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Chapter Text

Masked depression (High functioning depression) is a condition in which the classic affective and cognitive symptoms of depression are hidden behind a variety of somatic complaints or behavioural problems.   

Metropolis sun was draining, it covered everything and everyone in itself, it gave people the hope of better tomorrow, just like their Superhero- Superman. City's light, modern and sleek infrastructure made you cover your eyes, especially when you came here from Gotham city. Gotham was like Metropolis evil twin, both were modern cities, with high skyscrapers which were home to various groups and organizations, but Gotham was darker. The city was consumed by dark fog that tinted everything and drained people from their happiness to live. The corrupted Gotham, the cursed city which crime rates spiked to giant numbers. People living in their city had to fend for themselves, just like wild animals did.  

The sunny rays of hope held onto every nook and dent of city, the glorious light made the colourful city shine and pop. Every window was glazed with light, as well as every single tree that made the city a living paradise (even though rent prices are crazy).  

Big skyscraper window was no longer covered by the expensive drapes which made the maddening sun crawl into Bruce's hotel room. The building itself looked like challenge threw upon physics, the building which currently housed Wayne was enormous, a 50-floor building built for the sole purpose of being a hotel for those who could afford it. On the highest, most expensive floor the windows stood tall, giving and taking away the privacy (depends on where you stood), there in the middle of the giant room was a king size bad, covered in white sheets that were extremely clean. Bruce’s naked silhouette was tangled in the white hotel sheets which clinged onto him like a cast. His date must have left already judging by the room's quiet manor, plus she was the one to move the drapes uncovering the giant sun-bathed steel windows.  

She expressed her worry about the public project Bruce invested into Bruce himself previous night at the gala. She was one of those who believed that everything should be acquired by ‘ hard work’ and not funding- “ Whatever that meant. ”- Bruce thought to himself in that moment. He so happened to sit next to her later which he found frustrating, her mouth was always open, commenting on everything she saw. Not that she was entirely annoying, her presence grounded Bruce, took him away from the thoughts that used to creep in his head every time he was out of the comfort of his bed or batsuit. She never commented on his love life or career either, even a bit drunk she seemed genuinely nice, which made Bruce drop his “Brucie Wayne” act a bit and let his guard down. Next thing he knew- she got straight to business (even quicker than Brucie used to do, which was something new to him).  

In the next 10 minutes they were in his apartment room, where he came to conclusion that rich people are the horniest people alive. She asked about his scars- something he didn't appreciate while getting naked with someone, he didn’t answer, so she stopped pushing. He didn't remember much from the night, not that he was drunk, but it just ended really quickly. She fell asleep in his arms, he didn't even finish, but it's not like he minded this situation at all. He took the Woman (which name he couldn't remember knowing) to the bed and tucked her in to sleep while he laid beside her playing with her long, dark hair. All he remembered that the Woman was truly stunning and looked angelic while sleeping next to him. He almost felt happy; he would give everything to have this moment last forever. Then the light panic hit him, the sadness that grabbed your throat, the feeling that came unexpected. He felt the emptiness creeping inside him, drowning his lungs and heart as he looked at Her face, face he wanted to cradle and touch, just like he did with Selina’s while she slept next to him. She let a scar on his heart, not that she didn’t love him, she wanted Batman, not Bruce Wayne. She wanted someone who could guide her through dark times, someone who she didn’t have to take care of and Bruce? He was the polar opposite of what she wanted. He proceeded to close his eyes; then he laid next to the Woman he just met. He felt exhaustion of sleep-less 36 hours haunt his brain, he didn’t know when she left or when he fell asleep, all he knew was that his heart sunk even lower than before, filling itself with unexplainable loneliness.  

Sun had made it’s way onto his face forcing him to cover his head with a pillow, his broad, scarred shoulders revealed themselves from underneath the white piece of delicate fabric that was meant to be a duvet. He really didn’t want to make a public appearance today, not after this shitty one-nightstand. He felt hollow, the invisible dirt of fucking someone covered his body, making him sink into the sheets. Thought of showing up and talking business as Brucie Wayne made his brain scream at him. Anxiety crept onto his shoulders pushing him down, his hands trembling. His phone rang making him jump up a bit- a reminder of being in the middle of buisness trip in Metropolis, it grounded him. He layzly grabbed his phone from the nightstand and answered the call, he didn't even read the caller ID- maybe like 3 people had his personal number, it was Selina, Alfred and Jim Gordon (who believed he called Batman).   

-"Yes?"- He asked with sleepy voice, he felt guilt crashing in, the invisible layer of dirt that covered his whole body made him feel like having a panic attack.  

-"Master Bruce."- Said the voice, he knew who that is, the usual tone of Alfred which stated " I know what you did, but i won't comment on it. ".- "It's 8am, you said that I should call you to make you remember about taking your morning medications and the press conference.”- his voice serious- “Please take the medication, it'll make you feel better."- Alfred's voice was now more like a Father's that is deeply worried about his child. A deep, defeated sigh escaped Bruce's mouth.  

-"I'll take them..."- He simply stated while getting out of sheets that seemed to work like a prison. - "It's about the Park I’m funding in Metropolis, isn't it?"- A silence answered. - "The conference I mean."  

-"Yes, it would be a real shame if you didn't show up, your public image is really... questionable lately."- Alfred's voice was rather low while he stated the second part of the sentence. Then he hanged up the phone, not caring about Bruce's disapproval.  

He made his way to the hotel room bathroom, everything there screamed 'luxury' as well, not that he expected anything less from the place he- Bruce Wayne - stayed at. The shower was just a big room with over-head rain-shower that imitded a waterfall. Everything was covered in steel and white marble, it looked quite cheap for Bruce's liking, but this design fitted Metropolis standards. Bruce was more of a dark-gothic luxury fan than the modern, sharp-edged clean look.  

Not a while after he took the said shower room service entered his room and left a suit he was supposed to wear to the press conference. He didn’t bother looking at it right now. He made his way to the sink and took the prescribed pill bottle into his hand, the label that simply read “ Fluoxetine 20mg- Bruce Wayne ”. He felt pathetic taking it, he felt pathetic with the fact that this actually helped him, Dark Knight on anti-depressants, quite ironic. He took 2 pills, he was supposed to take third one in the evening, but he usually forgot about it. He looked at his face in the mirror, dark hair, still wet from the shower he took covered his eyes, eyes that didn’t seem to spark like they always did on his family photos.  

-”I’m so fucking pathetic...”- he breathed out and forced himself to look in the mirror, disgust creeped up his neck.  

He made his way back to the main room and looked at the loose-fitting, but still expensive looking black suit that was worth more than some people's monthly salary. He just sighed, he felt guilty, he always did. His problems seemed so irrelevant when he happened to remember how rich he was. He was always mad at himself, he should be happy right? He is rich he shouldn’t have mental problems.  

He understood (or at least tried to understand) from where the hate for rich people came, they lived a careless life while some people had to sell everything they had to survive and feed their families, that were real problems. Those were things that were relevant in the real world, these people didn’t have time to be pathetic about themselves, they had to take their shit together and go. That's why he dedicated his life to funding charities and some projects which helped the community, that's why his workers had great salary and paid vacations off-work. He invested in people from the back, he did it silently, quiet enough to not be noticed, but loud enough to make a change. He wanted to help with relevant problems that could be solved easily with his resources (money), these were those kinds of situations where you could see the outcome almost instantly, you didn’t have to wait and actually work on yourself to change something.  

His investment into people and their work came back to him in rapid force, doubling his company worth. His employees were providing a spectacular work performance, but it was the great money that made them do that. People fought for a workplace in Wayne Enterprises and Bruce was more than happy to accept them all with open arms and new benefits, he was opening new sectors of Wayne Ent. around other cities than Gotham, which multiplied his income. He was giving people opportunity for a better life. Wayne's Enterprises was built upon an investment into people who gave him their hard work; it was a concept that most of the other rich man didn't seem to grasp and believe in. 

He didn't wear the suit, he wore a tight-fitting black turtleneck with linen loose-fitting pants plus some classy moccasins, his hair brushed back, but carelessly enough that some strands of the hair were left on his forehead. He left the hotel lobby with his sunglasses on, the suit in one hand. Not that he wanted to change into it later, the plan was to get to the press conference on foot and gift someone the suit for them to sell. He studied Metropolis plan beforehand (he is Batman, he had to be ready, just in case something happened), he took all the turns he needed and ended up in the poor part of the city, if you can call it that of course. This part wasn't even half as bad as the poor part of Gotham, once more “City of sunshine and rainbow” provided Bruce with another shock.  People here didn’t have a great materialistic status, but they were hard-working citizens that seemed to afford everything they needed. The twist to the Gotham’s reality was that this people saw other ways, not only the criminal way, even if it was harder. City of Metropolis seemed to give Bruce hope in humanity which didn’t sit right with him.  

The suit ended is some single mother’s hands, she wanted to give him something, anything but he didn’t accept anything in return.  

-”Miss, please.”- He started, he wasn’t in Brucie character, he wasn’t going to be in this kind of situation. - “You sell it for some nice money and buy your kids something nice, you can always dial up this number.”- he said in peaceful tone and gifted her a piece of paper with number to his secretary office.- “Tell her that you got this number from Bruce and she will make sure to get you anything you need.”- He said and smiled lightly.  

This Woman’s eyes teared up, with determination, but a hint of guilt was there too. In split second she hugged the Man, smiling into his chest. She pulled back and looked him straight in the eye.  

-” I’ll make sure to use it for good causes, Mr. Wayne. I just don’t understand what’s the motive here, you could’ve given this to anyone.”- She stated, her comment on point.  

-” It’s just...”- he said, and he smiled politely, he looked into her kid’s direction. He looked at the two brothers that played football together on the quiet street of Metropolis. They reminded him of a Boy he met, a Boy who didn’t care who he was, he saw a companion in him. - “They remind me of my younger self; it would be nice if they got to grow up properly. Future is in their hands.”- he stated politely and looked at their mother. His eyes weren’t filled with the pity that people usually had for the lower-class, they were filled with hope. The Woman smiled warmly at him, hugging him with her eyes as she looked at Bruce.  

-” I’m glad you don’t take pity in me.”- she said with exhaustion creeping from her voice.  

The words stuck with him for the whole way to the press conference, reminding him of his place in society. Bruce Wayne, a great person, someone to be feared of; someone you have to reckon with.  

The town square greeted him, opened it’s gates for him, it was as modern as the rest of the city, but still really green; the greenery was like a reminder that we are just mere humans on nature’s behalf. He let out a tired breath, he heard a member of Metropolis police getting closer to him, he let him touch his shoulder.  

-” Mister Wayne?”- The officer searched for confirmation.  

-” That’s me.”- He said with forced smile which seemed to scratch the officer where it had to.  

-” This way, please.”- His voice happier than before, more energetic. Bruce kept himself together not to run away from the function that was just about to begin.  

Chapter Text

Clark wasn’t anyone special, at least that’s what he was supposed to be. He liked his human life, the simplicity of being now and not having to worry about world ending, but there were things that really bugged him- relations. He lived a life where everything was really simple, his parents loved each other, always affectionate, never arguing, in Clark’s mind they were the definition of word “ soulmate ”. The life they created at the Smallville was always enough for both of them. Ma and Pa Kent were a real deal, a perfect couple. Clark loved watching how his Parent’s kissed and held hands, it always gave him a sense of hope. Their accepting, delicate nature was something to die for, that’s why reality of life hit him harder than he expected when he moved to Metropolis.   

Sure, the city was great, people were warm and open, but there was something, a thing only a Metropolis citizen seemed to see- the hate, the intolerance that was deeply rooted in this city. He will always remember the first time he appeared in Metropolis news- “ Alien in the city!: should we prepare for new chapter in earth history? ”; the title hit harder than it ever should have, at first he thought- “ It can’t be that serious.” - but then it happened, people gave Superman weird looks, they were sometimes terrified to be alone in his presence, the way that for the first three to four months the whole night life had died-off. People weren’t too accepting of Superman, but they eventually grew to like him more, or so had Clark believed. From time to time there still was a headline full of hatred, but Clark seemed to start ignoring them.  

Last two days were rather stressful for Clark, beside the fact that his Co-workers found out he was a Bruce Wayne fanboy Batman decided that this will be the perfect time to take a couple of days off.   

-” Listen Supes.”- Batman grabbed Clark’s attention almost immediately, his voice filled with melancholy that could be seen upon Gotham city had soaked trough the Dark Knight as well.- “I have personal matters to take care of, it may be a ridiculous thing to ask from you, but look after Gotham for a couple of days?”- He asked in his, oh so dangerous tone that casted a spell on Clark.  

-” Of course, you can count on me!”- He answered smiling with closed eyes when he opened them no one was there anymore. Batman was the only person who could get away from Man of steel undetected.  

The salty memory laid upon of him. It was a year since they started working together, while Superman had become careless around his Partner, Batman was as careful as he was the day they met. Clark knew how it was to have a secret identity to uphold. He knew it all too well.  

He remembered all the nights when he would come back home to Lois that was sitting on couch, the way she clinged to him when he stepped through the door. It pained him to see her like that, and it most certainly pained her to see him suffer and hold secrets from her. She knew that dating a superhero will make their relationship overflowing with secrets, but it pained her either way. She wasn’t good with feelings, she was a perfectionist that didn’t know what to do while in relationship, a person so open and so distant at the same time, and Clark? He kept her away, pushed her away for sake of her so called “ safety ” that was more like Clark’s way to be overprotective of her, he didn’t even realise he was doing something wrong when it was too late.   

He came back from a patrol, tired in a mood to just go to sleep. He stepped inside Lois’s apartment to be met with the dark-haired woman he loved standing in his way.  

-” You’ve been avoiding me for days after you forgot about our anniversary.”- She said strongly, looking at him with pain in her eyes. - “It cannot be this way. You treat me like a baby, like I’m a trophy, a precious item to protect, but...”- she continued, tears visible at the corners of her eyes. Clark stood there, his face full of sadness as he let her speak. - “I’m not. I had a life before you Clark Kent and you won’t be the one to take it away from me. I faced dangers while speaking truth in newspaper and i didn’t need your protection.”- She was hurt.  

-” Lois... You know it never is like that! I’m not trying to cage you, you have a life, you-”- he started, but she didn’t let him win. Not when he was at wrong.  

-” I can’t even get out of house to go grab a drink with Cat, not that I like gossiping, but- You get my point!”- She looked at him, dead in the eye.  

-” It’s to protect you, I never meant to hurt you!”- He said looking deeply into her eyes.  

-” Clark... You’re a great man, protective, nice, altruistic...”- She started, voice in pain, trembling when words hit too close to home.  

-” No Lois, no... Don’t do this to me, not you... Please.”- He felt his breath choking him.  

-” I just can’t... You’re better off without an obstacle like me and I’m better off single...”- She stated. It was a harsh truth, at least to her eyes. She was a great person, and it was a fact Clark had to face, he was overprotective of Lois, and he knew he couldn’t change it.   

-” I understand your choices, Lois... I really love you, but I can see that I’m holding you back.”- His lips curved into a delicate smile. He pulled her into a hug, she hugged him back, cried into his chest.  

Minutes passed as they held onto each other, they exchanged a final kiss, a kiss which cut off all the romantic ties. They indeed held each other back, their priorities were very different.   

-” Friends?”- Clark asked with a hopeful tone a smile on his face, a hurt smile. He heard a chuckle in response.  

-” Sure, Smallville.”- She answered with a smile on her face.  

He got up from bed, he had morning shift at the Daily Planet, he looked at the reflection in the mirror, he felt off putting with the memory of breaking up with Lois, it was all in the past, yet he couldn’t stop feeling guilty. He still felt responsible for Lois safety, she was his best friend now, but he gave her space she needed this time. Another day of acting before him, Clark Kent, not that he didn’t feel good as him, as Clark he could be more himself than he was as Superman, it’s just that keeping his powers restrained was quite draining.   

He put on his flannel, this one had brown pattern, he put on a white undershirt too, then a pair of classic jeans and a pair of simple shoes. He liked his human life more than he expected to like it. He made his way to the office, hearing some shit-talking about Superman along the way. Most of the talk was that “ Superman was a danger to society ” and that “ He should be kept away from society, because he wasn’t human ”, it stung him every time he heard it, the racist remarks, the ugly speculations that “ One day he will turn his back on humans ”. It didn’t make any sense to Clark, and he didn’t understand the reasons behind such talk, but as far as he could know it was a part of ugly human culture.   

He entered the office greeting everyone along the way, this day office seemed to be pleased at the sight of him. Last time they treated him like this it was when he and Lois became official (which was 1,5 year ago), so he knew something was up. He wished that elevator would go quicker, the looks that were send him at the ride drained the will to live out of him.   

He practically stormed into the office, it was quieter than usual...-“ Right, Cat is sick. Wait... CAT IS SICK. ”- He panicked internally, which meant someone had to cover the Brucie press conference for her, this meant only one thing: the person covering for Cat was Clark. - “ I’m doomed. ”- he thought as he sank down on his chair. A hand was rested on his shoulder.  

-” You’ve figured it out already?”- Lois asked with a quiet snicker in her voice. He nodded and made a sad face. - “Look at the positive side of things! You’ll see you future Boyfriend and you could ask him about the whole ‘backing out from charity’ thing you’ve been investigating.”- She said with warm smile plastered on her face.- “ Beautiful. ”- Clark thought to himself while he looked at the Woman standing in front of him.  

-” Yeah... You’re right Lois. But you still need those ugly gossips too, right?”- He asked and rolled his eyes. He seemed to be the only one noticing the amount of good that Bruce Wayne actually did to the society.   

-” Sadly, Smallville, sadly.”- She answered and playfully pushed his shoulder. He let out a sigh and looked at her with a small smile.  

He wasn’t the type of gossiper, not that he was a biggest hater, he just didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, maybe it had something to do with the fact he was judged like this every day as Superman. A couple of minutes later Jimmy gave him a paper with all the qustions that Cat was supposed to ask (or at least try). He looked at them, the questions were pretty basic- “Do you plan more investments in Metropolis in the future?”, “Do you plan on becoming married?”- questions were really random and made Clark mutter some words under his nose. This kind of questions were the reason why he was an investigative reporter; his questions always laid a blow where they were supposed to.   

He was looking at the “ Wayne charity case ” for weeks now, but he didn’t seem to find anything interesting, the only thing he found out was that Bruce Wayne was smarter than he wanted anyone to know- he cut off all the millions of dollars for a single charity, without a word, the stock market didn’t suggest anything, it all was really suspicious, especially when all the other charity funds remained intact. That’s one out of two reasons why Clark was obsessed with Bruce Wayne, the Man wasn’t what he made everyone to believe he was which made Clark feel seen in some weird way. The second reason? Have you seen his photo sessions? Everyone had a little bit of crush on the dreamy Billionaire.   

Jimmy said he should be ready to leave in 10 minutes, so he got up from his chair and took his bag, stuffed the “Wayne charity case” files and some questions on sticky notes he had made in his free time into his bag and got to get going.   

Chapter Text

It seemed to be like every other press conference, the speaker, here it was Bruce Wayne in all his glory, that stood on a stage with microphone, behind him a new park painted a nice-looking picture. All the reporters stood in front of the stage, as well as some bystanders that happened to be interested by the event. ‘Town square’ was just a fancy name for the place in front of the mayor’s office that had a modern fountain in the middle and was big enough to hold big masses of people. Nothing too fancy, what couldn’t be said about the new park. Once more Metropolis had been bathed in sunlight, you could hear quiet chirping of the birds. Even if the city was one of the larger ones it was rather peaceful, people here were friendly and open, at least on the surface, yet it still was weird how warmly they accepted Bruce Wayne as their donor.- “ The charm of money. ”- Clark thought to himself.  

Clark got there just in time to witness Bruce being escorted onto the stage by a very smiley police officer, as suspected the billionaire used his charm in every moment possible. In all his Superman glory, Clark had to admit that Bruce was really intimidating, the way that the dark turtleneck exposed his muscles that looked like they were meant for practical use, the Man was taller than Clark expected him to be too, he would risk saying that they were around the same height. Even in such a simple outfit Bruce looked really out of place, over the top. He seemed relaxed and friendly, but it was the eyes, the sharp, dangerous look in them that made people respect him deeply. All the reporters and camera man that gathered looked really fancy in their long, elegant dresses and suits in comparison to Clarks simple style, yet they still couldn’t compete with the pure classiness of Bruce Wayne.  

Clark and Jimmy made their way onto the front of the gathering that started to double in size in mere seconds. Him and Jimmy stood right in front of stage, which meant that they were lucky, people argued for a place this close to the stage.   

Bruce talked with the mayor who started laughing at some comment Bruce made, he could’ve listened in, but his Ma raised him to be better than that. He was really trying to fight the urge that grew bigger and bigger in his stomach.  

-” ...And then I said to her: ‘Sorry, but I’m not interested’. Bro, I tell you, those girls are crazy, she like stalked my social media later!”- Jimmy was talking about third girl he rejected this week, the man really attracted a lot of people which seemed rather weird to Clark, maybe it was something about being a photographer.   

-” Jimmy, have you considered building a stable relationship?”- Clark had asked the younger man, who just rolled his eyes at the response.  

-” That’s why I like talking with Cat-”- he started with a fed-up tone but was quickly interrupted by the mayor.  

-” Ladies and Gentlemen! We are glad to welcome no other man than Bruce Wayne himself in Metropolis today!”- the mayor simply stated and walked off to sit at the chair behind Bruce, letting him take the spotlight.   

-“ I’m more than glad to be so warmly welcomed in Metropolis city and of course more than happy to see all the pretty faces.”- Bruce said with a playful tone, that seemed to never leave him.  

 It hurt Bruce more than anyone to act this way. He hated the fact he had to act dumb and answer even dumber, out of pocket questions. He just wished that maybe today will be somewhat different and people will start asking things about the actual topic of this press conference.  He felt somehow calm which was something new, usually in events like this anxiety would eat his insides making him unable to answer the questions properly. The medications made him feel that way, but there was a downside to it too- his senses were duller, they still were on meta-human level, yet he felt how much slower he reacted to certain things.  

- “I just wanted to say that being able to reconstruct Metropolis is such a privilege for a person who lives in Gotham. I’m aware that Metropolis is all about protecting its community and trusting those who can be trusted, so it’s a real distinction.  I hope that this public park will be a great initiative for anyone in need of fresh air or a place to socialise.”- He added with a delicate smile which made his sharp features pop even more. People started chattering when they saw the smile too- “ Ultimate charm... ”- Clark thought to himself.   

Clark didn’t sense catch anything weird about Bruce’s performance beside the fact that this man was a master at hiding his emotions. Even if his face was relaxed his heart rate was elevated, like the one people get before a panic attack. Something in the man’s way of being screamed “ Help me. ”, it was this dull look in his eye, his mind seemed to be elsewhere. No one beside people with super-senses could catch the way Bruce really seemed to be, which made Clark quite impressed.  

- “ We can begin the questions segment. I will try to be fair and choose as many of you as I can before I have to get back to Gotham, so please let’s not scream and make things quick.”- he said with politeness that was to die for. It was so easy to be charmed by him, by his presence and looks, the way he put pressure on certain words.  

Questions flew and answers did as well, Wayne seemed to be more talkative today, which was quite out of character. He usually gave people a short answer that was full of flirtatious accents which made reporters think they actually stood a chance- a great technique to avoid certain, unpleasant questions.  

Most of the questions were irrelevant to the purpose of this press conference, yet he still answered them. Clark got slowly annoyed at the behaviour of the other reporters. He was left alone by Jimmy who wandered off to take some pictures for Perry. The conference slowly took shape into a gossip session he witnessed daily in his workplace. He was left alone in the battlefield and finally raised his hand. To his surprises he seemed to catch Wayne’s attention almost immediately.  

Bruce was used to see excentric people every day, he was one of them, besides almost every rich person was like this. The way these people wore flashy furs and pearls, collected weird stuff just because they had nothing to spend their money on. Their house often were sanctuaries of weirdness, dedicated room for taxidermy of rats? You’ve got it, just ask the right looking person. But this Man? He looked so out of place that Bruce pitied him. A farm boy surrounded by fancy-looking reporters that often tried to outshine Bruce himself.   

He smiled sharply at the curly-headed reporter which looked weirdly familiar. Something about this man screamed “ Be careful ”.  

-“Kansas boy!”- he even chose a nickname, his voice loud and powerful as he spoke. - “What can I do for you?”- he said while awaiting a question.  

Clark looked at his object of admiration, the way that Bruce’s attention was on him made him feel like playing in fire, in this moment he understood why so many people ended up tangled in the sheets with this man.  

-“ What made you choose Metropolis? I mean there are lot’s of other cities that need this kind of investments more.”- Clark asked, he felt a little bit of heat crawling onto his cheeks as he spoke. Even as a reporter he felt a little bit of embarrassment speaking publicly.   

When Bruce Wayne let out an amused groan he felt like won in life, the Man seemed happy at the fact someone started asking good questions.  

-“Well, we have a lot of workplaces, and we are expanding into new cities, big amount of our workers is from Metropolis. To my knowledge it’s actually more than 35% which is astronomical looking at the fact we operate mainly in Gotham City.”- he started, the fact he knew the percentage from top of the head was quite impressive, it pushed Clark even further into theory that the ‘ Thirsty animal Bruce ’ seemed to be was just a mask.- “So I thought about doing something for their community as well, our workplace wants to make everyone feel accepted despite our differences, one of the ways to show this is to help the community.”- His answer was... Great. Clark hadn’t expected this outcome, but he would gladly take it. At the end Bruce sent him a wink which made Clark question his existence.  

Bruce was satisfied with the question and made a mental note to check his interview requests to hopefully find a request from “ Daily Planet” , or whatever did “ Clark’s ” nametag which was attached to his flannel say. He took another look at the reporter while answering another question to see his hand up once more. He looked more focused than before, he was biting his pen and held the other hand up waiting to be chosen.  

He decided to strike again, his hand up once more and Bruce’s eyes on him, the way these light eyes looked at him... It made him scream internally. An efortless hand gesture was made, a sign to speak up.   

-“Recently you stopped funding one of biggest charities that supported youngest citizens of nearby cities.”- he began, he heard the heart rate of his target elevate even more. Bruce knew something and trying a little bit too hard to look composed. -” The organization helped dozens of people. The question is: why stop funding it?”- There it was, Clark had asked what he wanted to ask in a long time. He heard Bruce’s heart stutter for a moment before his heartbeat went back to normal. He touched the loose strands of hair before chuckling a little.  

In seconds the Man was in front of him, and as Clark suspected- Bruce was his height. He leaned in closer, Bruce’s cheek brushed against Clark’s ear.  

-”I hope I can answer your further questions at an interview at the Wayne tower .”- He whispered with grave seriousness that seemed threatening before pulling away and sliding a business card in Clarks flannel’s pocket.   

Everyone seemed shocked, most likely making up scenarios that were far from the truth. Clark stood there, frozen with shock, he watched Bruce walk away. - “ A true wolf in sheep’s clothing. ”- Clark thought to himself as he watched those muscular hips work while walking. Moments later he registered a familiar heartbeat that forced him to stop daydreaming, Jimmys hand waved in front of his eyes, trying to make him come back to reality.    

-“Clark... I leave you alone for a second and the next thing I see is Bruce Wayne running off after giving you something in the most flirtatious way possible.”- He said expressing genuine worry for Clark, Lois had already told everyone that “Clark was hopelessly in love with Bruce Wayne” , well the fact was it was a sole admiration for the way this man helped people through the backdoor. Clark sent Jimmy a threatening look and the boy waved his hands in defensive manor.  

Being an extremely wealthy, public person made you experience hate and judgement for anything you did, you could’ve saved a baby from a burning building and people would still find a way to criticize you, saying that “ You should’ve saved the plant from the window too, not only the baby! ”. Clark knew this feeling too well, so he admired how Bruce silently took people’s eyes off of his money and made them focus on stunts he pulled at galas or parties.   

Clark took the card from his pocket, a number was there, as far as Clark could tell it wasn’t the company number, but some other one that wasn’t available to the public's eye. The back of the card read “ This number is changed every month. Do not publish, it’s a way to contact the secretary. ”, Clark was impressed to say the least- a number to dial for immediate causes.  

-” Let’s just get going Jimmy...”- he said with a tired sigh. - “Please... Do not comment.”-Clark added quickly and could feel the way the Man looked at him with a suggestive smile that made Clark blush with shame.  

They both stepped into Daily Planet, Clark took notes about gossips just like Lois asked him too. He was very consistent with taking them, sometimes he used superspeed to write down everything in detail, which was really appreciated by the Woman. He threw his bag onto his desk and sank deep into his chair. Shame and a weird kind lust had played with his head, the way that Bruce smelled clean with delicate hint of fragrance which didn’t fit the “manly” profile, it made him loose his mind. The soft, warm air that came out of Bruce’s mouth when he spoke had stuck with him, making him dizzy. The cold tone was something that turned Clark on. He was on could nine while thinking about the whole interaction.  

-” Well, well, well...”- Lois said her tone judging and most certainly unhinged. - “Looks like someone is living his dream life, it’s sad Smallville... You already have a lot of advantages.”- She said, hands on her cheeks as she made a forced-sad expression.   

-” Someone might hear you, Miss Lane.”- he whispered in grumpy tone which made th woman sigh.  

-” You’re like an old man trapped in young body, Clark. You better give me your notes.”- She said and smiled playfully at him. - “And don’t bother trying to tell me what happened, Jimmy already told the whole office.”- she added before snatching the notepad from Clark’s hand and walked away to her desk.  

Clark looked at Jimmy who already stood by coffee maker with Cat talking about some nonsense and gave him a death stare that the Man couldn’t see anyways.  

Chapter Text

The ride to Gotham seemed to go by without any interruption. Bruce drove his black Mercedes through the streets, pulling smoothly into his driveway to be greeted with dark steel gates opening up before him. Fence surrounding the mansion was pure showcase of taste the Wayne family had for decades. Fence was steel, with pointy ends that faced up-right, it was elevated by dark brick wall underneath the metal fencing, you could spot the build-in lightning system right in front of the foot of the fencing. Beside aesthetical purposes the way it lit up everything around the mansion made you feel secured and protected. The gate was a stunning piece of gothic architecture as well, the way that the bended metal looked like a true art-piece made you stop in your tracs. A long driveway with lamps showed you way to the big, dark, gothic mansion that sat proudly on an elevated terrain that ended with a cliff side, when day was quiet enough you could hear the way that waves hit the cliffs. This masterpiece of architecture made you question your entire existence. This was a classy presentation of wealth, everything was thought trough, there was no place for over-the-top choices, just pure elegancy with polite spice only the Wayne family could pull off.   

He parked his car inside a garage that was automatic and took his car down to underground level to put it in his collection. He walked into the mansion that was quieter than usual. - “ Right, Alfred is in Metropolis. ”- Bruce had thought to himself as he made his way into the kitchen. Everything was spotless, but empty as usual. This house wasn’t a home, it was a remainder of his solitude, of the demons of the past. He knew his way around the house, he didn’t feel like stranger here after all, it was just memories that lurked in the corners, memories that never faded away reminding him of what he lost.  He was always mad at Alfred, at the fact he weaponized his grief in stand of helping him get through it. Maybe that was why he felt like this every day, so hollow, so... sad . There was no one to give him advice his whole life, no one to help him get up when he fell, there was always a voice of a man who took care of him. Now when Bruce grew independent, didn’t need anyone to hold his hand when nightmares came at night to terrorize him in his sleep the man came changed looking for father-son bond which he didn’t give Bruce when he needed it the most.  

It hurt him, he looked for father-figure for a parent after he lost both of his parents, he got someone who saw potential and used his sadness against him. Years of emotional neglect had put Bruce in a state where he didn’t care, he just couldn’t care... He felt like every nice word he was gifted with was behind a glass wall, a long and tall glass wall. He needed to get around the glass wall to experience something he deserved to, something other than loneliness and grief in his miserable, love-less life.   

He stood there next to the stove, remembering the way Alfred dealt with problems: he just simply didn’t acknowledge Bruce’s existence as long as he had a problem, this ignoring could go on for days. That’s why Bruce just stopped. It’s not like he hated the Man, no, he was in fact far from it. Alfred helped him and still did to this day, he was reliable, he could trust him in times where he could trust no one, it was just that... Their relationship was purely boss servant, there was no emotions or attachment involved, there never was, so it made Bruce feel uneasy when Alfred tried to be his father.   

He wandered upstairs, the halls that were decorated, yet so empty hunted him, they always did. He sometimes felt guilty that he did nothing to change this house, that he did nothing to make this house feel like home, but he didn’t want to change it. The fact was he was scared, scared of getting attached.  

That’s why the ongoing partnership with Superman was a disaster for him. He grew to like the sunny hero whose mouth never seemed to close, the company that Kal-El provided was nice. He admired the way that this hero had so much hope in people around him, more than Batman ever could. It was scary how attached he grew to the man, he was cold to him, he felt the need to be, to protect himself, protect that little boy inside him who lost everything he cared for in that alley.   

He laid on his bed, resting, knowing Superman is out there, doing what he should be doing, he feels guilt, he tries not to care. He lays in his bed, no distraction from his grey reality today, he traces his ribs with his finger, carefully- a soft, grounding touch... A touch that reminded him of Selina, of her hot lips on his neck, speaking nonsense he enjoyed hearing. He smiles and drifts away slowly.  

-  

His head was dizzy, he felt high, the same way he took too many pills in hope to don’t feel the pain and guilt eating him alive. His hands trembled delicately in the Batsuit, he stood on Gotham’s roof in his suit, the cities fog blurring corners of his vision, making him feel light-headed.   

-” Are you sure you’re okay, Bats?”- asked the familiar voice that made hair on his neck rise. - “You took quite a beati- Oh! Batman!”- the voice screamed as strong hands caught Bruce in warm embrace.  

He felt so dizzy, the Man smelled like summer in countryside, he was warm, extremely warm. The man was talking to him, trying to catch his attention, but Bruce closed his eyes, he felt so dizzy, so... exhausted . Not a moment later he stood alone, the hot embrace disappeared leaving him alone and cold in darkness. Snow was falling from the sky, he stood alone naked in the middle of snow that grew with every second, he didn’t see anything at all, he fell onto the ground, he felt his body growing lifeless, colder. The snow covered him putting him to rest, blinding and suffocating him. Bruce... he didn’t mind, he accepted it. He closed his eyes and just wished quietly it just didn’t hurt. - “ God please... make it painless. ”- He thought to himself.   

Everything grew quiet and peaceful, felling of suffocation stopped... Everything went silent. He didn’t have to care about Gotham anymore, he...  

-  

A loud alarm made him open his eyes, gasping for air he didn’t want to gasp for anymore. He just put hand on the alarm clock and felt growing miserable. Next thing he knew his work phone rang, voice of his secretary- Rhonda Smith- greeted him.  

-” Bruce, Darling. A reporter called yesterday after the press conference, an interview. I said you’ll meet him at your office at 3pm.”- the Woman announced in her warm tone. Rhonda was a typical mother, she really cared for Bruce even if he was a grown man now, but he didn’t mind.   

-” It’s okay, thank you... I’ll... I’ll be there.”- he said trying to sound convincing that everything was fine, he just heard the woman sigh and mumble something under her nose before she hung up leaving Bruce to himself once more.   

-  

He got to the office sooner than he expected. Rhonda gave him a sharp look, like she knew something wasn’t adding up, but just like Alfred she chosen not to comment.  

His office was really modern. It was a big space with high ceilings that almost looked like an apartment. There was a conversation pit that contained three black, leather couches and a dark oak coffee table. Right next to it was a hot bar with coffee machine and an electric kettle for making tee. In front of the door, next to the biggest window there was a big dark oak desk with modern, black chair behind it, in front of it sat two big, black armchairs who presented themselves less proudly than the chair meant for Bruce Wayne to sit at. Office was spacious with modern decor that was minimalistic but dark and cozy with dark oak and brushed metal accents that filled the space nicely, the greenery did it’s job too.   

The whole space was really intimidating if you weren’t the one it was created for. People who had the privilege to be here, to do an interview here said that the space complemented Bruce really well, which was hard to not agree on.  

He made his way around the office, his outfit was a simple all-black suit, his hair was in the same artistic chaos as always, Bruce liked to think it added character. He made himself some coffee and sat behind his gigantic desk and began to work on the files he always put away for later, not even 10 minutes in Rhonda entered his office. He looked stealthily at the woman and noticed that the reporter was there as well.  

-”Okay, Mister Kent, I’ll leave you here.”- Rhonda said it with a happy voice...- “ That’s certainly something... ”- Bruce thought to himself before looking at the reporter.  

Bruce began analysing the man, he seemed nervous, not that it was something new. He wore a white shirt this time with a pair of black boots and jeans. Looking at him the billionaire just couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen the man before, his presence it was... familiar .   

He stood up from behind the desk and held his hand out for Clark to shook, which he did. Bruce’s hand moved onto Clark’s shoulder, and he felt the familiar heat radiating from him. He gestured towards the conversation pit and the reporter made his way there without a word, but with a smile that was oddly familiar.  

-” Coffee, tea?”- Bruce asked the man, who jumped at the question. - “ Really nervous, huh... ”- Bruce thought to himself and just knew something was off, he grew really suspicious of the man.  

-” Actually, water will be best.”- the man said with the warm tone which he shared with another person Bruce knew. Bruce didn’t question it further but promised himself he will take a closer look at the man while he was interviewing him.   

The dark-haired head began pulling out papers that were neatly clipped together, with annotative stickers and stuff, Bruce was pleased to see that the man was prepared. He pulled out an audio recorder, a note pad and a pen. He looked at Bruce for a moment and then pulled out a loose piece of paper.  

-” Okay Mister Wayne... My name is Clark Kent as you probably know, I’m working for Daily Planet .”- he said with this hopeful smile.- “ I think all Metropolians have this in common... ”- he thought at the memory of Superman smiling, it was a nice thing to think about, actually.- “Do you mind if I record this interview? If yes, then please say if you want to go off-record.”- He asked and explained.  

-” I see that all the Metropolis citizens are a ray of sunshine, huh? And I don’t mind.”- He said and watched the reporter clumsy hit ‘ start recording ’ button.  

-” Okay, my name is Clark Kent from Daily Planet , I’m here with Bruce Wayne.”- He started, his voice warm. - “I’m going to proceed with an interview about Wayne’s Enterprises c harity funding system. Don’t get me wrong Mister Wayne, us as simple citizens really appreciate every penny you donate to charity, the problem is- why stop?”- he said, reporters focus was always on him, every time he moved Kents eye followed. By these actions billionaires suspicion grew. He wasn’t talking with someone ordinary- the man’s ear twitched when Bruce’s heart rate picked up, then when he slowed it up it twitched once more. He grew anxious, fearing that Clark may be someone sent to stalk him, but still proceeded with the interview. - “The thing I’m referring to right now is the fact you stopped funding ‘ Help4kids ’ really suddenly. My research shows that you invested hundreds of millions of dollars into the fund and just stopped. With all due respect, but you people never do something like this without a reason.”- Kent said, his tone dangerous now. - ” He clearly stands for charity and protection, that’s why he is so upset. ” -Bruce thought and looked at the man that seemed to relax.  

-” I think I underestimated you, Mister Kent.”- Bruce said, matching the sharp energy, losing the Brucie act along the way. - “You’re clearly educated at the topic, but not enough to know that this can’t go into the public. We’re going off record.”- He growled. - “Now.”- His voice serious.  

Clark had never seen this man like this before, he didn’t question it any further, he just turned off the recording and started to scan the man in front of him, he didn’t read anything unusual, the only thing that was off putting was the billionaires heart rate, it elevated and went back to normal like ten times during this hot 5 minutes.- “ Maybe he knows... No... No way .”- Clark thought to reassure himself.   

-” Mind explaining it to me, Mister Wayne?”- He asked, he slowly grew tired of waiting for the answers that seemed to never go his way.  
-” You realize that if this goes public it will get you killed?”- Bruce blurted, not trying to keep himself composed. - “If you weren’t ignorant, you would check the charities history, but you prefer to blame one person in stand of looking at the whole picture.”- His voice sharp-edged, like a call out for a duel. 

-” You got it all wrong Mister Wayne.”- Clark stated, keeping himself together, he wasn’t looking for a fight that Bruce was trying to ignite between them, he was looking for answers. - “I have a great sense of respect for you and your charity work you try to do off records, I really appreciate the way you don’t want to be glazed by the media for your charity work.”- Clark tried to explain himself, but was met with a sigh of tired man.  

-” Okay... Just call me Bruce.”- He sounded defeated, and Clark felt like he just won in life. - “If you look through their files you will see that they were bought by someone from Mexico, off record, just changed owner and didn’t even go public with it, after that their charity work became more public, but the sums they invested in helping those children dropped from 90% of the money to about 35%.”- His voice tired as he said everything, Clark was met with the men’s piercing gaze and embarrassment from the lack of knowledge.  

-” That’s really off-putting, they have large sums of money to spend, it’s like biggest charity system around... It’s hundreds of millions of dollars missing every single month, that’s... Just straight up cruel.”- Clark’s voice was genuinely sad, he felt like he hit a brick wall. He looked at Bruce’s face, his expression unchanged. - “If I may ask..?”- He looked at the Man in front of him, he gestured to go on with his hand.- ”Why bother checking  up stuff like this, aren't you like one of the wealthiest man on the planet?”- He bit his tongue far too late, he saw a shadow of smile on Bruce’s lips.  

-” Looks like even a sweet Kansas boy can break character.”- Bruce said with playful tone. - “I live in one of the most corrupt cities on earth, Darling. I have to check to not participate in this kind of circus.”- He said, effortlessly lightning up the mood and Clark’s cheeks.  

Clark felt dizzy, feeling really hot out of sudden, he wanted to adjust his glasses when Bruce’s sweet mother-like secretary opened the office door with strength of a superhuman.  

It was seconds, the glasses fell to the floor, a delicate movement, rushed by an accident scraped off the reporter disguise like sandpaper. Bruce watched, not the falling glasses, but the man in front of him... It was... Superman .   

There was no place for a misunderstanding, he felt panicked, but he focused on making his heart rate even, trying to not raise any kind of suspicion. He looked at Rhonda whose eyes were really teary.  He didn’t think twice, he went up to Rhonda, everything started spiralling around him, he was lost. Superman was standing right behind him; he could feel his gaze at the back of the shoulders. Rhonda never cried, something was definitely off, her silence only stressed him even more, he rested his hand on her shoulder while listening to the shuffle that Clark... No, Kal-El did while packing.  

-” Bruce... There was... an explosion near Gotham city...”- She said her voice shaky, he felt anxiety filling his lungs, drowning him. - “Some kind of army equipment in a near-road warehouse...”- She added slowly, a tear rolling down her cheek as she spoke.- “It’s Mister Pennyworth ... his car fell down and hit the ground due to the fact highway was destroyed.”- She stated, not taking pressure anymore and straight up pulled Bruce into a hug.   

Clark watched the situation from afar, he heard the Bruce’s heart rate picked up at the mention of the man’s name, his breath became jumpy, he was having a panic attack. Clark knew he overstayed already, but he was goddamn Superman, he couldn’t let Bruce pass away at the spot. He walked up to the pair and pulled Bruce away sitting him at the floor (the chairs were too far). Rhonda knew what was going on.  

-” Oh my God, Bruce! I’m going to get some water and meds, try to calm him down.”- She announced before departure. - “So it’s not the first time...”- Clark thought to himself and actually felt sorry for the man.  

-” Okay, Mister-... No Bruce look at me.”- He said in serious tone, the man did as asked, to which Clark was grateful for.- “I want you to name me 5 brown things you see around here and take deep, slow breaths.”- Clark said, he didn’t care if this felt idiotic.  

-” Uh... The chair... The coffee machine, the desk, the mug you drank from...”- he started saying, his voice growing calmer with each word. - “Your bag.”- Bruce said and pointed in its direction. He took deep, slow breaths as he was asked to.  

-” See? Better.”- Clark said smiling and let go of Bruce’s shoulders. - “I’m sure that Mister Pennyworth? Is in good hands and in a hospital, it’s going to be fine.”- Clark said with this warm, hopeful tone.  

Moments later Rhonda came back with the water and placed it Bruce’s hand, then she walked up to the desk and took out a bottle of pills.  

-” I leave him to you, Miss Smith, I overstayed my welcome anyways.”- He said before bowing down and grabbing his bag to take his departure.  

-” It’s all right, Darling. You were a true hero today.”- She said and waved him ‘goodbye’ when he left through the door.   

After the door closed, she handed Bruce the pills and gave him a warning look.  

-” Pull another stunt like this and I’ll make sure to bury you.”- Her voice grave serious as she looked at the man in front of her taking the pills. - “You always forget to take them... And you never react this way, I’m sure that Mister Penny-”- She was cut off by deep sigh.  

-” I know... He is going to be okay... I just have a harder time lately.”- He said and looked at her, his eyes sad, empty just like they always were. - “It’s... Really hard to be alive.”  

She didn’t comment, she just pulled him into an embrace that was tighter than humanly possible.  

Chapter Text

He just stood there looking at the Man who hurt him and the man who helped him. Alfred wasn’t a saint, but it’s not like Bruce was one either. Doctor spoke to him listing injuries of the unconscious man on the hospital bed. Bruce seemed to be in another place; he wasn’t paying attention to anything other than his butler... than his stepfather. He didn’t really want to acknowledge the fact he saw the Man as a father figure; Alfred has wronged him a lot of times and never really made up to it.  

Emotions definitely weren’t his strong side, he bottled them up, saw them as intruders who were unnecessary. He took this way of thinking from Alfred, the man never seemed to care how Bruce felt about certain this, being able to cry and express joy was a privilege he didn’t get to have; maybe that was one of the reasons why he didn’t feel sad... He was just angry, confused. In his mind Alfred was immune to everything, he never saw the man struggle, all he ever saw was perfect composure.   

-” Is there anything else, Mister Wayne?”- The doctor asked, looking at billionaire with pity in her eyes.   

He hated it, the pity, it was like a plague. He was always pitied; his whole life revolved around pity.   

An orphan, who saw his parents die? - Pity.  

A man who was alone in his mansion, never letting anyone in? - Pity.  

A man closest he had to family was hospitalized? - Pity.  

It was always like that, people liked to offer their warm words which never eased the pain, but when it came to doing something? No one was there to help. Bruce wanted to speak to someone, to tell someone about the way his little lungs burned at night when he screamed while sleeping... He saw it all in his sleep, the way the bullets flew, killing his parents. He saw their blood on his hands, the way crimson liquid hugged him, screaming- “ It’s your fault. ”. He saw it all and one thing more. He wanted to cry, to stop holding back his emotions, but all he ever was a freak, a weirdo who didn’t belong to society. He was this quiet kid, who never spoke unless spoken to, the kid who saw everything and freaked everyone out by it.   

He was bullied for it, for the way he acted, all he heard from teachers was pity, but the time he fought back? It was anger , the way they shamed him for standing up, so he just stopped. He watched people move, go on with their lives while he was frozen in time, in grief that was never surpassed, a grief which turned into anger.  

-” It’s all.”- he answered coldly, the doctor didn’t react, she just left him there. He felt the way she gasped, trying to say something, but let go in the process.  

We walked up to the bad, looking at the man before him. A tube in his mouth, the casts and metal wires meant to stabilize him like a prison. He touched his cheek.   

-” I’ll find them... I’ll do what’s right. I won’t make the same mistake again.”- Bruce said, his voice trembling at the words, as well as his hands.- “God, am I pathetic, huh?”- Bruce said and looked at Alfred, a sad smile taking shape at his lungs.- “I won’t disappoint you, I will hold my shit together.”  

He was just angry that he wasn’t there in time, angry at himself for letting something like this explosion happen in his city. Gotham was like an affair- it left you emotional, wanting more and often in crumbs, ruining your life.   

He sat by the bad and grunted, slowly acknowledging the fact that there was a second problem unfolding- a Superman problem .   

