in such a short time. The Kryptonian will be all yours. There are some little things to take care of first..."
Bruce had sincerely thought that it would take a lot more money and more convincing to get the deal done.
He expected the gap between the two currencies to be much larger.
Well, it turned out that a billion credits, on Earth, was equivalent to a little more than three dollars.
When he found out, he found the hilarity of the situation so strong that he couldn't help but smile, which happened very rarely to him.
The mysterious buyer thought he was so powerful and rich, but on Earth he couldn't even do a full shopping spree, let alone an alien demigod.
The leader of the aliens made him sign a lot of digital copies of sales deeds - which obviously he demanded were translated into English and read before signing anything - and then he made the payment with the pad.
Clean and regular.
The alien checked everything again, seemed satisfied with the regularity of the operation, and shouted to those present, "Ok, half socks. We're going home. We did our job..."
“And what about…”
“Who cares about that. We got paid triple, idiot. What do you care about that asshole?”
The other made no further comments, probably keeping us alive, and the leader called the rest of his men back.
A huge spaceship appeared above them – camouflage device? – and a tractor beam brought the mercenaries back to their ship.
The leader took the crown from Superman, then turned to him, “Well, the deal is done. You will never see us again on this damned planet...unless, of course, we are asked to. In that case, however, I will come to you first to see if we can come to an agreement..."
“I don't make deals more than once,” he said sharply.
The alien sneered, perhaps thinking they were just empty threats. They weren't, but it was good to be underestimated from time to time.
A light illuminated the alien, and he too was about to be transported to the spaceship.
It was done. There was nothing left to worry about…
“Until next time…Bruce Wayne…”
…except for that. How did he know who he was? Then, he remembered: he had to take a sample of his DNA while he signed up to ''buy'' Superman.
The aliens knew who he was. His identity was compromised.
But strangely, that wasn't his main concern. He turned to Superman, lips pressed into a thin line.
Oh shit. Holy fucking shit. He won't be killed by an alien invasion. He will be killed by a pissed off alien.
“Selina said she would end up like this…” he thought, even though the two of them probably meant things other than Superman will blow you up.
Now he was about to find out.
“Until next time…Bruce Wayne…”
Bruce Wayne.
Bruce…Wayne.
Bruce…Wayne…
The spaceship took off again in a triumph of lights and noise, but all he could think about was that Batman was Bruce fucking Wayne.
His heart leapt into his throat. Of course, why hadn't he thought of it before? He wanted to blame the impending slavery of a rich asshole and the fact that he was giving away his freedom, but he was an investigative journalist, he should have connected the dots first.
I mean, who had enough money to have a double identity? Or to be able to buy another person?
He didn't know how to feel about that last part, but he owed it. He had saved his life, and he hadn't hesitated, even when he didn't know how much money he would have to put up.
Yes, money wasn't a problem for billionaires, but he didn't even know how much the other guy had paid, or what kind of currency there was in space.
He took a step forward, while Bruce stepped back, shoulders stiff. The other man's heart was pounding, and he looked ready for a fight.
Clark was confused. Why was he so upset? He had just saved him, after all. Obviously he didn't want to fight.
But then he remembered that the alien leader had tactlessly revealed something fundamental about the other man, his secret identity, and he thought about how he would have felt if he had found himself in such a disadvantaged situation.
Of course Bruce thought badly of him, he didn't know who he was. And well, after what he had done for him, Clark thought it was only right that he revealed who he was.
He put his hands forward,”Look, you don't have to think...you're a hero, and I know you care about your secret identity...that's why I would never use it against you...of course, the first time we met you were quite asshole…but I won't use this information against you…I… Bruce, I know you. I'm...I'm Clark..."
He was feeling sick. It was worse than when he told Lois. Why was it worse? Why was Bruce Batman?
Why did he like him?
He liked Lois too.
This time it's different, a voice told him in his mind. He is like you, he chose to use his abilities to protect his city. You are kindred souls, you may never be alone again.