Bruce must admit, the technology was impressive, as well as Kal-El's acting skills, well the skills at acting fucking dumb. He really admired the man, Superman was sharp, but really clumsy which was quite... Cute . Looking back at the whole case Bruce was thankful to himself that he didn’t pull anything else... Flirting with Superman and whispering to his ear? It was fucking embarrassing. He covered his face with cold hands and stopped to let out a deep breath.   

First of all: Kal-El or Clark Kent was Superman, second of all: the man could be even more useful than he already is if Bruce used him right, and for the final part:  

- “Keep yourself in check Bruce.”- he whispered to himself in exhausted tone. He couldn’t let the man inside; he didn’t want to ruin him.  

The whole Clark persona was really sweet and definitely charming; Bruce speculated this might be the closest you get to Kal-El's true personality. He just... Didn’t feel like enough for the man, besides he was Superman, a God like super-being which looked like it was carved out of marble, perfection in most humble way. He couldn’t be warped like Bruce; he couldn’t like men... He wasn’t a fuck-up who needed fixing.   

These thoughts came to Bruce after any kind of intercourse with a man, he felt dirty, guilty. He would take longer showers, not look into the mirror when he passed one. He felt bad for even thinking romantically about Kal-El, the man was... normal , great far beyond human comprehension. He knew what kind of look the man would give him, so he just kept the feeling for himself for a while. He will have to suck them up, like he always did anyways.   

-  

Clark walked out of office panicked, he could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, it was one thing to help someone while being Superman, it was another one to help someone as dorky Clark Kent. A man half his size escorted him to the entrance of the Wayne Tower - “ They really made sure no one overstayed, huh? ”- Clark’s mind suggested, but he brushed it off. The glass door with steel accents opened up, revealing the uncanny beauty of the Gotham city. It was middle of spring, yet the whole city was covered with this dense atmosphere, which was often associated with winter, not only that made him feel out of place, but people also here just seemed to be distant.   

People may be distant towards each other, yet they were more tolerant than people of Metropolis, when someone didn’t like you, they didn’t hide it behind a bougie smile, they actively showed it. Gotham didn’t seem to comment on Batmans actions too; they just appreciated the effort to make a change without the need to criticize it. This city in all its flaws was tolerant, they weren’t like Metropolis citizens which seemed to participate in everything that was trendy.   

After this a realization hit him, he seemed to forget that his glasses fell off during interview, a sensation of panic hit him. - “ What if Wayne knew? ”- but something pushed the feeling back- “ No, no way... Not after the panic attack. ”- Clark tried to convince himself. All of this happened so quickly... He never thought that he would be honoured to help Bruce in anything, especially in something like this. A burning sensation of temptation risen inside his stomach, ready to explode any moment, he pushed it back, he felt a bit guilty for feeling this way while helping the man in one of his most vulnerable moments ever.- “ Bruce must’ve been so embarrassed and I act like a teenager. ”- he shamed himself and pinched the bridge of his nose.   

Before he knew anything he already was inside a train ride to Metropolis. Everything was awfully quiet, he noticed it while filling for Batman for couple of days. This city seemed to plan something big, Clark started thinking about the alleged explosion of a warehouse full of weapons maybe it was something to after? He will look into it after he got home. His thoughts drifting from one thing to another, he was shaken, couldn’t keep his focus too well, his mind drifted to the fact how strongly Bruce reacted to the mere mention of Mister Pennyworth. He wasn’t feeling sorry for the billionaire, nor the butler, he knew they were going to be okay, but the way the Man reacted... He never seen this amount of emotions coming from this man, these empty, almost dead eyes glistened with feelings, and they never did (Clark looked at all the photoshoots and magazine covers really carefully).  

He was quickly drawn away from his mind, he looked around and spotted a man bothering a Woman which seemed geniuenly terriefied, her heart rate was through the roof. The man put his hand on her bag, saying something to her. Clark stood up, acting like he was trying to get off the train, due to fact the train was stopping. He just ‘oh so accidently’ bumped into the guy and made him drop the purse.  

-” Dude! What the fuck!”- he said while pushing Clark, the woman quickly grabbed her purse and nodded in thankful manor at him before moving away. - “I’m talking to you, fuck face! You made her runaway!”- he growled before pushing Clark once more.  

-” Now, now, what’s the big deal? You were about to rob her.”- Clark stated in friendly voice with not so friendly facial expression. The guy shrugged nervously. - “Listen, just get off the train, I’m twice your size, you don’t want any problems.”- Clark threatened in suddenly serious tone, he could hear the way man swallowed saliva.  

-” Yeah, sure, whatever...”- The man said and when the train stopped seconds later, he almost ran towards the exit. Clark smiled with satisfaction.  

When he turned to go back to his seat, he could see all the eyes on him.  

-” You showed him how it’s done.”- Said some man and laughed while looking at Clark.  

He felt appreciated and smiled at the man next to him. He really did feel heroic, even more than in his suit.  

-  

The sun had began to pull under the horizon, leaving the twin cities cold, dark, chaotic. Gotham’s night life was almost dead beside thug activity and bars filled with far too many drug addicts, Metropolis night life was in full bloom- cozy restaurants filled with couples, streets filled with teenagers that were far too cool to stay at home. While sun wrapped it’s last, more colourful tentacles around corners of the buildings while making its way down, some people rose with the moon whose silver aura consumed the earth, calling Batman on duty.  

There he stood on top of a rooftop on the edge, close enough to it for anyone underneath to notice, his cape flapping at the night breeze, he was lurking, like a stone gargoyle on old buildings, waiting like a hunter looking for its prey.   

A beep on his watch, coordinates were sent by commissioner Gordon. His lens was already showing him the way, he flew above Gotham’s streets like a ghost, striking fear into anyone who needed to be scared. He knew the coordinates- one of Gotham’s banks, a small one which stocked a lot of cash. He knew this play too well, he stood on rooftop which crossed ways with the robbers. The truck could be heard on the horizon. - “ Three... Two... One. ”- Bruce counted and jumped down, his cape looking like fallen angel’s wings. A loud creak of metal soles of his boots could be heard, the metal spikes went smoothly through the roof of the truck.  

Gun shoots, into the roof, every single one missed him, he walked towards the windshield, he broke it into shards, the metal knuckles of his gauntlet coming in handy in this kind of activities.   

-”Yo!-”- The thug didn’t manage to finish his line, Bruce pulled him out the window and threw him onto the road.   

The truck turned rapidly, Bruce jumped off and did a spectacular flip while landing, the truck crashed into a building. His lens said that the costs of repairs weren’t anything spectacular. The other three man jumped out from the back of the truck, they knew for who to search, Batman pulled out two batarangs and threw them into the first man’s eye and knee, he fallen onto the ground pushing the metal weapon even deeper, blood forming a pool around him. The other two man started panicking, the lens read their pulse spike higher than they already were.   

One charged straight onto Batman while the other one began to run away. Bruce grabbed the neck of the man who ran at him, his hand like vice, he threw the man onto ground, he let out a loud cough, a steel boot coming to kick his ribs once, twice, for the third time... Bruce held back, just one last stomp onto the knee for good measure, he left the man screaming in pain.   

The man who ran off was already 152 meters away, Bruce shoot his graplin hook onto the nearest building, he pulled himself up, the force striking pain in his shoulders, but he pushed it away. The landing on the rooftop definitely wasn’t one of the good ones. He had to cut the tug off, he won’t lose the guy, not here, not in his city. He parkoured his way to the runaway, he was more determinated than ever before. He wasn’t going to give the guy satisfaction of running away.   

There he was, his pace significantly slower than before, Batman wasted no time, he shoot his graplin hook, it hooked onto the edge of the rooftop. He jumped, swinged at the guy, his legs straight, the force pulling his shoulders agonizing.   

His metal soles met the guys back, Bruce let go pushing the guy down, forcing the man to have an unpleasant meeting with asphalt, his boots landing with loud crunch of broken bones. Bruce looked at the vitals- “ stable ”. Behind him the sound of police sirens, his job was done.  

A soft breeze before him, his head moving to face the familiar heat of Metropolis- Superman. This was the last thing he wanted to see, he felt his heartrate spike, he made it stop. - “ Focus Bruce. ”- he grounded himself.  

-” Need a lift?”- Kal-El has asked in his warm voice which made Bruce’s heart ache for something more than being partners.   

Chapter Text

Loud wailing of police sirens was left in the back as they made their way to a rooftop to get away from the chaos unfolding because of the robbery. The flight there was extremely uncomfortable for Bruce who was carried by Kal-El. He felt heat rising to his face, even if he wasn’t too keen to admit it. Once his feet felt the ground, he felt the tension between them rise even more. Superman seemed concerned.  

-” Uhm... The whole time we flew here your heartrate was really high, Bats...”- Superman said and rested his hand on top of his shoulder.  

-” I’m just scared of heights.”- Bruce answered and felt disappointed in himself. - “ Get yourself together. ”- He thought and covered his face with his right hand.  

-” If you say so...”- Clark said with suspicious tone.- “I heard you were back, please don’t freak out but I heard a fight and just couldn’t stop myself from investigating, especially after such quiet couple of days.”- He explained himself, the last part alerting Bruce.  

-” What?”- He asked with incredulous tone. A lot of unwanted, catastrophic scenarios played in his mind.   

-” I mean beside a couple of armed robberies there was basically... nothing .”- It must’ve hit him; there was something going on. - “There is something going on.”- He added making a sad face towards Bruce who mumbled something.  

-” Most definitely. Gotham will be my end.”- He commented quietly, Clark heard it anyways and let out a chuckle, a captivating one, one that made Bruce stare with amusement.  

Superman seemed to notice the was Batman looked at him lately, a weird feeling crept on his back. He never understood the man, he was so cold, acted nothing more than indifferent towards him, but it was moment like this that made him question everything. The lover of the night, Dark knight who exterminated crime life with passion, looking like an angel of death, his moves always calculated, every mistake he made was quickly taken care of and never made again, a true master at his profession. Cold and stoic, never expressing emotions more than sufficient. Clark knew that under all this was just a man, a human who continued with his life without his cowl, but he couldn’t help but perceive the man as one, big, lonely disaster. He saw the way Batman rolled out of uncomfortable topics, flinched at certain words or suggestions, how he delicately pushed Clark away when he got too close, yet moments like this, like the subtle shift under the mask that only Superman could notice it told him there was a man, probably hurt far too many times to let the guard down, that he fought battles with himself to protect his peace. A man scared of changes.   

He didn’t question his partners reactions any further, he cherished every single thing that Batman had to offer.  

-” Kal-El, you there?”- Batman asked in his stoic tone, making Clark shake his head.  

-” Yes, yes, I am, just don’t call me that, the name brings certain unwanted memories back to me, ‘ Superman ’ is just fine.”- Clark answered. He hated the name his parents gave him. You can call him petty, but he still felt hurt by the message his parents left him. He didn’t want to be associated with them more than needed.   

-” Okay.”- Batman said, Clark could feel his judging stare. - “Parents can be cruel, just don’t let them choose who you are.”- Bruce said with a hint of sadness in his voice. Clark tried to hide the shock on his face; it was the most emotions the men expressed since they first met.  

“ Yeah, that’s right Bruce, way to fucking go. No emotional attachment. Great. ”- he screamed at himself internally, fighting the urge to just run away and never come back.   

-” Are you sure you’re okay?”- Clark asked, just to make sure and was met with a death stare which drained the colour out of him. In this moment he understood how the criminals felt.  

-” Back to the topic- we need to find a snitch, some random thug won’t tell us anything, we need gangs, someone higher in food chain.”- Batman said his voice back to suffocating neutrality it always had toward him.  

-” Got it.”- He answered with a warm smile on his face. - “Send me coordinates if you find anyone, I'll do the same.”- he suggested before taking off.  

To say that Clarks mind was being drowned in thoughts wouldn’t do the actual situation justice. - “ Maybe something happened in his private life? ”- this seemed to be the loudest and most probable scenario. It’s not like the both of them didn’t grow close during this year, it would be his dream to be friends with Batman, but the man pushed him away at the slightest mention of this scenario taking place.- “ Maybe he just changed his mind... ”- Clark tried to convince himself, but the scenario seemed almost impossible. He will have to talk with Lois about it, over pizza and wine. Not that he can get drunk anyways, he just wants to accompany his best friend.  

He flew above the streets, not too fast in case he missed something. He was listening in to every conversation people he passed had, one moment of distraction and the whole night might be finished. Minutes passed and there was nothing interesting, no signal from Batman either, which meant that he didn’t find anything either, he trusted the man dearly, he might have been a mortal, a normal human but he most certainly wasn’t acting like one, his skillset was unbelievable to Clark, the man represented peak of human abilities.   

He took a turn, slowed down before flying above a larger group of people which seemed occupied by ‘Happy hour’ at a nearby bar which had tables standing outside- “ Quite brave. ”- he thought scanning the crowd.   

-” The guns, it’s their fault. I said to change the barrel of the gun, but they didn’t listen.”- said a short, petite woman. Clark could tell she was drunk or at least intoxicated.   

-” Now we have Wayne on our ass... I swear Madame will kill us, the same goes to the two other bosses. Aw, men and to think the money was so good!”- The guy exclaimed while the woman was nodding in acknowledgment.   

There was no place for mistakes, they were talking about the warehouse explosion, the one which affected Mister Pennyworth. He felt angry, but he would have to suck it up for now. He could play out two scenarios:  

First one was to fly to them and kidnap them to get information, which seemed over the top considering both were really drunk and he didn’t want to cause mayhem.   

Second option was to get Bruce here and look at them from a far while waiting for them to get done with drinking and then abduct them to get the information.   

He sent a signal to Batman and decided to play it safe, considering the part of the city them decided to split the other hero will be here is approximately 5 minutes. Then an unexpected third party came to join the two drunken suspects. It was a woman, short and fit, she wore a tight-fitting leather and short, dark hair. She was attractive. She sat next to them without asking anything and smiled at them.  

-” Y’all are on this too?”- She asked, purring out every word, just like a cat. - “We must be working in different places then...”- She added and smiled at both people. The guy seemed to be hypnotized by her presence, while the woman was certainly interested.   

-” Talk about it!”- The other woman scoffed. - “The money was so good, but they had to fuck something up and everyone takes the blame... Fucking guns.”- She said, her voice genuinely annoyed and tired. The guy seemed offended by her words.  

-” How about we take this conversation to my place, I’m scared the city has ears.”- The Cat-looking woman said, she was convincing.  

-” Mmm...”- The guy smirked. - “Only if you have whiskey, this one tastes like fucking water.”- He added and ran his he and trough his hair.  

-” We’ll come either way, excuse Jacob’s manners. Name’s Olivia by the way.”- Said the petit woman and smiled.  

-” I’m Kylie, and don’t you worry I have enough alcohol to drunken the Dark Knight himself.”- She said and everyone laughed. The sudden mention of Batman’s name made him feel uneasy.  

He felt a hand on his back, familiar heartbeat behind him. He got here just in time.  

-” Looks like you met Cat-woman already.”- Batman said, most likely referring to the girl in leather suit. -” She will take them into this alley. I knock them out cold, you take them onto the rooftop.”- Batman demanded and handed him a rope.  

Moments later the man jumped off the rooftop, gliding on his cape towards the alley on the opposite side of the street. The next thing Superman saw was Cat-woman taking the pair straight to Batman. With his heightened senses he heard the two punches that flew and a comment.  

-” You’re brutal Bats, something happened?”- Coming from Cat-woman's mouth. He stopped to listening due to fact his Ma taught him better than to eavesdrop.   

He flew down with the rope, he tied both thugs up and took them onto the rooftop. He witnessed how Cat-woman put on her mask with delicate cat ears, Batman rolled his eyes at the sight, which suggested deeper personal ties between them.   

-  

All that was left now was to wait, he and Bruce were alone, Cat-woman patted Batman’s shoulder and said mysterious “Call me later.” before walking away, leaving both to handle the rest. The whole day seemed confusing to Clark, so much happened.  

-” How much longer, huh?”- Clark asked trying to lighten up the mood. The atmosphere was so dense you could cut it with a knife (or a pair of laser eyes). There was no reaction from Batman’s side .- “Listen, I’m trying to be friendly, okay? Let me.”- Clark said and put his hand on his partner’s back, making a quick up and down movement, the second thing he knew? The heartrate of the man spiked up like crazy, he took his hand away quickly. Was the man afraid of him?  

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep sigh.  

-” I... Just...”- He fumbled with words and groaned in frustration. - “I’m not looking for friends, this is work. We work great together, we are efficient, that’s what matters.”- He said, his words weren’t too convincing to Clark, yet he felt... hurt .   

This was like a blow to his stomach, did he get everything wrong? Were all these moments they shared just pure annoyance from Batman’s side? He wanted to say something, to say that he knows that it’s a lie, that he knows the truth... Was there any truth here? They lied, both of them. Liying about their identities, about their whole life, everything was a lie made up for them to keep their comfort. There was no truth. Clark swallowed the punch, he knew better than to strike. Maybe that’s what they were meant to be from start, pure co-workers that were too good together to separate. He looked at his companion, his body language suggested regret, his uneven breathing stress.   

-” If you say so, Batman.”- Those words were hard to speak and came out rougher than expected, a quiet “ tch ” was heard, his partner made this noise just to himself, he didn’t comment, even if he wanted to more than anything else.   

He expected these words, Batman did nothing to suggest a friendship rising between them, yet Clark was delusional enough to think otherwise. He should’ve seen it coming, these words shouldn’t have hurt as much as they did.   

-” They’re waking up.”- Batman said nonchalantly and looked at the criminals who were tied up together right under their feet.   

The mood was gloomy, atmosphere thick with guilt and regret, but there was no place in between them for emotions to take over. Maybe it was acting like moody toddlers that had problems with expressing their emotions, but it wasn’t time and place for this discussion.   

The woman tried to scream but was unable to due to fact there was a muzzle on her face, the man just sent them a fed-up look.  

-” Not the first time we meet, huh Jacob?”- Batman asked and chuckled dryly at the men, definitely not a pleasant sound. Then he took a step towards the man who started shaking because of the fact he was approached by Dark Knight, Clark was creeped out. Batman just took off his muzzle. - “Speak.”- He commanded the man.  

-” Listen Man... I just want to get back home in one piece, I have a kid.”- the men said with pleading voice. Clark just watched, he didn’t want to interfere.   

-” Oh, I know about this, a wife and a side-lover also.”- Batman commented with cold tone. - “Who the fuck do you work for?”- He asked simply.  

-” Listen if I tell you I am as good as fucking dead.”- He said to Superman’s surprise, the man really wasn’t scared.  

Then came the awful crunch, his partner broke the guy’s nose, must’ve hurt with these metal-finished knuckles on the glove.  

-” Fuck! Shit! Son of a-”- the guy groaned out, tears running down his cheeks.  

-” Okay, I’ll try.”- Clark interrupted and Batman moved away from the guy. The man looked at him with saved look in his eyes.- “The three people, woman and two men. Names or my partner over there will make sure it hurts.”- he offered, but the other thug started saying something.  

Clark removed her muzzle, she gasped for a breath for a moment, then she looked him dead in the eye.  

-” We don’t have a name for ‘em, we just get money. Y’all are lucky that I’m higher up that this fuck face.”- Her tone fearless, which impressed Clark, even if she tried to scream before- “ Maybe it was just shock... ”- he thought. - “I just know that the woman owns Gotham’s finest hotel, this rich ass shit hole full of corrupted pricks.”- She said her tone tired.  

-” Are we satisfied with the information?”- Clark asked Batman in tone that never was meant to come out the way it did.   

-” Yes. I know the woman, she hosts the charity ball for the ‘ Help4kids ’.”- He said to Clark, his tone quite tired and gestured for Clark to get rid of the thugs.   

Clark was used to gesture, he just rolled his eyes, grabbed the pair and hanged them off his shoulder and flew them to police station in Gotham. He explained everything to officers there and after approximately 7minutes was back on the rooftop. Batman was doing something on his weird-looking phone, most probably checking information, the moment Clark landed on the rooftop his head snapped to look at him. It always overwhelmed Superman, the way this man’s reaction time was almost perfect, he never met another human with this kind of reaction time.   

The dark silhouette before him was menacing, it was meant to be, but he found it quite lonely. A figure of the night, working alone, never letting anyone to close, scared of getting hurt. Clark knew it too well, the feeling of being alone, he felt like that every day.   

Every time he read another article on Superman, the way they described his alterity as something bad, something worth getting rid of or even killing. Despite the fact his parents told him to dominate, he never wanted to, he wanted to fit in to show people that other doesn’t always mean dangerous or bad, yet society wanted to prove him wrong.   

He wanted to be let in, he wanted to listen and understand what Batman felt... He just felt the need to help him, to reassure him that there was always a shoulder to lean on. He knew that his companion was a maverick, a sick one that would risk his life to prove it, he hated it, oh how he loved it.   

He wanted to ask him if that really was the way he felt, something deep down told him that this was a form of defence from being hurt, he saw the same thing happening with Lois, but he didn’t push it. Batman was much dearer to him; he couldn’t risk ruining the scraps and crumbs that were left.  

-” There will be a gala this week, Friday evening, she will host it, the woman’s name is Dhalia Stacey, a tall blonde with green eyes, mid fifty's. She is friendly with everyone. Figure things on.”- Batman said in cold manor which hurt Clark more than kryptonite ever could.   

And then he left, without a “goodbye”, without a sound. He felt like he was just a fun thing to play with for a moment, but he shook the thought off.  

Chapter Text

Last thing Clark wanted to do was going to Daily Planet . Radio silence between him and Batman was crushing to him, he didn’t know if other man felt similar, and he didn’t really want to know. He felt played in worst way possible, even if days passed already.  

He dug through the papers suggesting that Lex Luthor was using his technology exterminate every super being on earth (not like it was something new to him). His mind was absent while he scrolled the text which seemed endless- reports of usage he got from someone inside Luthor corp. He paid a little for this information, even if it was obvious, but he was a reporter not a psychic, he needed proof. His story was almost fully written; he just needed to wait for Perry to confirm it.   

-” Clark?”- Jimmy asked, looking at him with concern. - “Are you okay? You’ve been sipping from empty cup for past hour.”- He added making a fair point.  

-” Yeah... Just zoned out.”- He admitted. It was a half-truth, he felt guilty for lying, but he had to keep Superman a secret. - “Luthor had drained the life out of me... This article will still get taken off in like what? 10 minutes? He and his money.”- Clark whined which seemed to push Jimmy away from further questioning.   

-” If you say so... Just go take a break or something I feel pity when looking at you”- He said before patting Carks shoulder and walking away.   

He went on Daily Planet page and hit refresh, his article was up for 5 minutes already, then clicked refresh another time and it disappeared.  

-” As expected.”- He mumbled and saw Perry walking up to him, most likely to tell him that he is sorry, that Luthor’s team threatened to sue them for astronomical sum of money the definitely didn’t have.   

-” I’m sorry Clark, I tried, they are ruthless.”- He said with a sad face. He knew that this situation had taken its toll on Perry too. The men then just simply walked away.  

He just sunk deeper into his chair, running his hands through his curls vigorously. HE was distracted, deeply distracted by Batman and the whole Bruce Wayne situation. In fact, he needed to reach Wayne the moment he got a hold of any information about the whole charity case. He opened his drawer to take out the folder with the case, he wanted to take second look at the documents in case he missed something.  

He was proud of his annotation system; everything was as clear as sky in sunny weather. He began to read the files. Nothing too spectacular, most of the paper were just transfers from Wayne’s accounts onto the charity account. He felt ashamed that he didn’t notice the fact someone bought the foundation, it was done so quietly that it never really hit the news or anything. He opened his computer and started his painful digging session. It was always so tedious, reading every file looking for the smallest clue which may never come.   

He dug through the biggest donors, until three months ago it was Bruce Wayne, but then someone from Mexico started donating even more, then the same person bought the whole charity. He tracked down the last time that Wayne made a transfer- it was a month after the change of the owner, the donation was significantly smaller than the other ones. The moment that the owner was changed the charity opened accounts on multiple social media platforms. - “ Looking for fame, huh? ”- Clark thought and continued looking. He went on the accounts; they were just simple videos or posts which showed off the amount of money the charity had or videos of some kids getting new medical equipment with the charity's logo. He didn’t understand why going so public was needed, they seemed to be doing just fine before, it’s not like opening accounts made them any good, the donations didn’t skyrocket or anything... Sure, there was more donations, but nothing too spectacular. Then he started looking at the newer posts- seemingly neutral foundation started posting about the way Lex Luthor helped the poor kids, how he gave the charity big amounts of money to operate with.   

A flash back struck him, Bruce talked about the way less and less money actually went to those in need. He needed to take a look, their social media turned into political rampage, no mentions of kid in need. Before that their internet side always kept track of who they helped, they showed the sums of money they spend, and names of kids granted the help. It was great to check if the money actually was invested in right things, but lately the site showed no updates, the same goes to their social media accounts. Everything went silent, just like Gotham City. - “The charity ball...”- Clark remembered.   

Some of the aspects started to clear up, Lex Luthor and his usage of weapons, the two thugs he stopped with Batman talking about the warehouse that exploded, cut funding and sudden politic turn of the company, the propaganda... Everything seemed to be taking a shape, the way Luthor blocked every article that mentioned the weapons but was fine with any other criticism.   

“ You realize that if this goes public it will get you killed? ”- The familiar voice of Bruce Wayne echoed in his head, a warning.  

Clark wasn’t worried about himself, he would live, he was T he Man of steel after all, but Lois, Cat, Jimmy, Perry and Bruce weren’t. The fact one of the richest people on planet who could wipe any problem off the face of earth with his money was scared seemed to suggest that Clark shouldn’t take this case solo.   

He would have to wait for the charity gala next week, he was going to be there as Clark Kent, he was selected to go. He would have to find Bruce and talk him into another interview, but most importantly he will have to find and question the hostess- Dhalia Stacey. Batman suggested that he will be there undercover too, so when the meet they will be able to compare intel.  

-” Smallville, you considered ending your shift now? They don’t pay overtime.”- Lois joked, but concern leaked through the cracks of her words.  

-” I didn’t notice...”- Clark said quietly, looking at her with puppy eyes. - “You have time today?”- He asked while he was at it.  

-” For you? Always.”- She said with a smile and hugged the man. - “I’m worried.”- She added, her tone serious.   

-  

The apartment wasn’t really impressive in size; it was enough to be comfortable and cozy. Clark made his space warm and delightful it perfectly resembled his way of being, the greenery and warm toned browns screamed ‘ summertime’ , everything here had a practical use, well maybe beside the big collection of plants and action figures he had. He had a couch and armchair with coffee table, the space was big enough to fit five people, a small group of people closest to him, but for now it had to fit Lois and Clark. The woman was laying down on the couch covered with a blanket, while he sat on the floor in front of the couch, his head resting on couch cushions next to Lois’s legs.   

She ate pizza while researching Clark. His flannel was draped on the armchair, his bland white T-shirt was definitely too thigh on him, he didn’t have his glasses on, Superman with curly hair was quite cute. She finished the slice and let out a sigh.  

-” So, mind telling me what the fuck happened? We are sitting in silence for thirty minutes already and I’m getting bored.”- She said, her eyes like pins, looking sharply at the other reporter.  

-” I think I've wronged Batman himself...”- Clark whined while the woman laughed.  

-” Dark Knight himself? That’s impressive Smallville, I thought you had a crush on the man?”- She said, and Clark looked at her judgingly.  

-” No, I didn’t.”- He said, his voice taken aback.  

-” You like totally flirt with him and talk about him all the time.”- She returned the ball to him with fatal precision.   

-” Well, I’ve given up, that’s why I’m living my Bruce Wayne fantasy, he is filling the gap.”- He said, rolling his eyes. Charge him guilty for that, but he was a sucker for people who didn’t want him.  

-” What did you even say? I know the man isn’t too friendly, but he put up with your shit for a year, he didn’t even criticize you once.”- She did have a point, and she knew about it.  

-” Well... He started acting off lately, opening up? I don’t know how to call it to be honest, he even tried to comfort me, which surprised me... The whole atmosphere lately had been tense between us, like... I think he is annoyed with me, Lois.”- Clark said, he covered his eyes with his hands and looked at the woman next to him. She didn’t dare to interrupt him, she just waited. - “Then I tried to lighten up the mood and he just told me he wasn’t looking for friends. I feel hurt, you know?”- He said, but his companion didn’t seem to buy what he said, it frustrated him.  

-” Something isn’t adding up, you know?”- She said, her look speculative. - “I need details, all this time in Daily Planet taught me something.”- She send him a wink.   

-” Well, okay...”- He groaned and had to force himself to speak. - “Let’s start with fact that I took care of Gotham while he couldn’t. I heard fighting so I flew there to inspect, Bats had taken care of everything, so I just offered him a flight to nearby roof to talk about my shift in Gotham.”- He started and looked at Lois for approval.- “ The moment he saw me he grew extremely tense, I wanted to read his pulse but he forced it back to normal.”- Clark said and was met with confused expression.  

-” What?”- Lois asked, her tone surprised.  

-” Yeah... He can just do that, okay?”- Clark said and she just gestured for him to continue with his story. - “He knows that my name is Kal-El and he calls me that sometimes, I expressed that I’m uncomfortable because it reminds me of my parents and he went on trying to comfort me... It was even weirder because it actually worked, he is good at this. Come to think of it I had make a slight remark that he was acting off...”- Clark admitted and looked at Lois, but she stayed silent, processing information. - “After that he grew even colder than usual, later when I tried to warm up the mood he just said he wasn’t looking for friends. It was weird Lois! He never said anything like this before, and there was this woman with him...”- He said and Lois almost kicked his head at the mention of Cat-woman.  

-” He has friends? Unbelievable, you know each other for over a year and he didn’t mention her even once?!”- She said, her tone surprised.   

-” She seemed worried for him, you know? They seem close too.”- Clark said, his tone expressing worry for his partner.  

Lois stayed silent, taking in the information, he looked at her to be met with a piercing gaze, which terrified him.  

-” You’ve fucked up Smallville, big time. You’re so oblivious, I swear.”- She said, her face expressing disappointment.  

-” What? What do you even mean by that!”- Clark said, turning is head to face her, she then proceeded to laugh straight at his face.  

-” His heart does stutter when you’re around, shoulders growing stiff?”- She asked with a smirk, keeping eye contact.  

-” Yes, but...!”- Clark cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose. - “I’m so fucking dumb Lois...”- He breathed out, feeling guilty and listened to Lois choking on air while laughing.  

-  

He knew this would happen eventually, he pushed everyone to the edge and when they started falling, he tried to catch them. He did the same thing with Selina, well not exactly, she liked Batman better, not Bruce, but at first, he pushed her the same away, she was just too stubborn to give up.  Now there he was, in front of his mirror fighting the urge to drink away his problems or call Selina. She was great support, but he wasn’t ready to face the truth, to face the fact he might’ve developed unwanted feelings for the man. He took his medications, hoping this would push the feelings away for patrol time.  

He knew he hurt Clark; he knew that it would have its toll on his life. The whole way to the cave he felt frustration building up, he wanted it, he wanted all Superman had to offer. It was so wrong, it was so filthy and disgusting, he wanted it.   

When he finally put his cowl on, the only thing keeping his sanity in check he felt guilt, he felt fear. He knew Clark would push him away once he knew, well Bruce saw that the man showed no romantical interest towards him, the whole press conference situation crept to this mind, but he pushed it away, he must’ve felt embarrassed, who wouldn’t be if someone pulled that kind of act on him?  

All his mistakes, all his feelings made his actions sloppy, too slow and too imperfect. He took down a small gang, nothing spectacular, he should’ve done it in less than an hour coming out without a scratch, but he came out stabbed by some low-level criminal who got lucky. All the way to mansion he was angry at himself, fighting everything in his body to make a call to Selina. Blood started leaking through his suit, he felt his fingers growing cold, yet he made his way up the construction site to meet with Jim Gordon who light up the bat-sign. He needed to get there, if Jim wanted to tell him something it must’ve been connected to the warehouse explosion.  

He made his way up, his head growing dizzy, he lost some blood, he didn’t really care about it in the moment.  

-” You called.”- He barked out at Gordon who flinched. He stood far from him, so that he wouldn’t notice his injury. Dim lights doing him favour.  

-” The warehouse explosion, we know what tech caused it. I bet you already know who is responsible, you just need confirmation.”- Jim said, his voice professional, the fact was that Bruce didn’t even look into the case at all. He was far too consumed by drowning in his solitude and overworking himself (at the Wayne Tower and at patrols) to keep his mind off of Clark Kent.- “Well, the tech is labelled with Lex Luthor’s company logo, which is weird because the man doesn’t have any magazine in Gotham, only outskirts of Metropolis. Another thing is, he doesn’t sell to anyone.”- Gordon said, he turned to face Batman once more, but he was already gone. He just let out a sign and went to turn off the light.  

Bruce felt like he was fighting demons, he was acting psychotic, he knew it. He laid on the med bay bed, fumbling with his suit, trying to take it off to take care of the wound. The sewing process was even worse, he was cursing himself out while snitching together the skin, he should’ve acted quicker, but of course his martyr side had to get better of him. His fingers were sticky with blood, every time the needle went through the skin of stomach was dangerously pleasant. The delicate hole the needle left, the flow of fresh blood, agonizing smell in the air and the metallic taste in his mouth drove him over the edge of sick pleasure which rested nicely in his crotch. Once he got done with sewing his stomach together, he just cut off the thread and laid on the bed for a little while. He felt the way sleep delicately touched his eyelids, pulling him onto the other side, the way Morpheus was whispering sweet words to his ear, only for him to hear.  

-  

-” You up, Bruce?”- Clark had asked him, his voice dripping with sunshine which he so adored.  

He lazily opened his eyes, a thunderstorm of black curls and icy-cold blue eyes hidden behind glasses looked at him, smiling, hugging him with sunshine. He reached in front of him taking off the glasses of the reporter. Bruce’s fingers tracing the cheekbones and nose which seemed to be sculpted out of marble by Michael Angelo himself. He touched the face in front of him, the warm skin contrasted with his cold fingers, the perfection clashing with Bruce’s ugliness. Superman seemed to lean into touch, both of their naked bodies clasping together, sending a blush up Bruce’s cheeks. A warm giggle went out from Clark’s mouth; he licked his lips and went in for a kiss. His soft, warm lips kissing him, his tongue inside Bruce’s mouth touching his tongue, gagging him at first, but Bruce pressed into the kiss, breathed into it. Then he pulled away, biting Bruce’s lower lip, making him bleed, Bruce let a moan slip out from his mouth. Clark’s lip formed words, but he didn’t hear them.  

-” What?”- He asked confused, his voice felt foreign.  

-” I said that you ruined me.”- Clark’s voice cold, low, full of emotion. The soft light of the morning, the warmth disappearing. - “You filthy Faggot.”- He hissed, his tone angry, both of his hands on Bruce’s throat. - “You’re disgrace, you’re shame, you’re guilty! I should exterminate you, you low life animalistic homosexual.”- The choking feeling in his lungs, he wanted to push him away, to fight back, but he couldn’t. He just felt his body trembling; he seemed to accept the punishment coming from Clark’s hands.  

He was everything he said he was; he ruined it, he ruined everyone and everything he came across. He is a disgrace to the Wayne’s name; he was from the beginning.  

Chapter Text

Clark’s days slowly passed, Metropolis wasn’t as criminalistic as Gotham city, but patrols were necessary, minor assaults and robberies happened on every corner- big city activities. He was two hours into his patrol routine and already stopped an armed robbery, which was something exciting for him.   

The whole Batman situation made him open up his eyes a little. He never thought the men had any feeling at all, especially towards him, the guy was a walking definition of depression and solitude, he was aware that it was rude to think about him this way, but he just couldn’t really help it.   

His head was up in clouds, he stood in front of the store in which the armed robbery happened, now waiting for the police to arrive to get the thug to jail and hopefully prison. He could hear the sirens already but had to wait for the police to pull up, having super hearing came with its costs. The car started loom at the end of the street, he felt his muscles loosen up, he took a quick glance at the cashier which was being calmed down by a pedestrian which happened to be a nurse. The poor guy was in his early twenties; he got really scared when the robber pulled out the gun and got an awful panic attack.   

The car finally arrived, a pair of police officers taking care of the situation, one of the men called someone on the radio, while the other one was taking care of the unconscious criminal. Then he heard it, from the guy by the radio, a low toned, quiet comment while he put away the radio.  

-” Fucking meta piece of shit... Shithead thinks he is someone, Luthor is right. Danger to society.”- The police officer commented while eyeing Superman. It took him by surprise, the hatred in his eyes, how his voice was filled with venom. The guy walked up to Superman and took his hand to shake it. - “Superman! It’s an honour to cooperate with you.”- The lie rolling smooth off the guy’s tongue, that’s where Clark drew the line.  

-” Oh, I’m sure it is, working with a “ meta piece of shit ” which is “ danger to society ” is an honour.”- Clark said, his voice warm and welcoming as ever.   

He could see the way the guy grew red, his heart rate spiking up, fumbling with words, Clark walked away. He patted the other officers back.  

-” Good work, Pal.”- He said and heard the heart rate of the guy picking up.  

-” Thank you, Superman!”- Said the guy, radiating with happiness.  

He flew away, a little bit proud of himself. The guy will think twice before speaking racist slurs again.   

Living in Metropolis wasn’t for anyone, the city represented higher working class, corporation-rats with big egos no amount of money could satisfy. This kind of people were either the sweetest you ever met or the shittiest, most of the times it was the second option. Even while working his boring job at Daily Planet, he heard slight remarks, hateful ones. The same went for the nicknames people gave him, it could be nothing, yet if you leaned too close you could hear the hatred hidden behind cute words. He hated this place, the city tried to keep you in a box, putting new labels every time you breathed too loud, controlled you putting you under pressure of preforming perfect every time. This pressure which Metropolis had to offer made people scream to let them out, got them praying that tomorrow gets them higher.  

He looked down at the busy night streets, glistening with colourful, neon lights and reflectors of cars driving to their destination which is known only to them. He thought about Gotham, about the city whose neon lights were naked and sharp, which night-noise consisted of gun shots and shattered glass, of the city of warmness once you got to know them, once you gave these people a chance, they would never let you down.  

He closed his eyes picturing Batman before him, the night the words were said. The man seemed genuinely terrified. Every time his mind hit ‘play back’ of this mind he seemed to notice more and more things, the regret hanging thick in air after Batman spoke his mind, the warm words which were offered to him, the words which seeped with regret and... truth . His voice sophisticated, connected with life lessons, not just empty speculations or heart-warming letters glued together. He felt his breath growing heavier, a click on his communicator, his brain sparked back to life, this happened only when Batman or Justice gang wanted something, he secretly wished it was the first option.  

He pulled out the communicator... “ J.G. here, cords.:xxx” , he was too hopeful to believe it could be Batman. He took last glance at evening Metropolis panorama, he was high enough to not hear city’s rumbling and chaos, but low enough to see cars and people crowding on the streets. He let out a sigh and flew to the coordinates with sonic speed.   

-  

He got there just in time to witness Kendra being thrown straight at Guy, Michael looked rather disappointed in them. They were fighting with some kind of robot whose size and artillery of weapons was rather impressive. It was one Luthor’s design, it was sleek and modern, no weak spots for normal human to see, hard armour and joints, almost impossible to penetrate with normal weapons.   

He flew up to face with Mr. Terrific who was occupied with analysing everything around him, yet his eyes flew straight at Clark.  

-” Glad you’re here, we need your strength, we can’t penetrate the armour, we only leave dents.”- Said the man and went back to his previous activities.  

Superman flew straight for robot's head, impact from the blow should be enough to leave the robot losing its centre of gravity. Then it happened, a strong blow of air with high frequency noise, which made Clark’s ear drums scream, it left him free flying backwards, he stopped himself before hitting a building behind him.  

He shook his head; he didn’t have time to care for the high-pinched ringing in his ears. He flew for the hands then, swirling around another blast. The robot needed time to form such blast, when Hawkgirl and Green Lantern began to attack once more, this time coming for the joints which were much more vulnerable the robot seemed to focus on them more. Clark grabbed the giant arm and began to try and rip it off, he used a lot of force and succeeded. The arm now sparking with electricity was dangerous to just leave alone.  

-” Did you evacuate the area?”- He screamed looking at Mr. Terrific, the man sent him a look and Clark knew to don’t underestimate him ever again.   

The arm was heavy, it was rather impressive for Clark, he slowly laid the useless thing on the ground, carefully to don’t impact the city’s infrastructure. He looked up to see that Michael joined his friends and they began to attack the newly opened weak spot the robot had, before Clark could move, he heard low robotic noise and the lights coming from the machinery began to shut-off. The robot began to fall down, the whole team moved away to don’t be hit by the impact while he flew to support the robot and try to not damage the buildings surrounding them.  

The thing was massive and heavy, he felt the way his back muscles worked, the same goes for the arm ones. He was still suspended in the air; he felt the way he slowly lowered himself, ground almost beneath his feet. The process was slow; he did it to minimalize the damage (the same thing couldn’t be said for his muscles). He sent the Justice Gang a glance. Kendra and Guy seemed to be beat up, some scratched and bruises scattered across their body’s, while Mr. Terrific was analysing something they all didn’t understand. He couldn’t help but think, the painfully long and quiet moments like this seemed to cast magic on him, the raw intelligence that Michael Holt represented was similar to Batman’s, it wasn’t the same, no. Michael moved like a ballerina, he treated everything like an interesting game, there was no time to do, there was time to think, while Batman was cold, treating technology and his deep, impressive analysis as necessary to don’t make mistakes. Michael saw art and life, while Batman saw duty he needed to fulfil.   

Then the day greaming stopped, his feet hit the street, the robot was secure now. Before he knew it Mr. Terrific stood next to him, eyeing him.  

-” No, I don’t want to hear your whining.”- He said quickly before Clark could even open his mouth. - “Whoever did this must’ve analysed us. The robot was basically crafted to destroy us, the blasts made Kendra unconscious, the noise was too much for her to handle, while Guy is getting angry and frustrated really quickly when he can’t smash something into pieces. I could’ve interfered, but I preferred to do an analysis, I will look into it more deeply and work on solutions when we get back.”- Holt said, his voice as emotionless as ever. Both of the men had similar way of speaking about this kind of thing, the cold, sophisticated tone which rumbled at the tip of their tongues made them sound terrifying and easy to respect. Clark just nodded in acknowledgment before looking as the trio went back to their base.  

He stood there for a moment to make sure everything has been taken care of, he wanted to scan the robot, looking for anything that could be potential danger to people who will have to take care of this mess, but he just couldn’t scan the robot’s head. Was it lead perhaps? His parents used to wrap his gifts with this stuff so he couldn’t peek. He got closer to the robot to see that the eye of the robot still followed his movements, it froze him in tracks. He had to make sure the thing didn’t harm anyone else, he began scraping off the layers of metal and other composite materials, when he made his way through the final layer, which as he suspected was lead he found himself ripping out the cables shutting the robot off completely.  

Then sudden spark of pain went from tips of his fingers straight to his collar bone, he let go of the cables which thudded loudly, hitting the metal of the robot. He took a look at his hand, now covered in dark veins, scattered on his body in various patterns, twisting around his hands. - “ Kryptonite poisoning. ”- he thought to himself, the pain slowly wearing off, but much slower due to fact it was nighttime already. He stumbled backwards, sudden dizziness taking over him, he needed to get away from here, quickly.   

He began walking off to safe distance, he still needed to call Michael or...- “ No, not Batman, why would I even think about it? ”- he reprimanded himself. This wasn’t time to think about the man, he needed to give Batman space, the man hadn’t contacted him even once since the last meeting. The cables began glowing with green, but dim light. He pulled out his communicator and send a signal to Mr. Terrific, to the private line.  

-  

Well, the one who received the message was actually Bruce. He was in the middle of choking a criminal, standing in the sea of like twenty criminals, all of them had a leather jacket with yellow, checker collar, which couldn’t be mistaken with any other gang. He took care of one out of many divisions of this people. They were all hateful pieces of work, which seemed to scavenge on people who were too incompetent to stand up for themselves. They were this kind of people which organised protests, demanding higher living standards, but they went on and trashed the whole city at night.  

-” Mister Batman, man!”- The gang member screamed. - “Let me g-”- He was knocked out cold before finishing.   

The police sirens were wailing in the distance, but Bruce couldn’t wait for them, he took a glance at the people beneath his feet, he walked over them.- “ They don’t seem to start moving away time soon. ”- He thought to himself, a sheer disgust crept to his head. Those people made him feel this way. He jumped onto his motorcycle; he left it nearby for convenience. The automatic * beep * came from his communicator. - “ S.: Kryptonite, cords:xxx ”- stated the message. It was enough to send adrenaline rushing from his feet towards his head. A hint of fear, an unspeakable image showed in his mind.  

The row rumbling of the engine sliced the night sky, it’s teeth shuttering sound making lamps light up in windows of civilian houses, interrupting the illusion of night peace, the sign of upcoming change in human form; then the screech of the tires on dry asphalt, a rare sight in Gotham city, city of rain and decomposition.  Smoke came from underneath his tires, he was going head onto the police squad, he didn’t care, swift movements and precision of his mind making his motorcycle going in-between the police cars with surgical precision. He was sure that heads in police cars snapped backwards hopeful to see him pass by, but he was already leaving them behind.   

He knew that this must’ve been something serious, after days of radio silence, after his words... Which came out rough, unpolished, no, they were meaningless, they were never meant to be said out lout or even appear in his mind. This sick and twisted mechanism that never protected him was an inseparable part now, a part which was his flaw. One of many flaws his persona had to offer, it didn’t matter if it was Brucie Wayne or Batman speaking and making action, he was flawed to his core, convinced he was unlovable deep inside, a scarred mistake who should’ve died years ago in that alley, there was nothing to prove him wrong anyways.  

Motorcycle like a bullet shoot out from a sniper, long-distance, powerful shot, destinated to scar and kill, he pierced and sliced through the Gotham city’s streets, passing the Gotham-Blüdhaven border without any complications. The city was like a child of Gotham and Metropolis, not bright enough to outshine the futuristic dream of Metropolis, not dark enough to bury Gotham six feet deep. The streets of the city weren’t really lifeful, they were just painfully average. His motorcycle engine challenging by-standers to look at him, his presence permanently chained to dark shadow of Gotham was a suggestion to stay out of trouble. The city was now left behind, his lens telling him he is just three kilometres away from Superman’s location. He felt a sense of guilt eating him from inside, he was punishing Clark for his own fears of getting attached, of letting someone inside.   

His tiers screeched awfully, the crowd of people which centred someone, - “ Superman. ”- he let himself guess, snapped their heads to him. His presence uncanny, almost scary. The black suit and big, sharp-edged motorcycle which presented itself like a ride straight from hell with all the gadgets and possible weapons attached to it contrasted with smooth, colourful Metropolis. His lens reading the people in front of him, the small, trembling civilians whose heart rate screamed “Scared.”.   

They understood what was going on, they parted, just like red sea to make way for the possible saviour of their sacred hero. Some people commented something under their noses, not daring to catch eye-contact with Bruce, while others sent him hopeful glances, which suggested trust.   

Then he saw him, covered in black veins, his eyes distant, unfocused. It was worse than he thought it would be, he speculated dizziness, maybe slight trembling of hands, nothing a day-off wouldn’t cure, but it wasn’t the case. He looked at Clark, now crouching in front of him, his glove touching his sweaty forehead, while the greatest superheroes lips trembled under his touch.   

A spark of worry in Bruce’s eyes while watching Superman fade away, he knew it wasn’t deadly, yet the man was exhausted, intoxicated on substance he never wished to be next to in the first place.   

Rumble of metal elements of his suit as he stood up. The gigantic robot laid silently, lifelessly behind the fountain which was temporary support for the hero’s back. He watched the delicate green light coming from the robot, he knew this was the place with Kryptonite which affected his partner so badly.   

He walked back to his motorcycle, he felt the way this big, crystal blue eyes tracked his every move, probably with slight relief and feeling of being wronged. Bruce could live with it, with being alive and alone, he always lived like this.   

He took out the lead bags which he prepared for such cases, forewarned is forearmed, then he proceeded to walk up to the demolished head of the robot. The light-green glow was delicate, yet as deadly as ever. He inspected the head further, it was covered with some kind of lead foil from the inside, with intend of masking the Kryptonite and as far as Bruce knew to force Clark to walk up to the robot and inspect the thing personally; such foils could block Superman’s x-ray vision too.   

He leaned against the robot and began pulling the wires. The process was quite tedious and painful to do, but he would manage to suck it up. He hoped he could make up to Clark a bit by doing something like this. When he was done with cables and other things from the inside, he just closed the bag really tightly. Radiation still could seep through, but it wouldn’t be anything significant to the hero.   

He walked back to the motorcycle; he made sure that the bag wouldn’t fall off during transportation process. He thought about the ways he could extract the element, yet he felt a lingering feeling of guilt at the thought. He wanted to build another wall between them, another conflict or misunderstanding, he knew it would happen eventually. He didn’t want to do things like this, he really...  

-” Batman.”- The voice stated, Bruce’s head snapped upwards. It was Michael Holt, Mr. Terrific, the man was rather impressive. - “I’ll take that with me.”- He said and took the lead bag from the motorcycle.   

Batman found himself silent, he didn’t protest, he felt relief. His expression stoic, unfazed, bordering with straight up cold and aggressive. Eyes as empty and sad as ever. He glanced around hoping to see the rest of the freaks, but there was no one. Terrific seemed really cagey, as if he had something against him.  

-” I have lamps that can imitate solar radiation of yellow sun with me.”- He simply stated, he found his voice to sound impatient and cold. It wasn’t okay, he sounded protective of Clark which seemed to not go unnoticed by Michael, of course it wouldn’t, the man had more PhD's than Bruce could’ve imagined.   

Hero took the information in, his face unchanged, but Bruce’s contact lens read an unsignificant, for normal people, spike in his heartbeat which could mean anything. The man gestured to Bruce to proceed with his plan.   

He began to search in the bag attached to the motorcycle. Rumbling of metal things stored in the bag was unsettling. The lamp wasn’t really big, it was still an unimpressive prototype, a smaller version of the one which Bruce had in the cave. He pulled the thing out, it could be used in pointwise treatments, it was the case here, only right hand of Clark was affected with Kryptonite.   

-” It’s still a poorly executed mini version of the big one I own in my med bay.”- Bruce stated and handed the thing to Michael. - “Keep it.”- He added before sitting on the motorcycle. A sense of pain raised into his throat, the unspoken things blocked there, pushed down by him, but they mercilessly tried to get out.   

-  

Michael knew something wasn’t adding up here. The Dark Knight himself crossed two cities in lightning speed after not speaking a word to Clark for days. The voice colder, much more negative than usual, the easy let go of the problem wasn’t the usual case of that man’s action. Batman was supposed to be a merciless, awfully stubborn hero which set fear into people who needed to feel it, yet he was more... Gloomy, looking like something unspoken was hanging upon his soul, the sorry eyes that delicately traced the outline of Clark.   

This definitely wasn’t his problem to solve, and he wasn’t going to deal with the sappy shit both of them had going one. He promised himself he won’t bother his mind with this kind of stuff; it never interested him anyway. He took the tech from Batman, grateful for piece of Bat-tech which he deeply admired, it was one thing to be a hero and another to be a genius human posing as super-human and actually living up to the expectation, more so, surpassing them.   

The roar of the engine could be heard, it was an absolute monster of a motorcycle, which seemed to suit the dark streets of Gotham city and its old infrastructure.  The Bat got away really quickly leaving Terrific to carry the 250 pounds of pure muscle to the base. He did only to pay his unspoken apologies to Clark, he should’ve analysed the robot more thoroughly before calling it all a day ad going back to the base. His T-spheres seemed to manage with Superman, the only problem was that he was left to walk there on foot.   

-  

He laid in the med bay area of the Hall of justice. The interior was clean and modern; it looked almost like a hospital. Extremely pricey and professional medical equipment was scattered across the tables which occupied a significant portion of the room. Michael told him, that the lamp his hand was under had artificial yellow-sun rays that would heal his hand. Clark didn’t want to ask for details, so he just continued with the treatment which seemed to work wonders. His hand was slowly turning back to normal, and he was extremely grateful.  

The only thing that bothered him was that he didn’t remember anything that happened during the Kryptonite exposure, nothing. This was certainly new to him, and it bugged him very much. Members of Justice Gang promised that nothing bad happened during this time and he believed them, but something seemed off. Mister Terrific practically scanned him with his eyes when he mentioned the memory loss, the man as unbothered as he always seemed to be bothered by something, but when Clark asked, he was met with big words that could be translated to a simple “ Fuck off. ”.   

He was meant to go to the Gala tomorrow, to interview Bruce Wayne, but he had to get a hold of Dhalia Stacey as well. The whole idea seemed to bother him a little bit, he knew that Batman would be there undercover as well (The man probably knew much more than he had already), but the whole idea of no communication bugged him. He knew that he was meant to meet up with Batman later and compare intel, but it already was a week since they last saw each other. It might not seem like a lot, but it was a significant portion of time in world or partnerships.   

A * beep * came from his communicator, a message. He suspected Batman this time, it was a realistic option.   

Just as he guessed, it was him, the message read: “ Gala tomorrow, intel later. ”. These messages were purely work and professional, yet there was something sweet about the fact that Batman seemed to feel a need to remind Clark of certain things.  

And then he saw it: “ S.: Kryptonite, cords:xxx”, the message that was meant to reach only Mr. Terrific, not Batman, but it seemed to be the other way around.  

Then everything seemed to come crashing down at him, a question popped up in his head too.- “ What happened there? ”- This haunted his mind, screaming loudly, occupying every chunk of his head.  Did Batman really come there to help him, no, it would be straight up ridiculous to think so. They had no contact with each other since... Well since the guy decided to slap Clark across his face (not physically, mentally).   

He didn’t know what to feel, he stared at the read message. The man saw it, it was in the bag, they knew each other for nearly a year now, yet he couldn’t really tell if his partner even came. He never was in Metropolis, it wasn’t really his choice either, the city was kept intact by the Justice Gang, there was no need for Batman to step in at any point (even if Clark wanted to keep him close). He should ask Michael about this, he was the one to transport him back to med bay, yet he felt scared to do it.  

If Batman really came there, throwing everything behind to help him it would mean that what Lois said was true, not only a schoolboy’s fantasy. It somehow bothered him to acknowledge that a great figure like Batman, the Dark knight wasn’t this perfect avenger he portrayed him to be.  

He himself felt weird and guilty whenever he found a man attractive, being an alien was already a humiliation of some sorts, even if he looked human. He knew what kind of hateful comments would appear on Batman. He felt guilty for ever making the man feel attracted to him. He felt like he drowned a perfect ship deep into the ocean depths for water and fish to destroy it.  

Chapter Text

The finest hotel of Gotham city wasn’t too hard to find, it was located in the modern, rich district of the city, it was the place where most of the wealthiest people in Gotham lived. A paradise, a nature utopia in the heart of the city. The whole place was isolated, far more trees grew here, the whole twist was that the building itself was older than the district. The gothic architecture of “ Gotham’s lover ”, the hotel in which gala was held in was definitely something. The whole building was located on a grass hill, beneath it were parking spots, lots of them. Each parking lot was light-up properly, in case you wanted to showcase your car.   

The hotel was a distant building, deep into the whole plot, isolated, private, intimate. A place where rich could be rich without being scared of something coming out. Their dirty secrets kept deep behind the tall, wooden, steel-finished door. A pair of grand, marble stairs guarded the entrance, the sculptures of people, of farm-live were looking so out of place, yet in place at the same time.   

It was a monstrosity of a building, 10 floors of tall, glass windows which were framed with sculptures of nymphs, columns were scattered all across the building, the high, aggressive arches were making the building look really menacing. The colour scheme wore purest whites with accents of grey to make the white marble sculpture pop out more, every single sculpture had a light source which made the carvings look even more beautiful. The whole building was and obscene show of pure taste, the yellows which the walls wore so proudly made everyone stop in their tracks. The pointy roofs with all kinds of decorations scattered around looked straight out of Dracula movies, the oxidized cooper worth thousands of dollars was made into the buildings roof. Drive way to the hotel was amazing as well, valets scattered across it to take your car to empty parking spots. Limos and other far too expensive cars were parked outside the hotel, collecting men and women while the wealthy owners of them began showcasing their cars.   

Even the people attending the event seemed rather sophisticated, men in their tailored suits, every single suit came with a twist which represented the owner's personality. Some of the suits so expensive not even five of your regular pay checks could pay it off. Every single women there looked like a doll, dressed in their valuable dresses which never revealed more than they should, it was called having taste, the dresses were really simple but showed their worth when you came to know the materials they were made out of, all the diamonds which were scattered across them. They were supposed to be comfortable and effortlessly classy. Some of the women looked like Aphrodite herself could compete with them, long legs with high heels which made them look tall and powerful, their long necks dressed in diamonds and pearls which made them look more than an earthling. The more handsome young men in their tight-fitting suits, making their body look like Greek sculptures of war heroes. The people here looked straight out of magazine cover, yet you could find them nowhere next to them, just like they never even existed while looking so out earthly gorgeous.   

These galas were the showcasing of money, of rich laughter, of hidden lies and back handed smiles and lies. They were the display of evil, of crooked minds which succeeded far more in life than they ever should’ve in the first place.   

When you were a reporter you could feel the judging glances, the disgusted curves forming on the rich mouth. You got that feeling that you were a low-life on their territory, on their mercy. You couldn’t win here, you should tuck your PhD’s and degrees deep into your pocket, it’s not like they would change anything, when you tried to argue with them, they would bring you down to their level, then a crowd of venomous snakes and frogs would gather to hiss and laugh at you, shaming you and your knowledge. They were suffering of success and big egos, narcissism as well. You will never win here as a mere reporter, a sheep in the middle of a pack of wolfs. You could win on paper, and that’s why you were here, to get yourself humiliated, scraped of your dignity to later strike a blow so painful they would crumble even worse than they ever crumbled you.  

Clark Kent- representant of the working class, a mere reporter, a spy, a rat in group of pure-bred mouses, whose fur as white as a tear.  

Bruce Wayne- representant of the rich beyond rich, a company owner, an actor, a rat in group of pure-bred mouses, whose fur as white as a tear.  

One of them standing behind barriers right next to the red carpet, asking questions, writing the answers.  

The other one walking the red carpet, answering questions, taking selfies listening to endless compliments.  

-  

Bruce Wayne pulled to the hotels driveway in his black Lamborghini Huracácan Sterrato. When he stepped out a valet was already waiting to take his keys, his lens was telling the man’s pulse was over the roof, either stressed or excited. Well, a Brucie act would determinate.   

-”Thank you, Love.”- Bruce said in composed, mature tone which still sounded obscene coming from his mouth.   

He handed the man the key, making their fingers brush with a just enough friction to make the man’s heart rate spike once more. - “ Excitement it is. ”- He thought and watched as his car was taken away. He had to wait approximately 10 minutes for the keys, 10 painfully long minutes of him acting like a whore.  

He stepped onto the carpet. His hair, longer top with shorter bottom starting at the line of his ears going down were brushed back with get and a wide-toothed comb, a thick, singular strand of the hair falling onto his forehead suggesting effortless beauty and playfulness. His cold, empty stare, which was intimidating, the colour of his eyes steel blue with green aureola around his pupil, truly unique. Facial hair kept delicate, a week-old beard which was short, trimmed neatly but visible, another suggestion to the effortless beauty. His skin was kept delicate and clean, suggesting he took care of himself (he didn’t, but had to keep the show). His suit came from the finest craftsman of Gotham, an anthracite coloured, fitting, multi-layer piece. Coming from first layer, a simple shirt in the said colour, it was fitting him really tightly, when he stretched his shoulders backwards the buttons would open up a little bit, then came the tie, the breaking piece as well as the neatly folded pocket square, they were just straight up black, breaking the outfit, they had delicate feathery-looking pattern. Then came the fitting, anthracite vest, pinned on the front with four buttons, but it had loops on the sides, there was a delicate, colour matched piece of lash tied in the back to create a snatched look. The tie laid proudly on top of the vest. Then came the pants, they were simple suit pants with clack leather belt with silver clasp which matched the pins on his sleeves, the pins had an ‘W’ engraved on them. Then came the nice, not so fitting jacket which seemed to add a touch of freshness and modern look. His shoes were simple, black leather shoes, they were classy, simple and elegant... At first glance, the tips had metal underneath, it came in handy when something started unfolding.   

He looked truly spectacular, being a heart breaker and hottest man in Gotham had its demands, plus the paparazzi really liked him, every single photo sold for obscure prices making him a tourist attraction which seemed to take its toll on him when he wanted to get something done in the city.   

Through the flashing lights he spotted no one other than Clark Kent. - “ Of course he would be there. ”- He thought to himself and looked at the reporter, at Superman. A sense of guilt came crashing down to him. He remembered those dreams he had, the sad eyes of Clark Kent, looking at him, telling him he ruined him and everything around him, and he agreed with it.  Bruce was as pathetic as you could get, a man living in his solitude, doing nothing to change it, all he did was whine. He really wanted to change it, but it was times like this, like this gala which were too much. He was here only because he needed information on the charity case, and deep down? He was here to see Clark, his blue eyes behind those dorky glasses, in his ridiculous flannel shirt for which Bruce was a sucker. He tried so hard to push this feeling down, suffocate them before they could get to him, yet every time he saw the man he just... Couldn’t help himself. He was far more than attracted to him, every aspect of Clark’s life was pure, kind and good. Superman was everything Batman wished to be, he was hope, he was an alien, a god posing to be a mere mortal, yet he didn’t make anyone feel bad about it. He was more human than most of the people on earth, himself included.  

He really felt awful whenever he looked at the man with desire, with attraction, his eyes scraped Clark facade with ugly assumption that maybe, just maybe Bruce stood a chance with the man. He didn’t really care if it hurt him, it already hurt enough as it is, he was going to shoot his shot tonight.    

He was interviewing a woman, a rather beautiful one. She was becoming really touchy with Clark, her long black gloved fingers touching the tie...  

His eyes grew wide with shock; Superman was wearing a 2-piece suit. It fitted him really nicely, it wasn’t craftsmanship Bruce usually opted for, but still it looked extremely impressive on the man. An indigo fleur de lis on slightly lighter background, a black tie and pocket-square which seemed to break apart the composition. Curls which were usually a mess, now styled, nothing too extravagant, just pure taste.   

He froze, someone was asking him something while he just stood there looking at Clark Kent, Kansas reporter which looked especially classy tonight, to say he was impressed, it was to say nothing at all.   

The woman which was rather chatty with Clark began to delicately touch the man’s hand, making him visibly uncomfortable. Bruce excused himself from the reporter which seemed to start getting annoyed with the fact Bruce paid him no attention, he felt a sense of jealousy creep in, he didn’t try to fight it anymore.   

He barged straight into the scene, his footsteps far more tense than they ever should’ve been.   

-  

The woman in front of him was no one other than Marissa, a model from Gotham. Her face could be seen on multiple magazine covers; Jimmy collected these magazines like Pokémons at this point. Olsen’s charm seemed to work wonders for the gossip district of Daily Planet.   

She talked to him about various topics, saying how hard it was to enrol into the new photoshoot in Gotham, because everyone seemed to be chasing Bruce Wayne around, who became quite a show after winning ‘ Top 100 Hottest ’ for 2 years in a row.    

Clark knew about it all, he was a fan after all. He wasn’t paying Marissa too much attention, just enough to answer her questions properly and on topic, while he searched the crowd for Bruce Wayne. He turned his head to his right, while the woman became too touchy with him to see an ominous silhouette storming their way.   

As always, the tight-fitting 3-piece seemed to work wonders on Clark. Everything was broken by black and the whole presence of Bruce Wayne screamed effortlessly stunning. His shoulders were wide, suggesting he worked out, eyes were as empty as ever a cold, steel blue finished with green aureola around the pupil. Wayne bit his lip a little bit and scanned the woman who almost instantly blushed. His reporter ass, behind steel barriers just observed the scene happening in front of him. The woman who swore to hate Bruce Wayne just now started at him with desire a blind man could spot.  

The billionaire just broke the eye contact with the model, who seemed to blush even more now.  

-” I’ll... Get going now, Mister Kent...”- She mumbled, her tone flustered as she ran off inside the building. Bruce seemed to walk her with his eyes, making sure she was long-gone.   

-” Mister Clark Kent.”- He said, his tone nonchalant. - “The two-piece suits you; the blues make your eyes pop more.”- He complimented him effortlessly. Clark felt heat crawling onto his face and cheeks. If this was the Wayne charm, they all talked about, he is more than happy to be the man’s prey.   

-” Mister Wayne, you look like you walked out from magazine cover, complimenting me is just a formality.”- Clark said humbly. He didn’t even know why he said it; besides he was here for a mission (and just maybe for Bruce Wayne). He saw the man in front of him chuckling, a smirk forming on the handsome face.  

-” Believe me Darling, I’m not the type of person who feeds somebody’s ego when they catch a chance to do so.”- He stated with charming domination. Hands of the man were wrapped around the barrier in front of Clark, he leaned in, closing the distance between them which shocked him. He saw that neck of the billionaire grew slightly red, which send Clark’s mind floating as the fantasies seeped through. - “Perhaps we should see if the compliment applies to what is underneath the suit.”- He commented in flirtatious ton, licking his lips while keeping eye contact.   

His mind went racing at the offer, face blushing, he barely kept himself composed while looking at the charming man in front of him. Lois would be cheering from the background if she was here. He felt like he couldn’t let the man win this battle of flirt.  

Clarks hands rested on the barrier too, he leaned in closer, his head on the crook of Bruce’s neck, the man had a sweet, but sharp cologne on which turned Clark on.  

-” We could test the buttons on your expensive suit too, Mister Wayne. Pelling the layers you put on today would be like chasing a trophy.”- Clark said, voice slightly above a whisper. He could hear Wayne’s heart thudding aggressively in his chest without any kind of effort. - “A reward I would have to wait for.”- He said, his lips made a wet sound as he spoke, sending a shiver down the man’s spine. He pulled away, looking at the not so composed man in front of him- his face red, body shivering delicately. Clark’s own heart was pounding in his chest; he felt heat rising to his crotch. - “Duty calls, thank you for the interview.”- He added as a final blow before walking off.   

In the crowd right beside him he spotted Cat which were flabbergasted, eyeing him. He walked up to her, blush still visible on his cheeks, but he was smirking proudly. He looked back to see Bruce taking his car keys from valet, his posture still stiff, still blushing.   

-” Mind telling me how one leaves fucking Bruce Wayne speechless?”- Cat screamed and grabbed Clark’s shoulder to shook him, while he just put on a dumb smile.  

-  

Bruce was always invited to these kinds of galas, even if he didn’t donate to the charity once. They did it to encourage him and probably other people to give them some money, the whole thing was that Bruce donated to charities to which he ran an honest background check. Now he was sitting here, beside other filthy rich people, knowing damn well he won’t give a broken penny to ‘Help4kids’, not since someone shady bought them, their investments dropped rapidly, corruption skyrocketed, and they started posting racist and political gutter onto their social media. He was disgusted with anyone who donated and contributed to this circus.  

-” Bruce! Looks like we’re sitting next to each other.”- Said no one other than Dhalia Stacey, her husband still speaking nonsense to the microphone. She ended her speech, Bruce hoped that Clark will catch that this is the woman they are searching for. - “How is Alfred? Heard the man was affected by the explosion.”- She said, her questions hitting close to home on intention.  

-” He is stable, coma.”- He stated, his voice cold. The woman seemed to get tense. The lens read her pulse picked up; he decided to put even more oil to the fire. - “I’ll make sure consequences will be executed. Heads will fall.”- He stated, staring Dhalia dead in the eye, sweat gathering at her forehead, pulse picked up, she was panicked, but she just smiled. Her husband- Cornelius Stacey walked up.  

-” Mister Wayne, it’s an honour to sit beside you.”- The man announced loudly and shook hands with him. The man probably didn’t know about his wife’s dirt, he was clueless.  

-” Of course, Mister Stacey.”- Bruce’s voice cheery, the woman started fidgeting with her hair, her eyes scared just as he intended. - “The red suits you.”- He added, and the man chuckled loudly with rich people manor.   

People settled down, eating and drinking, reporters were walking around asking questions, real predators in this kind of events. Bruce was seated at the furthest table, most private one, as well as other insanely wealthy people. It always was like that, the line between casual rich and generational rich was always drawn and visible. He got to eat the best food, was served first, servers always walking around them first. First in line to everything. It made him partially sick.   

Pairs of people flew through the dance floor, dancing, chatting in groups at corners. Talking shit about everyone and everything, venom in their words, envy drowned their bodies like a flood. Everything said in measured words so that only ones who needed to understand understood.   

Wayne found himself on the balcony, looking through the tall window, observing the kaleidoscope of people dancing, all of them clueless how little they matter. Everyone so oblivious, dumb, their world view so crooked that Bruce pitied them.   

The door to balcony opened. The view from here was rather hypnotic, the glass was sound-proof, leaving the out-door enjoyer in silence. Night sky presented itself with moon and clouds, the light pollution blocking your view of starts. Stars representing people, shining in the sky, dots which were like diamonds on an expensive black dress, night flowing like a river of gasoline, moon the spark to set it all on fire.  

-” You know.”- A hiss coming from Dhalia’s mouth. Bruce sipped his wine, not bothering to look around.  

-” Did you know that full moon in September is the brightest one? It makes everything so light you could mistake night for day.”- Bruce replied, hearing the annoyed chuckle coming from the woman’s name.  

-” Don’t play dumb...! You always do this, yet you’re the fucking richest here Wayne!”- She said, her voice somewhat hurt. - “You’re making us all look fucking retarded!”- Her voice full of anger.  

-” I don’t have a clue about what I should know about.”- His voice sounding nonchalant and confident. He wanted her to spit it out and it seemed to work perfectly. She got closer, licking her red lips.  

-” You know it’s my fault that this fucking magazine exploded! Luthor fucking made me buy this charity, the profits are fucking better than from this fuck ass hole!”- She basically screamed out, gesturing wildly with her hands. Bruce felt his shoulders tense at the fact she was the one responsible for the explosion, but he kept himself composed. He’ll scream later about it.   

-” My wild guess seemed to be adequate then.”- He said, sending the woman a sharp, dangerous look, a warning he send criminals. - “Cornelius doesn’t know? Yeah, dumb question, he doesn’t even know you have so much money, the dirt on your hands is thick.”- He commented, trying not to laugh at Dhalia, it was extremely hard.  

Her hand twitched, she took a step further in one swift motion she grabbed Bruce’s crotch, another hand flying to his mouth to cover them, her head hugged to his chest. He felt as if life drained from him, he never felt that way, not even fighting as Batman.  

-” Oh, I’ll fuck up so good you won’t dare speak about it Brucie.”- She hissed, her tone nasty, penetrating his brain.   

His mind went blank, a blink later he stood in front of the woman, towering over her body, small and vulnerable now, curled up against the stone railing of the balcony. Her head piece laid on the ground next to shattered wine glass. Spilled wine on her red dress, it’s not like it was visible, but her bust was affected in the process.   

He looked at her, his eyes full of rage he hadn’t felt in a long while, his whole-body trembling from adrenaline rush, she looked him in the eye, tears coming down her cheeks.  

-” I’ll fuck you up...”- Bruce whispered and stormed back inside, a cold breeze soothing his sweat-drained neck.  

The quiet, dark corridor leading to the luxurious, but forgotten bathrooms, they were further from the ballroom, the table in the dark corner, next to staffroom was his designation. It was quiet there, no one seemed to be going there, everyone was too occupied by drinking and doing other filthy stuff they did.  

He had to calm himself down, he didn’t take his meds either, he felt unwanted emotions creeping up on him, a silent voice telling him “ You deserved it.” , while he fought it back. He knew he didn’t, and he knew that wanting fucked up information, information people paid to keep a secret came with cost, he couldn’t belive the cost was this big.   

-” Mister Wayne?”- Asked the familiar voice, the warm one. The one which was far more brighter than September moon, a voice which symbolised july’s sun. A warm embrace striking Bruce’s body as he listened.  

-” It’s Bruce, Clark.”- His voice much calmer, their eyes met. - “Fuck, going two for two seeing me miserable, huh?”- He asked. The other man got closer and sat next to Bruce on the lonely sofa in the dark hall.   

-” I think it makes you human.”- He answered, his voice sincere, just like Superman’s. He was glad to see Clark didn’t act around him. - “Fuck, I remember when I first saw you, perfect, almost inhumane looking.”- He added. Bruce looked at him, in the dim lights he could see the blush on the man’s cheeks. Guilty feeling seemed to fade away as he saw the attraction is mutual. His own face growing hot.   

Bruce’s fingers were supporting his brow now, a delicate smile forming on his face.  

-” Still up to test the buttons on my suit?”- Bruce offered, his hand landing on Clark’s thigh.   

Clark just answered with a smirk, forming eye contact.  

-” For sure.”- His voice playful and confident.  

-  

The bathroom door was shut with vibration going through the walls. Bathroom as everything else a showcase of luxury and taste.   

Tall walls, bottom half wrapped in dark oak the upper one in red and burgundy damask pattern, celling was painted black, the sink hanging on the wall, a white, marble counter with large, lowered bowl, mirror behind it was extremely big with perfect, warm lightning. The toilet was tucked into a corner, tucked behind a dark oak room screen.   

Bruce sat on the counter, legs wide, letting Clark get in between them, after he did that a leg lock was placed. The billionaires back arched against the mirror, Clarks hands cupping his face as they kissed. He was towering over the man, making him small. One hand on mirror, other on counter as Bruce held his neck, eating his lips. Slow, wet kisses, sloppy his lower lip bitten by the other man with every delicate pull away. Their saliva mixing, tongues twirling, Bruce dominating, wet sloppy sounds escaping Clark’s mouth. He took the domination, kissing only Bruce’s lower lip, pulling it with his teeth like a tender meat, every movement controlled, delicate.   

He pulled away, Bruce already panting beneath him, Clark grabbed his own tie and tugged on it to make it looser, undoing first two buttons of his shirt as well. Bruce looked at him with desire, arching his back even more, discarding his jacket onto the floor, revealing the vest which worked more like a corset on the man. His waist was small and snatched, the way the fabric lash was tie on his back, the four buttons positioned 2x2 on the front just waiting to be undone.   

-” Like what you see, Cowboy?”- He asked, the man’s hand travelling to be placed on his crotch, cupping the growing erection. His legs still wide apart, sitting on the marble counter. If that was how succubus acted, then Clark might as well start praising them religiously.   

-” Fuck yes.”- He answered and walked up to the other man, his hands on the man’s waist then moving to undo the buttons.  

Clark licked his lips, as he revealed another layer of clothing, a dark shirt. His hands moved downwards to the belt the billionaire owned, undoing it without a second thought. Bruce’s hands were buried in his curls, playing with them, then he moved closer and laid his head on Clark’s shoulder. A kiss was placed on his neck, then a bite. A jolt of pain was sent through his body, vibrating at the tip of dick, pre-come already coming out from his dick, he felt it on his boxers. Bruce moved even closer, kissing and biting the neck while he undid Clark’s pants, once they fallen down Bruce froze for a moment.   

-” Fuck... You’re... huge.”- He commented impressed. Clark felt shame coming up to him, then heard Bruce licked his lips. He pulled Clark’s tie to get him closer, their mouth really close now.  

They pulled each other into another sloppy kiss, they were both acting like thirsty beasts, fighting with time. His hands were grabbed by his seducer, placed on the waist band of his pants, Clark pulled them down with boxers too, revealing rather impressive erection of large dick which Bruce owned, he didn’t expect anything less from him either.   

He pulled back his head on the shoulder of the billionaire who still was sitting on the counter. Bruce’s hand went down, he stretched his butthole with his index and middle finger.   

-” Finger me?”- He asked, voice above a whisper, seductive, dangerous, sending Clark’s mind racing.  

He got down to business, sticking his hard, calloused and work-worn finger inside. Bruce wrapped his hands around Clark’s bag, fingers with neatly trimmed nails digging in him, head draped over his shoulder. He began with motion, slow movements tearing low grunts from the man. With every single sound he heard his erection leaked even more, sending him extremely close to the edge, hurting him with every twitch.   

Another finger in, pre-come leaking from Bruce’s dick, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, a delicate moan coming from his mouth.   

-” Kent... My god...”- He moaned out to Clark’s ear. His shoulder tensed at the sound.   

He just couldn’t keep himself anymore, he pulled out the fingers, strong, rough hands wrapping around the scarred thighs of the man in front of him, he slammed him into the wall next to the toilet. He positioned Bruce right above his erection, throbbing, hurting him from abstaining. He slid the man down, the tip and then every single inch after inch, delicate, slow and painful. He felt the fingers digging in his back, when the whole length was in he heard a quiet sob, the man in front of him tearing up.   

-” Fuck... Bruce. ”- He breathed out, his head rested on the wall next to Bruce’s. This kind of activity wasn’t on his list to do, but he would gladly take it. - “I’m starting to move now.”- He warned and proceeded.  

Every single movement slow, delicate, restricted, but then they grew faster, stronger. Every beat tore a whimper and sob out of the man who leg-locked around Clark’s back.  

-” A... I’m- so close...”- Broken and filthy words coming from the man’s mouth broken either with a sob or whimper. One hand grabbing his erection, the other one squishing Clark’s shoulder with unfunny force.  

The hand started moving up and down, view so pleasurable that Clark just started at it from beneath his fogged glasses. With every thrust he came even closer to the painful edge.   

Bruce covered the tip of his dick, cumming painfully, his butt taking the giant cock while Clark painted him white from the inside. A bitch moan was finally torn from Clark’s throat, winning a chuckle from Bruce. Clark opened the toilet seat, sitting Bruce there while he rested his hands against the sink, looking in the mirror to look at the other man while he cleaned himself.  

-” Fuck...”- Clark spit out, earning another chuckle from Bruce.   

-  

The bathroom scene was something else, the built-up tension finally released was something Bruce’s mind needed. He might’ve feel like shit that he is straight up keeping a secret from Clark, a rather important one, but he didn’t feel guilt. He felt... excited. The fact that Superman read magazines about him painted explicit pictures in his mind, pictures which were rather enjoyable. He stood up from the toilet, stumbling a little bit, the moment he took a step Clark was there to catch him, his eyes expressing worry.  

-” Your jacket.”- He said handing him the piece of clothing. He knew the tone, he always heard it from this one-nightstands, a hope for something else, something else.  

It hit him, the way he built his reputation. All those people who slept with, not remembering any name, all those broken hearts he left behind. He should’ve expected a mere reporter... No, Clark Kent, Superman even will look at it this way. He was a piece of shit, he knew that very well, he wanted to be seen this way, but not by person which he adored and treasured. Not to person who showed him that being alone isn’t as fun and good as being with someone. As much as Bruce swore to himself that he didn’t do “bonds” and “relationships”, he already did one, a great friendship overlapping with romance- two of most intimidate and deep connections people could form. He pushed Clark away, he did it once, he should do it now too, the damage was already done, the walls already broken, but he just...  

-” Thank you.”- His voice tender, as he put the jacket back on. In one swift motion he grabbed Clark’s tie and pulled him into a kiss.  

Not an intense make out session, just a kiss. Slow, delicate, smack of lips and wet sounds bouncing off the walls. He pulled away to look at the face behind those glasses, the curl, now much messier than before falling onto Clark’s forehead, eyes of the man quite shocked, or confused? Bruce couldn’t pinpoint it. They eyes met, blue on blue.  

Clark and his warm blue, representing hopeful, sunny day, hope for better tomorrow, a change; those dark blue edges of his iris which represented a summer thunderstorm, the intense aftermath of a sunny day, the punishing, indestructible force of thunder.  

Bruce and the steel, grey blue, a colour you couldn't quite place, the shadow of Gotham city taking toll on the blue, blue which represented justice, the cold sky of winter, it’s pleasurable, but stare too long and you’ll have frostbite, the green around pupil representing growth.  

They fulfilled each other, on missions they did as their alter egos they understood without words, combat was like dancing, moving smoothly to a music that never even played.   

Bruce tucked his hand to pocket of Clark’s pant, pulling out his phone. One that definitely needed an upgrade, but it was problem for another time.   

-” You have a passcode?”- He asked, the other man shook his head horizontally. He just opened contacts and left his private phone number there. - “You are fourth person to receive this number.”- He mumbled pushing the phone back to the owner’s hand and walked out of the bathroom.   

-  

Everyone should be drunk by now, he just wanted to get out from here as fast as possible and never look back, he took his opportunity, and he regret it. All the way to the main hall he could hear Clark’s footsteps behind him, he didn’t chase Bruce, simply because their priorities differed.   

The main hall, the giant wooden door his escape route and then they opened. He froze in place just the same way Clark’s did, well at least he didn’t see things. Oswald Cobblepot stood tall in the doorway with two bodyguards. - “ They are here for Dhalia... ”- Bruce thought, he was 100% sure it was the case. He knew the man, a rich, shady owner of a Gotham night-club, dirty businessman, he would make a grave mistake to don’t greet the man. Superman dashed through the door to the ballroom, once more understanding the situation without a word. They needed to evacuate Dhalia, right now .   

His shoulders tensed as he walked up to the Penguin himself, it’s not like he wouldn’t incapacitate the tree of them in seconds, it was that he had to play fucking Brucie trying not to give the man an opportunity to walk into the ball room.  

-” Oswald Cobblepot.”- His voice resonant as he spoke, grabbing the whole of the guy’s attention, the same went for bodyguards whose heart rate picked up, the man gestured for them to stay down.  

-” Wayne.”- His voice dry, he took a drag from his cigar. - “How is your Butler... Alfred Pennyworth doing?”- He asked, the question just solidifying Bruce in belief.  

-” Well...”- He started, his voice cheery. The mask he practiced wearing for years coming in handy now.  

-  

The Penguin himself was here, for God knows why. His mind going back to the night week ago, the two thugs, the Woman mentioned that they worked for three people. If Clark’s guesses were right then it would be Dhalia Stacey, the one “ Madame ”, Luthor and Penguin. - “ Quite an interesting combination. ”- he thought to himself as he searched the crowd for Dhalia. He spotted her on a chair in the furthest corner of the ballroom. He had to be sleek, posing as Superman should work, he took off the glasses, a risky move but everyone in the room seemed to be severely drunk.   

He walked up to her and grabbed her arm; she looked at him playfully.  

-” Superman at my gala?”- She asked, and he just smiled at her warmly, intoxicating her with the smile.   

-” Care to come with me, Miss Stacey?”- He asked chivalrously, and she seemed to go for it.   

He felt weird with the fact he seduced a married, old woman, but she seemed to pay it no mind. It was unreasonably easy to do; it settled worry in his gut. He pushed it back and took the woman’s hand carefully. He leaded her through the backdoor of the ballroom, the one which took them to the kitchen and staff rooms. Workers looked like they wanted to question them, but settled for silence once they saw Clark’s face, it was scary and powerful, the exact one he made while he fought somebody while being Superman.   

They settled in deep corner of the basement, the one where all the expensive cheeses and meats were stored, the place had heavy metal door, which he closed after them.  

She looked at the man’s face, it was... Scary, only then she knew what was going on, pictures of being tortured like slideshow in her mind. She swallowed saliva in her throat, searching for mercy with her eyes.  

-” You’ll talk before Oswald Cobblepot gets here and you’re free to go.”- He stated, and she just shook her head in agreement. He liked to work with rich people who seemed far too scared for their public appearance to resist talking.- “What do you know about the charity?”- He asked.  

-” God! It’s all a fucking fake, I bought it! It’s all face, the profits are extremely nice, the money clean as fuck... Luthor he made me! After he got out of prison, he needed to stay clean, okay? I bought it, he is giving nice money for this shit.”- She practically singed out, Clark was rather impressed it went so smoothly.  

-” For what do they need the money for?”- He asked, his eyes pinpointed on the woman, tracing every single movement she made.  

-” Some tech-shit, robots, guns... I don’t have a fucking clue! Oswald was talking about forming gangs, getting rid of Dark Knight, while Lex talked racist nonsense of his! He hates you, the meta-people, he wants to exterminate you or some shit.”- She spat out on one breath, her pulse through the roof. She began hyperventilating.  

-” Breathe. You’ll live, thank you.”- He said to her to reassure her. Tears began forming in the corners of her eyes.   

-” I fucking swear! I just want the fucking money, okay? I need it for coverups to keep my appearance, I’m not a fucking super-villain or something, God!”- She said, her voice full of anger.   

Clark lifted her up from the ground, then he opened the door for her, she looked at him, searching for some kind of agreement on her going back to the party.  

-” Oswald is here to talk, if you tell him what happened here, they will make you sign everything over to them, him and Luthor before killing you.”- He warned her, she just nodded and made her way to the party, her steps and breaths heavy as she walked.   

Once she was far enough, he started walking back to the party with intend to grab Cat and get out from there as fast as possible. Things might start to get ugly, but there was another thing that worried him- Bruce. What if Oswald had done something to him? They are rivals, all rich people are.   

Chapter Text

Wet Gotham rooftop making a meeting point of two forces, one’s fuel was hope and pure good, the other’s vengeance and change. An invisible line drawn between the two men, once erased, but drawn back on. A complicated relationship, full of secrets and trust to draw the irony even more visible.   

Tense atmosphere hanging upon them like blade ready to cut, slice them in half if they stay silent for too long, if they left the things unspoken just like they always did.   

Clark was standing in the light of billboard, while shadow of Gotham consumed Bruce.  

-” Arm any better, Superman?”- He asked, voice tense, ready to strike.  

Those words seemed to somehow surprise Clark, wasn’t he aware of the fact Batman came there that night?  

-” You actually came that time?”- The man in front of him, the sculpture made from purest marble, alive in front of him, the personification of hope and happiness sounded blank, his voice a mix of guilt and relief.  

-” I think I might be able to guess what is going on in your mind... I made a grave mistake to ever say that.”- He admitted, breaking eye contact. His voice cold, sharp, like a heavy sword wielded by an experienced warrior. Words held unspeakable amount of power, said unwisely could tear people apart, pushing them over the edge. - “The least I could do was this.”- His finger pointing at Clark’s arm. Memories of the Gala’s night in front of his eyes, a sense of shame and guilt for lying came to stab his heart. - “You’re my partner... My friend , Superman.”- He said, voice nonchalant, but mind not giving him space to breath.  

These words made his companion smile, a warm genuine smile. He missed it, the smile which sent shivers of love and desire through his body. It was one hell of a thing to admit for him.   

He came to the hospital that night, to Alfred.  

-  

His suit messy, body was trembling. Night of the gala, night of terrible events and more pleasant ones. He sat, his body heavy against the hospital chair. Lights were dimmed, most probably to don’t disturb anyone.  

He looked at the lifeless body on the bed, no movement, only breathing supported by a respirator. The delicate person, ready to crumble at the slightest touch was left of the man who supported Bruce throughout his life, his mission. He felt extremely lonely in his mansion, in his life. His relationship with the men was complicated, they tolerated each other, supported and cherished at times. The small self-sacrifices Alfred made to keep Bruce together were visible.   

A spike in pulse, on the cardiac monitor, a * beep * could be heard across the room. Two nurses barged in within seconds, then a doctor, they took out the bed with Alfred in it, Bruce sitting in the shadow of the room could just watch, a silent voice in his head suggesting that this was the end of his miserable family which was glued together with a glue stick and prayers.  

Minutes passed, the suffocating silence growing louder, more punishing with every single minute. He could see the was everything was frozen in front of him, his mind already telling him it’s his fault. He could hear the way everything screamed at him, saying “ You couldn’t take care of your city, now it took your family to hold you accountable for your mistakes. ”.  These voices, they made colour drain, making his whole body feel like a hollow shell, which was crumbling with every loss, major pieces falling off, leaving him naked. Naked and exposed, the whole personas he built to protect himself from the loss falling from between his fingers like sand.   

The lights were switched on, a woman entered. She was worried at first, but then Bruce looked at her, his face tired.  

-” Mister Wayne?”- The nurse stepped into the room, looking at him, her eyes happy all of a sudden.- “He is awake, the first thing he asked was to speak to you, a great relationship you have built.”- She admitted, winking at him. Bruce held back from rolling his eyes, he was too tired to deal with this.  

Moments later the bed rolled back into the room. Alfred looked bad, he was pale and his eyebags were purple. Bruce stepped onto the man’s bedside, looking at him. The cuts and bruises on his face were healing, his broken bones probably ached, they always did. He could picture the way this man was feeling, some of the battles had similar outcomes for him, expect he was Batman, he wasn’t allowing himself to rest properly.  

-” How do you feel, Alfred?”- He asked, his voice sounded far more concerned than he wanted it to sound.  

-” Master Bruce... I’m in capable hands, I’ll lick my way back to health very soon.”- Voice stoic as he said it, just like it always was. All of this was to make Bruce feel better, injuries like this hurt like a bitch, even on painkillers. He knew this man too well to don’t notice the twitches in Alfreds mind, the slightly twisted smile, he chose to not comment on it. - “How about you, Master Bruce? To be more precise in my question: You and Superman.”- The man asked, a shock spreading in Wayne’s body like a wildfire.  

“ Of course he would know about it. ”- He said to himself, sometimes he seemed to forget that his butler wasn’t just a butler, the man was far greater than this, his skills as impressive as Bruce’s, they always were.  

He breathed out, a sign of relief. Alfred was back, the suspended fear fading away from his body. He knew that the feeling was like poison, it was dangerous, just like attachment, but it was human to fear and get attached, the older he grew, the more he seemed to understand it, even if he hated himself for feeling both.  

-” It’s... Well complicated, Alfred.”- A hint of sadness in his monotone voice.  

-” You’ll be my end, Master Bruce. Confusion kills.”- He stated, his voice cold.  

This was the kick he needed to get, the words he needed to hear. The not so fatherly advice Alfred was sometimes generous enough to give. Situations were often related with vulnerable state of the man, he never gave advice, he just made you go and figure things yourself. It was helpful, it pushed you to make mistakes and learn from there to don’t copy the same thing twice, but so much bad stuff could be avoided if the man just spoke up.   

-  

He looked at the smile for a while more, he wated to hear judgement, hate or hurt, not that he wanted Clark to be sad, he just... Couldn’t imagine being so easily forgiving, so good without doing an effort to it. The man before him, a walking perfection without flaw inside or outside was... Everything Bruce Wayne, nor Batman could ever be.   

Superman’s hands landed on his shoulders, squeezing them firmly, making the bat-suit creak under pressure. - “ Was he excited... ”- He thought, now being shaken by the big puppy.  

-  

Clark knew that Batman never really meant what he said, he knew the man had issues, it was easy to see after a yearlong partnership; the recklessness in his actions, the way he dodged certain topics, how he hid in his cowl sometimes. The hiding wasn’t visible at first, it was the way Batman would get from nonchalant and professional to cold and straight up suicidal, it bothered Clark very much. Every time he asked it was brushed off with the same two excuses:  

1. ” Private life collision.”  

2. ” Bad day.”  

He stopped believing the excuses after fifth time they were used. Clark had worse day’s too, he would be gloomy, chat less and just got things done quicker, but never in all his life had he become reckless, letting himself get stabbed on purpose like his partner did. It was sick, but what could he do? He just looked at it, his face in unpleasant grimace while he watched Batman sew his open wounds on a rooftop, his heartrate criminally low, not even a single spike in it.   

-” I knew you didn’t feel that way.”- Clark announced, his voice cheery.   

A sudden spike in the other man’s heartbeat, it was... Weird , to say the least. He never reacted like that.  

-” Your heart picked up... Are you okay?”- His voice sounding of genuine worry.   

-” Yes, perfectly fine. Let’s push with the intel.”- Smooth change of topics. Clark got on his wrong side. Was Batman genuinely scared that he saw trough him this one time?  Well, he was proud in himself that he accomplished that after nearly a year, but as showed above: opinions may vary.  

-” Okay, well... I’ve got to interview Dhalia Stacey.”- A smooth lie from his side. - “She said that she bought the charity, Luthor needs clean money after getting out from prison- nothing to make him near suspicious. He makes weapons which affects meta-human, me and you counted in, the weapons are meant to be lethal, deadly. The guy is like obssesed at this point, you know? He studies every single move I ever did to train Ultraman, it’s sick!”- His voice was calm, until mention of Ultraman.  

-” Did you use death threads on her?”- It was a serious question from Batman’s side; Clark’s eyes grew wide. - “I’m kidding.”- He explained, a smirk forming on his mouth. - “She works with the Penguin as well; it makes a golden trio. I have seen more and more gangs before gala; they weren’t doing anything in particular until they saw me. They went into some kind of amok the moment they saw me, bullets spraying everywhere. If Luthor’s and Penguin’s sole purpose is to kill all meta-humans or anyone who dares to stand in their way... They are ineffective to say the least.”- Batman’s intel was spot on as usual, he wondered who is under that mask. This brain couldn’t belong to anyone ordinary. Only Batman could blend in with the crowd so well that Clark wouldn’t notice his heartbeat.   

-” Dhalia said she is there only for money, nothing as evil as the other two.”- He added in case Batman wanted to beat the woman into pulp, a ride to prison would be sufficient in her case.  

-” No.”- Tone was cold, dominant, sudden. A shiver went down Clark’s spine. The man in front of him looked like a beast in that moment. The eye whites were the only thing visible on the vigilante's face; it was like seeing a demon, something so surreal that it made you freeze. - “This isn’t an option, besides Luthor knows she would spill if pressed, he uses her for something.”- He explained, his voice back to the nonchalant one.   

A silent moment passed by, Clark just watched as his partner was tapping his fingers on the panel he had on his gauntlet, his eyes looked straight ahead. He knew that the man had nice tech and a lens on his eye that let his record and do other crazy stuff, he just never imagined it would work as portable computer.   

-” You did a sum up of everything we know?”- Clark joked looking for any emotion on Batman’s face.  

-” Yes, I did.”- He stated nonchalantly. - “So, all we know is that:   

First of all: the charity was bought for the sole purpose of laundering money, of course some of the money goes to the kids to keep the act up, while the rest of the money goes to Luthor, our lovely Dhalia and most probably Penguin, while the scraps are paid to the work sector, like thugs that know too much, scientists and other shit heads.   

Second of all: ‘ Luthor corporation ’ produces more weapons than usual without anyone from the authorities noticing which means that paperwork is being faked, and the surplus goes to those warehouses. The weapons are being modified by some lab rats for the sole purpose of killing anyone who Luthor finds threatening to his masterplan of being lord of the world.  

Third of all: For some forsaken reason I’m considered a threat as well and he uses Oswald Cobblepot to take care of me, or to be more precise what I’m seeing here is that Oswald is being played into the dirty work, because he has Gotham promised from Luthor who is far too thoroughbred to chase me around Gotham city, or he is just smart enough to think he doesn’t stand a chance.   

Then comes the whole Dhalia aspect , but I think I know what is going on.  She is clean like a tear, a diamond between the awful corrupted rich. She has a hotel which is treated like a fortress of peace, a clean background, no dramas or filthy connections. A “ good billionaire” , but they don’t exist, she is the example for that. She was the key for this operation to go smoothly.  A good, kind-hearted woman buys charity, it looks perfect in case that the secret buyer from Mexico was revealed to be her, she gets money to play her role, to keep the authorities away.”- Batman narrated, not a single drop of fake information, just some speculations and personal ties between people involved, it was... Perfect .  

Clark stood there, his reporter mind couldn’t believe in what he heard, it would be the best-selling article. Batman’s mind was amazing to say he least, to think he was a mere human, no superpowers, just absolute peak of mind and physique. Clark’s heart thudded louder for this man, he was extremely found of him, of everything he ever said or did. All he could do is just wish to one day come close to who Batman was, He might be humble for thinking so low of himself, but he knew it was the truth.  