That's what was making him paranoid, what was making his heart beat faster, what was giving him anxiety.
He had found someone like him. And he wanted him to trust Clark (he wanted other things too, some less confusing than others, but best not to dwell on those).
The silence was going on too long, and he felt nervous, wondering where he had gone wrong.
"I knew it."
The answer came like lightning. Batman – Bruce – had his fists clenched, staring straight ahead. Clark thought he heard wrong, "What did you say?"
“I already knew that,” the other man said, his voice neutral.
“I did something to…”
"No."
He wasn't saying anything else, while another sensation was making its way through him: anxiety.
“How long?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Clark grimaced, “I want to know if you decided to approach me because you knew who I am, or you found out along the way…I think I deserve it, don't you think?”
“What would you do if you didn't like the answer?” he asked him, cautiously.
“You're really asking me that? Who do you take me for…” he trailed off, frowning harshly. “You believe Lex Luthor, don't you? You think I'm a monster you need to stop."
The rebuttal didn't come, and Clark had to close his eyes to keep from doing something stupid. Like, cry.
“So it was all a lie?” he asked.
“I did what was necessary.”
“Bullshit,” he growled, and after he did, Batman instinctively assumed a stance that reminded him of a lion tamer at the circus.
In that scenario, he was the monster. He always had been.
Just when he thought he could have a sincere connection with someone...
“Well. It was good, while it lasted.”
Batman brought a hand to his belt. A quick movement, but he didn't miss it. Did he want to fight? Clark saved him the trouble: he flew away.
He didn't want to deal with that shit.
Bruce should have been relieved that Superman was gone. There would be no need to fight, nor to reveal that he now possessed the only thing (supposedly) capable of weakening the alien.
However, he felt a sense of loss as he watched him go, away from Gotham, away from him.
Why didn't I try to lie to him?, he thought.
The answer was obvious: Clark would have understood immediately, and it would have been worse.
(And no, it wasn't because he wanted to tell the truth, he wasn't stupid).
Sooner or later it had to end. He had his weapon against Superman, the hero was in his debt, and the world would be safe.
So why did he feel like he was nine years old again and back in that alley?
"Batman!"
He turned around. Selina and the others had arrived. Selina looked around, “Where are the aliens?”
“They're gone.”
“And Superman?”
“He is safe.”
“Well…then why aren't you kissing while an alien spaceship explodes and you've finally figured out how to get your shit together?” Harley asked.
He grimaced, “That only happens in the movies, Harley. Not in reality.”
"Hey! It could happen..."
Selina shushed her, “Old bat, what happened?”
“He knows.”
“What?"
“He knows who I am. He knows what I did."
“Oh,” Harley breathed. “It didn't go well, did it?”
“He is gone. I don't think he will come back."
“Oh, Brucie…I'm sorry.”
He tilted her head, “Why? The plan succeeded.”
Selina approached him, and she did two unexpected things: she slapped him, and then she hugged him.
Harley also joined in on the embrace, while Pamela remained on the sidelines.
“Why did you slap me?” he asked her.
“Because you're an emotionally constipated idiot.”
“And the hug?”
“Because you are suffering and you don't know it.”
“I'm fine,” he replied, but somehow, it sounded unconvincing even to him.
“Denial phase,” Harley said.
“I didn't expect it to last this long.”
“Men are stupid,” Pamela said, and both Harley and Selina agreed with her. Batman wanted to reply, but his gaze returned to the sky, in search of a figure that had now disappeared.
The first thing Lois did when she saw Clark flying into the room was to throw all the pillows she had at hand at him.
“You…sacrificial idiot…bastard…do you know what you put me through? Asshole…you little…”
She wasn't even sure how long she yelled at him, but eventually, she calmed down and hugged him, crying all the tears she had been holding back until then.
“Shh… it's okay, I'm safe,” the idiot reassured her, and she sniffed at him.
“How did you do it? Did you kick some alien ass?”