-” Emailed it to you.”- His partner stated. His eyes were already looking into the sky, Clark knew what it meant. He followed his Partners eyes to see the Bat-symbol. - “It’s probably something big, Gordon puts it on only-”- He was cut off by loud *beep* of his phone.   

The phone looked expensive as fuck, Clark looked away to don’t invade the man’s privacy, despite the fact he really wanted to.   

-” Another bank heist, armed vehicles, coming on my right.”- Batman informed before jumping off the rooftop. Clark looked at the man, freefalling down his cape and cowl making him look like a true, oversized bat.  

-  

The bottom of his soles was steel, the same goes for the cast on the tip of his combat boots, they were designed to do damage.  He thudded loudly against the roof of the truck; the moment he landed bullets started spraying from the car behind him. He crouched and covered his body with his bullet-proof cape.   

The blue-red stripe flew past him, grabbing the bonnet, crushing it with the grip.  

Bruce was being drove away from the scene, looks like the thugs had a plan.   

He took out his batarang, stabbed it into the roof and cut through the steel with a painful creek. Car wasn’t stopping, looks like they were really determined. He began to grab the piece of roof and began opening it like a can of sardines. Then the car took a sharp turn, he tightened his grip, he felt the way the sharp metal sliced through his gloves and hands. Once they started going straight, he let go of the metal, a wet sound came from his hands, the pulsing aftermath was left. He clutched his bloody hands into fists before dropping himself into the back of the van.  

-” Fuck! He got in.”- The passenger screamed, the driver just gestured for the man to go and ‘take care of Batman’.  

Bruce grunted in pain, getting ready for a fist fight, getting into position. A Glock was pulled out, bullets flew his way, but he ducked the first, fast round by leaning forward. He took a step forward and before the thug could finish reloading he was already grabbed by his collar. Batman stained the clothes with his own blood. A headbutt onto the man’s forehead went first, knocking him out cold. He let go of the collar, letting the man fall unconscious. He turned around and with one swift motion opened the back door, then he threw the man out, leaving the convoy of police cars stopping violently.   

Then the driver pushed the car to holt with tiers screeching on the asphalt, something Bruce couldn’t predict. He flew straight onto the van window which shattered, making him fall onto the road in front of the car. Then the car went straight to driving ahead with speed of light, he rolled to the left- the mission to overrun him unsuccessful.   

He stood up as fast as he possibly could, somehow with his cut hands he took out his grapplehook and shoot. The pain of the pull on his hands was horrific, he felt the way flesh peeled around the cut, making him feel agonizing pain. His steel soles were sending sparks onto the asphalt, the burned smell filling his nostrils. He pulled himself forward after the car, he couldn’t physically stop the car, but his steel soles could withstand the friction. Just like that he found himself back in the van, his boots peeled, exposing his socks from underneath.   

They were on one of Gotham’s bridges, the largest one to be specific. He shot the grapplehook onto the man’s shoulder, the hiss escaping the man pleasing to his ears, then he just pulled, yanking the man backwards, the pain was agonizing, he felt it on himself once, it ripped apart your muscles, your whole body looked like it was put through a shredder. The van turned violently, going straight for the barriers, Bruce knew that at this speed the car will tear the railing, making them fall., all he could do was push out the thug, and so he did.  

-  

Those men weren’t prepared for Clark, he grabbed the car like it weighted nothing, put it above his head and flew upwards, all three of the criminals inside fell to the windshield, breaking it. All three were falling to their injury, just like he planned, his purpose wasn’t to kill it was to change. A part of police convoy stopped to capture the three men, while the rest went after the van Batman was taking care of.  

He slowly lowered the van onto the ground, all the valuables untouched. He looked how police officers arrested the trinity, looking at him with happiness, showing thumbs up.  

He never experienced such event in Metropolis; there was always at least one person to make a racist comment or say something so dumb about who Superman was and pretended to be it made Clark want to harm himself. He appreciated Gotham for the fact that every kind of help was warmly welcome here without unnecessary comments or straight up hate-speech. Of course, there was people who claimed that “ Batman made the city act like pussies! ” which was weird to Clark, it suggested that the vigilante made people feel protected enough that they didn’t feel the need to fend for themselves.  

-” They are on the bridge; get ready in case they fall off.”- A radio in one of the police cars stated. The free units started their engines back on and speeded towards the bridge.   

He felt panic rush onto him, the injuries following the fall could be lethal. He believed that Batman could take care of the situation without endangering himself, but... He just flew straight to the bridge, to see the van falling to its doom.  

The soaked bridge was draped in the stink of blood, a thug bleeding to his death on the road, the van falling to its end, the floor of it painted with blood, no sign of the vigilante which meant he was in the van.   

Clark already held the thing by back bumper without even thinking. Through the opened back door, he could see Batman grabbing the frame of what-once-was the windshield, the glass stabbing the fingers, making him bleed all over bonnet. His teeth griding against each other in pain. He placed the car back onto the bridge. Wet, slimy sound of Bruce’s hands coming off the glass, then the slam of armour on the ground.   

He was already above the man, who was panting in exhaustion and pain, the breath jagged suggesting being in high pain.   

-” My god...”- His voice above a whisper as he began to examinate the wounds. - “Batman...”- He added, lips of his partner clasped together, white of the force used.  

-” Just... Pull out the bandage in the belt and wrap them for now.”- Every word forced out, Clark did as asked.   

He felt weird wrapping the hands of the man, the hands... They were almost chopped in half; these wounds could be potential threat to his sense of feel. He wrapped them tighter than usual, partially to stop the bleeding. He stepped back, just to see how Batman stood up and walked off, his whole-body tense, but pulse and the way he walked suggesting that nothing was wrong.  

This scene right here made Clark even more sure that this man wasn’t in right place.  

Chapter Text

Call him reckless and straight up stupid, but he didn’t really care it was three days since his hands became straight up useless. The desire to meet with Superman, with Clark Kent made him lovesick. Ever since he let himself go in that bathroom, he couldn’t stop bending the boundaries he set for himself previously.   

He was standing right next to the edge of Gotham’s mayor office’s rooftop. The height building presented sent a nice spark of life and adrenaline throughout his body. Silent whispers humming into his ear “ You’re going to fall. ” made his skin grow cold on him, goosebumps making him feel alive.   

The message he provided his love interest was simple: “ Tomorrow, 4pm, I’ll pick you up. ”. A date , not that it was meant to be extravagant, he could do that later on (he certainly had aces up his sleeve) ... Now he just wanted to get to know the man better, well he knew him, they knew each other far too well, but it was twisted, he had to keep the act up for now, despite the fact it hurt him.   

It hurt him deeply to look at the lips he couldn’t kiss freely, to look at the man, which was next to him, yet so far away he couldn’t see him.   

Call him a freak or a psycho, but the way he kept his heartbeat restrained as Batman was intentional, he couldn’t let Superman figure out his identity by merely listening to his heart, which the man did too often already. Sometimes, late at night after nightmares consumed his brain, leaving him standing next to the moonlit window, draped in sweat and fear as he tried to tell apart the dream from reality, he realised how paranoid he really was. Batman was as artificial as Brucie Wayne, there were days when he would just mindlessly wander around the manor grounds trying to figure out who he really was, if there was anything left to him. Alfred would sometimes snap him out from it, sometimes he would let him walk around like a ghost, without a single comment, just letting him think.   

He heard what he wanted to hear, a crack of the whip, a hill against the rooftop, approximately about 60 meters away from here. Selina wasn’t a trained assassin, but she could be more subtle, then he could remember that a civilian couldn’t hear her coming anyway, so he just let go.  

-” Still thinking about Superman?”- She asked, her voice as playful as ever, even if she didn’t mean it. The woman was definitely something, there was a strong nature to her no one could ever tame.   

-” I don’t know either.”- He admitted. Feelings were complicated and he was complicated, he always was. He found himself growing found of Cat-woman, she was supportive. A best friend in the shadows of Gotham city, morally grey, but grounding and good in her heart, standing for what is right.  

-” And why should I know the answer to that, Bruce?”- She asked, her question seemingly aimed at him, but really nowhere. - “You let the man in, letting him destroy all the walls you built around yourself. Now you either kick him out and patch up the holes or destroy the remaining brick to rebuilt it so you two can fit inside the room you built.”- She said, her voice calm, strong at its core. She let that sink in, giving him space to think.   

Selina... She kind of surprised him. He felt something inside him screaming for him to get himself together, to not bother... But he just couldn’t, realisation hit him like a meteor. If he wants to keep this, he has to change.  

He took off his cowl, eyes smothered in black paint, wet from sweat hair kissing his forehead, while the rest seemed to follow the wind. His throat grew dry all of sudden, eyes seemed to be wet. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hand aching at the harsh movement.  

-” That’s the man I know.”- She whispered, her voice warm as she spoke. Her eyes were locked onto the panorama of the city, giving him privacy to feel, space to breath.  

Gotham city looked beautiful today. The skyscrapers, the hum of cars driving, warm and colourful city lights suggesting life and civilization. Music coming from someone’s speaker, the cheerful screams of teenagers who were past the appropriate time to go out. All these things, the essence of humanity right in front of them, all this put together, built by generations of people. Grounding him, telling him it’s normal to be this way, to feel lost.   

Feeling of being lost didn’t suggest being a failure, it meant you should try to find your way back on trac to show who is the real winner. Being lost and finding your way was the true showcasing of human will power, something only a few people could display.  

-” I’ll make sure I won’t fail him.”- He stated, a hand squeezing his shoulder firmly. He was lost now, but Clark could be the sign which will point him back into direction he needed to go to.  

-  

Back at the bat-cave, at the manor he looked at his hands, cut, almost grinded, sawn back together, making him look odd. His hands went stiff sometimes, when he moved them a bit too much, or did far too many things at once he could feel the dried blood peel away from his skin, the feeling of a popping the scars made whenever he tried to grab something was awful. His hands were his hope, beside the bruised up and scarred knuckles nothing was wrong with them, now even them were taken away from him, the feeling of cleanness gone.  He looked at the mirror, the scars, the showcasing of him and his legacy, they twirled around twirled torso like curls. He hadn’t had many of the scars, but they always were large and significant. Sometimes in photoshoots the photographers would comment on them, while Bruce’s agent just told them off from asking anything. Then he would check the magazine cover to see the scarring touched up to look less violent. The way people which he had sex with would ask him about them, telling him “ I’ve never seen them on photoshoots. ” with concern and pity, it made him sick. Clark didn’t see them yet, the scars, the dirt making him look like a monster, and he knew there will be questions and lies, lies which hurt him more than they ever should be.   

Going on this date tomorrow meant taking apart the wall, brick by brick, bit by bit, letting the man inside the fortress of being him, being the child who lived through too many events to call them experienced, to child which never got to be one, and now was far too old to be one.   

He walked away from the mirror; he didn’t want to look at the man he hated the most for longer than he should. He checked his phone to see unread messages from Clark, excitement radiating from them, he smiled at the phone screen.  

-  

Days went slowly at the Daily Planet, just like they usually did if nothing interesting happened, well they most certainly did until two days after the gala when photos started dropping.   

Of course there were shots of most magical dresses of the night, or the suits, of course there was plenty of photos of Bruce Wayne at the gala... Clark just couldn’t help himself, but stare at them, looking at the buttons he unbuttoned at that bathroom that night.  

He felt weird with this whole situation, not that he didn’t like it, it was just a foreign idea to enter a relationship with someone of Bruce’s status, besides the man’s second name was basically “playboy” at this point. He felt bothered of the fact someone had probably did more with Bruce than he did, that he most probably wasn’t the man’s first love either, it made him jealous. It was weird being jealous of a man he practically knew nothing about. He then remembered what Lois said when they broke up, the way she was mad at him for... Being so overprotective and possessive. It kind of hit him really hard when he thought about it.   

He was starting to get possessive about Bruce, this weird connection they had, as if they knew each other for so long made Clark realise how much he didn’t want to lose the man. Then came the picture of the man dying because he dared to reveal that he was Superman, it made him kind of sick.  

He knew he would have to lie about it all, to keep both people separate for as long as he could, which probably will ruin their future relationship. He knew the odds, and they never were in his favour.   

Lois Land kind of found out on her own, when he told her the grand secret she just screamed “I knew it!”, before kissing him and getting excited about dating Superman. The problem was he didn’t know how Bruce would take it, the man seemed to be constantly overworked, a whole day could go by without a single replay, their worlds were unspeakably different. The social classes they were from definitely drew lines between them.   

When he thought about how this would go, he just went back to his parent's relationship. How they were together in good and in bad without any problems. He felt like he should go back to them and ask for advice, they were his safe place, a home he gained after losing one. Martha and Johnatan defined who he was today and what he fought for, but despite everything he did, he would always come crawling back to them if anything bad happened, they were his superheroes.   

-” Are you daydreaming again, Smallville?”- Lois asked and looked at him, her eyes seemingly normal, but there was this awful, reporter spark to them. - “You’ve been acting of since the Gala, looking at those Bruce Wayne pictures more intense than usual as well.”- She pointed out and her finger flew to Clark’s computer screen.  

He blushed a little bit, growing fuzzy inside.  

-” ‘S nothin’...”- He mumbled out, his voice warm, glasses falling to the tip of his nose, body sunk into the chair. Lois froze at the response, then a grin came curving at her lips.  

-” Definitely something! Sushi tonight, your place.”- She demanded before storming off, back to her working station.  

Of course, it wouldn’t be a news office if everyone hadn’t known what was going on by the lunch break. The worst thing? Bruce decided to be romantic and sent a singular rose with a hand-written message attached to it to Clark’s workplace, there was some pastries as well, but the office ate them, leaving just a plain croissant to Clark.   

-” Kent, those things are fantastic! Tell your lover to send you more.”- Said Jimmy and stormed off, he just watched him go with a deep sigh.  

-” You know those pastries are crazy expensive?”- Cat asked him, she appeared out of nowhere. - “ This shit you’ve got going one with Bruce Wayne seems... Unusual to say the least, all these years I did in the gossip sector and never have I seen the man act this way... Well beside a couple of months he went totally silent with any relationship drama.”- She stated, her voice as serious as you could get from her.   

At least it wasn’t only weird to him. If Wayne was being serious about all of this Clark could just pray that the man himself had a twisted secret and they could just... Stay together in this one big lie.   

-  

As usual at this point Lois seated herself at the couch while Clark ordered the food in the kitchen, juggling between listening to what the woman on the other end of the phone had to say and opening a bottle of red wine. He liked the taste of it; he drunk and sipped it even if it didn’t have any effect on him.   

The wine bottle popped and with the sound of that the order was placed, now they just had to wait for their sushi to arrive.  

He walked towards Lois, two wine glasses in hand, the bottle in another, phone in the back pocket of his pants.  

-” You know Clark...”- She started her (most probably) outrageous statement, while he poured wine.- “Like a week ago we talked like this about Batman, now we talk about, well... Bruce Wayne. To be honest? I don’t know which one is more impressive to attract.”- She finished, leaving him eyeing her while breathing loudly in frustration. She had this effect on him, she made him loose control very easily... Which was great sometimes.  

-” Listen Lois, it’s not like that! Besides we don’t talk about Batman, this whole ‘love theory’ was fal-”- Sound of incoming text came from Clark’s back pocket.   

He looked at the clock- “ 19:51, Bruce should be getting off work. ”- He thought to himself, a smile creeping on his face, which didn’t go unnoticed by his guest.  

-” It is like that, you even know it’s hm without checking!”- She screamed, and well... She had a point.   

He pulled out his phone and looked at what did the notification read. - “Tomorrow, 4pm, I’ll pick you up.”. His face must’ve gone really red, because Lois straightened up.  

-” Is this a dick pic that you stare so intensely?”- She asked chuckling, all the excitement vanished within seconds.  

-” You ruined it.”- He mumbled out like a little, grumpy kid. - “He asked me on a date, he’ll pick me up from work.”- He explained and a ‘ ooo’ sound escaped his friend’s mouth.   

-” Tell him we say “ yes ”! Ask him if you should wear something elegant, it would be a pleasure to dress you back into that 2-piece I picked out.”- Her voice mocking, but full of enthusiasm as well. Clark just shook his head and rolled his eyes.  

-” “No, Darling, casual is great.””- Clark’s voice cracking slightly more with every single word as he read, feeling his face blush.  

-” Aren’t you similar age?”- Lois asked, just to burst out laughing, leaving Clark to feel miserable.  

-” And you know what’s the worst thing? This isn’t close to the shit he said in the bathro-”- Clark cut himself off, covering his mouth with one of his hand, other one holding the phone.   

Lois froze, the wine glass in the air, halfway to her mouth, eyes wide with shock, cheeks blushing. She made an unbreakable eye contact with the man sitting on the floor. Now he just had to wait for questions to flood the room.   

She put the wine glass away, seemingly nonchalant, just to curl up on the couch, covering her head with her hands.  

-” No fucking way Kent!”- She said, her voice soaked in an unknown to his ear feelings, he settled to think it was a rather crazy mix of many. - “You did that there? Just like that?”- The questioning began, he just nodded his head shyly, but somehow proud in himself. - “What now, you top him?”- She laughed, looking him straight in the eye to just find nothing. Another silent moment. - “Oh my fucking god...”- She mumbled out.  

-” Is it really that hard to believe? I bet Cat told you already that something was going on, that’s the way she is.”- He defended himself. Well, it turns out that Cat either forgot or just couldn’t believe herself considering today’s comment.  

-” She didn’t Clark... What was she even supposed to tell me, huh? That what? That you flirted publicly? We all know Wayne doesn’t do flirting, he just gets straight to business.”- She stated, looking at her friend for confirmation, just to receive nothing once more.  

-” Well... Looks like exceptions happen, huh?”- He chuckled dryly, trying to get Lois out from the state she was currently in.   

She looked at him, shaking her head in ‘no’ motion. He knew that it came from worry she had for him, so he chose to just smile at it warmly.  

-  

Bruce did just as he promised, waiting in front of Daily Planet’s door, resting his back and butt on the driver’s door. This time he wore a black, leather coat with black leather gloves, underneath you could see a wider cut jeans and a pair of neat, black shoes. His hair combed back in his usual style. He was talking to someone on the phone; his expression was telling a story full of annoyance.   

Clark looked underwhelming to say the least, he wore a black turtleneck, a pair of cream-coloured linen pants and his usual sneakers, hair begging to be cut shorter.   

Of course, Bruce would be a show off and would come in an expensive car, as if people didn’t stare at him enough. This time it was a black Porsche Panamera. People stopped to shot stares at the car and most importantly at Bruce. Clark watched the man talking at the phone, this time pure anger on his face. He went out from the door and his date’s eyes shoot up on him immediately, it was quite scary actually, at the same moment he just hung up and pushed his phone into the back pocket.   

Bruce’s eyes scanned him as he walked through the crowd gathering around them.  

-” Mister Kent, mind if I steal you?”- He asked and smiled playfully before making a gesture towards the car.   

-” Of course not, Mister Wayne.”- The answer matched the playfulness.   

Bruce made his way around the car to open the door for the visually larger man, which made Clark feel embarrassed just a little bit. The door closed behind him and he could see Bruce walking around the car, back to the driver seat through the windshield. Moments later he was inside, the click of closing doors and the fastened seatbelt, Clark did the same thing afterwards.   

-” Toss the bag onto the back seat.”- He suggested, his tone warm, warmer than the one he heard up until this point. Clark did just as he was asked to once more, without a single word.   

-” ‘Casual’, huh?”- Clark said and chuckled, Bruce’s face seemed surprised. - “You look like you belong on Vouge’s cover.”- He complimented looking at his date while doing so, a delicate smile appeared on the stoic, sculpture-like features, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he saw a smile like this before... On someone he knew, on Batman. - “ No Clark, don’t be ridiculous .”- He castigated himself mentally.  

-” Well Clark... You haven’t seen yourself then.”- It was all he said before driving away, not a comment more, but spoken in a tone that was enough to send Clark into cloud nine.   

A comfortable silence was between them, making both of them less and less stressed. They were out from the city havoc and in much more pleasurable less crowded side of the city. He seemed surprised at the fact that they didn’t go to Gotham and he just couldn’t help himself.  

-” Why not Gotham?”- He asked after 15 minutes of silence, radio was playing, some old rock hits, which served as background noise.   

-” The city is a nightmare consumed by money, besides... I think this will satisfy you more.”- He answered, his tone really casual, heartbeat steady, just skipped a beat while speaking the second part. He noticed a delicate change, a kind of a crack in Bruce’s behaviour, a window to his true self. Clark felt like it became his sole purpose to get rid of the ugly plaster which made Bruce into a craving, to get rid of the artificial layer which he felt on him.  

-” Well, I'm from Smallville, I shouldn’t be too hard to please.”- He joked, but he could feel the shiver that went through the other man.  

-” Let’s just say...”- The man’s pulse started growing more and more rapid as he spoke. - “I want to build the effect overtime.”- The warm radiating from the man was rather nice on Clark, making him blush.  

-” ‘ Overtime ’, huh? That’s sweet.”- Clark admitted, a smile forming on his face.  

They stopped on some kind of hill, trees blocking the view of anything, right next to the wild parking lot stood a singular food truck with tacos, a couple of tables, each supplied with a pair of chairs in front of the yellow-ish van. The calmness around here was spectacular; to think about the fact it was only twenty minutes from Metropolis...  

He just stood there, next to the car, letting his senses roam free, every single squirrel, hare in the bushes which creaked against the delicate wind. The leaves falling from the trees suggesting October will follow shortly.   

-” You coming or what?”- Wayne asked, already on the other side of the parking lot, standing on the gravel pathway. Clark just nodded and joined him.  

They walked and walked, between the tall, proud trees. Stopping to look at birds and other wildlife which appeared as they walked. The pathway turned, went up, never down. He just felt a sense of shame that he never found himself coming here, the place was completely foreign. Trees were dropping its leaves, sometimes Clark would take longer looks at Bruce who leaded the way, he looked like he belonged there, the leather coat, everything, he looked...Gorgeous. He took a picture with his mind, every time the other man smiled at any and every animal they crossed also was saved in his mind.   

Then they reached a bald and flat spot with a single bench. Bruce sat on the bench; he did the same thing.   

The view was straight up magical. Panorama of Metropolis was distant, almost shy, beneath it were colourful leaves of trees they most probably crossed while walking up here. He felt genuinely impressed, he felt free.  

-” We can’t fly, we should use terrain elevations to our advantage then.”- His date stated, it was really spot on... Weirdly spot on.  

But the thing Clark must admit was that even if he can fly and see this panorama every single day, at every single moment, nothing will beat the simple, human form of enjoying the same thing he did. He somehow forgot about the way he felt different, unwanted, even it was for a moment. For this moment he will have a debt to pay off to Bruce.  

He sometimes looked into mirror and saw everything the awful people seen. The differences, the ugliness of him being an alien. It shot his heart, he wasn’t that different from any human, especially mentally, someone would say that his willpower is stronger, and he has psychological advantages... But Clark could simply prove them wrong by   

 mentioning Batman who was human in skin and flesh or Lois Lane, she was strong, never asking for help, only the one helping. There were multiple cases when she was the one saving Clark, and not even one when Superman was the one saving her.  

-” You feel... Artificial Bruce, let yourself be human.”- Clark said, he spilled his mind before being able to bite his tongue. The man just crossed his arms and smiled.  

-” I can’t be open as you, it’s hard.”- Pain at the edges of his words.- “I’m not as successful and cool as you may ever thought, I’m rather pathetic.”- He cut deep with this sword, the way he was talking calculated, as if he was playing a game of chess. He pulled out a bottle of pills, handed them to him. - “Built the walls so tall I suffocate myself inside them, because I’m too scared to ask for help.”- A chuckle at the end. He felt like someone just landed a punch on him, he thought of Batman at the moment. Whenever he was with Bruce Wayne he couldn’t stop thinking about the Dark Knight, both men had the perfectly identical twist to them which sent Clark wondering if... They weren’t the same person.   

-” I saw you three times, all three showed me how human you can be, how fake you are when you’re out there acting, preforming for everyone without getting a prize.”- He spoke from experience, looking at the bottle of antidepressants.   

-” Speaking from experience, Superman?”- Batman asked, his voice calm, hand between them, resting on the bench.  

-” Sure, Batman.”- He answered, hand resting on top of Bruce’s hands- delicately, he remembered how awful they looked that night.  

He slipped the pills back to Bruce’s pocket. No one dared to speak or breath. They were just here, right now, hands collided together, giving them grounding sense of being wanted.  

Chapter Text

Nights began to grow bigger and longer, sun became lazier, taking quicker rest, making days shorter. Moon was already up; the sun went down the horizon slowly as they approached Clark’s apartment. Sky was a true display of renaissance artist's colour palette- purples were deep, softer and warmer at the edges bleeding into much warmer, hugging reds, bloody and pale, they made you feel comfortable and then they faded to a sunny yellow, reminder of daylight, sign of hope. Colours so intoxicating that even clouds looked like they took a golden shower of sunlight, like they couldn’t resist the urge to just... Be hugged by the sun rays. On the other side moon appeared, like a longing lover of the sky, his envy of the sun turning the sky black and deep shades of indigo, choking the sky, making it pay for its unfaithfulness to the moon, the tears forming into the same starts you see above your head every time you look up, when it’s day sun shines too bright for the tears, the starts to seen, making you forget about the pain of love.   

The car engine hummed, powering down. Silence, growing between them, binding them together like ivy binds old building’s structure, keeping it from falling apart even further. They left the car, walking up the stairs to the small apartment, that was Clark’s shame. The shame didn’t come from how it looked, or its size, it came from the fact the man was a fanboy of Bruce. He straight up had a magazine collection in his bedroom. He fumbled with the keys a little too long, ominous presence of Bruce behind him.  

-” Clark, let me help you.”- Bruce said, his hand already coming to grab the thing. Clark just froze.  

-” With those hands of yours? Forget about it.”- The key finally went into the lock as they spoke, a sense of relief washing over him like a nice wave.  

They went inside, all the conversations that had to flow today, all the questions that they had to ask must happen here. Gotham has far too may pairs of ears and eyes, while Metropolis city is gossiper’s paradise. Clark could see all the articles flowing in gazettes of Gotham and Metropolis, the mysterious relation between him and Bruce.  

Batman seemed to freeze at the front door’s step, Clark read his heart, it was thudding loudly, well at least he didn’t restrain his heart around Superman, just like he used to do. Then Bruce’s hands twitched, it might’ve been insignificant to anyone, but it meant a lot to Clark.   

He didn’t waste any more time and pulled his lover in, doors closing behind them, a newfound sense of privacy and comfort growing with every single second they spend with each other. He hugged the man, not to tight, just enough pressure, Wayne’s head finding it’s place in the crook of Clark’s head. A smile, the soft, sad one crept up on his lips, tears which he never suspected that were there coming to the corners of his eyes, pushing against his conjunctives of his eyes. He let them go, let them fall onto his thing of adoration back, on the white shirt, staining it, making it wet. Bruce was quiet, his hands creeping onto Clark’s wide back, searching for something, anything but never finding it, just proceeding to search further.   

-” It’s so hard...”- The soft hum of tired voice, of breath that was warm on Clark’s neck. - “You tear me apart just to sew it back together...”- He added, a sprinkle of need in his voice.  

-”Oh, Bruce...”- Voice shaky as he mumbled out these words.- “You made me confused, tired, scared and happy... You made me forget about the fact I’m different, you tore me apart just to put me back together later.”- The words pushing out from his words, a smile on his lips.  

His hands taking Bruce’s shoulders, his body restrained by the white shir he wore, he sat him on the couch to sit next to him. His large, strong, worked-through hands which he put into good use in Kansas found Bruce’s gloved ones. He knew the hands which embraced his cheek that night at the gala were gone. The soft, strong, long-fingered hands with knuckles so worn they couldn’t possibly be owned by a billionaire were long lost, but he didn’t feel bad about it. He knew this man and his body was scarred, not just on the outside, but internally too. He took the hand of the man in front of him into his own, motion soft, tender, made without too much work.  

-”Can I?”- He asked to receive a smile, soft one, far too soft, it was rather sad and full of shame.   

He pulled off the leather glove to reveal an artifact of life, of being human and making mistakes. Fingers were almost untouched, just some scratches at the sides, near the fingernails, knuckle was the place where it all started, torn skin sew together, long, deep cuts from knuckles, through the whole metacarpus, most of the cunts horizontal, some vertical which ended far too near an artery. Dried blood beneath the stitches suggesting those weren’t minor cuts. He could picture the night it happened, the bloody hood of that van, how much blood Batman... No, Bruce had lost that night, the nonchalant walk he did towards the Gotham city, like nothing ever happened. Clark felt a sense of guilt coming his way, growing in his throat. He took the other hand and took off the glove to see similar scarring on them, the torn edges which were created from a grinding motion. He visualised the pain the man felt, it must’ve been hell, the sparks it sent, the ones which shook you up.   

Those hands before him were hands of a man long lost, a man who believed he wasn’t worth anything, the man who created danger for himself just to save others.   

A mortal, a human who dared to question the way of the world.  

-  

He watched as Superman exanimated his scars. The usual sparkling eyes of joy and funny jokes gone, guilt and sadness taken over them, his face was serious, he never saw it like that. Clark Kent was cheery, serious if needed, Superman also, but this was something else, it was concern for his health and well-being, something he hadn’t had any pleasure to experience.   

Clark Kent a supposed alien from another planet, a god-like being posing to be mortal seemed so humane to him... He never met a person so human-like as this man was. A man who lost everything just to be faced with hate and racism simply because... There was no reason behind it, the only thing which could justify those actions was fear, which was so stupid he preferred to believe there was no reason.   

Those big hands, far bigger than his touching him with so much delicacy, he just couldn’t help himself but feel pleasure. The fear he felt, the worry which strangled him, oh so often just vanishing with every brush his lover’s thumb offered. He couldn’t feel shame anymore, he just wanted to expose himself, show the whole of his body, feeling those rigid, calloused hands reaching places which were never touched by anyone. Bruce wanted to be vulnerable, exposed and naked before Clark, he also wanted to scream every single emotion he towards this man straight to his face.   

He let go of his hands, he pushed the buff man onto the couch, he laid over him, body’s touching, morphing into one, mixing and blending into one another. This was act so intimidate that the bathroom sex couldn’t come close to it.   

-” How long did you know?”- Clark asked, tone soft as his hands were closed at Bruce’s back, forming a hug.  

-” Since the interview at the Wayne tower.”- He admitted, closing his eyes, his ear listening to Superman’s heart rate quickening.  

-” Holy shit...”- Voice a whisper, a chuckle came later. - “I should’ve noticed you knew to think of it, I was in chills for like days after that.”- He added, making Bruce feel even more lost in him.  

-” I’ve never felt the need to see who Superman was, you got thing done and it was important.”- He voiced his thoughts, but he could feel more words forming in his mind, thing he couldn’t say until now. - “Have you noticed?”- He asked, regretting his words seconds later, the other man shifted a little bit underneath him.  

-” What?”- He asked, his voice sounding confused.  

-” The way I felt for you.”- Words so simple, yet so fatal. It was true that some words cut deeper than a sword could, they hurt more than any abuse could.  

Silence. Hum of city nightlife could be heard outside. The cozy apartment screaming Kent’s personality and way of being grew into a paradise of silence. It was seconds, but it was enough to send their hearts racing.   

-” ...I did. Did you?”- Simple words, but so meaningful.  

-” I think so.”- The answer stoic.  

Before any more confusion could grow between them a kiss was created. Their mouths smacking against each other, telling not the lies they used to, but the truths. It was freeing for the soul and mind, it did you favours you couldn’t possibly repay, because there was no one to repay them to.   

All secrets they kept from one another turned out to be already revealed, already told just to different person. They both were so separated from one another, they pushed each other so far away that they made each other ring the earth, finishing the run with their backs touching, now all that there was left to be connected was to turn back and stand face to face, and they did just that.   

All the pettiness they held towards each other, all this sacrifices that they made, all the hard decisions they have made seemed to repay them in this moment in this time.   

-” Shit Clark... I just, it’s so hard to me to be open.”- His voice trembling, guilt making him feel hazy. - “I thought pushing you away would be so much easier, but it wasn’t...”- He said, pulling away. Before Clark could say anything, he was met with scared eyes of Bruce Wayne, standing, shaking a little bit. - “Don’t mind me, I’m a sad thing to look at, I come here, ruining your life... You’re a good man and deserve someone like that, not a piece of shit like me. I held it so long, I just can’t stop this feeling.”- His words came out like waterfalls, making everything around him feel like a blur. It definitely was his que to take his medication. - “I’m actively ruining you life and-”- He was cut off by Clark’s hand on his mouth.  

The man standing in front of him, now scraped of glasses from his face, the eyes seemed even more blue than before, the warm hues growing sad, like sky before a thunderstorm, overwhelming to look at. The hand came back to the man’s body, his head slightly tilted to the side, face expressing mix of emotions.  

-” Why would you say that?”- A simple question was asked, a question to which Bruce never had an answer to. The silence seemed to tell Clark enough, at this point he wondered if the man couldn’t read his mind. - “All I ever did with you or felt to you was intentional and honest. If you need reassurances like this, I can provide them.”- His voice real, rough, but exactly what he needed at this moment. - “It’s all as confusing to me as it is to you. I have an ex-girlfriend who is my friend and she is the best of the best, she left me feeling empty, it was hard for me. I went back to Kansas, to Smallville after that, I gave no sign of life to anyone for two weeks. I’m not perfect either, and definitely not as good as you think.”- He said, his cheeks growing red at the confession. - “No one is perfect and no one will ever be, not because we are human, it’s because we are alive and we are perceived by others. You can’t please everyone, I know this far too well, I learned to live with this thought.”- Pain in those words, the facade of perfection which Bruce saw on Clark was gone, there was only the person, it’s life and it’s mistakes which he couldn’t erase, but he could make sure that they didn’t define his future.  

Bruce looked at his lover, at the man which seemed to bring out the true him, the him which he thought was far gone, out of anyone’s reach and vision. The way he pushed away Clar, even after swearing he wanted the man to see him vulnerable was something he just couldn’t control anymore.   

-” I’m sorry.”- Words heavy on his tongue, they never came easily to him. His eyes faced downwards, he felt shame, even stronger one when words didn’t come from the other side.  

-” There is nothing to be sorry about, there is just work we need to put in.”- Clark said, his tone really warm and restorative.  

-  

He grabbed the hips of the man in front of him, he sat in the couch, inviting the man to join him and sit on his lap. He pulled Bruce down and seated him on his lap. Smile curving on the man’s mouth, he liked that smile, it was a sign of relief.   

It was all so hard for him too, he wasn’t scared that the feelings weren’t true, he was just worried that he would unintentionally hurt the man, or read his emotions wrong, he did that quite often. Even now, as he spoke that word’s he wasn’t too sure if Bruce would buy them, but he was glad that he did say them.   

It physically and mentally hurt him when Bruce said those words about himself, the other thing which worried him was how low the man thought of himself, sprinkle in those suicidal intentions and you have the reason why this man took pills in the first place. He wanted to see the smile he saw now more often, even if was one caused by the feeling of relief it was worth it.   

His big hands framing Bruce’s face, pulling into a kiss.   

His mouth opened delicately, making just enough room for Bruce’s tongue to enter, then their tongues met, making Clark get to work. The wet clicks of contact making Clark hum with joy, his lips delicately grabbed his lover’s lower lip, pulling it just to go back to kissing.   

-” You should take your medications.”- Clark suggested with worry in his tone. - “When you spoke... Your heart went crazy; you looked like you would get a panic attack on the spot.”- He explained to be met with “ Are you serious wight now? ” expression.  

-” I appreciate your concern, but-”- Clark cut the man off by putting his forearm under Bruce’s butt. He stood up rather effortlessly and went to the coat rack next to the front door to take out the pills.  

Bruce buried his head in Clark’s neck; he could feel how hot this man’s cheeks were. He pulled out the pills and moved into the kitchen, sitting his lover on the countertop, then he handed him the medications, while getting him a glass of water.  

-” You make me feel pathetic, Kent.”- The words dripping with embarrassment.   

-” Somone has to do it, Wayne.”- His voice serious, the ‘Wayne’ part rather mocking. - “You’ll sleep here tonight.”- He stated and looked at the changing expression on Bruce’s face.   

-” I can’t, I’ve already got faster off work today, I usually finish at 7:45pm.”- He argued.  

-” You will sleep here.”- He stated and began undoing buttons on Bruce’s shirt.  

He let him take off the shirt too, even if he grew uncomfortable with every single moment, Clark could read it off him.   

He could see a rater fresh stab wound, it was at the finish of healing process, already covered by scar tissue. The whole torso and arms were covered in minor scars, white ones which were probably insignificant, bullet-holes ones and of course there were big scars which must’ve come from great battles which he didn’t dare to question. He traced every single one with his index finger, movement delicate, making Bruce hum a little.  

-” That’s bad ass.”- Clark laughed and was met with a tired smirk.  

He took off his turtleneck to reveal the untouched body, not a single imperfection, not a single mole on his body, the muscles were visible, but toned just enough to be considered scary and impressive, some dark hair grew on his chest, a happy trail on his abdomen which was like a pathway to reward.  

-” And that’s hot, Darling.”- Bruce commented, making Clark feel proud in himself. - “You hide any muscles under those pants, huh, Boyfriend?”- He asked, a lick on his rather gloomy expression.  

-” Boyfriend? Can’t remember when you asked me about this.”- He joked to be met with eyes being rolled at him. - “About those muscles... Since we are boyfriends you’ll find out soon enough.”- His tone flirtatious, making Bruce whistle in amusement. - “ Of course he would do that .”- Clark thought to himself.  

Moments later they were in Clark’s bedroom, only in boxers, far too tired to do anything, but feeling strong enough to just talk. Superman found himself lying in bed, it was scrunched up in the corner of the room, he was lying beside the wall, leaving the space on the edge of the bed for Bruce who currently was looking through his stuff.  

-” Should I be scared?”- The bat asked him, sitting on the floor looking through something.  

-” What are you talking about?”- Clark asked, his voice confused but not confused enough to get up from bed.  

-” You have like... Every magazine that features me, even if its form rival newspapers.”- He stated, and Clark went stiff.  

-” Shit... I forgot about this.”- He whispered out, covering his red face with hands.  

-” Do you like jerk off to-”- The question sending Clark over the edge.  

-” Fuck no!”- He practically screamed out, his face annoyed. He was met with a quiet chuckle.  

-” That’s sad... I hoped for other answer.”- Bruce said, his voice weirdly disappointed.  

Chapter Text

Lex Luthor has commanded a press conference, he said it was urgent and so he got it.  

Clark stood there with Olsen, in front of the Luthor corp . building, waiting for the devil reincarnated to show up. And when he did, he wished he didn’t. He pressed a button on controller which he held in his hands. A picture of a dead body appeared, dead body of Dhalia Stacey , her face severely injured. He froze looking at the picture. Then pictures of Superman taking the woman to the staff rooms, it was right before the interrogation.   

-” Superman killed Dhalia Stacey... Our fellow hero, the buyer of ‘ Help4kid s’ making the charity bloom with care!”- He screamed, his words almost sincere. It was total bullshit; it was all a twisted game which made Luthor look like the good guy.  

Questions began to flow in, screaming reporters fighting to grab Luthor’s attention, while Jimmy and Clark just stood there in silence. He felt his eyes darken, unspeakable amount of rage growing deep in his gut.  

-” Mister Luthor, how do we know it was Superman?!”- Someone from the crowd screamed, everyone started humming in agreement.   

The screen flicked behind the man, showcasing the cooks of the “ Gotham’s lover ”, the same ones which let Superman pass without any disagreement, just with nods of understanding. They said thinks like hearing screams of a woman coming from the basement, Superman imposing as a civilian coming out from there with bloody hands. He felt betrayed and felt pity for those people, the amount of dirt under Lex’s and Oswald’s fingernails was massive, they probably scared crap out of these people or just simply paid them unspeakable money.   

He thought that if the crime scene really was in the basement of the building, and if the crime was committed the same day, in similar time when Clark questioned Dhalia, then Penguin was the one to blame of this. The whole problem was that both of the man worked together, Lex Luthor hunting Superman and the Justice Gang, while Oswald Cobblepot took care of his beloved Gotham city.   

Bruce said that Dhalia was a clean card, woman without a dark background, people looked up to her, referred to her in good words, that’s why she was involved too. Death of a person of such status always shook the public, making them question reality.   

Just when chaos started erupting, everyone screaming their questions at the billionaire came another photo. This time it was Batman softly touching cheek of unconscious Superman, it was the night of the Kryptonite exposure. Clark felt as he began to choke, the flannel becoming tight around his neck. It was one thing to make Superman, it was another one to drag Batman into it, to drag the man into a storm that didn’t have anything to do with him.   

-” As you can see our ‘superheroes’ have an ongoing thing between them.”- Voice dripping with... Jealousy? Clark couldn’t put everything together. - “It’s safe to assume our Dark knight from Gotham city has turned our Metropolis hero into something dark a twisted. Gotham city is like a plague; we need to fight it. Their crime rates are affecting everyone at this point.”- Lies came out from the man’s mouth like biting snakes, making Clark feel rage deep in his core.   

Then no one other than Oswald Cobblepot appeared on the stage, right next to Luthor’s side.  

-” I’ve created an army of robots which will take care of all the meta-human freaks and people in suits once and for all, to achieve this I hired this man, a man of honour, a man who lived all his life in Gotham city, he knows this city like he know himself. We will take care of people imposing as ‘ superheroes ’, while they don’t do anything besides damage.”- He stated, voice stoic, dripping with hatred. Those words cut deep, they were piercing, making everyone silent, even Clark Kent himself. He couldn’t find words within himself, for the first time he felt... Hopeless.   

-  

Statement’s reached Gotham city too. Bruce was in the hospital beside Alfred, conversation they had was frozen as they both were listening to the non-sense on the TV, all of this was lies, a twisted reality Lex Luthor created to make himself a saviour.  

-” Don’t become reckless.”- Alfred warned, those words were the first ones which came out after the press conference.   

He saw how personal this was, even if Luthor was posing as someone untouched Bruce just knew. He was in show business as long as he was alive, he could read even the most poker-faced bastards like open books. As far as he knew Luthor was rather obsessed with power, his crumbly ego was always hidden underneath the narcissistic mask. The man felt threatened by meta-humans and people who had big stigma on society, just like Batman did. Sure, money was power but can’t buy you everything and Luthor had nothing beside the cash or threats, because fear is a tool which he mastered using, it was hope and human decency which was hard to do. Being a jackass was easy, being a caring person was harder, because you can see the pain you do to everyone by merely existing.  

-” He is scared, he lost the sense of control when he went to prison, and he is capable of doing anything to get it back.”- Bruce said to Alfred, their expressions stoic, composed, even if deep down they felt controlled chaos growing in their bodies.   

He knew that showing up as Batman or any other Superhero will be hell from now on. The whole problem was that if they strike without taking them all down publicly, they will look like the villains which Lex Luthor made them. The whole problem started when they would strike the two men from media side, taking down their already unstable reputations, it would probably hurt people closest to Clark, and it wasn’t what Bruce wanted to do. He could picture the threats being sent to all people which the man new, the pure terror emerging like olive oil from water. If they started to act they needed even more evidence, they needed connections, places, papers, people to prove that they were innocent, words weren’t enough as well as the statistics.   

The paper’s which he gathered about the funding system in the charity were a nice base, now they needed people who Dhalia wronged come forward, the victims of money thirsty system, as well as eyes on the inside of the whole circus Lex and Penguin created.   

-” Master Wayne, go. I’ll lick myself out from this, I don’t need your assistance, your back always carries too much weight and I won’t be a part of it.”- Alfred commanded, sending Bruce to go and take care of things which needed to be taken care of.  

-  

And just like this over two weeks of pure chaos had passed.   

He sat in the bat-cave, making listing documents which seemed relevant to the case. Doing a patrol was out of the question considering current situation of Gotham city, there was an army of thugs he beaten multiple times imposing as Oswald’s army of peace. A bunch of racist criminals who nothing beside rising fear in already scared inhabitants of the city.   

He contacted Selina which agreed to gather intel for him, of course she went everywhere the money went so she did it all for a fat pay check and a promise that she will get to question Clark after all this is over. It has to be over.  

She stopped by the Bat-cave like a week ago, she took the lens Batman wore to record the patrols and analyse them later one, as well as some other stuff. Selina had a rather natural way of being easy to trust, within three days she found herself to be checking documents, sending pictures to Bruce. He was quite scared by how quick she acted and sometimes he questioned her methods, but as the end he was glad she was able to help. He analysed those papers; they were information about the use of materials; numbers were aligning perfectly with the missing kilograms of materials from Luthor corp. which suggested that weapons which appeared were made off-books without the need to get them checked in government. Making new designs of weapons meant a lot of paperwork and checking, Bruce knew something about that. They had to check it for eventual violations of law and many other things, producing the weapons illegally meant that you don’t need to all this, besides you can make the weapons even more deadly without any worry. It was a convenient option if you had trusted people around, but if it happened inside a big corporation like Luthor’s it simply meant that people working there either had a fat salary or they were simply threatened. Knowing the current situation of the workers, the salary went to the higher up’s while threats went to simple workers who just try to tie an end with an end.   

Paper stacks grew, audio and video material of people talking about the way they were scared for their life, the sad part was that they talked about it casually, during breaks suggesting that living in fear was their reality. All those voices were sad, scared and tired, they were touching to say the least, and that was what Bruce needed.   

He didn’t even know how it started that Clark would just appear at the cave, it just happened...Metropolis grew even more hateful, following Gotham’s pathway. Superman started getting public lynch for merely existing, whole racist parades were held, people screaming out their hate for meta-people. Those groups weren’t big, but still so significant that they made Clark appear generally sadder, the man wasn’t muttering nonsense like he always did, either trying to explain himself or just talking about stuff happening in Daily Planet.  

Patrols started to become more brutal in Gotham. Bruce would come out with bruises and cuts, sometimes something to stitch together and Clark would start to fly him to the cave, but sometimes Clark would leave shortly after dropping Batman off, the Metropolis duty calling him. Weapons used to fight the heroes didn’t just hurt them, they terrorized the city first, spreading panic to create an illusion of chaos, for people to blame meta-human's even more, the whole thinking way was that “ This wouldn’t have had happened if those super-humans didn’t exist in the first place! ”, the bitter thing was that it seemed to work perfectly fine, just singular news stations and gazettes portrayed superheroes as the good ones. Everything was tailored to bring them down as well, sonic blasts which send Hawkgirl to the ground, making her scream as her eardrums hurt her, Kryptonite gas which made Clark feel hazy while flying, it wasn’t enough to stop him, but enough to weaken him, precise guns which gave Green Lantern and Mr. Terrific hard time to dismantle, sometimes they also managed to hit some T-spheres, which made the owner loose his guts.   

Batman felt ignored, all this effort went to dismantle Metropolis’s saviours while the weapons which the Penguin’s army used were just more advanced in the case of speed and precision, well it still wasn’t enough to stop Batman. The man knew this city by heart, every single nook and crack in the pavement, his weapons and suits were practically designed to make him almost unkillable. He used buildings to his advantage, throwing batarangs like rain, always hitting his target. At this point he started using gas-bombs too. Those men were sent to hurt him, so he will hurt them more, not kill them, but hurt them enough that they will never set foot next to Oswald.   

-  

One night when he took a larger group by the dock’s, a group which seemed to guard the warehouses he located the night prior. They didn’t seem anything out of ordinary at first, bones were being broken, he was left untouched, well it was as simple as that until Superman arrived. They started to panic detonating the magazines full of artillery, it was pure act of people too terrified for their life to do anything else. Clark covered Bruce with his body, explosion had no effect on him. After explosions came the strange sense of peace and calmness, like soothing sun after a rain fall.   

Clark grabbed right hip of Bruce pulling him into side-to-side embrace, letting the moment of silence take over them. Batman didn’t let his guard down, one person, still intact crawled out from the ruins and fire, pulled out their gun and began shooting. They both ducked the attack, Batman already behind his bullet-proof cape and Superman on his way to take care of the man. He watched as the gun was being bent and then a sharp pain in his side started burning. He grabbed the arm of the attacker, flying him over his head, sound of cracked ribs on the concrete of the docks, thug was already unconscious, but the 48 hours off-sleep seemed to get better of him. He fell to his knees, the knife still piercing his side violently, exhaustion he thought he restrained with an insane dose of caffeine blurring his vision.    

Next thing he knew was that he was laying top-less, without his cowl and boots, only in those awful under pants of batsuit inside the cave’s med-bay. Large, warm hands playing with his hair.  

-” Fuck... Sorry, Darling, might’ve overworked myself.”- He said to Clark, who just scoffed at the words. It hurt him, but it was deserved.   

A week and a half ago when this whole chaos started, he promised Alfred and Clark that he will be careful to don’t overwork himself, well he let them down, just like he always did.  

-” You promised you won’t pull this shit again.”- The curse words full of meaning coming from this man’s mouth, he never cursed.- “I know that we don’t see each other too much, fuck we didn’t have sex for like three weeks...”- He laughed saying that part, but his voice was hurt.- “I would love to have it by the way, but not when you’re walking days without sleep. You have to be here when I finally get to Dhalia’s victims you need to guide me.”- Clark said, exhaustion now hearable. - “ Of course he would be overworking himself too. ”- Bruce thought to himself, he was disappointed in himself.   

-” Clark... I’ll try not to pull this again, okay? But I won’t promise you something I know I won’t be able to provide.”- He admitted, it was a sweet-sour thing to say, but it seemed to soothe his lover’s pain.   

-” Might as well talk about it since we have time. Justice Gang said they didn’t need me today.”- Superman mumbled out, his voice tired. - “You have any leads on that? I know that you are tracking this from the technical side, but maybe...?”- Hope in his voice.  

The night at the gala crept into his mind. The disgusted feeling that twisted his gut when he thought about that evening. He knew that he was object of attraction, he appreciated when someone flirted with his smoothly and touched him delicately while doing so but forcing yourself onto someone to shut his mouth was a grave mistake to do. He remembered all those gala’s when he saw her touching someone a little bit too much, how he played dumb and started to call Dhalia over to protect whoever was being assaulted, he would wake up the next day hoping to see an assault charge filed against her, but they never came. He became a part of the problem, of that woman thinking she was untouchable, he should’ve filed those papers, but... The shame of it was eating him, he was glad he wasn’t a freeze type of person, and he just acted on the spot, but some people weren’t as lucky as him. Forcing yourself onto someone scraped off the victim’s privilege of being humans. Being able to restrain yourself was an ability which animals didn’t have, yet some people still acted like an animal in mating season.  

-” Are you okay?”- Clark’s voice foreign to his ears, almost making his shiver. Bruce sat up on the bed, his partner supporting his body as he did, his expression confused.  

-” I can help...”- Shame in his voice, even if he knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, he could live with that situation, he didn’t feel traumatized by it, but it most certainly left a mark on him.   

-” With what? Why?”- Superman’s voice growing anxious, looking for answears.  

-” Remember how you found me that night? Let’s just say I had a rather unpleasant-”- He couldn’t finish the sentence, his body was caught in strong, but delicate hug. A sense of peace embraced him, the warm feeling of Clark’s body sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He could drown in this man if that was possible. He hugged the man back, the stab wound screaming, but he didn’t care about it.   

Just now have he realised that Clark had a shirt and flannel on, he must’ve been out for so long.  

-” Didn’t care to tell me sooner?”- No judgement in his tone, only worry which Bruce appreciated.   

-” Didn’t feel the need to do so, figured it would come up sooner or later.”- Voice exhausted, kind of stained with the kind of tone when you talk about something that was just a memory now. - “I put her to her place anyways, you should’ve seen other people...”- He said as Clark pulled away, his focus was on Bruce as always. He loved it, how the reporter mind of this man was always there, never leaving him despite the situation.   

-” Care to remember those people?”- Clark asked, he tried to lighten up the mood, but his voice was just sad.   

Monsters like those walked between people, mostly unnoticed before someone had guts to report them. People were easily scared, people who had money were generally scary, especially if you were coming from working class or lower. You just felt helpless in their presence, almost as if your words didn’t matter.   

-” It was always reporters, Clark. The young ones with low experience, happy to be there...”- Bruce remembered those cheery faces, the new faces which asked him questions. He liked those young reporters, they always were very cheery and good at their job, talking to them was as easy as breathing, because the reality of working in media didn’t catch up to them. He would always give them longer answers and choose them over familiar faces. He would always get side-eyes for this, but every time it was worth it.- “I would rarely see them again, fuck never again. Sometimes I managed to help them, sometimes not and it pained me so much.”- He admitted, his usual stoic, calculated expression growing into more human, more worried one, simple showcasing of empathy.  

-” I’ll look for them, Bruce.”- His voice optimistic with a little forced smile.  

-  

Hand squeezing his shoulder, pulling his out of sleep, he dreamed of memory’s. He must’ve dozed off while comparing intel Cat-woman gathered on her one-week duty inside Luthor’s off books taskforce.   

-” How long didn’t you sleep for this time?”- Warm voice embraced him like a much-needed hug. When he closed his eyes he could see the cornfields, the overly cartoonish sheds which were white and red, the farm animals which were his interest when he was extremely young.   

-” Approximately... Like 68 hours.”- He mumbled out, rubbing his growing eyebags, cup of coffee growing cold on his desk which was a mess, full of papers, but also some of them were stacked and clipped neatly right beside it.  

-” I wasn’t up this long while maintain the protestors in Metropolis which started putting fires to homes of people which dared to support me.”- Clark admitted, looking at his exhausted boyfriend.   

He remembered those protest from 2 days ago, even police department started siding with heroes, it was a significant change in power, but it didn’t matter now, not after the damage was already done. Luthor wanted to create chaos to come and most probably save the day later by neutralizing the ‘ threats ’ which in this case were meta-humans and heroes. The best thing? The ‘chaos’ was created by him, his people and his machines, people on the other hand were too blinded to see it. All those dirty plays from his and Penguins side were awful, but they worked wonder.  

Penguin and his army began to actively question people on streets “ What do you think about Dark knight? ” and if you dared to say you were on his side, they beat you until you were send to a hospital. Gotham’s police seemed to take care of those delinquents which thought they were kings of the city, so Batman was more than happy to know that he didn’t have to take dayshifts too.   

The curly-haired, flannel wearing man turned Bruce’s swivel chair to make them face each other. Clark looked like he rested, his eyes glowed a little bit more than last time he saw the man. He smiled at the sight.  

-” This happy to see me?”- He asked in a sarcastic tone, hand on his partner’s cheek, thumb brushing the cheekbone.   

-” You look less tired. I couldn’t stand looking at your foggy eyes during those protests...”- Worry settling in his tone, something he thought was long gone after all this time.   

-” Is that worry I hear?”- He even laughed while saying this, his hand moving up to ruffle Bruce’s hair. - “How about I take you to bed, huh? You just have to lead the way. This isn’t the way I wanted to see your house, but we have to stick with it for now.”- He offered, and Bruce was more than happy to do so.   

-” I’m in.”- He answered, his tone rather happy and tired. - “It’s not like anybody will hear us, Alfred sleeps in another wing of the house and doesn’t hear anything.”- He said with a wink, the usual flirt dulled by exhaustion.   

-  

This time they could hold hands, something that meant world to Clark. He smiled as the delicate, but scarred hands tightened around his larger, rougher ones. A lift took them upstairs, something extravagant even for Bruce Wayne. Halls of this building were pure gothic architecture. Arches hugging every doorway, wooden elements on the walls with frescas on the ceiling, furniture which was dark and gloomy, paintings worth more than Clark’s apartment and pictures showcasing the family.   

He cached a glimpse of young Bruce, his eyes were full of joy, sparkling in every picture. Even so it was impossible to see any other picture of Bruce, there was none, not even graduation one or anything. It was awful to look at, how this man who now leaded him through his beautiful house was so insecure that he didn’t dare to put any picture of himself on the walls. Every single room they passed was like this, dark and mysterious, but at the same time they were all pure showcasing of taste and money.  

-” It’s gorgeous in here...”- He said out loud, even if it was supposed to stay in his mind. His lover just laughed as they walked up stone stairs which were extremely wide and big, the railing carved into masterpieces of art.  

-” My Mother, Martha is responsible for this art of house.”- Bruce said, eyes and voice full of melancholy as he said the words, Clark cached that.  

-” Once this is done with... You have to meet my parents, Bruce.”- It was a statement, not a question, an unarguable thing.  

-” You told them about us?”- Bruce asked, his voice suddenly turning stressed.  

And now here there stood, in a narrow hallway with four dark doors. He looked around to see that there was nothing here besides a long, red carpet, dark panelling to the half of the wall, the rest was covered in red, flower-patterned wallpaper, only light was given by milk-glass bracket’s, which were finished with golden metal. At the end stood a tall, thin window which were draped in white, thick, but plain curtains, the curtain rod was made to match the floral motive on the bracket’s, of course it was golden as well. The Autumn rain was thudding against the window which gave the whole scene a drama-like feeling.  

-” Not yet, they are... Old-dated.”- He stated looking at Bruce. His face was a mix of being supportive and sad.  

-” We should worry about this another time.”- The billionaires hand grabbed his, a firm grip making you forget about the problems.   

They walked through the doors closest to the window, furthest in the hallway. The room itself was larger than Clark’s apartment... It was rather an experience to see this.   

Three, large, tall windows stood opposite to the door, covering the whole wall, curtain rod was covered in black, flowy fabric which shimmered in moonlight, only the middle window wasn’t covered in it fully. In front of the window, on the wooden, dark oak floor laid a giant dark grey, plain, square carpet, on top of it was a cowhide, it was really large. On the left, near the windows was a pair of dark doors which were covered in various carvings of flowers or just some lines, beside the doors facing the window stood a big armchair, draped in a dark blanket. On the left wall was the bed, king size one, it’s headboard touching the wall, canopy of it was made out of wood, curtains matching the colour of the blanket. On the right of the bed stood a simple nightstand with three drawers, it’s said had a craved rose, above it was a wall lamp. Bottom half of the wall was covered in panelling which matched the flooring, while the upper half and ceiling was just black. In the centre of the room was a giant, gothic chandelier.  

-” Are you serious?”- He asked and Bruce just shrugged his shoulder, his expression presenting exhaustion.  

He walked towards the first door, the room turned out to be a walk in closet, first half of the room was full of suits, ties, bow ties and anything you could dream of f you wore suits, while the other half was just casual clothes. Some of them really ordinary, if Bruce wore them no one could tell it was him.   

The next door presented the bathroom; everything was covered in black granite. When you walked in you could see a floating sink with a giant mirror extending to the ceiling to your right, it was moder, slightly angled to make water fall to the drain, and to your left a dark oak, built-in wardrobe to store bathroom items. Glass door separated it from the next area, in front of you was a large greenery wall, behind it was a giant, free standing bathtub while in front of it was shower-room with ceiling showerhead which worked like either a waterfall or rainfall, there were drains in the floor which captured the water perfectly. On the left wall were hanging towels and bathrobes, while on the right wall were two windows, which gave privacy but let you look out them freely. Beside the glass door was a turn which took you to the actual toiled.  

-” What did you expect from me, Mister Kent?”- Bruce asked, voice playful, the tiredness was still there, but Clark blushed hard anyways.  

Bruce had a while T-shirt on and some black, wide sweats, his hair were drained in sweat, he was dirty but still looked irresistible. Clark couldn’t help himself but swallow the building up saliva and look away. Both of those cold, skinny hands came up, taking off his glasses to put them on the sink.  

-” Nothing less, but it still impressed me.”- He admitted, his voice matching Bruce’s. - “Like a prince in lonely castle waiting for his saviour, huh?”- Clark asked rhetorically and the man in front of him laughed.  

-” Maybe... Would you like to be my saviour?”- He asked, tone suggestive. He just smiled warmly and pulled the man into a hug.  

-” Sure, but you’re about to faint and having an intercourse with someone unconscious is not really my thing.”- He said jokingly, and Bruce just pushed deeper into the nook of Clark’s neck. He liked it when the other man did that, it was really intimate. - “How about you letting me take care of you, huh? It’s 9 pm, I could do you a bath.”- He offered, and a kiss of agreement was placed on his neck in response.  

He walked up to the bathtub and started to pour the hot water in, a wooden stool was placed by the bathtub, it was quite thoughtful. Bruce walked up to him, his moves like cats, delicate and sexy, even if the man was barely standing straight. His eyes were foggy, eyebags visible and dark.  

-” You don’t know when to stop, you always keep going even if it costs you your health.”- He stated, Bruce just scoffed.  

-” It’s nothing common if you’re in my place. Ever since this mess started Wayne Enterprises have been shut down temporarily, I won’t let people get hurt trying to get to work. I’ve been carrying all the paperwork on my back; it started to blend with this whole charity mess... These people need to eat and pay their bills.”- He admitted, his voice tired, professional. It was moments like this that reminded Clark why he was this man’s fan in the first place, but still, it didn’t change the fact that his man was a workaholic, which couldn’t let anyone help him when he set his eyes onto something.  

-” Those thing you say are really meaningful to everyone, believe me.”- He started, voice trying to cheer Bruce up.- “The way you handle situations like this were reason I started to simply adore you, it wasn’t the scandals or you power, it was how human and hard-working you are... But now when I look at you, I see a man who I cherish, who I adore destroy himself with the city he tries to save. You have to take care of yourself first if you want to help others.”- It was a confession, show of appreciation, but also a way to make their connection stronger. - “Let yourself rest, Bruce Wayne.”- He added while taking Bruce’s T-shirt off of him.  

The T-shirt was on the floor, he pushed his fingers gently underneath the sweatpants, even if Bruce pushed his body through a lot he remained soft, body so gentle to touch, just like finest silks, skin pale and shiny like pearls in water waiting to be touched by treasure hunters hands, and Clark felt just like that touching that body- like a lonely pirate, starved of treasures, finding the greatest treasure at the end of his path, the valuables being Bruce, which looked godly and sacred, too pure to touch, despite his imperfection. Pants were pulled down with boxers, movements gentle, top of Clark’s hand brushing against the muscles of the man’s legs. Those legs perfectly build, like carved pillars holding a gothic sanctuary. The way the muscles of upper and lower body were built to serve a purpose, not to flex, the scarring reassuring the viewer in that statement, flexing muscle tissue which when tightened served as model for the finest of Greek sculptors. The feet were perfectly kept together, no scarring on them, nothing, no imperfections from wearing boots or just from simple work. The sixpack on stomach was a nice view, it was toned, a nice sight to see when you focused, arm muscles seemingly bigger than the others, serving purpose, strong and visible like gothic rooftops which were the centrepieces of the whole building.  

-” You’re making me feel insecure, Clark.”- The man stated, covering Superman’s eyes, he pushed the hand off.  

-” I’m admiring the body I get to touch everyday if I want to. What I have is artificial, a biological advantage I gained from being an alien, what you have is a battlefield, a work of art and hard work... You shouldn’t feel that way about yourself, but I respect it if I do.”- He admitted, voice sincere and sad. Every time he was getting closer to this man he saw how broken he was, how human life had taken its toll on him.  

While he helped Bruce get inside the bathtub he couldn’t shake off all the conversations he had with this man when they knew each other as Superman and Batman only.  

Everything seemed to make sense now, taking shape. All the times Batman’s words hit a little too close to home was simply because... They shared the home .  

Bruce had life experience with him, the grey reality of life which you wouldn’t expect from someone of his status, well the same thing could be said about Clark. He was a ‘ perfect man’ in the eyes of public, someone with perfect body which looked like it was casted from sculptures, perfect face without any scars of even beauty marks which could be considered unattractive. He was often portrayed as ‘a man with mind and body of steel ’, people would ask him how he is so composed under pressure, how is he coping so well after every lost battle. Eyes of public seen what he wanted them to see, he shown them what they wanted to be shown, even after there still were voices of critic falling like rain on his head.  

The truth was, he may look ‘perfect’ on the outside, but even that wasn’t true, a mere stone, a shard of Kryptonite was enough to turn his body into dark, veiny pulp which was power-less and extremely fragile. His ‘ mind of steel ’ was a gigantic lie too, he would cry, he broke under pressure, he did reckless things which often costed him way too much they should’ve in the first place. He was more human than they imagined, and the best part? Bruce Wayne was far more ‘perfect’ in his human form than Superman ever was.  

He looked at the man in the bathtub, he was dozed off already, staying awake by pure will power. He liked that man much more than he ever estimated, the first time he saw him he thought it would be over in a week, but here there were, almost a year later together, being far more than just ‘ partners in crime fighting’ , they were lovers. He would always remember that new-year eve, how he approached the Dark Knight who stood on a rooftop, asking for partnership, thinking it would be over in a couple of days.  

He looked at the body in front of him, submerged in water, he looked at it and... Just couldn’t help himself, but think how he loved Batman, how he loved Bruce Wayne.  

Chapter Text

When he woke up Clark was already gone, his room as empty as always. He grew really attached to the man; he couldn’t lie about that. Veery single time they saw each other in this hard period of time was like a gift which he cherished deeply, he didn’t want the gift to end, but it was the way of life- some things ended, so other could start. 

The door to the bedroom opened, Alfred entered the room. The man was really strong, most of his injuries were already healed, which doctors themselves considered a medical miracle. The man was beaten into a bloody pulp during that incident, now four weeks later he could walk again which was a big achievement considering the man’s age. Bruce tried everything to get his Butler to stop moving around so much and give himself time, but the man always denied with the same text: “ I shall rest in my casket, Master Bruce. ”. Now he could feel how Alfred felt every time he denied rest after a major injury.  

-” Mister Kent left in early morning hours, robots began attacking Metropolis once more.”- Alfred stated in his usual professional tone and began to move the curtains to let some sunlight in.- “I made him breakfast and invited him to dinner in a couple of days.”- He added, and Bruce could swear he saw a smirk. 

-” You did what?”- His voice outraged with a hint of disbelief. 

-” He seems to have a positive effect on you, talking you into resting and stuff.”- He explained before walking up to Bruce’s bedside and leaving his pills and a glass of water on the bedside table. Then he simply left without a word. 

Bruce pushed his eyes with the bases of his hands, letting out a grunt. He felt rested enough to function once more. Clark seemed to really have a ‘ positive effect ’ on him, the thought itself made him blush a little. He pulled himself up to sit on the bed, then reached for the pills. While taking them he thought that he has to go to the office today, it was rather risky considering the state of Gotham city, but it has to be done. He had to grab contact info of the last victim of Dhalia Stacey he and Clark traced, turns out the man changed his career after whatever she did to him. From a passionate reporter whose articles hit ‘ The Gotham gazette ’ front pages, to a simple factory worker. It was a rather sad thing to see, but he hoped that making Dhalia pay (even if making dead people pay was wrong) would bring back everyone’s spark of life back.  

He got himself out from bed and walked to the closet to grab clothes, he didn’t have time for anything fancy, a pair of jeans, white T-shirt and a green army oversized sweatshirt had to do, he put on his baseball cap as well. He made his way to garage, skipping breakfast, something in his gut twisted uneasily, he couldn’t eat yet. It was a quick run to the Tower and back anyways. A garage full of cars presented himself, he walked up to his Honda CB-750 Nighthawk. 

Ride went as smoothly as it could, a couple of police stops on the way controlling if he didn’t want to cause trouble. The true nightmare was that Gotham turned into ghost town. No living soul on the streets, only some people which were in a rush to get to their homes as quick as possible to avoid any trouble. He rolled through the darker parts of city as well, beside Penguin’s gangsters he saw no one. They wore characteristic bandanas, they were black with red flowers, often tied to their leather jackets. He was lucky this time, they seemed to pay him no interest, which on itself was a bad luck in luck, it either meant something was planned to happen or they somehow knew that he was Bruce Wayne.  

The Wayne Tower was untouched; beside some guards no one was outside the building. The terrifying silence making him uncomfortable. 

He took off his helmet and shook his head to get the hair to stop blocking his vision. The guards tensed up at the sight of him, but respect still went to him. 

-” Gentlemen, I couldn’t pay you enough for this shit. You have guts to be standing here.”- He paid his respects before entering, both men loosened up at the compliment. 

-” Thank you, Mister Wayne.”- One of them said, while the other just shook his head in agreement.  

He stepped into building but still could hear the comment which he figured was something like: “ He looks tired, true solider. ”. He froze when he heard it, it was the respect that Clark talked about, a warm feeling crept onto his heart, but he suffocated it to not get too comfortable. The lift door opened and he stepped in, pushing the button on top, taking him to 78th floor.  

He walked out the lift, he saw the fresh stain on the carpeted floor, nothing significant, but it wasn’t there the last time he was in the Tower. His senses already on high alert, he thanked Clark internally for making him rest. He walked the corridor like nothing ever happened, he turned to Rhonda’s desk to flick the safety switch- it blocked the doors and made the lift stop working on the 78th and 77th floor, it didn’t give any alerts which came in handy in such situations. The only thing which separated him with suspected intruders was the reinforced, bulletproof glass door. They could only open if Bruce had his thumb scanned, and so he did, he pushed the door and entered his office. In this moment he knew what to expect inside.  

He looked at his desk to see three people: 

Two middle-aged men and one youngster- “ Probably twenty. ”- He thought, his eyes sharp. Only one of them, the ‘salt and pepper’ haired one had a gun, the Glock handle was visible behind his jacked. They were all imposing as security, the problem was Bruce knew everyone in his security, maybe not from names, but he knew the faces, sometime before he figured that stuff like this could happen. They shouldn’t be too hard to handle, they all were toned, but no one was taller or buffer than him. The trinity looked at him, their eyes scanning him, they couldn’t tell who he was. 

-” The fuck do you need, man?”- The other middle-aged one barked out, he was buffer than the rest, judging on his reactions he was the guard dog. 

-” Penguin sent me, y’all are here for files but taking too long.”- Smooth lie from his side, they couldn’t possibly come here for anything else than the weapon files. Wayne’s tech department was working their asses off on missiles he created, making them come to life with delicate, law-acceptable corrections.  

-” Fuck man, you scared us. This faggot there is taking too long.”- ‘Salt and pepper’ said, pointing at the red-haired youngster.  

-” S- sir... This security systems are really...”- His voice a stutter, Bruce almost pitied him. 

-” Lemme try then.”- Bruce said and his own laptop was given to him. He had to act a little bit more, then when he unlocks the files and they make the “ Ohh! ” expression he will grab the Glock and utilize them, leaving the Red head to question him. 

He began clicking on the keyboard, the guy’s hacking was mediocre, they would never get in, not when even Mr. Terrific left a digital footprint in his data. He entered the files without any resistance- it was his own locks.  

-” Fuck, man... They should’ve sent you here-”- The ‘Salt and pepper’ couldn’t finish his sentence.  

Batman closed the laptop with a dramatic bang, then in the moment of disorientation he grabbed the Glock handle, pulling it out and punching the man’s nose with his fist, the crushed bones of nose and skull, like melody on his ears. The first one was out cold on the floor, hitting his desk with that head on the way down. Guard dog had grabbed the sweatshirt of Bruce trying to pull him up, but he failed miserably.  

He turned off the safety catch and shoot the guy’s knee, making him let go of Bruce’s clothes, the guy stumbled backwards while he hit the floor with a thud, before he stood up he shot the guy once more, landing the hit onto his shoulder, nothing lethal but should keep him down. He rolled onto his back; gun pointed at the red heads forehead, and he swore he could see colours draining from him. He got up, not taking gun off of him. 

-” Spill.”- His tone now as intense at Batman’s, the blood freezing hiss of them making your guts tense. 

-” Don’t you dare!”- Guard dog blurted out.- “A tough one, huh.”- He thought and walked up to the guy. 

-” You should’ve kept quiet.”- His tone as scary as it was before. A kick to the guy’s frontal lobe, not too strong, just enough to make him forget what wasn’t too pleasant to Bruce. - “Here, you can speak now kid.”- He said, his attention turned toward the last guy of the trinity. 

Criminals were definitely dumb. The guy was by the door, desperate to get out from the room, just like a bird who flew inside a building, it’s moves pointless, aimless. Just like the bird, he was on human mercy to get him out. 

-” They are locked, my fingerprint unlocks the door, the glass is reinforced, bulletproof a low-grade grenade won’t shutter it.”- It was a statement, it was a fact, a terrifying one. A prey locked with its tormentor. - “Now, now... If you talk, you’ll walk out from here in one piece, if not... Well, there isn’t any other option, I’ll break you.”- He dumped out the magazine of the gun while talking, tossing the empty weapon aside. True display of power. 

-” You- You're Bruce Wayne...”- The kid mumbled out, suddenly feeling confident. - “What could you possibly do, huh? Strip?”- He laughed out, it was more like a desperate cry for help than anything else. - “ Is he retarded... ”- Bruce questioned, his face in a disgusted twist.  

He grabbed the guy’s collar, pulled him up, his legs not touching ground anymore. He tossed him like a doll, straight onto floor, then his knee flew between the guy’s shoulders, keeping him still. One of his hands took the cheap tie, pulled it strongly to undo it, man’s head flying down, thudding on the ground. Red head moved his head to the side, eye locked on Bruce, nose bleeding, expression mad. Tie working as a restrainer now, his hands tied behind his back, very strong ties were made, almost impossible to break out from. Bruce’s knee on the kid’s neck, pushing it harder than he should’ve, but it gave him this twisted satisfaction- No one should underestimate his abilities.  

-” Talkative or not?”- He screamed, but his voice still the same, stoic, cold tone, not anger. The guy twitched underneath him. 

-” Mister Wayne... Listen, it’s not even mine-”- He started mumbling nonsense, he grabbed that longer hair, head smashed against the flooring, making the guy moan in pain. The nose was definitely broken. - “Fuck! Fuck! Are you fucking sick?! Don’t donate to charities and shit!”- Another smash against the floor, tears coming down the guy’s cheeks. Lips were split, blood in his mouth, smothered on his face now.- “Shit! Luthor wants those missile files, fine? Some woman cracked under pressure and told him ‘bout it!”- There it was, the answer.  

The missile was definitely something. Long distance weapon, insane precision with tracking system or manual control, before exploding it separated into eight mini versions which still hit like the best grade missile on the marked. It was true indication of death, everything in the missile precise, calculated, perfect operation rate was 98.7% . Truly amazing piece of military weaponry. He wasn’t even surprised that Luthor wanted the thing. - “ He could’ve bought them, it’s not like I would sell them to him anyway. ”- He thought and smiled to himself like a psycho. The smile sent a shiver through the kid’s body.  

-” Thanks for cooperation.”- He stated and punched the guy’s forehead, knocking his out cold.  

He stood up, took the laptop and walked out from his office like nothing ever happened. Before anything he turned off the safety switch and called for guards. They showed up in a minute, it was appropriate to wait for their arrival.  

-” Mister Wayne, what’s the problem?”- One of them screamed from the end of the hallway, they basically run to him. 

-” I took care of it, just call the cops or something, they tried to steal my laptop.”- He brushed the problem off in his Brucie tone, while both men looked shocked. His office had three unconscious bodies inside, severely damaged, while he was without any scratch. - “Take the credit, your supervisor will give you a raise or something.”- He suggested and patted on of the guard’s shoulder. 

- 

Those robots gave him one hell of Kryptonite poisoning. He didn’t feel too good and sun just began to rise, which meant the rays weren’t too strong. He stood in his apartment, pulling on his flannel, looking at himself in the mirror- he looked like one hell of a mess. Bruce had some sick nightmares, he would wake up and see the man standing by the window, probably still asleep, but looking through the window. When Clark walked up to him, the man grabbed him in desperate manor, pulling him into embrace. He didn’t protest, he just took the man back to bed. The rest of the night went on smoothly, beside the early rising.  

He guessed that the Alfred already knew, not that Bruce already told him, he just... Had this piercing, all-knowing eyes.  

- 

-” Mister Kent, I suggest you eating breakfast, eggs on toast, perhaps?”- The man’s accent as British and Queen-worthy as they got.  

-” More than grateful to taste your cooking, Mister Pennyworth.”- He answered, the warm Kansas smile never leaving him, it seemed to be contagious, because the man sent him a found smile back.  

He was finishing the breakfast when his communicator rang, calling for something urgent in Metropolis city, he will have to fly there, then. 

-” Urgent as it can get, I’m seeing.”- Mister Pennyworth commented. - “Duty and justice never shall rest. I won’t stop you, make sure to come by for a dinner two days from now on, Mister Kent.”- He offered, and Clark’s inside turned into warm pulp, it was certainly something to be invited for dinner. 

-” I’ll make sure to be there, I will take my leave now, the food is delicious.”- The nod of thankfulness came as response. He practically ran out from the building afterwards. 

- 

Memory fuzzy in his mind, making him smile warmly like a teenager in love, which just got approved by their significant other’s parents. His hands were still veiny from the exposure to the toxic rock, eyes were foggy, and he generally felt unwell. He just wished it all would be over soon, so he could pull his lover into a never-ending embrace, which would surpass any sun or moon, make them rise higher than any starts dared to be, make them so together that no one would ever tell them apart.  

He locked his apartment, the click of keys, the memory of the night where the keys gave him so much work to put into the lock. He would call himself melancholic for this, but he wanted to be back to the carelessness he owned before Luthor and Penguin started his idiotic show of power. He wanted to touch Bruce, to get him underneath properly this way, to push him into his human limits, make him...- “ No Clark, quit slacking off. ”- He found himself daydreaming once more, he did it a lot when there was a lot of stress around, his little get-away from reality which was like a personal tormentor sometimes. 

He reached his desk before he could think about anything else. He was focused, he needed to question the last victim before pushing the article to Perry. Bruce said the guy probably was hurt the most, he said that the face of the guy stayed in his mind, it has stuck with him, while the others didn’t.  

He turned on the computer, focused on his work, he wished that his glasses would cover his tired face too, but he had to be satisfied with all he had, it still was the peak of abilities, those glasses were extremely effective and didn’t need power source. He refreshed his e-mail religiously, looking for message from Bruce. 

-” Smallville, you okay?”- Lois whispered, somehow already sitting on his desk, his eyes widened. His dulled senses and head in clouds could’ve cost him his life if he was in the battle. He became clumsy. - “I know that what is happening right now affects you directly... But you look straight up like shit.”- She said, her voice kept down, this office had ears everywhere.  

-” It’s nothing, I’m just waiting for an e-mail. I need to push the article about Luthor and Miss Dhalia Stacey as fast as possible... This is draining life out from me, from the city as well. You should see what’s happening in Gotham, the city is a ghost town.”- He stated, voice tired, full of worry.  

Lois started trying to cheer him up, but his mind was elsewhere, he was searching for the man he loved, his heartbeat seemed to calm him down a little bit when nothing else could.- “ A sound I could follow despite being on verge of dying... ”- He thought, fuzzy feeling growing inside. He found him, Wayne Tower, worry hang upon him, did he have a death wish to go there? It was middle of battlefield right now. He closed his eyes, focused some more, four people, two unconscious, one bleeding, one perfectly fine, coppery smell touched his nose, smell of fired gun as well. His back tensed, even if Bruce’s heartbeat told him the man was fine, untouched. What the hell happened there. Moments later his phone rang, he looked at the caller, Lois stopped calling and gave him “ Are you even listening? ” kind of look. He just shrugged and picked up the phone, caller ID said: “ Bruce❤ ️”, his friend looked at the phone, let out a sigh and walked away without further comments.  

-” Clark, we need to act quick, I have the guy’s address, he lives in Gotham, I’ll talk to him.”- His voice urgent, yet articulation of his voice as perfect as always. 

-” What happened there? I smell blood on you.”- It was weird thing to say, come to think of this, but he just... Couldn’t change it. 

-” Luthor’s trying to get my missiles in work.”- He explained, whirring of motorcycles engine was heard near the phone. - “See you.”- He added and before Clark could say anything Bruce already hanged up. 

Not a second later e-mail arrived, from Bruce Wayne’s official e-mail address as well, files on ‘ Juan Fernandez’ . He looked at the guy’s information, his articles were well-selling, almost always the front cover of “ Gotham’s gazette ”, the last one was on charity gala hosted by no one other than Dhalia Stacey, it didn’t hit the cover, after that he changed his line of work to be working on the belt in Wayne Enterprises .  

He looked at the address, made mental note of it, took his stuff and practically sprinted out the office.  

- 

He knew that he had quite a reputation in his work, he often was portrayed as professional and scary, awaking respect and sometimes fear in everyone he passed on his path, especially in simple workers like Juan. He heard stuff about him, despite being someone so high up, latest gossips still went to him at some point. The guy was often described as “ Hard-working, but full of anxiety, really jumpy. ”, he knew this kind of people, he met them, he was one of them. People who never really overcame their fears or traumas, too scared to do anything, acting ordinary to don’t get hurt any more.  

He knocked at the door of the apartment settled on the top floor of apartment house. The door marked with the catholic “ C+M+B” , he was happy to see that the man found something keeping him together after the traumatic events involving Dhalia. He made himself a quiet promise that he will get the man back into his old work.  

The door opened, making just enough room to show the green eyes and black hair of the guy living inside. Bruce smiled politely. 

-” Mister Fernandez?”- He asked, no sudden movements, expression in the smile he used to secure important deals.  

The door was opened further, revealing the man inside as well as interior of his house. The guy had this look in his eyes, the dull glisten to it, the aimless pupil which wandered searching for something, anything.  

-” Mister Wayne...”- Voice quiet, scared. Bruce offered his hand to the man, the squeeze of rough hands, firm shake.- “Could I invite you inside?”- He asked, voice a little more scared as he said it. 

-” I would be grateful for this, don’t worry I’m not here to fire you, just to talk about your performance.”- He said, it was a lie, well kind of.  

-” Yes, of course.”- Voice dull, eyes running away from eye contact. He gestured towards the couch. 

Bruce sat down, the man in front of him, his hands trembling slightly when he poured black coffee from the silver kettle. He knew not to touch the man, it could bring back bad memories. 

-” Is it okay if I pour us a cup, Mister Fernandez?”- He asked, voice respectful. The man nodded his hand, lips tight together, he set the kettle on the table, letting Bruce take the charge.  

-” In all my respect to you... This isn’t why you came; you have a personal matter.”- The guy stated, making Bruce smile. He was sharp, you would expect that from ex-reporter who got front pages.  

-” Yes, it isn’t.”- He said while setting the kettle on the table. - “Wouldn’t expect any less from you, I remember your time as reporter in “ Gotham’s gazette ”.”- The mere mention of his background made the guy tense up. 

-” It’s... It’s about Dhalia Stacey .”- He said, voice trembling, speaking the name like it’s forbitten. Hands turned into fists, resting on the armchair. Bruce scanned the man, hoping he didn’t push far enough already, but it didn’t seem so. 

-” Yes.”- He admitted, voice sincere as he spoke. - “We know she isn’t a saint; we collect statements from victims to make Luthor take responsibility for his actions in Gotham city and Metropolis.”- He said, his eyes looking away from the man in front of him, trying not to make him uncomfortable.  

-” You... You found others? How? I thought she covered everything up, scared them off, she is sick! How could you possibly dig-”- He cut himself off, taking slow, deep breaths in, calming himself down. - “I’m sorry. It was years ago, and I still feel... Shitty. ”- He admitted, hands on his face, covering his mouth. Bruce nodded in acknowledgment.  

-” I know.”- He said, catching the guy’s attention successfully.- “It’s okay if you don’t want to speak about it, me and Clark Kent will make sure to don’t mention you.”- It might’ve been a dirty play, to pressure the poor man, but it had to done.  

-” Clark Kent?”- The guy asked, voice suddenly livelier. 

-” Yes, guy’s bright, figured this all by himself, I just fill the gaps I can.”- Bruce said, smiling a little more than he should’ve, a little more melancholy.  

-” I’ll push through.”- He stated, voice serious. Bruce couldn’t help but feel his heart thud in his chest. - “He is sincere, always on point...”- He commented further.  

-” I see...”- His voice warm.- “Clark should be here in any minute, contacted him on my way here, he will ask further questions if you feel more comfortable with him, wouldn’t want you to feel any pressure talking to me.”- He stated, smiling, Juan’s expression grew softer, his eyes still the same, but with a spark of hope. 

-” Thank you, Mister Wayne.”- He said, nervously scratching his ear, looking away.- “I think it’s time I speak up, I could help people, give them hope like God taught us.”- He added, voice sincere, pure, feeling of hope was upon Juan, time of change. 

Knock on the door was heard, the man practically jumped, growing tense once more. He walked to the door, just to grow excited second later. 

-” Mister Kent, come in.”- He said, didn’t even try to hide his excitement. Two pairs of feet thudded against the flooring. Bruce took it as his que to leave. 

-” I shall take my leave, Gentleman.”- He said, giving both of the man a bow. His hand brushing Clark’s shoulder in flirtatious manor, the man walked him to the door with his eyes.  

- 

NOT A SAINT! - You’ve fallen for Luthor’s propaganda!

Three weeks prior it was said that Dhalia Stacey was allegedly killed by Superman, the truth is it’s a lie!  She was killed by Oswald Cobblepot, who was seen entering the charity gala armed, with bodyguards just 15 minutes before the murder. The man has a known history of crime like assaults and tax fraud. “ I was threatened! Cobblepot swore to kill my family if I didn’t say that Superman did it! He entered the basement with Dhalia but she came out untouched after five minutes! ”- Say’s one of the cooks which works in “ Gotham’s lover ” kitchen. It turns out Dhalia wasn’t a saint either way, she bought the charity ‘ Help4kids ’ just weeks prior to the gala, with a Mexican account which isn’t even registered to her, since change of the owner the money has been successfully transferred to Lex Luthor’s, Oswald Cobblepot’s and Dhalia’s Stacey accounts.  Money which actually helped the kids decreased from 90% to 35.7% in span of weeks, the changes can be easily traceable by comparing the charity’s spendings. People who backed down from the donations are scared for their lives! “ You realize that if this goes public it will get you killed? ” I’ve heard while questioning Bruce Wayne about the sudden cut of found for the ‘ Help4kids ’ charity.  On top of the money laundering and charity robbing schemes Dhalia is well known between young, new reporters for nothing else than sexual assaults and even rape, the charges were never pushed due to the woman’s status and power; she either choked the cases with her money or simply sent threads to her victims. We have over six people who were victims of a sexual assault and one victim of rape, all of them were simply teenagers or young adults when this happened and made them bury their dreams of becoming reporters. They want to stay anonymous to don’t be victims of public lynch or shame. “ She would come to me, offer to give me an interview, naturally I agreed, it’s my job. The next thing I knew I was taken to a private room, her hand in my pants... I’m sorry... I just can’t. ”- Says one of the victims, mere memory of his abuser bringing tears.  Lex Luthor used seemingly clean millionaire without shady reputation to push his propaganda of hate and racism towards meta-humans further. The last time he decided to terrorize us in our houses, in our home city, endangering our lives we didn’t let him! Let’s do it again Metropolis and Gotham city, let’s show we can’t and won’t be scared to fight propaganda of hate and fear! 

- 

The article was published the same day, hitting the front page of Daily Planet, going viral on the internet, other gazettes started sending requests to use it and give credit to Clark. It was beginning of the much-needed end.  

Chapter Text

The city of sun, now dull, clouded. Streets were destroyed in absolute rampage of hate Luthor gifted people with. The protests were catastrophic in effect, the burned buildings of people who dared to break out of the propaganda of hate, the dead which were counted in approximately a hundred people, a genocide feeding the circle of hate and fear. Luthor wasn’t blamed for this, it was public eye that saw heroes as ones accountable for this, because “ If meta-humans and other muties didn’t exist this wouldn’t happen in the first place! ”. It was all bullshit on wheels; humanity was spoon-fed lies from the man, leaded by their noses, yet they couldn’t see better, only thing which stopped this catastrophic scenario was the article which Clark Kent wrote.  

It was getting rapid, everything started speeding up. Robots attacked the same night, trying to destroy building, luring the Justice Gang to the scene, Superman with them. Luthor forced them to go there and deal with the robots he built to later portray them as “ Showing resistance towards law! ”, well it was that way until this morning.  

The chief of Metropolis police finally opened his eyes, the man was known to have rater radical view of the world, he felt endangered towards meta-humans and heroes in general but looks like even a man of his reputation can stand on the right side.  

-” Ladies and Gentlemen. I hope this message will reach Lex Luthor, Oswald Cobblepot, Gotham city police and especially people working for either Lex Luthor or Oswald Cobblepot. The message is: We will no longer support the hunt for heroes, you’ve done enough damage to the city, your actions are powered by hate only. From this time on Metropolis police department will make sure to catch any and every person which is involved either in ‘ The charity case ’ or ‘Luthor’s hate propaganda ’.”- The voice tired, typical Chief voice. After this he walked off the stage, the dramatic buzz of reporters hoping their questions will be answer.  

The statement had a sweet-sour after taste, the fact that police was so happy with the fact Luthor decided to hunt down meta-humans was concerning, yet the prestige of being a police officer had dropped extremely ever since heroes began surfacing. Being just a mere fed was reduced to cleaning up the mess left after heroes. Clark could see from where the leanings came from, but it didn’t change the fact he wasn’t keen on understanding them.  

Then on the stage came no one other than Lex Luthor, no sight of Penguin behind him, which was weird, the man grew to be like a shadow of the billionaire, following every footstep.  

Besides it’s not that it was something bad for Clark, Oswald was an awful man. Gotham police openly hated the Dark Knight, yet turns out they hated Oswald Cobblepot even more. They just grew to accept him, or more so tolerate him, since Penguin being the bad guy became the fact. Come to think of it, the night after the article Bruce called him, that moment he knew nothing good was going to come out from this.  

-  

It was time to do his nightly patrol; he knew how hard the current situation is and how the streets look like after such events. The article was class, it was aimed at certain people, piercing it’s opponents like a gun with insane precision, a sniper rifle in hands of a master. It hurt Luthor where it should hurt.  

He knew how Wayne Enterprises looked like after such articles, the PR team working overtime, screams of doom, trying to fix something that was crumbling at the lightest touch. He put on his cowl, memories of articles that were aimed right at his head, so perfectly dismissed by him, that in stand of a headshot they were more like a splinter in his thumb than anything else. The problem was that Bruce’s PR team worst nightmare was that their boss would be portrayed as incompetent and actively ruining the company (which wasn’t even the case), while Lex’s PR team had to take care of genocide and racist actions of their boss.  

Batman stepped onto his bat-motorcycle, knowing that the additional armour he wore today was a necessary move. - “ Night in hell. ”- He thought and smiled to himself like a maniac. The engine roared rapidly, making him shiver in a good way. Police reports stated mass shoot-out with Penguins thugs. After the report Gotham Police decided to take care of the Batman hunting gang. First time in his whole career the Dark Knight felt like he was fighting side-by-side with the cops. They actively stated that they won’t let the gangsters kill him and terrorize citizens who are just trying to live their life.  

His lens showing him the way, he was 200 meters from his destination. He heard the gunshots, he was driving straight into the middle of gun fire, he dropped down some of the smoke bombs, making the battlefield grow silent. He jumped off the motorcycle, he pulled the safety plug of his gas grenade, it was nothing special, strength of the gas would cause paralysis in some extreme cases. He activated the gas mask in his cowl, walking through the sea of criminals like death, all of them were choking on the ground. A sea of unconscious people growing with every single second. The smoke screen has fallen, revealing the scene before police eyes. He shot his graplin hook, his arms tensed at the pull, a quick kick into face for one of the two standing. He grabbed his bullet-proof cape with his Kevlar and steel armoured glove, hiding himself from the gunshots coming from the other guy. He walked his way like Predator, no flinch in sight. A punch straight into teeth, making them fall out, the guy coughing blood, another punch and he started losing his balance, another and he laid on the ground. Vitals stable.  

He walked back to the motorcycle, making his way to another shoot out. This time he took care of it from the rooftop, the same shit once more. Some smoke bombs to stop the fire, then the gas grenade into the criminal’s side, well two for good measure. They were falling onto the ground like dead (but not literally) flies. He wanted turn away and walk, but he froze mid move. Someone was on the roof, it wasn’t Selina.  

His back tensed up, he heard the cocking of the gun, he covered himself with his cape, with the corner of his eye he saw Penguin with shotgun. The man walked up slowly, aiming the gun at Bruce.  

-” Say ‘Bye’ Bats!”- He said, his balls suddenly bigger than ever. Batman scoffed, jumping onto the man like a wild coyote.  

He made Oswald drop his gun, the gunshot was loud, thud not to mistake with any other gun. He was on top of him, he had seconds to grab the guy’s hands before-  

A stab to his side, material was strong enough to stop a bullet, but not strong enough to stop the piercing of extremely sharp hunting knife. He tried blocked the other hand with his steel boot, then came the pain of knife being pulled out, another puncture, delicately below the ribcage.  

-” Son of a-!”- He screamed and went for a headbutt, knocking Oswald out cold, for now.  

It was better to not pull out the weapon, he left it there and walked to the fire exit to find it locked, or so he though.  

The door opened onto him, pushing him back, making him land onto his butt. One person walked in, another shotgun. Despite the pain Bruce stood up landing a punch onto the guy’s face. Man was lucky enough that before falling down the stairs he pulled the trigger, the pressure on Kevlar made Bruce cough blood and stumble backwards.  

The guy was bleeding on the staircase, pulse was normal. Probably paralysed considering the damage done to his neck- it was broken.  

-” Stairs aren’t the way then...”- He mumbled out before scooping himself up to make his way to the fire ladder.  

He stumbled across the roof, his head dizzy. He felt ridiculous, this damage was unacceptable for him. He grabbed the metal thing and slid downwards, losing his balance while landing, his head hitting the metal trashcan in the alley.  

-” Fuck.”- He mumbled out and made his way to the motorcycle.  

He was dizzy and thankful for the fact that practically no one was walking the streets of Gotham this late at night. He figured there was no point in calling Jim Gordon since Penguin was already gone, he saw a head on the rooftop looking his way, letting him go. He knew it had to be one of his thugs getting his to safety.  

He drove the streets, relying more on instincts than anything else. An of course he would call Clark Kent out of every single person. It was slowly getting ridiculous how he loved that man, even in such situations he could thing about him, his voice, delicate summer breeze, seeping with worry for him, telling him how stupid and irresponsible he was.  

-” Bruce...? It’s fucking 2 a.m. what happened?”- Voice already worried, Bruce’s cheeks grew hot, his breath hot.  

-” Don’t take it seriously, Darling...”- He whimpered out. - “Fuck... I love your voice.”- He added, the engine rumbling as he reached the Wayne Island.  

-” Are you drunk?”- His lover asked, his tone annoyed all of sudden. Batman chuckled to the phone.  

-” No... It’s from the adrenaline, shit... It hurts so bad.”- He loomed, his mouth wet from licking his lips. He stopped his engine and stumbled backwards while getting off.  

-” Shit! You want me to help you?”- He said, panicked and worried and Bruce could feel the way his own body grew hot.  

-” Already home, Alfred is coming any second now, just wanted to hear you...”- He mumbled out and hanged up. He made his way towards cave but was knocked out cold halfway there.  

-  

Clark thought about that phone call, it was concerning and somehow... Hot. He quit daydreaming and looked at the TV. Luthor cleared his throat and this way everyone in the office and the reporters in the TV grew silent, their attention on Luthor, his words were about to change the world, it would either finish the chaos or... Make it worse.  

The man seemed calm on the outside, but when Superman focused, he could hear the way Luthor’s heart thudded in his chest, loud, fast, scared in some strange way.  