The man stiffened, and replied, “I'd rather not talk about it. Not now.”
"But…"
“No, Lois. Not now. I just want to go home..."
From the tone he used, she knew he wasn't talking about Metropolis.
“Okay,” she said. “We're leaving today. Do you want to call someone first or..."
“No,” he replied, his voice so small she barely heard him. “There's no need to call anyone.”
“Bruce?”
Clark tensed, and Lois thought that she, somehow, had said the wrong thing.
“Lois, I'll tell you everything, I promise…but right now I really don't want to stay in this city another minute.”
At that point, feeling him so broken, she Lois didn't have the courage to deny him. In the end, she will be able to make him tell everything. But now, what Clark needed was a friend. And she was there for him.
“We have to do something,” Selina said, returning from one of her late-night walks around Gotham.
Hey, she was an upstanding citizen now, but that didn't mean she didn't occasionally go snooping around who she knew was a rich bastard who deserved a visit from her.
This time she didn't get anything, but she had witnessed a fight between Penguin and Batman, and she understood that the situation had gone on too long.
It had been almost two weeks since the alien invasion and since Superman had flown away without trying to contact his whatever Bruce was to him, and seeing Bruce lovesick, and worst of all, not being aware of it, was becoming too much.
Cassandra and Damian were receiving extra doses of healing, while Gotham's criminals had become the Bat's favorite punching bags.
Batman's patrols had become more bloody, many preferred to surrender rather than risk ending up in hospital.
It seemed like the only way for Bruce to express his emotional problems was through his fists. Certainly not the healthiest method, but considering that he believed that becoming a vigilante could solve the problems of his city, his judgment couldn't be trusted too much.
“These are the consequences of his actions,” Harley said, stretching. There was a strange animal at the foot of the chair she was sitting in, and Selina really, really didn't want to know how it got to them. “The first step to healing is accepting the consequences and moving on.”
“Yeah no, no therapy here. First, it's about Bruce. Second, if we don't do something, he's going to end up killing someone, and I don't want to deal with any more angst."
“A fuck would solve everything.”
Harley and Selina turned, Pamela a few steps away from them with a cat nestled on her, “What is it? Can't I give my opinion?"
“No no, we agree with you,” Selina quickly said. “We didn't think you would say that.”
Pamela shrugged, “Sooner or later someone had to do it. Bruce needs Superman's dick..."
“And love,” Harley added. “Let's not forget that!”
“Especially the dick,” Pamela said. “He blew all his chances, and he still thinks he was making the whole show for his mission. He didn't realize that he stopped being fiction from the moment he really started to know the man behind the hero."
“Go make him understand, though,” Harley sighed, resigned like every shipper faced with the impossibility of seeing their ship endgame. “Mister J is more likely to come to his senses before Bruce admits he has human feelings!”
“Not to mention that, even if he admitted it, Superman's trust is now lost. Nothing he says will convince him to pick up where they left off."
Selina looked contemplative, “Well, here it is clear that they need to meet again, preferably in costume. Bruce is more sincere when he wears a mask."
“Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth,” Pamela recited, taking up a phrase read who knows where.
“How could it be done? Superman has every reason not to want to return to Gotham."
“Unless someone he really trusts convinces him to do it.”
Unless someone he trusts convinces him, huh? At that, Selina smiled. She had come up with a wonderful idea.
Two nights later…
Bruce had gone out on patrol with a fresh bullet wound – a gift from Harvey – and several broken ribs. He hadn't told Alfred, so as not to risk being told that he was reckless, etc. etc.
All things he already knew. But he had to go out. Gotham could not remain unprotected, not even for a night.
(This is the noble reason. The less noble one, but closer to the truth, was that he was in the mood to beat the shit out of people so as not to think about that feeling of emptiness that he had been feeling for two weeks now)
Up until now he had been unlucky: it seemed like a quiet night, one of those in which the world holds its breath, waiting for something.