-” Meta-humans think I will bend before them like all of you did, listening to their lies which are ridiculous! I knew Dhalia Stacey for years, she was nothing else than a saint!”- He stated, his words almost convincing. - “ Cut from the same piece of fabric, huh... ”- Clark thought to himself. - “I won’t let any low life get in my way of bringing peace to this world! If we want peace and society where everyone can live without worrying that an alien will kill them one morning you should let me work! I will utilize the meta-humans and every so called ‘hero’ which will stand in my way!”- He screamed into the microphone. Daily Planet and people on the TV grew into chaos, Clark could feel this was exactly what Lex wanted.  

A chaos, state of uncertainty which would let him escape without any consequences. He wanted to believe that Penguin was in the plan of escape, but Luthor was a narcissist, his ego high and crumbly, a person like him wouldn’t associate himself with a criminal he no longer had any use in.  

The sole purpose of Luthor working with Penguin was to keep Batman out from Metropolis, put him further from Superman, well it worked. The gossip he let out about their relationship was lost in the chaos, but it wasn’t needed anyways. Last four weeks were so stressful and full of work that Clark practically didn’t set his foot out from Metropolis and Bruce didn’t set his own out of Gotham city. They were separated successfully, but not for long.  

Clark knew Lex was cooking a plan to get rid of Batman, an obstacle in his sick way of becoming the man of the world. And once Batman was removed from the picture Oswald wasn’t needed anymore.  

The goal was reached already, that’s why Clark knew Penguin wasn’t included in the rest of the plan.  

TV changed to show a statement from Jim Gordon, he knew the man and knew that he worked with Batman. He looked at the screen.  

-” Well... I’m here today to thank the Dark Knight. Most of the people associated with Oswald Cobblepot, known under the name ‘ Penguin ’ had been caught today in early morning hours thanks to our vigilante's work. We also have to give him and so called “ Cat-woman ” credit for taking care of Oswald Cobblepot himself as well. Situation in Gotham will be slowly coming back to reality from month ago. Thank you.”- The man stated. Words leaving Clark and everyone in Daily Planet in state of utter shock.  

Dots connected themselves in Clark’s mind, the early morning call, the injuries. He could feel how guilt was eating him alive, hands clenched in fists as he started aimlessly at his computer screen. He knew damn well that Bruce would pull off a stunt like this all by himself and get himself nearly killed, he was like this, he always got those suicidal intentions, doing things that with even a half of mistake would cost him his life. Clark knew that this wasn’t his life to live, but he loved that mad, he loved all of him that there was and the feeling grew with every second.  

Being with Bruce meant being himself, being accepted without weird looks on his back. Sometimes even his own parents wouldn’t let him be himself this much. Those remarks they would make either about his alien origin or powers, they weren’t meant to be offensive in any way, yet somehow, he felt hurt by them... His parents had this strong sense of fitting in, of being normal. Sometimes they would do things just to perform well in the eyes of people. He will remember the dinner which made him run away to sleep in the barn as a teenager.  

-  

Clark just came back home from the greenhouse. Basket full of fresh, red tomatoes, it was middle of the summer, Kansas heatwave making him work with unbuttoned flannel, sweating like crazy, turns out it was possible. Farmwork always had this nice touch of it, it freed his mind from unwanted thoughts. The almost mechanical work in the field or with cows was nice to do, making your brain turn off.  

Fields were full of corn, its tall plant reaching 3 meters in some places. The farmland was an infinity of land, it seemed to never end, even if it did a nice white fence separated it from another flat farmland which seemed to never end. He loved running in between the crops, it gave him a false sense of security, felling like for once in his life he wasn’t watched and considered different by everyone else.  

The setting sun making the golden hour, which he loved to experience on his slightly tanned skin, his curly hair probably covered in pieces of straw from the time he was milking cows. He loved staying outside at evening summertime. When sun began to set making his skin burn nicely, he felt connected spiritually to the rays that the burning star hugged him with. There were times when he would fly onto barn’s rooftop, sit there watching the sundown, while everything grew golden yellow like the corn which was spreading in front of him, then the yellow would fade into warm orange, just like carrots which were still buried in the ground at that time, and finally before a grand finale a red, just like tomatoes in the peak of the season.  

But now the draining, burning august sun crawled onto his red cheeks, glistening on his blue, strong eyes who now looked more like the reddish sky. His forearm touching his forehead while he looked at his favourite star giving final show of colours, just for him to say him a nice “ Goodbye.” .  

-” Clark!”- His father screamed at him, his voice suggesting that he should hie.  

He turned his back onto the only thing that seemed to understand him at the time, now he had Bruce.  

He walked up to the porch, the dim light of the outside lamp. - “ I need to change the lightbulb. ”- He thought to himself before entering the kitchen. He placed the basket on the countertop. He could hear his Ma footsteps, low thuds against the floor, she was angry.  

-” Child! Go get yourself together, Miss and Mister Jackson will come here soon.”- Martha scolded him, a delicate slap onto back of his head, more like a performance than anything else. Clark gave her a dumb smile and went to get himself together.  

He heard the car pulling into their driveway, he had about five minutes to get the straw out from him hair and get changes, it was doable... Maybe.  

He walked into the dining room, he saw everyone seated already and he could’ve sworn that they had a son named Michael. Michael stayed in his mind as a nice kid around his age, they would go out after dinner and chat at the barn’s loft.  

-” Good evening, Miss and Mister Jackson.”- He said, bowing his head slightly down.  

-” Evening, Clark! Oh Martha, he is as tall as a tree!”- The woman answered, while her husband just nodded in acknowledgment.  

He sat at the table, they had stuffed chicken, grilled potatoes and tomatoes with dill and sour cream. He loved that mix, it truly meant summer was at its peak. They told a grace, he never saw any sense in it, but he said it with everyone anyways to don’t come out as impolite. Everyone has begun eating, wine was flowing, the combination with the summer heat and the evening time made everyone’s tongues untangle themselves, while he sat by the table listening. Hour passed by, and the topic he has been waiting for finally popped up.  

-” Our Michael... Oh, god have mercy on him.”- Said Miss Jackson, suddenly everything in Mister’s Jackson body tensed up.  

-” Don’t talk about him Sheila.”- He said, while she waved a dismissive hand at him, rolling her eyes.  

-” Well, I need to. We wouldn’t like Clark catching the same virus.”- She said, Ma’s and Pa’s eyes on her.- “Well you see our boy says he is ‘gay’ or something! He like dates another boy... We talked with the pastor, he said he would isolate the boy from his so called ‘boyfriend’.”- She said, her eyes becoming watery as she spoke. She talked about him as if he wasn’t even a human being.  

Clark could feel the way everything in his body tensed up, while his parents seemed genuinely sorry for the woman.  

-” You tried taking to him?”- Martha asked, her voice concerned.  

-” We did! He says that that’s how he is, and he won’t change this. Oh God, please save his soul.”- Sheila whined while her husband put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing.  

-” He might be as well dead if gay.”- He said, and Clark felt something in him snap at that very moment.  

His eyes went downwards, head also, hands were crossed on his chest. He stayed quiet for the rest of the evening, while his parents tried to change the topic. He couldn’t believe how someone could speak those ill words about their own child. Michael was probably sitting in his room, crying, Clark was almost sure of that and at this very moment he wished that he got to know the boy better. He wanted to make sure that the boy was well.  

He stood in the kitchen, washing the dishes when his parents approached him in the kitchen. He could smell wine of them, they weren’t drunk or anything, just delicately alcoholised. He turned to face them, eyes deadly serious.  

-” And you’re okay with that? With them speaking hat absolute nonsense about their own son? You might as well agree with them looking at how you looked them.”- He burst out, couldn’t keep his anger in anymore.  

-” Clark... We can’t let our deals to be buried-”- Martha was the first one to speak out, he just scoffed.  

-” Yeah, of course! Deals are far much greater than a child’s health, huh? Who knows what they do to him in there.”- Clark added, Jonathan sent him a look that would terrify him under other circumstances.  

-” Clark Kent! That is no way to talk to your mother! We need them, we need their resources.”- He tried explaining, the worst part? They never said if they felt the same way about gay people.  

-” Yeah, great. You might start call me a fucking mistake already and call for the priest because I’m different, and shame would’ve eaten you alive if someone knew!”- He shouted, leaving his parent speechless. - “Don’t look for me.”- He added before walking out the house.  

-”Clark! -” - Marth a screamed after him.  

-” Let him.”- Jonathan said, taking his wife back inside.  

He spent the whole night in the barn’s loft, one of his favourite places. The worst part was that the topic was never touched again by anyone, Miss and Mister Jackson would still come for dinner, but every time they did Clark would go into the barn and sleep there in a form of protest.  

-  

These memories were the main reason why he still didn’t tell his parents about Bruce, about the love of his life... About the man which made him feel wanted and accepted in every way possible, simply because he himself was far from being perfect.  

His communicator rang, he looked, eyes scared, but he knew what to expect. The screen read: “ J.G.: Luthor’s robots are going crazy!” . It was all he needed to know.  

Chapter Text

He exited his office without any complications, Lois said she will cover for his absence, “ Go, I’ll tell them that you felt sick!” , she said while he looked send her the obvious look. He was more than happy to have her in his life; she was an amazing woman. What they used to have was special to him, he loved her, she loved him. They filled each other's gaps, making the other one feeling wanted, seen- what they had was everything Clark ever wanted to have, a pure love, someone who he would call a part of his family. His parents liked Lois too, his ma used to say that: “ Lois has character, there will be times that she will be saving you. ”, she was right. Lois saved him many times while Luthor roamed free the last time, her help was always there if he needed it, even now when they weren’t together, a word was enough. Clark knew that Lois was strong and independent, that his overprotection would make her feel like a caged bird, she always was like this, she told him at the beginning of their relationship, yet he didn’t listen.   

Even if it was over a year ago, and now he had other lover, he just couldn’t help but feel sorry for his actions. It wasn’t that he wasn’t over her, when he thought about what they used to do... He would just flinch at the mere thought, he just was sorry that he was such a piece of shit to her. He knew he couldn’t change, she knew he couldn’t change, that’s why the way they are now was better for them both.  

He felt the same way for Bruce Wayne, that he knew would handle himself better than Clark sometimes. Every single time they were separated during last weeks he would find himself zoning out, looking for Bruce, looking for his heartbeat like a child in darkness. He had huge amount of respect towards that man, yet he just couldn’t help but want to go and help the guy, do things for him. Even now, after that call he just couldn’t help but check on Bruce every hour, or so. It was like an obsession, he knew he had a problem, but he couldn’t help it.  

Now he stood in front of the robot he and Justice Gang turned into bunch of metal scarps, his hair torn up a little bit, the other heroes looked beat up. The robot gave them a lesson, those high frequency blasts sending Kendra to the ground, her face bruised, arm most probably ricked, her ears screeching like tires on asphalt. Guy was attacked by fear toxins which seemed to make his ring stop listening to him, Clark had to catch him a couple of times, but after the battle he seemed to be doing fine (if you won’t mention the bruises), Michael got out almost untouched, just some dust on his suit and mental damage dealing with Green Lantern who seemed to pay the toxins no mind. Clark got sprayed on with the Kryptonite dust, it wasn’t anything that a quick, extremely fast fly to space wouldn’t fix. They all seemed genuinely exhausted.  

-” Looks like Luthor saved the best for last...”- Clark said, Kendra smiled at him in response.  

-” Well it’s nothing me and my ring won’t stop.”- Guy said, his voice hurt at Clark’s words. Terrific rolled his eyes and proceeded to start flying away towards their base.   

Superman was listening to Kendra teasing Guy who was far too easy to irritate, but just maybe that was why fear only got to him when it was artificial, he was as stubborn as a donkey and that was one of his advantages. His communicator rang, he picked it up, it was an incoming call from Batman.  

-” Bats? You okay now?”- He asked, the roar of car engine in the background, Batmobile to be exact, he could hear the speed Bruce was riding with through the phone.   

-” Luthor! Fuck, those resources weren’t just for robots and guns! He build a suit, a killer suit!”- Bruce screamed to the phone and Clark could feel the way colours drained from his face. Before he could say anything the call was ended.  

Mister Terrific flew right by them, hitting the destroyed robot like a human torpedo. The man didn’t move, Clark watched his friend's motionless body on the mountain of metal. Both Kendra with her mace and Green Lantern with some kind of army of little knights went straight for Luthor. Superman had approximately seconds to read Michael's vitals, he focused. It was hard, he never had a need to do so, plus first time you did it to someone it was rather difficult. First clings of metal started sounding in the background, it looks like both heroes were keeping Lex occupied for now.  He checked pulse, brain activity and organs, to his knowledge everything was stable and normal. Terrific wasn’t dying today, but his head injury could cost him temporary memory loss an serval days of headache.  

He turned around to face the monstrosity Lex had built. It was a suit which looked like it was Luthor’s second skin. The suit had some elements which poked out, like something which looked like the sonic and high frequency machine or something which looked like kryptonite dust launcher. The machinery was a tight-fit on Lex, it made him taller, it made him 6’5”, giving him ability to fly with some kind of engines in the bottom of his feet, the suit also had a kind of backpack in the back of it, a metal one which seemed to store all the machinery. The suit had this modern, clean and shiny design to it which Luthor was sold to. The head looked like a helmet with giant screen on the front, covering the man’s face.   

He watched as Hawkgirl lifted and swung the mace at the suit, leaving nothing but delicate scratches on it, Green Lantern’s attacks seemed to be useless as well, Luthor was far too intelligent to get caught by any of attacks Guy presented him with. Once he spotted Superman standing in the distance, looking at him he got more aggressive. His attacks began throwing Kendra onto the nearest buildings, making her shutter the windows. Clark didn’t hesitate anymore and just went straight onto Luthor, his bosy like a rocket, Luthor dodged him, grabbing his cape and tossing him onto the same building as Hawkgirl, this time Superman’s head hit the wall, crushing it. He fell straight onto the other Superhero, making her grunt.   

In the meantime, as Lex dodged the attacks made by Guy, he began spraying the fear toxin around, it was seconds before Green Lantern fell onto the ground from the air from which he attacked Luthor from. Superman began standing up, his ribs aching, but he had to suck it up, the sun was still up, he had an advantage. He went for mech’s head, while Green Lantern was battling the toxins, despite that, Guy was out of service on the ground, beside Terrific.   

Clark launched himself onto Luthor once more, this time there was no deke from the other side, just a quick fly up, they were in the air, above city skyscrapers. He began punching the steel helmet, his forceful punches leaving delicate dents, while the punches Luthor returned to him made his head spin, vision becoming blurry. They held onto each other, punches flying around, each strong as a meteor, deadly to normal humans or even some metahumans.  

-” You metahuman freak! You choose them and I kill you, choose me and I will make you useful!”- Luthor screamed, the Kryptonite launchers ready to be fired.  

Superman tried to grab the launcher located right next to Luthor’s head, on his right shoulder, but the man dodged, flying backwards just to launch himself onto Clark seconds later, the Kryptonite dust covering his face now, his body too. This time it was somehow stronger, the scent it had more intense. He began seeing starts, vision blurry, moments later he fell down, his body like a rock he didn’t have control over. He hit the street like a meteor, leaving the asphalt crumbled around him, grinded into fine, black dust which shimmered like stars in the sunlight.   

-” Look Superman! You could be doing these low-lives so much good by my side, but you prefer to act like a servant for them, helping them with their pathetic problems, just like you help the Bat!”- Luthor screamed from above him. He was like a wall, like a ceiling, blocking Clark’s way to his power, to sun. He needed the sunlight to move and get up, to get himself stable enough to fly up and take Kryptonite off of him.  

Then an explosion came, the suit began falling onto the nearest building, the ell and windows were shuttered, crumbled under the kilograms of metal Luthor had on himself. Next thing he knew a car was halting in front of him, it was dark and held the well-known rhythm inside, the heartbeat he knew he could trust. Moments later he could feel the sunrays battling the Kryptonite poisoning, once he felt his legs growing stronger, he knew it was his que to fly up. He wanted to stand up on his own, but a strong, gloved hand came to grab his forearm and pull him up onto his feet.  

-” Batman, are you-”- He couldn’t fully see, but the heartbeat in front of him... The sound he would follow in moment of his death, when the trumpets would blow, he would know what sound to look for in doom in despair, it would be this sound he would find himself looking for.  

-” Go. I can handle myself.”- Said the, oh, so cold voice in front of him, sending a shake down his spine. He did as he was told, the time this flight took was two minutes, he would have to trust Bruce... And break the feeling he needed to protect everyone and everything inside. Everyone’s and his life were on the line, he had to fly and so he did.  

-  

His ribs ached with every step he took, his body protested screaming at him. He felt how those fresh stitches bugged him, the way his suit didn’t lay perfectly due to fact he had bandages underneath. Beside that he felt guilt, he didn’t exactly know why, probably because he wasn’t the one to close the book of Oswald Cobblepot’s crime life, Selina did it for him... He still didn’t believe those words, those events. Well, of course he knew that she wasn’t corrupted to the last bone of her body, she had this flame inside of her, it was just... She never did anything for free or selflessly. He would think about it if it wasn’t for the fact that Luthor stood in front of him in his mech suit.   

He read those plans, he knew that once this metal backpacks plate was off, he could call himself a winner. His body tensed, face and heart worked without any stutter, behind him Green Lantern and Mister Terrific, their unconscious bodies on the metal scraps of the robot, the ruined building in which Hawkgirl laid, the hole in the street to his left from where Superman laid previously, all of it painting an apocalyptic picture. He had to pay his respects for the fact that civilians left on the scene were the Police officers, which were ready to step in in any moment. In front of him Lex Luthor in his mech suit, the ruined building he crawled out from, like a rathole. Debris from the building crushing cars and sidewalk, his batmobile behind Luthor, he silently begged that the thing would come out from this battle untouched.   

-” What do we have here? A cosplayer.”- Luthor said, his voice as irritating as Bruce remembered from all the galas.  

-” Surrender Luthor.”- His voice cold, expression stoic under the cowl. He was in position, ready to strike at any moment.   

He was prepared, the tips of his glove fingers were like claws, crafted from diamonds, perfect for cutting the metal Luthor had on. All of this was risky, but he had to do enough damage to at least expose the wires hidden behind that plate. It was suicidal, launching himself onto Luthor’s suit, which was crafted to kill Superman himself, not a pathetic human like himself. Luthor was in front of him, slightly in air, he looked at his surroundings, if the man decided to laugh at Batman’s offer he had seconds to run and jump onto the car wreck covered in debris which separated him from the suit, then he would have to hang himself onto the man’s neck, hands desperately trying to ruin the backplate. According to his research he just had to stick the claw between the plate and the rest of the backpack to pry it off and expose the wires, if he was lucky, he could try to tug on them.  

-” You think a mere mortal, a weakling like you could-”- Of course Luthor was too prideful to let this slide, the man was one of the most intelligent alive, yet so easy to manipulate. He took in a breath, muscles in his legs tensing up, ready for his suicide. - “Challenge an authority like me? You don’t know what you’re talking about.”- He laughed, and Bruce launched himself onward.  

-” Master Bruce, Superman is approaching, ten seconds to landing.”- Said Alfred’s voice in his earphone.  

One- His foot on the debris, steel boots thudding like a train, the pieces of ell crushing underneath him.  

Two- His hands launching forward, ready to grab Luthor into deadly embrace. He felt adrenaline rising to his eyes, blinding him.  

Three- The man began to move, seeing what was happening, he couldn’t help it now.  

Four- The thud of metal against the Batsuit, loud, scary, cautionary.  

Five- Luthor panicking, his hands coming to dig into Bartman’s suit, while Bruce’s arms were stretched onto the back of man’s suit.  

Six- The clawed fingers finding the nook in between the backplate and the backpack, the thin, diamond nails pushing in. Sound of machinery like indication of death.  

Seven- The push of the nails, the creek of steel coming from the panel, a true melody to Bruce’s ears, then the sound of whirring machinery, the launchers pulling up from Luthor’s shoulder, the desperate attempts to shake Batman off.  

Eight- The panel fell off, he grabbed the wires, the opening of the sonic blast and the fear toxin launcher opening, green cloud and blinding light leaking from the still. His grip tightened on the wires. 

Nine- The boom of Superman entering the sky above them. Light of sonic blast making him shut his eyes, the smell of fear toxin drilling into his skull like a drill. He accepted his fate, he felt smile, an honest one creeping onto him, onto his lips, the smile which was reserved for Clark Kent only.  

Ten- The blast crushing his collarbones and ribs, head snapped backwards, the gas leaking from Luthor’s launcher blinding him, making the tears he never knew were there coming onto his eyes. He felt the way cables from the mech snapped.  

He was shot back, straight into the wrack of the car he jumped onto Luthor from, he felt the way debris cut his cheeks and crushed against his suit. The stitches popped open, the two stab wounds flowing with blood like waterfalls, the bruised ribs from night before now broken, probably close to puncturing his lung. He heard a scream, a desperate noise, a one he never thought he could hear coming from Clark . Then he heard the way Luthor’s suit crashed onto the ground, sea of footsteps, probably police officers coming to arrest Luthor.   

-  

He blinked once, twice... Everything went silent, pitch black. A sense of calmness setting over him like a nice lullaby his mother used to sing him.  He heard her voice in that very moment.   

Hush, little baby, don’t you cry; Mama’s going to sing you a lullaby.  

He felt as all the pain he felt vanished into the darkness surrounding him, he laid there, his breath steady, calm, nothing restraining him, the wheeze he felt in his throat wasn’t there.   

Hush little baby don’t say a word; Mama’s going to buy you a mockingbird.  

Armour falling off his body, he shed it just like snakes shed their exuviae, a layer he wouldn’t need anymore. The kilograms of steel falling off him, making his chest feel light first time in years, the sense of duty vanishing.  

If that mockingbird won’t sing, Mama’s going to buy you a golden ring.  

His naked body, scarred like a sick trophy display, he pulled up his hand, even in the darkness he could see it perfectly clear. Every single scar vanished, nothing, just a smooth skin, delicate to touch.   

If that gold ring turns to brass, Mama’s going to buy you a looking glass.  

He laid still; the nice sense of calmness he never got quite to enjoy in his life was just something he looked for; it was the feeling he got to experience with... Clark only.  

If that glass begins to crack, Mama’s going to buy you a jumping jack.  

Just with the mere mention of the name water started to fill the room, but Bruce didn’t panic, he just laid still, never bothering to move. He felt his body get wet, hair soaking through, water now covering most of his body, only his nose poking out, his eyes which saw nothing in the pitch-black reality open, the feeling of water on them making him uncomfortable.  

If that jumping jack is broke, Mama’s going to buy you a velvet cloak.  

Water swallowed him whole, he laid in the liquid, his body smooth, not scarred, almost perfect. Bruce could feel himself grow cold with every cold finger the water turning thicker and thicker, not allowing his to breath anymore. He began surfacing, force pulling him up.  

If that velvet cloth is coarse, Mama’s going to buy you a rocking horse.  

His body on the surface of the liquid, on the surface of the blood. He was floating like a leaf on a lake, drifting carelessly as he passed things by. The ‘things’ turning out to be heads of everyone he knew, his face stoic as he felt panic rising inside.  

If that rocking horse won’t rock, Mama’s going to buy you a cuckoo clock.  

His expression still stoic, his body still as lifeless as it was. He was on top of the lake of blood, he felt something grabbing him, pulling him under the surface, the dark, thick liquid suffocating whim worse and worse with every centimetre deeper.  

If that cuckoo clock won’t tick, Mama’s going to buy you a walking stick.  

He was suspended in the body of thick substance, suffocation upon his lungs, an old friend coming back from his dreams which seemed to go away the moment that... Clark was there. Just at the mere thought of the man everything started going rabid. Liquid bubbling, hands scarring his body once more.  

If that walking stick falls down, you’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town!  

Hands coming from the surface, making blood turn into pure light, the darkness becoming light the moment the hands, the rough, calloused, worked-through hands touched his everything went light. The hands pulled him up, just under the surface a face appeared, full of hope and happiness, it pulled him into a kiss, the moment their lips touched everything disappeared. Bruce opened his eyes.   

-  

When he landed all he could see is chaos, doom and... Scene of suicide. Luthor’s suit was powering down, the man inside cursing everything and everyone around him, while Clark looked towards Bruce. His body scarred, crushed, twisted, behind bent metal and debris like a rose hiding behind thorns and bushes, too sacred and holy to touch just dirty and scarred enough to look.   

He felt like he was losing control, everything around him began to bend, feeling of nothingness wrapping around his brain like ivy wraps around a building, he walked up to Luthor, a punch, uncontrolled, raw, angry crushed the mech’s helmet. Clark looked at the creature inside, the inhuman being imposing as a human. The first expression Luthor made was fear, raw, shimmering in his eyes like glitter spilled onto the table, then his eyes went onto Batman, lighting with burning victory, with happiness... He met Superman’s eyes which shimmered under the down going sun, expect this time the shimmer wasn’t power, the shimmer was tears.  

Thudding of police officers coming their way, Clark felt tears coming down his cheeks, he felt as the dirty, skull penetrating laughter of Lex Luthor practically marked his brain. He pulled the man out from the suit, movement sharp, making Luthor’s face twist in pain, just something Clark wanted to see.  

The man dropped onto the ground, his eyes never leaving Superman’s, just like ha was watching he man’s pain and simply enjoyed it. Clark watched as Luthor was being arrested, handcuffed, movements of officers needlessly brutal, but he let it slide... Just today.  

-” He told me to surrender! Didn’t know he was suicidal like that!”- Luthor screamed, his head twisted to look at Clark as police officers were escorting him to the van.- “ A hero? More like a depressed freak!”- He screamed once more, words puncturing his heart like bullets, no like needles stuck in one by one, for every single letter of every single word. The van doors were closed, and Clark found his body walking towards his lover vaguely.  

He removed the debris, each movement delicate, almost as if Bruce would crumble at the lightest touch. He took the lifeless body into his hands, limbs dangling like chandeliers with each step Clark took. He laid the body down. His heart screaming, his brain calling him a killer. Blood was captured at the corners of the man’s mouth, his ribs were crushed, blood leaking from the stab wounds he never knew existed. He watched as tears fallen onto the armour, onto the bat symbol, he felt so helpless. The shaking in his body began as he took one of the hands. He took off the heave glove and put it aside, he looked at the scar on the hand, a mark of being a survivor. He brushed his thumb against the hand, his chest shaking as he let quiet sobs slip in, he didn’t care what others thought.   

He focused, he watched the body, he saw everything, every cracked rib, every single one of them, the way the collarbones were broken in multiple places, the was all those bones threatened to puncture the lungs, making them their prisoners. He saw those wound, no longer than a day, the popped stitches, the leaking bandages, every single bruise the man had.   

He knew he had to check the pulse, the stoic noise, the delicate hammering which Batman and Bruce Wayne wielded like a lethal weapon. He had to hear, he had to listen to the lullaby, to the sound which would take him over the edge to make him fall, just to pull him up and cradle him like a baby moments later. He focused and the gentle squeeze Clark applied onto Bruce’s hand became tighter. The sound became slow, lazy, almost as if it wasn’t trying anymore. The worst part was that Bruce probably wanted to die, he just simply wanted to be gone, to feel the silence and delicacy this world has to offer. It was egoistic to go and try take that away from the man.  

He was shoved aside, brutal movement, but the focus on the monotone sound never left him, his ears controlling every single sound. He felt as someone crouched beside him, hugging him close, not wanting to let go.  

-” We need ambulance!”- One of the voices screamed, panic at the edges, sharp as a sword, ready to strike Clark like a punch to the gut.  

-” It’s going to be okay, he is going to live.”- Another voice said, this time near his ear, this one sounded hopeful, almost deceiving.   

-” Yeah, he is... Dark Knight!”- Someone added in, this voice revealed panic, something he knew was there all along.   

It stopped, the monotone melody of calmness, the delicate lullaby of peace which Bruce provided him ever since they met a year ago. The blinding sound which controlled Clark like spell he couldn’t break free from. It was gone.  

Then it lights up again, faint, shocked, almost untraceable. He didn’t know how much time it took to revive it, all he knew was during that time he felt... Empty.  

It was the same feeling which sticked to him while something went wrong, but this time stronger. It seeped into his lungs, suffocating them, making him scream. He didn’t know if the faint sound ever escaped his mouth, or if it stayed inside him, all he knew that the silence after the sound was unbearable. It was like loosing the only dimmed flame in total darkness, similar to going into forest and throwing yourself in for the wild animals to eat you... He FELT like everything, every sense he saw, every fight he fought for what was ‘right’ became unimportant simply because... The person he loved purely for the first time in his life, the person with which he didn’t feel miserable with faded away.  

Chapter Text

City settled into the night, hopeful light of moon, the really bright moon hanged upon Metropolis, it was so light... The light like dimmed sun, as if it burned for it’s saviour, for it’s symbol, for Dark Knight, for Batman. Superman stood on the hospital rooftop, staring at the moon, looking for starts which he knew never came when he was in the city. Nights were cold, making everyone wear warmer clothes, but he didn’t care. He checked the heartbeat religiously, it was stable... Thudding in his Lover’s ribcage like a drum smacked rhythmically by it’s player. Something which he missed hearing. The cape fluttered in the night breeze, symbol of hope, symbol of pain for those closest to him. His mind was entirely focused on Bruce, Luthor could come onto that rooftop, and he wouldn’t care enough to even move.   

The Bat laid in his hospital room, scraped from his armour, leaving only the cowl on, leaving the symbol of vengeance... No, the symbol of selflessness and sacrifices which no one else would ever dare to do. Cowl like a guard, making sure the identity stayed unknown, silent like sky before storm, even if Clark wished that storm never came.  

-” Kent.”- The voice snapped him out from the thoughts. He landed on the rooftop, never even quite catching the fact he began floating anyways. He was no in front of Michael Holt who looked... Concerned? That was definitely something new.  

-” Sorry... I just.”- He said, voice almost forced to speak.  

-” We will transport him into our base when his ribcage lets us...”- Michael stated, looking at Clark, not quite catching eye contact. Then his hand landed on Clark’s shoulder, squeezing it. - “We know it’s hard.”- He added, the words taking him by surprise. - “You had to ruin it, huh?”- He asked and began walking away.   

He watched as the man disappeared on the fire escape stairs, leaving him alone once more. He felt guilt in his guts, waiting like a wolf hunting its prey. A twisted feeling making him question everything. It was hard to stop being overprotective when things like this happened when you weren’t there. He knew it was Batman’s choice to do such move, it was probably his plan all along... Bruce had this weird habit when he would sacrifice himself not thinking about how he could hurt people around him with it, he hated this habit and silently promised himself that he would get his man out of it. Then he remembered about Alfred, about today’s dinner... About it all. He just couldn’t help himself but fly to Gotham city.  

-  

Door to the mansion snapped open almost immediately, the man inside was just shards of the stoic, scary butler Clark saw that morning in the kitchen. He looked exhausted, probably hurt by the fact that he couldn’t go into that hospital.  

-” Mister Kent, come inside.”- The voice trying so hard to be stoic, yet failing miserably, the sadness in it was hearable all the time.  

-” Mister Pennyworth... You probably know what-”- He couldn’t finish he was interrupted by the firm grip on both of his shoulders, the face of the man in front of was facing the floor, not bothering to catch eye contact. Body was tense, vitals read slight panic.  

-” I- Is he alive...?”- Question so simple, so short, so hurtful, and Clark couldn’t help himself but just start shaking delicately, felling the tears pushing on his conjunctivas.  

-” Broken ribs, internal damage, fear toxin in his system, the stab wounds from night prior opened, stitched back together... He is unconscious.”- Clark said, the man in front of him not bothering to move, he knew he had to say it.- “Cardiac arrest for seconds.”- He breathed out, knowing that it was seconds, but the outcome could be fatal anyways. The grip on his shoulders tightened dangerously, he could hear the way the man’s lung had difficulty catching breath.  

-” I see.”- He pushed out, voice forced out with insane precision, making it sound almost calm. - “Master Bruce has... This ideations to him, the selflessness.”- He added, uncomfortable truth, unpleasant words left out. Clark could understand the choice of words.  

-” I really wanted to eat that dinner.”- He tried cheering up the mood despite the fact his whole insides felt like they were squished but an unspeakable force. He earned a delicate smile, almost invisible, the delicate twitch of the lip.  

-” You adulate me, Mister Kent.”- He said, voice stoic as possible, but Clark heard the stutter of the man’s heart. - “I can make you something quick.”- He added, already walking towards the kitchen.  

He sat on the barstool, watching as the man in front of him began bustle around the kitchen. Movements had the same grace that Bruce had, everything was calculated and thought through. Silence between them was agonizing and the older man seemed to catch that too.  

-” Will he be okay?”- Question quiet, delicate, slightly above a whisper, almost shy. It had this worry inside, the one that parents have towards their children. The stoic, professional, slightly neglectful man was just an illusion, inside there was someone, a father figure, person who raised Bruce Wayne when the man’s parents died.  

-” Mister terrific said that he should get out from him, we just need to keep him away from work for a while.”- He answered, the words like a magic wound, making Mister Pennyworth’s back loosen up.  

-” It’s good to hear, rather difficult to do.”- He joked, his tone lighter than it was before, something Clark was happy to hear.  

-” I’m well aware of that.”- He said, delicate smile forming on his mouth with the thought that he would get to take care of Bruce.   

The meal contained of two fried eggs, a steak cut into slices and roasted green asparagus. Clark blinked twice at the plate in front of him. - “ Bruce eats this kind of stuff daily? ”- He asked himself internally, already sure that the answer was ‘ Yes’ .  

-” Mister Kent, I need to be honest with you.”- The Butler said, successfully stopping Clark from digging in just yet. - “Master Bruce is a hurt man, when you first rolled into the picture as Superman, I wasn’t really sure what to think. We all know that even the greatest heroes have their secrets, I was rather sceptical.”- A confession, it sounded like it was kept in for a while, those words hurt Clark whose intentions were pure from the start.- “But he is... Bruce seems happy with you, I can see the love which burns within you and I accept you.”- Words like a spell on Clark, making his cheeks hot, making him scream inside from excitement despite the situation they were in.   

-” Mister Pennyworth, it’s- I’m-”- He stuttered and was met with a silencing finger in the air.  

-” You can call me Alfred, now please eat the meal.”- The man said and walked away from the kitchen. Leaving the other man alone, letting the information sink in.  

-  

It was morning already when he opened his eyes, everything hurt like someone was burning him alive, lungs wheezing with every breath he took, ribs aching, he could feel how broken they were. His whole body screamed at him in agony, his cowl was still on, he could feel the sweat forming underneath it, the greasy hair which made him uncomfortable. The machinery beeped around him, the stench of cleanness, the white, modern and sleek surfaces staring at him, judging him. He knew this med bay, he was in Metropolis, in the Justice Gang’s hideout. He studied the plans of this building far too well to don’t know where he was.  

He looked at his body, covered in white, clean duvet, he didn’t have batsuit underneath. - “ Understandable. ”- He thought. He felt the bandages wrapped around his body, like chains holding him captive, like a prisoner. The stitches were fresh as well, he felt the way they pulled his flesh together, he didn’t like this feeling. He hated this, he hated having to heal himself up, it reminded him of the mistakes he made during battle. He will have to analyse everything when he gets back to Wayne manor, it will be a rather long day.   

He began thinking about Wayne Enterprises and the mess that had probably happened in there, he will have to take care of that too. He got a headache at the mere thought of the long days in the office, having the whole company put back at the trac was a painful thing, but it meant that people would be more productive after not having to work in risky environment. He let out a deep sigh which physically hurt his whole body, something moved, someone was in the room as well, his whole body tensed up, it was the maximum he could do now, everything made him scream internally in agony.  

A hand was placed on his left hand; he looked up to see the sight he... Wanted to see. The dorky glasses, the curls and rather big eyebags under the sky-blue eyes with the oh, so delicate indigo rim around the iris. Everything was still blurry, still overwhelming, but then he saw as tears fell from those sweet eyes, like raindrops from the sky, he didn’t quite understand why. A surpassed sigh could be heard coming from Clark Kent, he wanted to ask, to know, but he couldn’t his voice didn’t work, he figured that vocal cords had to be damaged as well after the blast he took onto his body.   

-” Fuck...”- Was what he heard, but it was the voice he thought he could never hear anymore, it was sweet, like a band-aid on a tiny scar, like kiss to forehead, like the softness of your bed after a long day, like delicate breeze during summer heat, like warm ray of sunshine during cold winter- it was simply everything .- “I thought I lost you there... I thought... So many things.”- He began, and Bruce could fell the way his own throat tightened at the words, it was the realization hitting him like a train. - “Your heart... It stopped and I simply just- Just panicked, all just stopped, everything, anything. I just cannot without you, promise me you won’t do that again, okay?”- Words desperate, raw, like a bullet through Bruce’s heart.  

The thing he feared the most has come true, the only thing he was ever scared of came to him, wrapping him like warm hands which embraced you into a hug. The realisation wasn’t hurtful, wasn’t painful, it just made him open his eyes and realise that... He had a reason to live, and he didn’t lose it that night at the alley, the reason was found- it was Clark , the man standing now in his bedside, squeezing his hand like it would disappear, this man was his reason .   

- ” I love you so much, Bruce Wayne, the thought of ever losing you shall be my end.” - He confessed, words holding the entire weight in the world.  

Bruce’s hands came to his cowl, pulling it off, revealing the miserable creature underneath, it was the kid... No, the man who lost his parents, the man whose duty sometimes overgrown him, the man who couldn’t sleep properly, the man who took anti-depressants and anxiety medications, because the world was just simply too much sometimes, it was Bruce Wayne , not Batman or the artificial public persona.  

- ” Clark Kent... I love you too, you shall be the one who pulls me out from death.” - He confessed back, words leaving weight on his body.  

The other man leaned down, his hands delicate, soft on Bruce’s cheeks, treating him as if he was made from porcelain. Their lips touched, the connection much deeper than anything before, it was like start colliding, the purest form of want, the sacred connection which they craved from the beginning. The light press, lips on lips, warm on cold, cold on warm, contrasting, connecting, fulfilling each other like ying and yang, like burning fire and flowing water. The smack, the sound they made filling the silence, sealing the cracks and imperfections they had, that they shared, making them invisible to a mortal's eye. Tongue on tongue, the closeness it held inside, penetrating their bodies like finest, sharpest bullets, shattering them to glue them back together, stronger this time. It was the hasty and starved emotion which pushed them deeper, the building sexual desire to be more, to want more, the yearning which shattered their souls and merged them back into one. They stopped, both lips slightly wet, swollen, marked by one another, an act, a feeling which had force to it strong enough to make world break apart. They looked into each other’s eyes, deep, slow, hungry, knowing they couldn’t push the line further, not here, not now.  

-” I’m sorry.”- The words escaping his mouth, without control, words he thought were long lost in his dictionary resurfacing like a leaf on water.  

Clarks hands went up to his face, he leaned into the touch. The reddish eyes in front of him, softly looking at him, the eyes he loved from the deepest parts of his heart. The calloused thumb gently wiping away the tears which formed in the corners of his eyes, the tears he never knew that were there... He didn’t cry in such a long time, it all just stayed inside him all the time, he never got to let anything slip out, he couldn’t.   

-” Nothing to be sorry for.”- Voice warm, almost like a hug.- “I’ve known you for almost a year now and I never seen you shed a tear.”- He commented, a soft, loving smile curling at his lip, making his face brighter than sunlight.   

He couldn’t help, he just stared at the face in front of him, eyes filled with love, with attraction and lust. He couldn’t help it, Clark was simply beautiful in his eyes, he felt attracted towards him, he felt the simple need inside him. His face blushed at Clark, at the smile in front of him, he wanted to reach out but his body simply didn’t let him. His lover sat on the bed, hand on his thigh.   

-” Do they see that?”- Bruce asked, his paranoid habits never leaving his side, the other man chuckled at the question, never taking his blue, puffy eyes off of him.   

-” No, I made them turn off the cameras and knock on the door.”- He answered, Bruce felt a hint of relief.   

Bruce knew what it was to lose someone you loved, someone you cared about. The feeling was awful, making your world split in half, with you in the middle trying desperately to hold both of the halves together, expect it got harder with every single moment you tried to do it. It was depressing to be left alone, he knew all of this far too well. He knew that Clark felt guilty for what happened, he could see it in his eyes, the little dot of guilt in the eye, slow dancing around it. He wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault and the pain wasn’t his to carry, but he heard the same things before, they didn’t help, they made you feel guilty for ever feeling guilty. The best he could do was sit with his lover, listen to him, making sure that the man will never have to worry about him.   

-  

He felt the way that wave of lightness embraced him, took him up. Bruce was alive and quite well now, he felt as if he stopped looking at him he would disappear, vanish from the face of earth. He could see the sharp pain in his lover’s eye, the way every single movement hurt him, shattered him from inside. He knew that a long journey was upon them, weeks of work and hard-earned rest.   

He saw the face in front of him, the bushy eyebrows, the steel eyes which sparked with green when sun hit them just right. He wanted to touch that face, touch that body, make it right, feel the pure connection which was shattered between them. These weeks were lonely, both of them were in reach, yet so alone and distant, so far apart. He could just stay like that, looking at the man in front of him, making sure he was still there, well and untouched.   

He wanted to say something, but the ringing of his phone had broken the silence which filled everything on it’s way. The fuzzy, white feeling of silence. He let out a tired sigh, managing to make Bruce smile with it, he loved these smiles, they were always so hard to come by. He looked at the screen to see his Ma’s number.   

He picked up the phone and walked into the corner of med bay, he didn’t want to disturb Bruce with phone call, the man seemed to flinch at the ringtone. - “ Probably fed up with them because of the work. ”- He thought, the situation somehow funny to him.   

-” Clark? Are you okay? Oh, my god! Me and Johnatan had watched the news! ”- She creamed into his ear, making him twitch.  

-” Mom, I’m fine. Got rid of the Kryptonite from myself, I will live.”- He answered, his voice calm, hoping to get his mother to do the same.  

-” Oh, I know you’re fine! What about Batman? We saw that he is badly injured, hospitalized. ”- She asked, the question a certain surprise to him. They never really asked about anything like that before, well of course, they asked about Lois when they were together, but it was his girlfriend.  

-” What? Why him?”- The question escaped his mouth before he could think about anything at all. Hand flying up to his mouth, face blushed.  

-” Baby... It’s just... ”- His mother started, voice delicate, almost careful as she choose the words.- “ I would be a bad mother if I didn’t notice the way your face changes when you talk about him. ”- She stated, her voice calm, but words like an aspen stake through Clark’s heart.   

The information surprised him, or more so left him scared. All this time he lived in a reality where his parents didn’t know, where they got to live their perfect live on the farm, without knowing that Clark liked man too. He wanted to keep it a secret, he didn’t need to be a disgrace to his parents by any other means that he already was, he was an alien, for Christ’s sake!   

-” Yeah... He is stable.”- He mumbled out, words burning his tongue like hot coals. He didn’t know what else to say, what else to do, he just froze in place.  

-” Son... No, this isn’t a conversation over the phone. Bring Batman and yourself for dinner sometime, we hope that your ‘partner’ knows that secrets are sacred in this family. ”- And after that words Martha Kent simply hanged up.   

Words left him in shambles, he didn’t really know what to think or what to say, the feeling that his parents know made him feel anxious.   

-” Clark?”- Bruce’s voice echoing in his mind. He had to pull himself together.  

-” My parents know I at least like Batman, and they invite you and me to dinner to discuss it.”- He stated, voice panicking, breath becoming sharp. Everything raced through his mind, every possible scenario of how badly that dinner could end.  

-” Shit.”- Was the first thing that Bruce said, not even bothering to hide his surprise. His hand flew to his chin, grabbing it, he closed his eyes for a moment. - “First of all, you need to breath, Darling.”- The simple words making Clark’s attention shift to the man on the bed. He actually calmed himself down, just a little bit. - “I’ll go. I won’t let you face this on your own.”- Voice calm, just like it always is, how Clark remembered it to be. - “Besides, we can’t really tell what they think, and can’t really change it either way. Let’s do it together.”- He added, words like band-aid's on Clark’s mind. He just offered a panicked smile in return, earning himself a roll of his lover’s eyes.   

Chapter Text

The day bled into night, the blinds leaving a shadow on the wall, dark stripes with warm orange hues between them, some of it leaking onto Clark’s face, warming him, making his blue eyes drink the colour, shifting like a kaleidoscope. He looked onto the bed, onto the man he thought he lost, now dozed off, took into the embrace of Charon who shall take him onto the other edge of Stix, he deserved that, he deserved to wear that careless face he had on now more often, not only after near-death situations.   

Bruce tore himself apart in brutal manor, not giving himself room for mistakes which even Superman did, the man’s obsession with being perfect and competent in every single situation seemed to suffocate the man, eat him alive, and Clark watched that. He saw and heard the way Batman’s eye twitched delicately after he did something ‘wrong’ at the patrol, even if it was as simple as hitting someone too lightly. Then the man would some back, not making the same mistake ever again, Clark felt respect towards Bruce because of it, a man who learns from his mistakes is something we all should aspire to be, but at this point it wasn’t just ‘learning from mistakes’, it was torture, it was the punishment the man would give himself after doing something wrong. It was unhealthy and obsessive, it drained life from these blue eyes, eyes Clark cherished, desired.   

The motionless body on the bed, black, delicately brown hair, drenched in sweat were scattered around the man’s face, on the pillow like an aureola. The sharp cheekbones bleeding into relaxed lips, gaped just enough to see the pearly white teeth underneath, and the black eyeshadow, the streaks from tears and sweat coming down like raindrops on car window, ending on the jawline. He seemed to be at peace, something he didn’t see even that times he slept next to Bruce, the nightmare making his mouth tighten, his body twitching just enough to make Clark wake up and pull the man closer to him, planting a reassuring kiss on his forehead. The sun went down, darkening the room, covering Bruce in darkness which seemed to stain the man temporary, not wanting to let go of him like a desperate lover, like a wife which just saw her husband having an affair. Gotham city... It really was shaping who you were, Dark Knight himself held this invisible aura of darkness, secret and some king of danger around, wearing it like a badge of honour.   

A black strand of hair fell onto the man’s forehead, shimmering in the moonlight like ocean, big body of water, flowing, in state of calmness, but so alive. Bruce was just that. He tucked the strand away, hair soft under his touch, taken care of. His hand went down to cup the cheek, the face which twisted in pain, in sadness and once in pleasure, which Clark hoped to give the man at least one more time. Skin was soft, no scarring, not even acne one, pale and glistening in the dark knight, reminding him of all the aristocrats he read about in history books. He smiled to himself at the thought.  

The door opened with a creek, it was Michael. The man stood backward to the bed, just to make sure he didn’t see Batman on the bed, despite the fact that lights were turned off. The silence grew, but Clark wasn’t bothered enough to break it, he just took the hand away from the soft cheek and shifted his focus to the other superhero.  

-” If you want to you can go tomorrow, considering the fact the man doesn’t have any medical records or anything similar it's safe to assume that he will receive proper medical treatment at his place.”- Terrific said those words almost as if they were about to burn off his tongue. Clark smiled at the words, his hand resting on Bruce’s thigh, despite the fact it was covered in a duvet.  

-” Thank you, Michael... Means a lot to me.”- HE confessed, his words heavy, making the man shift his weight from one leg to another.  

-” You care about each other, couldn’t say ‘no’ to helping you.”- The words weirdly affectionate. The man who swore to don’t intervene into other people’s emotional life was doing just that at the moment. - “He rode from Gotham to Metropolis to save your ass when you weren’t dating... It kind of made me trust the man.”- He confessed, his voice really quiet. Clark just smiled wider and snickered. - “If you tell Guy or Kendra I will come for you.”- He added and closed the door behind himself.   

Clark was able to hear the footsteps for a while more, but then he moved his chair to make himself face Bruce again. The view he saw was dear to him, he stretched his hands out, hugging the man’s pelvis, his head resting on his lover’s thighs, cheek hugged into them, he closed his eyes, despite not feeling tired he fallen asleep in seconds.  

Metropolis nights were truly a sight to see. Skyscrapers with their moder look, shapes of the building futuristic, screaming into the future, almost as if it already lived in it. The city wasn’t polluted with billboards, like Gotham; well, of course it had a fair share of them, but they weren’t glowing in the dark, like intoxicating, hypnotising lights shoved straight into your face, they just gently were there, existed. They were visible enough to be a touch of colour in the light spill of light. The cars drove by, on the streets, on the highways as well, the pairs of reflectors lost in the streetlamps light. Every single car with destination, with live person inside. Above the city the stars hanged, shimmering light points, millions of them, each symbolising a life in the city. Here the burning objects, the true residents of cosmos didn’t seem to be shy or scared, they simply were there, now, ready to be looked at, not hiding behind any cloud. The moon a much softer shape here, less sharp and all-knowing than in Gotham, almost caring, almost giving comfort people lacked, here the thing didn’t mean a hunt or doom, it simply meant... Rest and better tomorrow, another chance to do something.   

-  

Morning came sooner than expected, he woke up to a hand tugging on his hair, the curly wisps twisting around Bruce’s fingers, he purred into the touch, looking at the face, the tired, dirty face which he wanted to simply take care of, the eyes were absent, thinking, analysing.- “ They always are. ”- He thought, the way pupil twitched and changed size with some realisations.   

-” What are you thinking about?”- He asked, voice sleepy, eyes tracing the way the pupil grew, shifting the focus to Clark. The expression grew into something softer.  

-” Work. Wondering if Wayne Enterprises descended into chaos already, besides I need to take a look at Luthor’s suit, just to-”- He started talking, his words, each one said with the delicate force, almost as if it hurt him to speak. He was cut off with a scoff from Clark’s mouth.  

-“You can dream of it right now. If you think you’ll be doing anything else than laying down for the next week you would be wrong.”- It came out rougher than he wanted it to be, each word having deep sense of care within it.   

Their eyes met, Bruce’s ones looking surprised, almost as if the man hadn’t expected such strong reaction from Clark. Then his expression softened, he looked at the side, at the cabinets by the wall, almost as if he tried to run away from the truth, from the words he had said to him. The billionaire, vigilante really needed a break, it wasn’t even an excuse to keep him closer and be able to take care of him (something Clark has been very keen on doing since begging), it was about the fact that not properly healed injuries were causes of many dieses and other injuries, a chain reaction which sometimes came from a simple, badly healed broken finger. He watched the man on the bed once again, each second passing felt like eternity in this uncomfortable silence, he glued words together in his head, wanting to phrase it all just on point, even after all the murderous training he received at his job, he still managed to pronounce his feelings badly, sometimes making the other end of conversation simply walk away from him.  

-“ You have to give yourself a break, these were severe injuries, not minor ones, they could be dangerous to metahumans, you need time, especially considering the fact you’re human. I don’t mean to cry you down by saying you are ‘human’, it’s just that... Your body is just weaker than a metahuman’s or mine. Despite all the hard work you put in you’re still made out of flesh and blood, not diamond.”- The care seeping from the words, bonding with love he had inside. He really didn’t mean to sound offending; he was just worried. He knew what kind of workaholic Bruce was. - “When I saw you last night you looked so peaceful, almost as if you were dead... I just watched you and realized that you never rest, even when you’re asleep... It kills me more than it should be. Give yourself a chance, call in sick for work, the papers won’t run away from you anyways.”- He finished off. Bruce just sighed, his hands coming up to his face, covering it.  

-“It doesn’t feel right, Clark... I feel as if everything is going to crumble without my supervision.”- He confessed, the voice muffled behind his hands. The way those words sounded desperate hurt him, as if Bruce was a kid once more, trying really hard to have anything under control to avoid another tragedy from unfolding.   

-“One week, I won’t ask you for more, just this once. I beg you, let me take care of you, I won’t hold you back anymore.”- The sudden plead making Bruce blush, it caught him unguarded, especially when Clark made his voice sound desperate and pathetic, begging for just some time together like a desperate man he was.  

A jolt of raw embarrassment was sent down his spine, cheeks blushing just a little bit too much, his own words and actions surprising him. Last time he begged someone for something this way had been at the start of primary school, probably for some toy in a shop. When the man on the bed, in all his smudged eyeliner glory bit his lip, Clark knew he won. Bruce’s eyes burning with the want, the feeling, the same one he felt, a raw, unfiltered attraction. They both knew if this happened under other circumstances this conversation wouldn’t end the same way.  

-“Okay...”- Voice trembling slightly, cheeks covered in delicate tint of red, a rare sight to see on Bruce Wayne, all the more on Batman. - “Just don’t do that again to me, I’m kind of easy for pleads and begs coming from anyone with a pretty face, especially when that someone is my Boyfriend.”- The voice in all the flirtatious power the man had, the same way when he whispered those dirty compliments at the gala. This talking seemed to work wonders on Clark, it always had.  

When he read those shitty interviews in those gossip gazettes, especially those which had covers with half-naked Bruce on the cover, those comments were always there, dirty compliments which made your whole body turn inside-out. The way those magazines were sleek enough to write those freaky lines with other fonts, or making them bold, like they were making sure you read them. Clark was hooked on those fat lines, often complimenting the interviewer, those lines had him imagining that was him there. He dreamt of it and well looks like wishes and dreams really come true.  

-” I used to read this type of lines from you in magazines, wishing I heard them, and here we are.”- Clark confessed, hands rubbing his eyes under the glasses. He was sure Bruce was smirking at him, one of those irresistible smiles he owned.  

-  

Ride home wasn’t pleasing for him, everything hurt like a bitch, especially when Kent turned out to be an extremely careful driver, well it’s not like it was anything bad or something, good for him, but the ride was... Long to say the least. Micheal served him extremely big dose of pain killers.  

-  

He had his cowl back on, even if he was almost sure Mister Terrific knew already, let’s be clear here, the man was smart, sometimes making Bruce feel like a dumbass. The black rubber making him itch, especially after not being able to refresh himself in two days, he was almost a hundred precent sure that the odour that came from him was like being sent into eternal suffering just by being around him.  

The black-haired man searched for something in the cabinets, giving Batman just enough time to see the way this suit did Michael only favours in his appearance.  

-” Quit looking at me.”- The man said, making Bruce roll his eyes, but he did as asked of.  

he tried to sit up, prepare himself mentally for the ride back home, he didn’t know what to expect from Clark’s driving, never got to experience it. His feet touched the ground while he sat at the edge of the white bed. Terrific came up to him, a couple of pills on a plate, a glass of water next to it.  

-” If you don’t want the sleeping ones just take the white one.”- He said, voice calm, stoic. Weird thing to say, it was just a car drive, nothing to special, he himself was able to make it in ten minutes if he pushed gas pedal deep enough.  

-” Why would I want them?”- His voice back to deep one, the one he had while doing patrols with Superman, it was professional. Terrific rose an eyebrow on him.  

-” Okay... Just don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”- He said while Bruce swallowed the pain killers only.  

-  

He should’ve listened to him, take the pills, he wouldn’t feel half the pain he did right now as his body jumped with every single bump on the road, every single dent made him want to puke from the pain. He felt as if his soul was running further and further away from him with every single minute the car drive continued.  

Then came the turn which he knew meant that they were finally home, it felt like blessing, as if he was saved.  

-” Drive into the garage, I have a lift which will take us into the Batcave.”- Each word pushed out as if it pained him.  

He shut his eyes, feeling that salvation was just behind the corner, waiting, calling his name. When he opened them Clark was above him, not sure what to do.  

-” I’ll walk.”- He growled out, making the man look at him with disappointment.  

-” I’ll carry you, I’m sure Alfred would be happier with that as well.”- He stated, the sudden change from “Mister Pennyworth” to “Alfred” making him rather suspicious of the two.  

-” Master Clark is right.”- The words leaving them both stunned, Clark jumped up a little in fear, while Bruce was too used to the man popping up like a ghost. - “Please get out from the car and Master Clark shall carry you to the bathtub. I traced Batmobile and made you a bath, Master Bruce.”- He informed, words as professional as ever. All of this made him feel a sense of calmness. As if stress went away, the change of environment making him uncomfortable.  

-  

A week, he needed to survive a week with all the care he got from Clark and Alfred. He hated being depended on someone, it made him feel caged and scared. People failed him constantly, in work, in life. He learned that people are egoistic animals the hard way, the hypocrisy of people, being social animals, yet not doing anything other than hurt others. Constantly letting them down, often leaving them in tears, hurt, traumatised, changed and alone. He knew it all far to well.  

He could charge through the first three days, he called in sick, no one commented anything, they just accepted it. The silence and acceptance making it even harder for Bruce to rest, but he bit himself on the lips and let everyone do everything for him. He couldn’t even hold anything too heavy in the first few days, he was barely moving, not talking about walking down the stairs or anything like that. His ribs aching him, making him wake up at night, in tears of pain and cold sweat, Clark was always there to hand him a pill and water. He appreciated all of it, well it wasn’t that the man didn’t have work, no, he often brought it to Bruce, to the mansion.  

One day he even asked for an interview, the main topic was disappearance of Bruce from public scene. It wasn’t even three days he laid in bed, not sticking his head out the front door, and yet people still noticed. This was the downside of being popular, you were watched, constantly, every single time.  

-  

Clark sat on the bed, in his pyjamas- an oversized T-shirt, which he considering a blessing, because there weren’t too much oversize clothes which fitted 6’3” and 225 pounds jacked man, then a nice pair of boxers, black ones. Bruce seemed to get better, his ribs causing him less pain, because he was laying in other position than usual, he found the sight cute.  

-” Can I start?”- He asked, the man groaned out.  

-” Let me get in character, besides I was supposed to rest.”- Of course the talking back wasn’t going anywhere.  

-” Don’t turn this around now, yesterday before I went off to do patrol you told me you could do an interview, because you’re bored.”- He shot the shot back, making Bruce roll his eyes.- “Let’s start, I have to be in work by an hour.”- He added for the dramatic effect and motivation for Wayne.  

-” Okay, Clark. What can I do you for you today, huh?”- He asked, his voice already in character. It still crept him out, the switch in the man’s behaviour.  

-” I’m here to discuss your sudden absence in public life, Mister Wayne.”- He said, keeping his tone professional, especially because he recorded the interview. At this point it felt like fighting demons deep inside, Bruce laid next to him only in his awfully hot underwear. He focused, staring at the door and carvings on them. - “Is there a particular reason behind it?”- The question rolling off his tongue freely. He liked those types of interviews; they were less stressful than having to pull out stack and stacks of document trying to prove something to rich man who will never change anyways.  

-” Yes, there is.”- He said, voice suddenly nicer, dreamier than before. It left Clark speechless for a moment. - “ What the hell is he planning. ”- He thought to himself, then grunted nervously, leaving Bruce with this awful smirk plastered on his face. - “I am sick, and that’s a fact, even a man of business like me can be.”- Voice with usual cocky tone, then a moment of stop. - “There is someone.”- Now soft, a confession. Clark stopped the recording; his face covered in blush.  

-” You’re a sick man, Bruce Wayne.”- He muttered, covering his face with his hands.  

-” Sure, I love you too, Darling.”- There it was, the flirt, the teasing.  

-  

After those three days only four remained. He knew it was going to be bad especially when he felt strong enough to walk around the house freely, it didn’t cause him too much pain when he took pain killers, so he just functioned on them, trying his hardest to keep himself off work. All the calls he got were redirected to his secretary or someone lower who was able to handle the case in stand of him, but at first, they still rang on his work phone, every single call like a forbidden fruit. Then he just straight up got irritated when someone tried to do something for him. He felt as if he was disabled.  

Then on the sixth day he just couldn’t help it anymore, the ribs and collarbones still ached, and they will be for next weeks but the pain wasn’t feelable on meds, especially when he took the anti-depressants with them. He went down to batcave, ignoring Alfred which tried to tell him to rest, but then he just given up. He took all the files and papers upstairs, into his study room.  

The big wooden desk, standing proudly in front of the window. Bookshelves on the left side of the room, as tall as the walls, a riding ladder attached to them for a quick, comfortable access. In front of the desk two, brown leather armchairs, sitting proudly on top of a white, furry rug. The chair on which Bruce sat on was upholstered in black leather, wood type of the chair matching the on the desk was made out of. In this room the curtains were light, see-through, added in for aesthetic reason, not practical use, they were white, matching the carpet. On the right side, beside the window a potted, tall Ficus stood tall, a massive plant, right underneath the three, large prints of the Wayne tower sketch, made by the architect, as well as the Wayne manor and a framed, old, delicately yellow newspaper, which stated that the Wayne family has hit their first million dollars of worth, opening new path for Gotham city. The door was like sculptures, fine carvings as well, all of the doors in this mansion were, every single piece of furniture screamed expensive, but solid and strong. They all were there for aesthetic and practical use.  

He studied the files, it’s not like he could change the way it all unfolded, it was all in the past now, but it hurt him. Every single time when he looked at the way he handled the matter he just couldn’t help but feel pathetic, useless, dumb. With every single page he studied, with each layer of suit he saw the way he could done thing differently, with minimizing damage to a scratch on his face and maybe a small episode from the gas, it was certainly a smaller price to pay than his ribs and cardiac arrest. Every page bringing him hatred, voices in his head, no he, he screamed at himself, calling him unspeakable things. There was a moment he believed he is just a moron and the hit he has done that day should’ve killed him that day, if only then he knew how many weak points the suit had...  

-” I could’ve taken him down differently-”- He muttered out, not being able to finish.  

-” And what, kill yourself this time?”- The voice stoic, cold as well, judging him.  

-” It’s not like that, Clark.”- He tried to defend himself, knowing it was exactly like that. Sure, all these alternative endings he thought about were positive, perfectly executed endings, ones he could do if he didn’t have two stab wounds in his side. Clark was right, it was all in the past now, he won anyways, which made the situation even dumber. Blaming himself for things he couldn’t change anyway was... idiotic. Sometimes he just wished that he could stop, stop those thoughts and voices which pushed him into such conclusions, but they were stronger, making him question everything.  

-” It is like that. You can’t change it. No one was as badly injured as you, Bruce. Thinking about changing the outcome of that battle is irrational. You paid price for everyone.”- He walked up closer, hands on the wooden desk, in front of him, the muscles flexing, dangerous. He let out a sigh, catching eye contact. - “What do you want to change, huh? Do you want to give your life for that case? Oh, sorry you already did, maybe for seconds, but it was far too much.”- Voice was stoic... It held Bruce in place somehow, making him stop for a while. - “Don’t try to say ‘sorry’. Just don’t punish yourself for things you can’t change anymore.”- His voice delicate, quiet, soft, he didn’t pity him, he didn’t try to make him feel bad, he just was. Hands buried in Bruce’s hair, ruffling them with care, each movement holding reassuring pressure. - “Leave these papers alone, you’re back in work on Monday.”- He muttered, pulling the hand out from the hair.  

He didn’t say a word, he just walked around the desk, letting himself be embraced by Clark, sinking into him. Mouth on mouth, a kiss. Moments later Bruce was delicately guided onto the desk, sitting on it, everything done with so much care from Clark’s side. His hands on the muscular back, hidden behind an awful flannel shirt, the kiss was slippery, it was more like eating each other. They pulled lips with teeth, tongue on tongue everything with wet sound, saliva on saliva. At this point Bruce pulled on those dark curls, merciless, just for the pure satisfaction. Their lips collided just to pull away seconds later. They pulled apart, foreheads touching.  

-” Kent... I wish I could do more to you.”- He breathed out, making the other man blush violently. He chuckled, never getting tired of the fact Clark got easily flustered.  

The most ironic part was that when it came to business Bruce was the one to fold first, like paper under wind, that’s how easy he was for this Kansas cowboy.  

Chapter Text

Suit hugging his features really well, the tie having him in chokehold he grew to love over time in this awful corporate business. Last week was a mess, leaving him feeling more tired and fed up with everything than relaxed. The sun loomed on the horizon, Autumn was at it’s peak, trees which occurred in richer streets of Gotham had their leaves painted in various shades of green, yellow and orange, the warm tones being a contrast to the moder, raw designs of the building, they gave the dead, cold city the spark of life it needed. It might be sunrise, 8am sharp, but the streets began to buzz with life, a nice view especially after the Penguin and Luthor situation. It was moments like this which made him feel hope, a deceiving thing, which made your brain feel false rush of endorphins, but he didn’t care about it in the moment.  

Wayne Tower stood tall, watching over the city like a gargoyle on a building, like a weeping angel looking over the grave, expect it was meant to symbolise hope for better future. Generations of Wayne’s tried to do something with the city, sometimes falling victims of twisted scenarios the place ad to offer, seemingly good intention began growing twisted and sick over time, but Bruce Wayne had promised himself he will change the city, if not as the brooding billionaire, then as the Dark Knight, the vengeance, the hope these people needed to see.  

His black BMW X6 pulled into the parking under the Wayne Tower, it was a public spot, he had made it on purpose, if the parking places the city provided people could always park under the Tower for free if needed, a simple thing, but always worked wonders. The moment he step out from the car, not fully aware of his surrounding a flash of light was thrown into his face, like a slap bringing his mind back to earth. That’s right he was Bruce Wayne, the parking was a public place, of course reporters would be there, even if it was 8am in the damn morning.  

-” Mister Wayne, a comment on the new gossip!”- A woman with microphone screamed, the others mumbling something in agreement. He missed it somehow, the life which occurred around him.  

Sometimes when he felt lifeless, alone, these people reminded him that if his life wasn’t lively enough for him it could be for someone else. If he didn’t want to live this life for himself, he could live it for someone else, making their lives more interesting, it was a charity work he could do. 

-” What gossip? It’s all true.”- He commented, smirking as he spoke, making the reporters scream and squeal under the comment. He chuckled. The automatic door of the office building getting awfully. 

-” What’s her name!”- Someone screamed, the question scratched him the good way, he seized the opportunity like the sly fox he was. 

-” Who says it’s a woman? Besides some reporters are far too charming to stand indifferent next to them.”- He said with full confidence as flashing lights flickered and more squealing began, he loved his position, the way the rumours would grow. He missed it, besides it gave him a sick kind of satisfaction when he could manipulate the public opinion with a couple of easy words. The doors shut behind him, making the reporters walk away. 

He stretched his back, quickly regretting it after his ribs screamed at him violently. He felt the way Clark would get mad at him for spreading the rumours, he smiled at the thought, his face blushing slightly. Was he daydreaming? Maybe. He pushed the lift button, trying not to bother himself with anymore Clark Kent, the man was distracting and as far as he knew he had a board meeting with some of the executives below him, most likely about the weapons Luthor was so keen on stealing and a sum up after the recent accidents. He himself didn’t get time to run how much profit they lost on those days the company was closed, even if he managed to run the paperwork for everyone while trying to figure out how to save Gotham.  

The ride up was awful, he couldn’t stand up for so long after all, sure the painkillers did him favour but the ride to top was over 2 minutes, and even such a short time put him into pain, especially when he shifted his whole weight from one leg to another, making his ribs poke him, a twitch of pain came down his spine regularly. The door opened to the long corridor, he felt blessed and saved by the view. He made his way down the hall, the rugs which the previous time he was there were stained by dirt of Luthor’s men’s boots was cleaned spotless, he couldn’t expect anything less from people which worked for him. The true power always laid in the employees, not the employer. Of course, proper management of people and their work was important, but if there were no people to manage and no one to work with the results will always equal zero.  

His secretary, Rhonda was already shuffling through some documents, she didn’t even notice he came up to her desk. He really respected the woman, she pushed strongly through the work, reminding him of almost everything he ever forgot about, she was really admirable, besides she treated Bruce like a friend or a family member, not someone she worked for, which made their relationship rather close.  

-” Do you need help?”- The question simple, voice quiet, yet she still jumped up. Their eyes met and she seemed to glow with happiness the same moment she saw him. 

-” You’re back! Healed up yet?”- Of course she would ask hm that first, her voice was truly maternal, it warmed him up. 

-” You can call it. Ribs still aching a little bit.”- A half-truth slipping from his lip smoothly. It was rather obvious that they weren’t this close, they treated each other with care, but didn’t mix their private lives together, the woman just nodded in agreement. 

-” This week was a mess, this company descents into chaos when you’re not the one managing distribution. Work hours they approved are sick as well. You will be mad when you will see them.”- She warned him, voice seeping with care. He imagined how it would look like when he came back, everything was expected. 

Documents piled up on his desk, hundreds of them. Reading, checking and signing the documents was always a Sisyphean task, a never ending one. He put his laptop on the desk, the same with keys and phone. He looked at the paper, it will be a long day, the board meeting not making anything easier. He let out a sigh and walked up to the bar to make himself a coffee. 

- 

It was already 1pm, five hours passed by, and he wasn’t even halfway done with the papers, almost everything came back to the sender with correction or comments, he hated doing this, he knew these people already had a lot of work, but he couldn’t let the mistakes or badly planned out things slide by. He was in the middle of signing an agreement for a photo session, some kind of underwear brand, he didn’t really care, the pay check was fat, besides he wanted to give some of the photos to Clark to see- 

-” Bruce, board is waiting.”- He was stopped halfway through his visualisation, biting on his pen like a fine candy. He nodded in agreement and put the pen away. 

The documents were folded in half and put in an envelope, on his way to conference room he handed the signed documents to his secretary, smiling a little too hard while doing so.  

He knew who to expect inside the room, people who thought he was dumb, maximizing profit over employees, something he couldn’t let happening. These people may have had higher salary, but their wage was still comparable with the rest of the workers. The table was almost fully taken beside the chair at the end, on the top of the table- it was for him, as always. He sat down, ribs making him feel relieved.  

-” I hope we are here to talk about past month.”- He began, voice calm, almost sweet and clueless, scanning the room with his eyes, everyone seemed to be relaxed. He didn’t like those people, they were from the upper classes of society, they had money, they were egoistic, but at the same time they did their job really well, all the reports and meetings spoken out perfectly. They were competent.  

-” There is nothing to talk about Mister Wayne.”- A woman said, her expression surprised, he matched the expression.  

It wasn’t the first time he handled the paperwork during times of crisis, in fact Gotham city provided him with such excellent practice every single year or so, at this point he could pull off any crisis-management government without any complications. With all that said, he was really sleep-depraved and exhausted, he was sure there were mistakes in the papers (even if he checked them like four times), there always were. 

-” Helene is right, the papers were handled perfectly, no mistake. Besides the free time boosted the productivity at the halls.”- Nicholas Johnson added in. 

-” The income after the crisis had overgrown our expectations, we not only got everything on clear, but we also had profit.”- Helene informed. He was genuinely impressed that his work in the batcave wasn’t going into dirt. Sometimes he felt that despite everything he ever had done to keep this company on highest turns it was going to crumble every single second.  

-” I must say that people you hired to do the paperwork are really great at their job, Mister Wayne. You should probably consider hiring one of them to help you in the office.”- Whitney suggested, she meant it in a positive sense, she couldn’t possibly know that he handled everything by himself, he was ‘too dumb’ for this.  

-” I’ll think about it.”- He answered to be met with a smile from his PR manager. He couldn’t blame these people for thinking he is dumb, his public persona effectively pulled everyone’s attention away from the fact he was far more than competent.  

If Wayne Enterprises succeeded in something people just automatically assumed it was the management doing its job particularly outstandingly. He knew that people often thought “Poor people, it must be really hard working with a nepo baby!”- He wasn’t even mad at them, in fact such opinions did him a favour in hiding his Batman persona.  

-” I think we should discuss the missiles and the new phone parts we will began producing this winter.”- The tech department manager suggested. Everyone agreed with him without further questions. It always was funny to Bruce how they presented his ideas, most probably never fully believing he actually thought of them. 

Rest of the meeting was about what to roll into business and what ideas should be scrapped. Everything was going just fine, all of his worries about company falling into ruin and madness was as false as ever. He knew that the schedules were messed up and some ideas approved weren’t meeting the high-end the company presented with itself, but all of this were just small scratches, quick to fix for Bruce.  

- 

Lunch time rolled in quickly; the paperwork really did eat him alive. He walked up to the window; he expected an interviewer in approximately ten minutes. Gotham city seemed to be forgotten by the burning star, the sun never quite hit it. The fall weather making everything far more depressing than it should be in the first place. Fog and clouds blending inti one, the dark city streets buzzing with ongoing life. He always was intrigued by the fact how many people lived in this hell, the city was like disease you couldn’t quite heal. Crime rates making you fear for your life every time you had to take a turn into a street which wasn’t a main street. It was quite a show of rebellion as well, a quiet protest that people will not fear being eaten alive by filthy criminals. The whole problem was in the system, he knew that. The system was effectively putting everyone down, not being as effective as everyone hoped so, money could buy you not being affected by the law at all, it was depressing for people who had to fight to make a living. He sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t put these people down, making them bite the dirt they stepped on everyday permanently, making sure they won’t get out and do the same awful thing once more, but he believed in redemption, in change... He wanted to believe in it, because if it wasn’t real, it would mean he will never change and shall be drowned in his solitude.  

-” Bruce, Gotham Gazette is here.”- The speaker screamed with his secretary’s voice. 

He mentally prepared himself to be cut the interview short after fifteen minutes or, these people seemed to don’t know how conversations worked. Last time he spoke with someone from the Gotham Gazette the woman was overwhelming his with question, every time he spoke, even a single word, she would cut him short, even more questions being asked out of the blue. He turned to the door to see a woman he haven’t seen before.- “A new worker, huh?”- He thought to himself, a polite, but flirty smile appeared on his face, the show must go on.  

She had an elegant casual outfit on, a blue button up shirt, black material pants and black heels which seemed to add up to her height. She wasn’t tall, so the boots she wore did her a favour. The brown hair thrown into a messy bun, an effortless look, something he didn’t see quite often in the Gazette workers. He walked up to hair, hand extended, the slim hand squeezing his, he pulled it up, kissing it gallantly. He secretly hoped that the woman and her questions would be worth his time, and maybe, just maybe, the Gotham Gazette wasn’t as boring. 

-” Maria Roberts, reporter for the Gotham Gazette.”- She said, smile delicate. She seemed rather polite. 

-” Bruce Wayne, CEO of the Wayne Enterprises.”- He introduced himself and gestured toward the talking pit. The woman walked towards them. - “Something to drink, Miss Roberts?”- An offer he hoped to don’t have to fulfil. 

-” No, I’m fine.”- She answered, the tone polite.  

Her things scattered on the coffee table, similar to the way Clark threw them, expect the man was far more messy and clumsy with it. - “Focus, Bruce.”- He barked at himself internally. Ever since they were transparent with each other and became so close the man seemed to live rent free in his head.  

He sat down, in front of the woman, smile like a mask he wore, like a weapon he cherished to have and was a master at wielding it.  

-” We talking business or gossip today?”- He asked, a half-joke, while he used his fist to lean his face at. Maria smiled at him, suggesting they will be doing both at once.  

-” Mister Wayne, your sudden disappearance had us, people of Gotham wondering where you have been! Do we get an answer on this topic?”- She asked, her tone friendly, typical reporter trying to seem open.  

-” I still can get sick, right? Or is it illegal for pretty people?”- Bruce answered, words physically pained him. The thought of being ‘sick’ bringing back the feeling of his ribs being cracked, one by one, just like the collarbones. A shiver came down his spine, but he masked it. Maria seemed satisfied with the answer, he knew that it all came went to the gossip block. 

-” Of course they can.”- She mumbled, smile not leaving the face, this time it turned more plastic. - “Fans, because you could say you have quite a lot of them, were wondering how your love life is.”- She stated, another standard question in these types of interviews. It made him ill, the way people saw only the outer shell, the playboy, but the whole problem was that he was the only one to blame here, he let the public eye see only this much. He chuckled theatrically, just like he always did, the “fans” were well-known to him, especially when his boyfriend was one. 

-” ‘Fans’? That’s certainly something new, Miss Roberts.”- Playing dumb was always working wonders and he will be forever grateful for that. - “I always thought that being filthy rich brought you critique, not a fanbase.”- He shifted the topic, he knew that a mere mention of him being in relationship or even unfortunate words would bring Kal into the depths of hell, he didn’t wish that for his boyfriend, not without his consent. 

-” You’re known for your good doings in Gotham; people yearn for someone who is still human despite the richness.”- She said, her statement partially truth. He knew that being rich wasn’t ethical, because there always will be people who try to live through their lives without a penny, while he is wondering what to eat for dinner. He tried to help those people, most of his income went to charity or simply he cut it to give his workers a raise, those people were desperate for an income, and he will be there to give it. - “The whole problem is that during your sudden disappearance the company had lowered the support to charities.”- Words hit him like a train. He was not prepared for such statement, especially not after the board meeting where no one seemed to give him such information.  

It was odd, he wouldn’t do such thing without a reason, just like the Luthor case- he made sure to track down the charity and document the suspicious activity before making a dramatical or drastic decisions, nothing without a black and white evidence. Was a week enough to do such dramatic changes? Helene Thompson was the one in charge of the transfers to charity when he wasn’t present. - “Always those damn charities.”- He whined in his mind. Eyes tracing the puzzled reporter.  

-” Do you perhaps have a list of charities and cut funds?”- He asked, voice from a cheerful tone to a much colder one, suggesting that he was focused. The reporter was hesitant at first, as if she didn’t believe the man was being serious, but she handed him the files. 

He looked at the listed charities, most of them being ones which support minorities. He knew that the woman was most probably racist considering the fact what he heard about her from the gossips, which spread like a wildfire inside the Wayne enterprises. He let out a deep sigh, he knew he should’ve fired her a long time ago, and this is just consequences of his actions. And there he was, back with the statement that he shouldn’t get any free time off-work, because life is a bitch and will always be there to land a blow straight to your chest when you least expect it.  

-” Mister Wayne, I’m sorry to interrupt your... thinking session, it’s just that I’m a minority myself and this cut funds felt like a personal slap.”- Maria explained, her voice expressing hurt, he expected this kind of reaction, he always were.- “Can I expect some action towards this, uhm, situation?”- Tone of the voice serious.  

A silence fallen between them. He knew that finding someone as competent as Maria would be hard, but hate will not be tolerated in his company. It always was like that, everything he tried to do with good intentions backfired at him, Helene had great reputation, often making great financial decisions, skilfully cut the funds from places which didn’t deserve them, but it looks like keeping the same person next to great money for years will make their greed for more only rise. Money in this capitalistic society was always a trigger for the worst behaviour.  

He dropped the papers onto the table, made himself more comfortable on the couch, trying his best to remain calm and relaxed, trying to not see the fury which rose within him, the shame he had to deal with a problem which he didn’t even cause. In situations like this he was grateful for reporters which stuck their nose too deep. 

-” Of course, Miss Roberts.”- He stated, voice sincere, professional. The hints of cockiness which he always wore like a badge were gone. - “Oh, I’m sure it will be far more than legal actions.”- He added, his voice suggesting a crazy plan was there, ready to unfold. The smirk appeared and his mind run to the envelope he handed to Rhonda.  

The photoshoot he planned was just the opportunity. The queer owned underwear brand, expect he won’t take any money, he will do it for free. Only people who have to get offended will get offended, and that included Helene Thompson. It’s almost as if universe wanted him to pull shit like this. 

- 

The interview eneded shortly after this. He missed the life he had for the last month, it was weird to walk the silent streets and patrol the even more empty Gotham at night. If you thought the city couldn’t get scarier than it was, everyone was there to prove you wrong for this. Even if he hated this life, how every single thing he did was a remainder of his father’s legacy, he still missed it. He lived in Thomas Wayne’s shadow, if someone talked about Wayne it always was his father, never him. It didn’t matter that the company rose to it’s peak under his hands, under his work, people only saw a son, an orphan which took the company and was lucky enough to make it great. He had an ongoing paradox in his life, because he couldn’t blame those people for this, he wanted them to think so, he wanted them to think he was incompetent, nepotism baby, a narcissistic prick, a playboy which will never settle, he wanted that. He lived that life for the sake of true saviour of Gotham city, he in fact didn’t live in his father’s shadow, he lived in three shadows, which aligned so perfectly they made him a prisoner of darkness. A place so dark, he couldn’t tell where his body ended and where did the surrounding start. The two of those shadows were his own, it was Bruce Wayne, the nepo baby and it was Dark Knight a vigilante. True Bruce was always trapped, never able to get out, his time to shine came when a kind person came into his life and shined a little light down there, it was seconds which made him realise how fake he was, how little of himself did he actually show, how he wore so many muzzles he didn’t know which one was which.  

The paperwork for today was almost finished, the desk light burning with a warm orange hue onto the paper, his eyes tired, exhausted and it wasn’t even 6pm. Documents, people and the never ending problems drained life out of him.- “The first day is always the worst.”- He repeated in his head, hoping to forget about his worries. Sometimes people needed a break after taking a break, it was overwhelming to go back to work after being off it for such a long period of time.  

Bruce sunk deeper into his chair, letting out a defeated sigh. He should call it a day and get back to his house. Maybe Clark will be there waiting... 

-”Fuck, He must be worried.”- He said out loud, voice tired. He took his phone and opened it for the first time in the whole day.  

Just as he expected, messages from Clark were poluting his phone worse than the way Gotham lights polluted the night sky.- “Is his work really this boring?”- He asked himself before entering the chat. The last message simply was: “Call me.”, send an hour ago. He kind of fucked up big time, but he really forgot about his phone, he was in fact lost in things he was supposed to do during the day. He dialled the number.  

-” Bruce, you’re alive!”- He screamed into the phone, voice nervous- that was certainly something new.  

-” Sorry Darling, work was crazy, I’ll tell you-”- Bruce couldn’t even finished before his lover cut him off. 

-” Just come to Metropolis, my apartment, I beg you.”- Those words sent him into panic mode, he mumbled something nervously, it seemed to catch Clark’s attention. - “Don’t freak out... My parents are here.”- His voice quieter than it was before. Did he mention that he was terrified of meeting Mister and Misses Kent? No? Well than, he is. He felt as if everything around him froze.  

-” What...?”- Was all he got out from his mouth. The ‘what’ was panicked. He felt the way his heart began thudding loudly in his chest.  

They were out from totally different worlds- a billionaire, swimming in generational wealth, his hands never truly saw work other than fixing some machinery and working out, while both of those people basically fended for themselves every single day. He knew they wouldn’t be bad people, they raised Clark Kent, and the man is like an angel, but it was something in the way Clark wasn’t really sure about them. The fact those people might hate him from the beginning just because he turned their sweet, little, baby boy into a homosexual- that was the fact which stabbed straight into his heart.  

-” Just get here in like an hour, okay? My Ma made dinner.”- He mumbled out before hanging up. This was even more out of character than usual; Clark wasn’t a type of person which missed an opportunity to say, “Love you.”.  

So, he basically had an hour to find a flower bouquet, drive to Metropolis and get his shit together. 

-” Fucking great.”- He barked out before storming out from his office. 

He prayed that Rhonda was still in the office, the woman had a bad habit of staying late. He looked desperately for her, she seemed to know everything he needed in span of seconds, moments later a hand, firm grip was placed on his shoulder. The state of panic made him not catch the way woman placed the hand. Her fingers brushed against his collarbone, sending a shiver down his spine, the feeling uncomfortable. 

-” Bruce, you need something?”- She asked, her voice concerned, but expression calm, a nice contrast to his panicked eyes. 

-” Any flower shop open at this time? Can even be in Metropolis.”- He said, his voice screaming the word ‘urgent’. She just smirked at him, and he knew she knew. 

-” Is this about the Kent guy?”- She said, her expression something like a proud mother, almost as if Bruce was a teenager brining his first love home. 

He blushed at the comment delicately but kept his expression stoic with a hint of urgency, just like it was before.  

-” Hmm, I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Now let me look, Love bird.”- And just by that comment he knew that his life will be hell for the next weeks or until he will go public with the relationship.  

Rhonda walked up to the computer, her fingers tapping the keyboard at light speed, it always impressed him, no matter how often he saw her do it. Mere minute later she looked up at him, then back at the computer and back at him. 

-” There is one in Metropolis, close to Town square, it’s just that the street has criminal background and is quite dangerous. Would you like to go there with bodyguards?”- She asked, the question was dumb to him, he could take better care in himself than anyone, but he appreciated the concern. 

-” No, no need to call those overworked people.”- He said and smiled politely. The next thing he knew the address was sent to his work phone number and he was on his way. 

- 

Last thing he expected to find himself on the street where he already was before. He remembered that day, the time he saw Clark for the first time. He parked his car in front of flower shop, silently praying he will see it in one piece later (Metropolis cabs weren’t really pleasing to him). He wondered if the woman actually sold the suit, it’s not like he got any calls from her or any further information at all. The kids weren’t on the street either, probably because it was late already. 

The door to the flower shop opened itself without any protests, it was almost as if they were brand new, in fact he didn’t remember the shop from his last visit here. The interior was cozy; it looked like those places which had family and welcomeness feeling to them. Plants seemed to consume the space almost entirely, leaving no room for anything else. He loved the feeling, flower shops always calmed him down, they were very effective at soothing his soul.  

-” Coming, just a moment.”- He heard coming from behind the door, a woman’s voice, oddly familiar. 

Not even a second later a pair of kids run next to him, the little laughs accompanied them, smiles glued to their faces. The doorbells chimed, next thing he knew the same woman he saw on the street came out from the backrooms. Their eyes met, both pairs in some kind of state of shock. They froze, not breaking the eye contact. The womans features lightened, warm and cozy, just like the sun which began to set. October, almost two weeks into it, the time flew like crazy, the sun began to set even quicker. The light, warm and comforting rays coming in from the display window, the plants turned to the window, trying their best to eat all the possible light they ever could. 

-” Looks like we meet again.”- He said, a smile creeping onto his lip, one which soothed his soul, one he thought he couldn’t present to anyone other than Clark.- “Never heard from you.”- He added, a small detail, a smile offered to him from the woman, whose name he never knew. 

-” Didn’t need to.”- She simply said, voice calm, warm, not offended. - “I used the money to get us on our feet. This flower shop was my dream, and well... Looks like this city needed one open so late.”- She explained herself, a smile never left Bruce’s mouth while listening to her. The kids seemed much more happy too.  

-” I’m glad I was able to help you.”- He stated, she just looked at him, her eyes thankful. 

The silence between them was somehow peaceful, the sound of a ball being kicked outside, voices of kids playing in the dark, in the setting sun and the street lamps. It was something he liked to see, it was people, it was humanity, it was hope. 

-” What can I do for you today, Mister Wayne?”- She asked, voice and smile as warm as ever. Just by that he knew all of this was worth it. The woman was certainly strong, her business stood tall despite the Luthor situation which occurred, it was something which suggested she had power, something most of the business man and woman he met lacked.  

Chapter Text

The visit wasn’t consulted with him, well they almost never were. His parents would stay at his place for this night only, they said so themselves. The space which separated them was awfully big, that was true, but those people hated to leave Smallville behind for longer than absolutely needed, it was their place on earth, their own separate paradise which they build for themselves.  

Martha Kent was in the kitchen, making her famous roasted chicken with a side of potatoes and string bean, the red wine was also there, and if it was there it meant talking about things they didn’t really want to talk about. This whole time the three of them was weirdly quiet, it was out of character. Every single time his parents came into picture it equalled his mouth never closing, talking about gossips from Daily Planet or about Lois Lane... He knew that they came to make themselves clear and to meet Bruce Wayne, well they know him as Batman, which complicated the situation even further. 

Maybe it was him to blame for the confusion, he should’ve told them that Bruce Wayne was Batman to get rid of the shock effect, but he thought that the shock was already there with the fact that Clark was in fact bisexual and not perfectly straight as they must’ve imagined. His parents were great at keeping a secret, he was sure of that, no one in Smallville ever knew that Clark wasn’t their kid, they thought Martha gave birth to him, so Bruce shouldn’t worry too much about his identity being leaked.  

7pm was coming in quickly, the silence growing even worse than before, everyone waited for the knock on the door and the grand reveal. Clark stood on the balcony, looking for a rich car pulling into the parking lot, hoping to see the black, probably brushed back hair and a bouquet of flowers, because he knew the man couldn’t let it go. The freezing wind blew into his face, his whole body was tense, he was tense. It would be quite an awful ride if it turned out his parents were a bunch of homophobes, and they would ban Clark and Bruce from ever entering their house... These people were important to him, they raised him, they gave him a name which he cherished, they gave him hope, but if they were a pair of hate-speaking humans he will have to let them go, no matter how hard it would’ve been. It was a hard decision, but something he had to do.  

He felt a hand on his shoulder, a firm grip, a grip only Jonathan Kent could have after all those years on the farm. He let go and closed the balcony door behind him. 

-” Your Mother is still in the kitchen, thought I come and check up on you.”- he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, but failed miserably. This man showed Clark that being masculine didn’t mean you had to be emotionless prick, you just needed to be yourself, as simple as that.  

Silence once more, Clark was leaning against the railing, his head in his hands, resting. He let out a sigh, a deep one, one holding far too much weight. 

-” Does he treat you right?”- The question like a war declaration in his mind. It was simple, but the tone was off, or maybe was he hearing things... 

-” He does, he is... He is the best. I love him, okay? I won’t change it, I never would want to change it... Bruce he just, he accepts me, he doesn’t ask question, he just is. He is reckless sometimes, endangering himself, putting himself at risks, I look up to him so much... I love him so much and I’m so scared every night he puts on the suit that it will be the last night I see him, you know? He is human, just like you and Ma, and I can’t change that. I feel as if my heart would shatter into thousands of pieces if he ever stopped being here... He is far more than the man I love, he is my everything.”- The confession like a brick thrown into someone's face, his eyes tearing up.  

His eyes were proud, proud with every single word he said, looking deeply into his Father’s ones, ones he saw crying, laughing, smiling, screaming or simply worried. He saw all of them there was to see, but this time it was sadness, it was kind of disappointment. Johnatan Kent in all his might began crying, he pulled Clark close hugging him as if the was about to vanish.  

-” Clark... Kal-El... I’m sorry.”- The words like a slap into his face, his hand squeezing the man before him- his Father.- “Me and your mother have made many mistakes, we aren’t perfect, but our biggest one was certainly making you feel as if you didn’t belong.”- His voice spiking with every words, the sob so violent it made his words wobbly.- “I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you feel this way, I couldn’t care less if it was a man or a woman, you have to be happy, my child, that’s what you deserve.”- The hug even tighter, then the pull away. The worked-trough hand coming up to tuck the loose hair strands behind Clark’s ear. 

Then he was pulled into another hug, this time coming from his mother which must’ve heard the whole scene occurring. Her sob violent, dramatical, just like he remembered it, he smiled through his tears, hugging his Ma harder than he ever did. 

-” Sweetheart, we never wanted to make you or your Boyfriend feel that way! We love you dearly Clark, you’re perfect for us no matter why...”- She said, pulling his head down and placing a kiss on his forehead, the action making him blush from embarrassment.- “We are really sorry that you ever felt if you couldn’t tell us about that. I’m really happy you found the love you deserve.”- She pulled away, a warm smile underneath the red, teary eyes.  

He looked at his parents, the old couple with far too many worries on their head, but just enough love and support from each other to handle it all. He kind of felt guilty for ever expecting the worst from his parents, but at the same time he didn’t. They made him confused about certain things in the past too, and he was just glad that all of the things he worried about turned out to be false.  

A car pulled into the parking lot, as expect as expensive and as black as you could get, this time a BMW X6. Of course, the hair was in place, just like the bouquet, this time it wasn’t overdone, just on point which impressed him.  

-” Is that Bruce Wayne?”- His Father asked, the realisation hit Clark, it will be awkward as hell. 

Clark looked at his parents, their faces surprised, no that’s not it, shocked at the sight. They knew the man from his performative side, the playboy thing, not the sweet, sad man with far too many problems on his head. Before Clark could defend the love of his life the knock on the door was heard. 

-” No, you did not say all this about-”- His father begun, the voice sharp, the man was offended by the way his son spoke about the himbo, but before he could finish Martha covered his mouth with her hand.  

-” Go get the door, sweetie, me and your father will be at the table in a second.”- She said, voice sweet, but he heard the uncertainty looming inside it, she had her worries too. 

He walked to the door, his moves robotic, he was stressed as well, silently praying that Bruce wouldn’t be awkward, this time the Brucie act would come in handy. On the second thought, he couldn’t blame his parents, they as civilians didn’t get the privilege of knowing the billionaire from the side Clark did, as part of the public eye they saw the scandals, the one-night stands, the far too many ‘drunk’ dramas, the cheating he was involved in, the reckless choices he made, all the half-naked photos for the magazines, the...- “Okay Clark, that’s enough!”- He thought to himself, turns out his Boyfriends public reputation was far worse than he thought it was.  

He gently opened the door to see the white face, colours drained from it, the cockiness seen on TV replaced with pure horror and awkwardness, he saw the whole stress and uncertainty.  

Bruce looked as stunning as always, even if his expression was tired. That hair, brushed back with just enough strands to be a temptation to come up and tuck them behind. The tie an invitation to pull at it, everything coexisted perfectly on this man, a true work of art whenever he went. He remembered that Ma was his fan as well, in fact she was the person to get Clark into this masquerade of buying gazettes and magazines which included Bruce’s face on them. He knew that his parents might be difficult at first (especially his Pa), but they weren’t people who would push someone away, even their enemies if they were in need.  

He let Bruce in, scraping the long coat off of him, just like always the fabric felt expensive at touch. He grew to like this, how he could touch the richness, scrape it off of the man, leaving him naked, yet still somehow so elegant and graceful...- “No Clark, focus.”- He got himself back to reality.  

One look at his boyfriend told him this wasn’t the playful man he expected (and needed) him to be, it was a person, a guy awfully scared to meet his lover’s parents, even someone as dangerous and serious as Bruce Wayne could get awfully stressed. 

He could hear his parents shuffling around the table, making this ready, most probably setting the food on the table, they still had five minutes. He blocked the corridor, not making space for Bruce to go further into the apartment. 

-” You don’t need to be stressed, they are good people.”- His voice soft, the slightly panicked eyes of his lover met his.  

-” They’re your parents, Clark. I’m Bruce Wayne, a himbo.”- His voice quiet, slightly above a whisper. The worst thing was that the man was right, but it was just an excuse. If he was able to see past that mask and see a great person, someone he loved so dearly he would’ve let the world burn for him... So could his parents. 

-” You want everyone to believe that, Love.”- His voice softened at the nickname, he swallowed the saliva in his throat.- “They aren’t homophobes by the way. I’m sure they’ll love you.”- He added in, an information he almost left out. 

Bruce, the same height as Clark bowed his head down and rested it in the crook of Clark’s neck, some kind of grounding ritual. The grip on the flowers tightened, the man’s knuckles white from the pressure.  

They walked into the dining room, his mother looked quite shocked at the fact it was Bruce Wayne in front of her, and when he handed her the bouquet of sunflowers she seemed over the moon, Pa did not in fact look very pleased at Marthas reaction. 

-” Clark didn’t provide me with information such as your favourite type of flower Miss Kent, so you have to excuse my choice.”- The voice extremely stiff, but still very charming. His mother grabbed the flowers with a firm hand and pulled Bruce into a firm hug, the man’s face twisted in pain. 

-” Ma, please lighter, we have quite a set of broken ribs there.”- He warned, and his mother almost jumped back. 

-”Oh, I’m so sorry darling, didn’t have a clue about that!”- She screamed, offering a pat on the shoulder instead. The ‘darling’ shocked Clark himself.- “Sunflowers are my favourite, Bruce. You couldn’t guess better.”- She said, offering a warm smile. Clark could swear he saw the glisten in Bruce’s eyes, his stiff posture growing more relaxed.  

His lover turned to his Father, the look in Johnatan’s eyes suggesting delicate reluctance, but he saw those look even when Clark offered him a replacement for a mug which didn’t have a handle, so he came to a conclusion that he doesn’t have to worry about anything. 

-” Mister Kent, it’s my pleasure.”- Bruce said, voice respectful, delicate bow as he spoke. A silence after, but his father’s hand extended and the firm grip was there. 