He too was waiting for something to happen, on the roof of a building, hoping that he would soon be able to take action, so as not to think and leave the possibility to his mind to set up scenarios, what ifs in which he would have to question himself, make a analysis of his actions and ask himself if it was worth it…
“You're here.”
Suddenly, he raised his head, to find himself looking, like a celestial apparition, at Superman who was looking at him without particular emotions.
The alien landed softly in front of him, keeping a safe distance, as if, of the two, he was the one who was more at risk.
And isn't that right? After all, you never told him the truth.
Had he ever said how much he hated the way his mind worked?
“How did you find me?” he asked, managing to keep his hands still and not near his belt, where he still held the strange green rock.
“Your heartbeat,” came the answer, simple and direct. “Once I memorized it, I couldn't forget it. You're pretty loud, you know?”
There followed a long moment of silence in which Batman wondered how he could hide the sound of his heartbeat from prying ears, when Superman asked him, "Are you at least sorry?
“I did what I thought was necessary,” he said through gritted teeth, receiving a snort in response. “You were an unknown quantity.”
“And you didn't think you could do your investigation any other way?”
“What other way?”
“I don't know, maybe some traditional investigations without trying to sleep with me,” was the reply, raw sadness underneath. “There was no need to earn my trust and then…”
“It was necessary.”
“Are you saying this to yourself or to me?” Superman asked him, annoyed.
He let out a low growl. He pulled out his grappling hook and, before jumping down, said, "I don't have time for this."
He was promptly caught by Superman, who held him by the arm as if he were a very aggressive and dangerous stray cat.
“Leave me,” he growled.
"No."
“Do you want to fight?”
The other rolled his eyes, “Of course you immediately think of that. No, I'm trying to be an adult and talk. Even though I would have preferred to stay in Kansas for a year, eat ice cream and listen to sad songs. But Miss Kyle contacted Lois, told her things that convinced her to talk to me, even though, and I quote, you are a gigantic idiot who deserves to get your ass kicked.”
“Of course Selina did…” he muttered to himself. It only seemed right that she would step in after he had forced her to participate in a plan that she had said, from the first moment, was madness. “What did she tell you?”
“She said you're emotionally stunted, you feel guilty but you can't express it like a normal person, and so you engage in dangerous things to avoid having to deal with your emotional problems. Lois says that's the minimum for what you did.”
"And you?"
“So it's true?”
“I'm not confirming anything,” he growled. “I asked you what you thought.”
“I think you have broken ribs and a fresh wound, you shouldn't be out at this hour. Yet, you are doing it. I don't know if it's a sense of duty or a need to distract yourself, but you have a problem.”
“I don't have a problem.”
“But you're hurt. And you still left. Do you need to hit people that badly?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but he quickly closed it again, because he realized the answer was a damn yes.
Superman must have known, so he just sighed and led them back to the roof. Now they were a little closer than before,” Look, I don't know why I let Lois convince me…or why she let Miss Kyle convince me, really. I would have preferred to pretend that Gotham, and therefore you, didn't exist. But here I am, because they told me you're an idiot who's hurting himself because you don't know any other way to deal with his problems, and I… care too much."
His heart decided that this was the perfect moment to make a leap, resulting in a probable tachycardia attack.
“How can you be real?”
Superman raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”
“You're so… good,” he spat the word out in disbelief. “How can you be real? You have all that power, and you don't want to use it for yourself. I watched you, and I tried to convince myself that it was all a trick to deceive people..."
“Have you changed your mind now?” the other asked him, with what seemed like hope in his voice.
“I don't know,” he admitted. “If you are a good person, and you want to make a difference…I probably misjudged you.”
“And you hate making mistakes.”
“Mhm.”
They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity (it was just dramatic, not even a minute passed), when Superman finally said, "Shall we go somewhere else...to talk?"
His throat felt dry as he nodded. How a single word could hold the promise of so many things was beyond him.
Maybe he was imagining it, but finally, he no longer felt like he was empty.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Let's talk.”