-” Didn’t think I’ll ever get to welcome Bruce Wayne as one of my own.”- Johnatan stated, the handshake shifted into delicate embrace, at this very moment Clark felt relief wash over him. Every single worry he had disappeared in matter of seconds, Bruce got accepted by his parents, even if there still was hesitation.- “He will grow on them.”- Clark thought, a smile growing on his mouth.- “But your hands as soft as I expected them to be.”- Johnatan commented, and of course Clark’s mother let out a tired sigh, while his lover blushed. 

- 

He felt free. Everything went smoother than he expected, there was no comment on his himbo lifestyle or the company, no questions as well, but he expected those to roll in with the dinner. They all sat by the table, Clark beside him, Misses Kent in front of him. He tried to cut up the chicken and serve it, but was met with “You’re a guest, we will do it for you.”, which was rather weird considering he was the one trying to get himself into the family.  

Clark cut chicken for all of them, he served the potatoes and spring beans to himself, just like everyone else. A bottle of wine was at the table, Syrah, not his choice, but the wine wasn’t bad. It was a safe option but required certain taste in dry wine to like it. He had to admit that the food smelled tasty, really home, just like Alfred’s cooking. He felt guilty for even thinking this way, but he couldn’t help it. 

They began eating, the food was delicious, hitting your heart with every bite you took, it had this home warmness to it, not the professional perfection, just the simple love and care you expected from cooking. The memories of his mother’s cooking stuck with him, he didn’t actually remember the taste, but he remembered the feeling it gave him whenever he ate a pie his mother made, the warm pie with which he was fed with.  

-” Do you like it? I know it’s probably not something you would eat but I tried.”- The humility was big. He stopped stuffing himself with the food, a smile on his lip. 

-” Couldn’t imagine something tastier. My mother used to make pies when she was alive, they had the same amazing feeling and taste to them.”- He said with closed eyes, his tone warm. He meant it as a compliment, but the whole table looked at him with sadness. Looks like the memory was happy only to him. - “I meant it as a compliment Misses Kent.”- He added, slight panic rising within his body. 

The woman smiled weakly at him, he didn’t like to speculate what went through other people's mind, he often did it to know where to strike with his words, but he couldn’t help but see the motherly eyes. It was the sadness that mothers at the galas he attended had for him, this kind of “I want to help you and I’m sorry.” look. 

-” I’m happy I was able to bring out such memories.”- Martha said, the tone the same as he expected to hear, it was care.  

-” Bruce, how is your first day back at work?”- Clark cut in, sensing the awkwardness yet to come. He appreciated how focused his boyfriend was. 

- 

He watched Bruce shift in his chair, almost as if he stepped on his foot, his parents didn’t notice, the man was definitely a great actor, but not to Clark who spent far too much time with him to don’t notice such changes. He might sound overprotective but he was listening to the heartbeat, almost as if to be sure the man wasn’t brushing off his problems once more. That habit was killing the man from the inside, and it definitely wasn’t something the man should be proud of.  

-” It’s a mess.”- He expected man to lie, to say “It’s fine.”, just like he always did to later sit for hours without any break, for Superman to find him and force him to eat and sleep. He probably wanted to make a good impression on his parents, show he wasn’t ‘just a himbo’, even if he had nothing to prove, his parents knew him from the ‘Batman side’ which told them just enough to notice that Bruce Wayne was just a mask to wear. His Pa shifted at the comment, the man was impressed by the way Wayne Enterprises handled their workers, they were most human out of all the companies out there. 

-” Care to share more?”- Johnatan asked, voice genuinely interested which seemed to catch Clark’s boyfriend off guard. He put the fork away and swallowed the food, the delicate tongue on those soft lips...Yes, Clark was off to daydreaming. - “It always intrigued me how you treated your workers, so much freedom. Those people could be doing nothing at all and get money, you wouldn’t even know.”- Clark thought it was a fair point, his Ma just rolled her eyes. Bruce’s lips curled into a warm, slightly offended smile, but no one else could notice the offended part. 

-” Well, I believe we are just people, other companies might have strict rules, salary cuts, no funds, but I prefer to give people the money. I never have been at their place, never struggle to buy food or didn’t have to choose between electricity and water bills... But I have seen Gotham from the place where no rich people dare to see- I saw it as Batman. Most of these people simply don’t have a choice, they have to commit crimes to live, to help their families...”- He said, the whole rooms attention to him. It was a hell of a speech, besides, Bruce was definitely a speaker. His eyes grew distant, Clark could see the delicate, shimmering hope in the eye, despite all the days, all the logs being thrown at him, he still wanted to fight.- “I want to give those people a choice. I couldn’t be sure if it will ever work, Mister Kent, I still don’t know if it fully works... But I believe in it, those people pay me respect, they work hard, I have hope in them.”- He added and smiled, not a big, bright smile, but a hopeful one, this time his body didn’t stutter, it was genuine.  

 -” So, Bruce Wayne is a mask after all?”- Johnatan laughed, Clark could see the positive energy beaming from his father. He saw the good man in Bruce, not the himbo. 

-” It is, works well.”- He answered simply. The eyebags under the billionaire's eye’s becoming more visible, the slightly red eyes. Brucie has been overworking himself on the first day, huh? Something was definitely off. 

It was their curse at this point, whenever something was just a little bit better, they were closer with each other, about to hit home run, whenever a change was near... Something was on their way. Either a new psychopath in town, or something with their work. The way both of them tended to spend more time at work didn’t pay off well, or the way he and Bruce brought work home. He wished to have the man to himself, full healed, only for his eyes to see. A date, a moment, he lacked the intimacy, the moments of closeness. He was a sucker for them after all, he never thought he would be, but Lois proved him wrong, and Bruce did too. He wanted to be touched, he wanted to touch. The moments he was close with his boyfriend were countable on finger of his one hand, and it wasn’t something he was happy about. Touch, it was something he needed, whenever the delicate hands of Bruce Wayne touched him, he felt more human than ever. His mind raced back to the bathroom, to that moment, it might be quick, but it was the only moment he felt so free, not judged, not looked at freely. He just did, he never looked back. He felt so good about this, almost making him feel bad for the way he wanted Bruce, how he wanted to do it once more. The hands, the body, the brand new scars on the man’s body, sending him into sensual pleasure whenever he felt the uneven surface of the scarring, of the pattern the other man wore so proudly on his skin. He could feel the imperfections, how they were so perfect for him, he saw places in which he lacked something and how the other man filled them right in.  

The quick kisses, the hugs, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to consume Bruce as Bruce, not as anyone other than him. He wanted to be consumed by Bruce as Clark.  

-” Clark, are you okay?”- His Ma asked him, hand on his shoulder, head slightly tilted to the side. She was concerned.  

-” Ah, sorry... I zoned out.”- He admitted and looked around to see that it was only him, his Ma. She saw the confusion on him and laughed silently, slightly shaking her head. He noticed that the table was cleaned up.  

-” You missed the talk of century, haven’t seen your Father this engaged in something in years. He seems to like Bruce, he was really sceptical about everything... I was too, especially after hearing that name.”- She pushed out, quite ashamed of her thoughts, even if she had right to think so. It wasn’t that Bruce let any space for interpretation or add-ins, his public personality was supposed to be a himbo and he played the role really great. - “Bruce is on the balcony, had a call to take.”- She added, life exploding inside Clark’s body.  

He raced to the balcony, hearing the way his mother’s mouth curved into smile, he rolled his eyes.  

The door opened, of course the call was about work, he saw those focused eyes, slightly annoyed, just like the ones he made while picking him up for the date. He delicately embraced Bruce, who didn’t protest. Clark’s right arm around man’s waist, both of them looking at the Metropolis skyline, skyscrapers standing tall in the dark, some of the windows light yellow, with people taking over-time inside. The whole city buzz was still hearable, even to normal human ear, it was life. The city, the humanity rising to power like phoenix from ashes once more. It was impressive how quick humans adapted, from the reality in which they were terrorised to reality where they enjoyed themselves on a Monday night, most probably in bars, back to normal, colourful lives, as if nothing ever happened.  

Bruce hid the phone into his inner pocket of the coat. Clark was impressed how overdressed the man was in every function he attended, he was the definition of old money, the class you brought everywhere you went.  

-” Taking work everywhere, huh?”- Clark hung the question in the air, the light snicker answering him. 

-” It’s a mess there, Clark. The time off wasn’t a good idea.”- Bruce blamed himself, just like he always did. 

-” Not your fault, never is. I saw the papers in the batcave, you managed the whole company by yourself for weeks, it’s impressive because you have thousands of people in work.”- His voice full of respect, he pulled Bruce closer.- “How many hours today?”- he asked, the question the other man never was comfortable in answering. 

-” It was only eight hours Clark, a normal shift.”- He said, voice monotone. He told the truth, but it was eight hours without single care which still was suicide.  

-” Quit overworking yourself. You have limited time and I don’t want it to shorten.”- He began, voice a little too sweet while saying it.- “I still have things I want to do to you.”- He purred into the other’s ear, sending a shiver down Bruce’s spine. 

-” Huh, that’s funny Kent, because I have something for you too.”- The voice flirtatious, making his insides burn, he adored it. He knew he could expect anything. 

-” Like what?”- He said, teasingly, it seemed to put Bruce into action, with the corner of his eye he could see the man’s brow twitch. 

-” Pure pleasure, you will see.”- The voice mysterious, he loved that. - “And some dates I still have to take you to.”- He added in, a smirk on his lips. 

A promise which seemed to satisfy the silent voices in his head. The moonlight, silver burning, crispy at the bone structure of his lover’s face. The usually sharp features, holding a story, a statement and domination in them, now dangerous, a warning not to get too engaged. The man a living fire, if you get too close you’ll get burn, but Clark wasn’t scared, he was immune to it. The face twisted to him, lips apart just enough to be an invitation to a kiss, the blue eyes glistening in the moonlight, the dirty, greenish blue, now dark, monotone, almost soulless, a look which will take your soul away from you in trade for a night in heaven. He let himself get lost in it, tangled in the dark hair, in the black mess with the brown residue, the man a crow, a free bird, a thing which captured feels like something special, easy to run away. His hand buried in those strands of hair, in those feathers, pulling the man, the crow closer. The perfectly soft lips, plump, light pink tint on them like a candy, a sweet temptation which even the purest virgin couldn’t resist. He tasted those lips, blending with his, the feeling ethereal, an addiction from which Clark couldn’t break free from. The long lashes of the man, delicately curved at the tips, the skin of his face clear without a single imperfection. Sometimes he forgot he was with Bruce, the man looking like a muse, like the dearest sculpture of Michael Angelo himself, purest peak physique, the body you would expect the Greek gods to envy. The movement, the slight tilt of the man’s head, the pushes and pulls, slight pressure, the tongue moving like it belonged in Clark’s mouth, Bruce was a great kisser, putting everyone to shame, sending your body into internal pleasure, successfully shutting off your systems. If Kryptonite wasn’t enough, they could bring in Bruce Wayne and Clark would do anything just to feel tip of the man’s finger on his body, to hear his name being told by those curved, plump lips with this awfully dirty accent which send his senses into chaos. 

He pulled away, the bird now flying away, following it’s own paths, his wings and feathers untouched, perfect, looking like nothing happened to it, while he- a pray, a helpless mouse was left in shivers, in internal chaos and panic, felling lost. The crow- a dangerous play, an adrenaline rush which could kill you if it simply wished to do it.  

-” I should get going, Darling.”- The words just flirty enough to know what Bruce felt inside, he wished to fulfil those desires, but he couldn’t. - “See you tomorrow on lunch break?”- He asked, not moving before Clark gave an answer, the voice was worried. 

-” Are you scared?”- The question risky, but he needed to know.  

-” For you, I mean the reporter you. I might’ve said some dumb shit like having someone this morning.”- The words hitting Clark like a train. He wasn’t mad at the man or offended, he found it quite sweet that his lover wanted to go official. To say he was a sucker for Bruce Wayne was like saying nothing at all, but he understood from where the worry came from. 

-” We should wait, but a lunch with you tomorrow sounds like heaven.”- He said, hand on Bruce’s hand which was at the railing. A firm touch, a grounding one, meant to show support. The man nodded in acknowledgment, he still didn’t move, almost as if he knew Clark wants to ask him something else.- “You’ve got business in Metropolis?”- He asked defeated, the smirk of his lover staring back at him. 

-” Yes, a big one, a one you might like. It starts after lunch so I thought it would be nice to eat it with you.”- He said, voice sweet, something he still couldn’t grow used to, yet he smelled something dirty underneath it all, there was something. 

Bruce pulled away, entered the apartment, paid his goodbyes and left. Clark was left for the lions (a.k.a. his parent) to eat him.  

Chapter Text

Wayne Enterprises, building so well-known by him it hurt entering him. Being a billionaire was a moral crisis, he absolutely knew that. He gave his money away, he always tried to, but usually failed miserably. The kind of wealth he has is straight up sick, spending this kind of money, especially with the kind of lifestyle he has is nearly impossible.

He rolled through the front door of the building, the guards smiling politely at his sight, it never stopped amazing him how those people were happy to see him, they should hate him- a rich man with a large company paying microscope parts of his own salary to his workers, yet they all still like him. He tried to make the pay grades tolerable, large bonuses, paid vacation, everything. People deserved to live a life, live with moments they deserved, not caring about which bill to pay this month. He provided that, made his employees take surveys, always checking the outcome and improve the work space. Maybe this was the reason he was a billionaire, a simple human moral compass which seemed to work well, or maybe that he saw the other side, as Batman. He knew that the majority of people he fought on streets were people fighting to survive, they were victims of capitalism which couldn’t get out of poverty with ‘fair work’, but the work didn’t exist. Those people were getting scraps while their bosses got a whole steak garnished with premium quality toppings.

The lift took him up to his floor, the feelings he had inside choking him. Woman which he somewhat trusted turned out to be a monster, a hating monster which tried their best to take anything away from people which already had nothing. It was comical, Wayne family despite it’s mistakes in the past stood for people, or at least tried to stand for them; Bruce wanted to continue that legacy in a better way, by actually helping those in need, trying his best to not let his money feed corrupted society which was already obese, greedy, nothing was enough. What he felt inside was hatred, taking away from people which didn’t deserve it was a new low for him, the best part was that the woman knew not to do this in front of Bruce, Helene was aware of consequences.

He decided to pull one on her before fairing her, why not ruin her career, that’s what Batman would do, so maybe it’s time he should act properly while being Bruce too. He could do that for Clark, for himself, for his own inner peace. It was just that he felt like he didn’t exist, as if Bruce Wayne and Batman were two separate beings, two personalities which collided with each other, seemed to never cooperate, he felt lost in them. Both of them weren’t true, he was neither of them, never was. The whole thing about being one of them to cover the other one drained him, the way he had to wear mask, how he never dared to reveal what was underneath them... He wanted to reveal it, he sometimes really wanted to just let it go and let the world see, maybe not that he was the Dark Knight, because that would shatter everything, but he wanted to show that Bruce Wayne wasn’t just a himbo, a billionaire with his Daddies money, he wanted to show people that he was someone, that he was a man of his success, that he was worth something, because he hoped that people would see his worth, give him will to live if he himself couldn’t find one. He felt worthless, every smile and joke he showed, every single criminal he beat up, every single night he came home bleeding, wishing it was his last day, he felt worthless.

A caged animal, waiting to be set free till it’s lat days, never losing hope which was so distant it hurt, yet it’s delicate shimmer in the dark seemed to give him will power. It was sick, it was toxic, he felt pathetic at the fact he couldn’t even kill himself, because he was too scared to do it. He felt obligated to stay alive, just to don’t upset others, it was the only reason to keep him alive. He didn’t want to make Clark Kent cry, the man seemed to love him, even he couldn’t live himself.

It was sick to him that a man like Superman could love him, care for him and tend to him at every given second. That man was far too good to be with him, Bruce felt as if he was constantly pulling him down, into an endless pit which he tried to escape, but at the same time he felt as if he shouldn’t escape it. He felt that the depression, the suffering he was put in was justified, that he simply deserved it. It was his own, private hell he should be in for being an awful human, a person who sucked people dry of life, like a vampire, biting into it’s prey and drinking its blood with such greed that bible didn’t dare to portrait.

His office was gloomy, dark, the warm lights hypnotizing him, making his vision blurry, the dark woods like an embrace in which he wanted to get lost in. It all just made him forget, feel careless, as if nothing could happen in his office, as Iif it was just another of those dreams in which he died, but this time, he wished that he didn’t wake up and he could stay like this for ever.

-“ Daydreaming about dying again?”- A sharp, purring voice of a woman penetrating his eardrum like a sick melody, making your senses burn, alert.

-“ Selina...”- Bruce breathed out, like a man torn from his nap, slightly disoriented.- “What are you doing here?”- Question simple, nonchalant, almost rude considering how much time they didn’t see each other. Well, Bruce texted her, trying to get in touch, maybe even thank her for her contribution, for finishing the case with Penguin in the moment he couldn’t do it himself, but his messages never got answered.

-“ Checking up on the dead man.”- Answer arrogant, meant to hurt.- “ You’ve got another drama rolling, huh Brucie?”- Said with the smirk he used to adore, by the lips which slightly parted when she was thinking.

-“ It never seems to leave me, just like trouble which seems to be in my office even if it isn’t welcomed here.”- Voice nonchalant as ever, eyes tracing every single movement of the woman, the delicate breath in she took at the moment.

-“ Ouchie.”- Finished with a delicate snicker at the end.

Her hand resting at his left shoulders while he sat behind the desk. The stack of paper in front of him- information about donations and some of the salaries to check up if Helene Thompson went further than just cutting the funds to charities. He catched eye contact with her.

-“Why?”- The question simple, could be offensive if it wasn’t Selina he was speaking to.

-“ Can’t I do something right one time? Besides I don’t need fame or money, I need a place to live in peace. You provide that in Gotham, well a shadow of it, but still. Do you think I enjoyed what Penguin and Luthor did? People should be living in peace with each other, not in constant hatred. Hate drains us and you should know too well about that, Bruce.”- Her words true, she spoke them while walking around the big, wooden desk, steps hyper feminine, like a cat.

-“This isn’t the right time to discuss about my mental health or wellbeing, besides you left because I wasn’t a strong bastard you imagined me to be.”- He barked our without thinking, hands nervously on his lap as his eyes ran away from Selina.

-“Is this what you really think of me?”- She asked, voice hurt.- “I left because you simply don’t give yourself time to live. You’re fucking human, not a god, you need time to heal, to relax, you need time to love!”- The words like a strike to his jaw, making him blink.- “You think I don’t know how it looks? I was with you before Clark was. I was so fucking starved for love while being with you I fucking quit.”- Her hands on the desk as she looked into Bruce’s eyes. The whole of the man’s attention on her.- “ You always had better things to do than to spend an ounce of time with me. Patrol, work, meeting, photoshoots, business emergencies. You didn’t sleep for days for the sake of anything and everything! At the end of our relationship I couldn’t remember the time we kissed, held hands or had sex, nothing, Bruce.”- She looked away, her voice hurt, as he stayed painfully silent, taking each word in, hearing the truth he never wanted to admit.- “You can be sad all you want, but Clark is there for you, you can’t change that, you can’t change that he cares and loves. Don’t fuck this up, you already did that to me, don’t do it to him too.”- Her finger going up to her eye to wipe away the single tear in the corner of her vision.

He remembered those night she would open up, the dark iris tearing up, glistening in the night light, barely visible on the roof top, just a step too close to Bruce, her head on his chest as every single twitch of her head as she cried could be felt on his chest. He felt close back them, he felt as nothing could ever change the way they were, but he changed it. All the times she offered to spend time with him met with a “no” and an excuses which were true, of course, but he couldn’t realise back then that love came with renunciations.

-“Selina, I didn’t know.”- Was all he pushed out. He was disappointed in himself, but the worst part? He saw the fact he did the same to Clark.

-“Save it, it was too long ago. Tell Clark I wish you both well. Came to check on you after you died, but seems like you’re the same old bastard I know. Keep yourself together for him, Bruce, he can’t do this without you, I can see it.”- Of course she would know almost everything, of course she would be near every event which happened. Her eyes sparkled in the warm light, like hit chocolate in front of the fireplace. A warm, cozy feeling following the woman whenever she went, despite her grey nature.

She cracked a soft smile, almost invisible if you didn’t spend much time with her, but big enough for Bruce to catch it and make him look out the window at the city panorama beneath him. The doors closed behind her. Her visit a peace offering between them, something he needed to hear. He made himself a quiet promise to treat Clark well, to don’t push him away like he already did. Selina always had something to say, it was her way of being and almost every single time the thing made Bruce hold his breath for a while, as if he was hit with a truth he didn’t really want to hear.

Gotham panorama, colourful lights blinding his sight, but there was nothing to blind if he was blind enough to don’t see he hurts people around him. He thought he might feel guilty, sad even that things with Selina ended because of him, but there was nothing. It was good while he lasted, the feeling that he might miss it still, the memories of her, her smile, her words fading with every second... It’s almost as if the only thing holding his memories of her faded away, but it wasn’t bad. He finally got over someone, it was hard, even in moments he shared with Clark his mind played with him, making him feel confused, scared, not letting him to let go of the past which was far. He felt kind of free, even if the truth hurt, he knew he has to change it, or at least try to include his lover into his life, not like he did with Selina. Just like she said, he shouldn’t hurt another person by his unbalanced priority pyramid, he should try to built another one, even if it will take time and work to do.

The stack of papers didn’t seem as interesting as it was before, a sigh escaped his lungs, deep, slow, making his lungs tremble under the pressure. He had to read those papers now, he couldn’t possibly come back to the apartment, to Clark, to his parents. He showed up, it wasn’t long, it was an hour, a second compared to how much time he spend today at work. The overworking his lover mentioned hitting him like a speeding train, it was just as Selina told him, he neglected people he loved, pushing them away because he ‘didn’t deserve them’, but what it really was, was a fear of trust. He knew that, he had a double life which successfully provided him with doubling the fear. He knew that Clark Kent, the Man or Steel was the most trustworthy person (beside Alfred) he could have around, yet there it was, the lingering feeling inside... Or maybe he was scared of losing someone, the idea of living through another lost making his back shiver, his insides twist a little, his eyes closing, oh so slightly.

The panorama was still there, light as a day, colourful as a rainbow. A majestic, futuristic, foggy and dirty prison for people, a simulation of freedom, capitalism in purest form. Gotham city, a cage made out of gold, pleasant to look at, a nightmare to live in. The billboards constantly making your mind drown, putting pressure on you, having you thinking that working hard enough will make you a millionaire, capable of living freely.- “Fucking bullshit.”- The voice in his head hissed, he let his head drop onto his hands, supporting it.

He pulled out his phone, opening the texts with Clark, just making sure, taking Cat-woman’s words seriously.

B:”Cheking if you still up for the lunch”

C:”Of course!”

C:”You sure you want to be exposed with me like that?”

Seemingly innocent question, it made Bruce realize the gap between them. He knew what people would be saying, beside the fact that Clark was a man, he was a middle-class worker, no one special (unless in costume). He didn’t care, if he could put his wealth away for endless life with Clark Kent by his side, he would. The man had him in a chokehold which seemed to never get away, in love which spread like cancer in his body, a disease which he didn’t want to get healed from.

B:”Fuck them all. I don’t care, Love.”

It was all he was capable at the moment the message marked as ‘read’ making his stomach twist. Was he wrong to think it was okay for him and Clark to go out like that?

C:”You can be sweet, huh?”

C:”Don’t overwork yourself, I know you’re behind that giant desk at the tower.”

The message kind of frightened him, but he didn’t think much of it all. Everything noted. He will be there right after the photoshoot. He should send something back, even if it laid against his nature.

B:”We’ll see about that, Love you.”

It was... Simple, yet he just felt as if he was forcing something onto Clark.

C:”I love you too.”

He read the message with the familiar voice, with those intonations ale delicate Kansas accent, which screamed cowboy from a mile distance. It made smile crawl onto his face, his fingers on his lips as they slightly parted. Bruce couldn’t help but think about the night in bathroom, how much more he wished to do with that man, how he wanted his dignity and last ounces of shame to be scraped off of him like a layer of clothing. Those calloused, strong hands, those big, rough tracing each curve and scar on his body, making him tremble slightly, the precision of the movements as if Clark was reading a map, guiding a ship to harbour or simply leading an adventure. The gentle giant, with a heart of gold and body of steel, each curve, each millimeter of skin like a blessing to mankind which Bruce was lucky enough to touch, to feel and be starved of. Being cherished and wanted by a god-like being was his definition of heaven.

He let out a soft laugh to himself, grounding his mind into the reality he was in currently. The stack of papers looking at him like a victim of unwanted divorce, judging him. He took the first paper, monthly salary of employee of colour, but higher in the ranks. Of course there would be a pay gap, there was no other option in this situation. He let out a sigh and prepared himself for a long evening of changing people’s salaries and paying them the difference from the last month. Just by that it was more than sure that Helene Thompson will be fired within days, but before that he had to let her go with a giant triumph for himself.

-

Every single time he went officially to Metropolis it was suggested for him to have a driver, especially in his current condition. It was nonsense to him, at this point he knew Metropolis well enough to be confident in saying he was better than a local, but he knew that protest would go directly to Alfred and then to Clark, who would cause unnecessary scenes.

The city didn’t change much since the dinner at Clark’s, in fact it didn’t change at all, but the comparison to the day of the Luthor fight? A drastic change. He didn’t pay the changes a mind yesterday, it was late and pretty dark, but now at 12 pm he could see it all. Some of the buildings used to be covered with spray paint with those awful slogans which Luthor provided the propaganda machine with, there was trash all over the place and some of the city infrastructure was destroyed by the fights with robots, but now? The city was the was it was almost 2 months ago- a futuristic, modern vision of the world, still the awful capitalistic vision where oxygen would be paid for, but bathed in sunlight and hope, so it wasn’t as bad. He just couldn’t help but notice how similar the cities were, it was the narration which was changed- Gotham was supposed to be dark and scary, while Metropolis was supposed to be the warm warrior of tomorrow, a vision far from his heart. He came here only for business or Clark, while the second was far more pleasant.

-“There is still two hours to the photoshoot Mister Wayne.”- The driver informed him, the voice stoic. He looked in the mirror to be met with the cold gaze of Bruce.- “Do I drive somewhere else?”- He asked, his pupils slightly narrowed in dear, while voice seemed squished.

-“Daily Planet, promised lunch to a little reporter over there.”- A playful smile on his lips, making the driver confused. The man nodded in agreement and simply drove to the location.

There was a shit load of people under the building. The driver was said to await Bruce’s return and go take care of his own business.

-“I’ll call.”- He added before the man took off, seemingly happy at the paid free time he got.

The whole swarm of people parted at his sight, some faces blushing, while some were in disbelief. Of course there were questions for photos which never failed to make him awfully stunned, if he was an actor or a hero perhaps it would be fine, but a rich man? Quite weird to want to take a photo with such person, but he agreed anyways, having to slightly lean down for the photo, because people were far too short.

He we walked up to the receptionist.- “Daily Planet has quite a momentum, Huh.”- He thought to himself as the dark-eyed woman looked at him in disbelief.

-“There is no meetings for Bruce Wayne I believe, but I’m sure that Lois-“- She couldn’t finish as Bruce crawled a charming smile, making her blush with sweet eyes.

-“I’m here to steal one of your workers.”- The last words odd on his tongue.- “Clark Kent, perhaps.”- The seemingly dreamy face fading to disbelief with an awfully open mouth.

-“I see...”- Voice unsure, the face screaming disappointment. So Clark really did portray himself as a loser, besides it’s not like it’s that far from truth. The woman clicked a button.- “Clark Kent from the Investigative department is invited to reception.”- The voice chirped in the speaker, the voice rhythmic and just by that he knew why she say where she sat.

-“He should be here in a minute, Huh.”- He said, voice friendly.- “Ava.”- He read the badge on the woman’s chest.- “The name suits you.”- He just didn’t want everything to fall silent and make this a staring opportunity for the woman, intense staring made him uncomfortable and kind of naked. Almost as if the person looking at him knew something.

-“Thank you, Mister Wayne.”- She said with a overly nice voice.- “I’ve seen you in solar coats in previous year autumn and winter magazines, absolutely stunning. This black, leather, long one you currently on is the most charming of them all.”- The last thing he expected is such compliment. It was one thing to hear them online or in interview, other thing to hear them eye to eye.

He cracked a charming smile, one he used while at galas, the best of them all.

-“Thank you then, I’m glad to see someone with taste.”- His eyes closed and Voice nonchalant with the charming aftermath.

There it was, the similar pattern of footsteps, he could hear them coming from the elevator. It was the way they were quiet, professionally hiding the large, buff men, but really strong and confident at the same time. Not seconds later he waved at the receptionist and could feel her eye on himself as he walked towards Clark. He didn’t think twice and grabbed the man’s hand, knowing the face was already red and that man’s life will be hell for the next week.

-

Bruce looked as stunning as he did every time. All his clothes seemed to be the perfect fit, finest materials, crafted by masters at their work. The leather coat like a nice touch of cunt this man’s outfits always were. When he saw all those clothes he wished he could take them off, layer by layer, each piece holding a surprise and elegance, but at the same time screaming at you in an inappropriate manor, almost challenging to go and try.

Their hands parted as they walked out the office, Bruce knew what he was doing, and Clark trusted him in his judgement. It was one thing to have the Daily Planet gossiping about Clark (which they already were), and other to have the whole world do it.

His lover’s face focused, they stood in an alleyway, most probably to avoid unwanted attention from pedestrians. Batman’s heartbeat was stable, without any change as his hand went up to his chin for a moment. Clark observed him with a bright smile, slightly confused.

-“We’ll go to a restaurant.”- Bruce stated, his voice indifferent, while Clark felt his stomach drop. He certainly wasn’t in a right outfit or anything like that.

-“I don’t think I look appropriate to-“- His voice was cut off by a smirk, at this very moment Clark knew he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, he was more than certain that this lunch will be more than pleasant, he just didn’t feel really well with the fact he will be surrounded by rich people (let’s not fool ourselves, it was obvious the restaurant will be luxurious).

-“Don’t you worry, I might not be in Gotham but I still have the money, Huh?”- Bruce said as he walked up closer to Clark. His hand went for the dark curls.- “Love you.”- The words almost chucked out, Superman just smiled at them warmly. It was quite funny seeing how much trouble this man had expressing anything at all.

But still, he felt as if something was off, like something has happened in between their meetings. He felt as if he shouldn’t push too much. The man truly was like a cat with some issues, a walking pile of nerves, ready to blow up at any times. He didn’t feel as if he had to walk on eggshells around the man, no, it was just that Bruce was constantly stressed. Just like a cat, a touch too much and he would start hissing, running away. He knew that the Man will change overtime, he already did.

-

Of course they wouldn’t be in place any less than this one. Everything was modern and light, the restaurant looked luxurious, the lightning making the restaurant into a cozy, somewhat intimate place. At the end of the corridor a server stood tall in his three-piece black suit, looking extremely professional, contrasting with the light interior of the restaurant. The finishing touches like wall decor were made in light oak wood, often presented with soft, warm lightning. The floor was in the same oak as the touches, contrasting with the white, simple big tiles on the lower part of the wall, while the upper part and the ceiling was simply painted white. Some green, extremely tall plants were placed on the floor, creating nice compositions, all of the plants seemed exotic to him, they were really cared about which told him that the prices in this place were absolutely ridiculous.

 The waiter smiled politely at something Bruce have said and took them into the door on the left, a large, modern wardrobe presented itself before them. He took the leather coat of Bruce’s and the unappealing brown flight jacket of Clark’s, it was years old, but he thought that the wear it had have it character. His lovers eyes started wandering around him, he likes when he did that, it meant he found something charming in Clark, whatever it was.

-“I’ll take you to your table gentleman.”- The voice polite, professional as the man darted to open the door for them.

They walked into the same corridor they were before, the oak door closing behind them, just for the waiter to open the door in front of them, the milk glass ones, they revealed the large dining area.

The tables and chairs were all made in the same, but slightly darker oak as the flooring, white upholsters with flower motive on the chairs and the same motive on the tablecloths. The tall windows revealed Metropolis panorama, Clark didn’t realise how high they were until now. Each table was somewhat private, maybe it was the large spacing between them, under each one was a white carpet with a boho vibe to it which weirdly contrasted with the moder feeling of the place. In between some of the tables were large, wooden room screen with the shining metal finish which could be seen on the lamps, corners of the tables and on some of the chairs. On each table there was whole dinnerware in whites and metal inserts, the white, material tissues on top of the plates, wine glasses with the metal legs standing tall on the tables. Their table was on some kind of platform, separated with the room screens from the rest, placed close enough to the window for you to look out freely, but far enough so you shouldn’t be scared.

They both sat down the waiter walking off to give them the menu cards (that’s what Clark speculated). Bruce looked out the window, his side profile gorgeous against the morning, draining sun. His whole persona contrasted against the interior, the delicate eye bags underneath the steel blue with the delicate green aureola. He let out a sigh, a dreamy one making Bruce’s attention shift to him.

-“I hate heights, you know?”- Bruce said, voice warm at the edges, the information was quite out of pocket.

-“So flying is out of the question, Huh?”- Clark asked, the smile never leaving his lips. It was glued to him around the man, they could stay in silence yet, he still would smile.

-“I think so.”- The voice was kind of distant, unsure. Well, Clark will have to beg the man to change his mind, because flying him somewhere was a thing he loved to do.- “I’m sorry for being distant. I only have myself to blame for the lack of time I gave you, I know it’s kind of different looking at the fact I was injured, but still... I tend to do this kind of things, even if I don’t wish to do it.”- This was the last thing he expected, they catched unbreakable eye contact while Bruce spoke. The man’s expression was stoic, calm, but the heart rate was telling otherwise, slightly upbeat expressing worry. Clark was dumbfounded, this time it was him who had trouble speaking his mind.

Those words were surprise to him, they kind of pained him that the Man felt like this, but at the same time they were right on point. Clark started to feel distant towards his lover, he knew that the injuries Bruce had left them no other choice, and the situation with Luthor, but it was like that even before that, even when they knew eachother strictly as Superman and Batman- never nothing more than just patrols. He smiled at the words, his hands extending to grab the scarred, unbelievably soft ones across the table, squeezing them delicately, reassuring.

The waiter came back with the menu’s, stopping the moment.

-“The menus, I shall comeback in ten minutes to take the order.”- Tone professional, with a hint of surprise which couldn’t hide from Clarks ears. So this was what Bruce was talking about? The general curiosity which occured in people, making them slightly uncomfortable, cutting their personal space millimetre by millimetre.

Clark walked the waiter away with his eyes, closing his eyes for a longer moment before turning his head back to his man. His expression slightly absent, as if hurt in some ways, or sad. He was reading the menu, which was nicely bound in a light-brown leather.

-“I think we have a lot of time to make up for the last two months.”- Clark said, the other man’s expression the same as it was before, but a delicate, porcelain smile was there, ready to crumble if you looked at it too hard.- “Besides I should’ve invited you somewhere too.”- He added in, smile never leaving his face. The pair of eyes glimpsed at him, coming back to the menu.

-“You did, far too many times. Let me take care of you now. When my ribs will heal the patrols will began.”- He stated, voice stoic, a playful wink at the end. Never failing to make Clark blush at the fantasies which began stirring in his head.- “Start reading the card, Cowboy.”- Of course he would, he wouldn’t be himself. Clark rolled his eyes at the nickname, not that it wasn’t nice, he just felt weird with hearing it in public, he knew that Bruce had to play his role, but it didn’t mean he should drag him into it.

The card didn’t have too much options, but all of them were interesting, plus considering they had separate menus for each meal made it all hard to believe in. He studied those pages thoroughly, analysing each and every ingredient, he didn’t have any allergies or anything, he was simply interested. Another thing to note was that the menu didn’t have prices, almost as if it suggested that if you come inside you must’ve money to pay whatever price they made you face. It was a foreign thing to him, he never faced such luxuries and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. His life was simple, human, grounding, the fruit of his labour was sweet and satisfying, besides it’s not that he needed food anyways, it was a kind of pleasure he found really fun and exciting.

The fact that Bruce had set down the menu and studied Clark with his eyes made him stressed. The man had far more than just an experience in such things, it was his lifestyle, everyday occasion.

-“You choose yet?”- The question simple, making panic rise in his body. He felt pathetic at the fact that such sitter made him panic, but he wanted to look good enough for Bruce.

He had this kind of feeling inside that he wasn’t enough for the man, his look and outfits far from the way Bruce was, they were polar opposites. The way the waiter looked at him, and the new girl at the Daily Planet too, their eyes were judging, suggesting he didn’t belong next to his lover. Deep down he knew that it wasn’t true, and that he didn’t care about it, simply because he felt loved by the man, he knew he belonged and his lover made sure to prove him right at every occasion, but faced with such situations? Even if he wasn’t human he still felt it, the stares which judged and he understood why people felt bad. It was the pressure on them to perform, to be your best on every day basis, to be enough by someone's standards, even if you were enough by your standards. He didn’t even have to reach that far, even as Superman there were people which seemed to never get enough, nothing could be right and good for them, even if he was saving a dog from fire, there would be people screaming that “He should’ve saved people first!”, expect he did.

-“No, I’m sorry, it’s stupid, I’m stressed.”- He let it out, covering his face with both his hands, under his glasses which moved slightly at the touch. He heard a breath of relief coming from Bruce, he looked up, slightly confused.

-“You aren’t alone, Kent. Believe me when I say I hate such places.”- The tone still nonchalant, but there was a hint of Bruce’s true personality inside.- “I was trying to impress you, you know? Like a high school kid or something.”- He smiled softly, trying to unload the tension which rose between them. Clark was aware it was a lie to make him feel better, he appreciated it, even cracked a soft smile.

The things they ordered were the simple things with delicate twists, like crêpes fried in orange syrup with caramelized orange slices and homemade whipped cream, everything came from finest of the fine, the other meal fried eggs, made into the omuraisu with a side of tuna tartare. Meals were really simple, probably easy to made at home, yet Clark speculated the whole price must be in the ingredients they use, the quality they provide. The coffee in itself was ridiculously expensive and had some weird roast name to it. Bruce’s lips curled against the cup, eyes half closed as he sipped the beverage peacefully. He put the cup aside, looking into Clark’s eyes, his eyes had this spark of satisfaction in them.

-“The coffee is really good, you should try it.”- He said, voice genuinely impressed. His poor taste buds were more than happy with any and every coffee which wasn’t the Daily Planet piss they served.

-“Believe me when I say everything is better than what we have at the office.”- He mumbled out as he tried to grab the handle of the cup. It was really small for his fingers, which didn’t seem to be a problem to Bruce.

Well, the coffee was definitely something, soft at first, tasting like nuts and chocolate, covering your tongue in the sweet layer of pleasure, then the delicate acidy kicked in, it wasn’t the bitter one, which made your face scrunch, it was one which tasted like berries, the best kind. The shift from chocolate and delicacy to the berry, sharp flavour was an experience, leaving your head in clouds. The coffee was far more than “really good”, he could write a poem about this experience. His face must’ve gave it away, because he heard the way corners of his companions lips curved into a smile.

-“Expect to get the coffee tomorrow, on your desk in Daily Planet.”- Bruce stated as he began cutting his omelette. He tried to protest, his mind already suggesting how much such coffee could’ve cost, in stand he frowned, his expression quite fed up.

Sure, he liked gifts, but he felt like a gold digger at this point, everything he could’ve possibly wanted to have he got with a single word. It was too much for him to comprehend at the moment.

They began eating, the crêpes much more tasty than he expected, he remembered those times his Ma made him some pancakes in the morning, the taste wasn’t similar, neither the looks, but it was the feeling. The delicate vanilla of the batter lingering on your tongue as you ate, a simple pleasure, yet so amazing to feel. Bruce on the other hand seemed pretty committed to his plate, not looking away from it, must’ve been good as well. He looked at those man’s features, magazine cover worthy at every angle, he just couldn’t help it but stare.

-“You’re staring.”- He said, his gaze meeting Clark’s eyes.

He let out a dumb smile, curving on his lips, handed to his lover as an apology.

-“Is it good? I heard only nice things about this place. Those Galas can be useful sometimes.”- Bryce asked, the gala bit earning Clark’s smile.

-“It’s really good. The products seem very high quality, because a meal as simple as this cannot be this good otherwise.”- The response satisfied Bruce, he began eating once more.

He just couldn’t help himself, but notice the shift in his lover’s presence, the feeling that something has happened growing inside him, not letting him breathe.

-“Something happened at work.”- It was a statement, not a question. Their eyes met, this eyes filled with worry, Bruce’s with this delicate pain at the corners.

-“Selina came by yesterday, after the dinner with your parents.”- He admitted, his voice generally heavy all of the sudden, the stoic, calculated self seemed to disappear.

-“Well I don’t know at what should I be mad at, you know? The fact you feel down after meeting your ex or the fact you stay at work for far too much time.’”- It could’ve been a touch too much for Bruce, should’ve stayed behind the safety line, but it was crossed now.

Silence hanged upon them for some time, it wasn’t long, but at situations like that it was too much.

-“You shouldn’t worry about anything with Selina.”-Words cold, he sounded hurt that Clark could be somehow jealous.- “She just made me realize that I’ve fucked up and most probably will in the future. I feel as if I’m not good enough for you, not giving you enough pieces of myself, not enough time with me.”- They both were really that paranoid, huh? What love can do with people. Clark couldn’t help but just smile at the words, feeling thankful that Bruce was the way he was.

He loved when the layer of the public performance was peeled off, then came the layer of coldness, it was meant to be second protection. The third layer was the sadness, the general way this man felt genuinely hopeless, and sometimes couldn’t get himself to do basic things, then came that layer, the one Clark adored- it was sweet, delicate, humane. It cared about you, it remembered this you wouldn’t probably remember you said, it was overly worried about everything. Even if the words that man said were said in cold, nonchalant tone with a stoic, untouched expression, it was the words that mattered. That man never lied, he knew that.

-“We both have things we need to take care of, you happen to have more. You lived your entire life alone, Bruce, I understand that you need time to rebuild your priorities and I know it takes time. I won’t rush you, I just want to help you.”- Clark knew what he meant, they both had double lives, they both needed to protect their identities, they both were workaholics and never knew when to stop and give themselves time. They were so different from eachother, yet so similar. This was what made them connected, they were like pieces of puzzle- they weren’t identical, but they fit together perfectly.- “And it’s funny for you to say that ‘you aren’t enough for me’, while I’m the one being eyed by everyone like I don’t belong. Looks like we both have bad perception of the world we live in, huh?”- His voice warm, just slightly sad as he spoke. Bruce seemed to catch that, giving him a soft smile as he stared out the window.

-“I guess you’re right, Love.”- His voice slightly relieved, making Clark happy that he succeeded in making the mood feel slightly less depressing.

-“We will figure out the time together, I promise you. We still have a lot of things to do together.”- A promise he was happy to make, the other part said with a slightly playful tone, which made Bruce take a bite of his food in a suggestive way, licking his lips afterwards.

-

The studio was just like the other studios- bright, white and spacious. His wardrobe was as white as everything which irritated him each and every time he did a photoshoot. Some he seemed to forget why he hated them so much, but then while doing one he remembered.

This time he was send to the photoshoot with some kind of manager, he saw the woman before, she usually went with him, making sure he was comfortable. She didn’t always go, but when she did it all seemed to go a little easier, especially when he needed to argue with someone.

He was sitting in his wardrobe. Someone has done his makeup already, they made him wear black eyeliner to which he wasn’t foreign to, but this time it was... Less chaotic. Boredom caught him, he began looking at the clothes, he never bothered to check the underwear collection he was signing up for, he never really cared anyways, but he walked up to those clothes.

Some boxers, simple cuts, comfortable fabric, some of them being briefs with the same nice material; what made him interested was the accessories. He expected them to be really much, especially when it was queer-owned brand, he loved the way he would be decorated while collabing with such brands. It looked like they went for a corporate motive- ties, big amount of variations hanging from the clothing rack, then came the different designs of glasses. Rings, large and silver laid on the table, ready for the stylists to come and dress him up.

He was impressed by the collection, knowing damn well his plan will work better than he expected. He will do his best and more doing those sessions, each photo will be a work of art, for his glorious boyfriend to see before premiere and perhaps some of the photos taken by Bruce himself during break.

-“Mister Wayne, I will be your stylist today.”- Said a woman, in her early thirties for his professional eye. He smiled at her and gestured for her to come.

He ended up wearing black boxers, red tie with thind blue and white stripes, and of course lots and lots of rings on his fingers. He couldn’t help it, but admit that he simply rocked the outfit.

The photoshoot wasn’t anything out of ordinary, simple photos on white screen, some of the poses really dirty, almost lewd. He just couldn’t help but smile at the shots. After two hours of posing and taking photos, the photographer decided they should take a break.

He walked into his room, mind racing, thinking about what Clark could say about the photos, what if he saw them in a billboard... Those cheeks, awfully red, slightly panicked expression behind those dorky glasses of his. He would murder something under his breath, acting innocent, while the erection would grow in his pants. He thought about the delicate twitch Clark’s body would make, it all send a shiver down Bruce’s spine, a animalistic want, which made him feel the way the boxers fabric stretched against his growing erection.

He went into the toilet, letting out a deep sight, his heart pounding in his chest, the feeling on his ribs, clinging to him. He looked into the bathroom mirror, an image of the way he would let Clark tear him apart in this outfit popped in his head. How he would grip the sink while those rings would let out metallic thudding against the sink, how his lover would tug on the tie he had on, choking him slightly, those dorky glasses he imagined would be Clark’s. The whole scenario making him groan a little.

He pulled out his phone, the erection twitching against the boxers, restrained, wanted to be set free. He made the phone ready to snap a mirror selfie, while his other hand was tangled with the tie, fingers in his open mouth, the silver rings the only thing which was out. The delicate fangs he had popping out from behind his lips, eyes halfway closed, but open enough to reveal the black eyeliner. He took the photo, looking like a true bitch, waiting to be fucked.

He send the photo, it was read almost on instant, which was surprising considering the fact the other man was at work as well. Moments later, just as expected he was met with a call, he let out a single, soft laugh and picked up.

-“ARE YOU SICK?”- Clark said, his tone visibly frustrated.-“I’m at a meeting about some tax fraud we will covering! I had to excuse myself to the bathroom...”- He said quieter, and there was sound of heavy door being shut behind him.

-“Are you in a bathroom now?”- Bruce asked, his voice playful.

-“Yes.”- Clark muttered and let out a sigh.- “You should be happy everyone was looking at the presentation, if they saw that photo...”- His words becoming weaker with each second.

-“You’ve got a boner?”- He asked straight forward, his hand already in his pants, touching gently.

-“Why are you so straight forward! And yes, I do... What kind of photoshoot is even that? You look so... Hot.”- The words an admission, Bruce chuckled at that.

-“You know, we could do the same thing when we are finished with the work... It would be nice having you... Ngh... Tugging at that tie of mine.”- He let out with an Oscar performance of moaning in between.

-“Bruce...”- It was soft in his ear, the moan Clark let out.- “I shouldn’t...”- He added weakly.

-“I know you’re alone, those bathrooms of yours have great privacy actually.”- He stated, he just couldn’t help himself.- “Don’t you worry, Kent, I’ll send you more photos if needed... Maybe when you’ll get lonely I will get a photo in return.”- His voice playful, he heard those held back breaths on the other hand.

-“I would love to be there with you... You look so good... That eyeliner, as if it was Batman.”- He let out, sharp breaths in between.

Bruce began working his hands up and down his erection, his back against the bathroom wall as he did. Every single breath Clark let out was a stroke, he felt precum on his hand, making his movements feel slightly more smooth.

-“Those magazines you have in your house Darling, do you look at those photos when you cum?”- He asked and could visualise the way Clark’s cheeked were red as a cherry because of that comment.

The breath on the other end becoming more rapid at that comment, Clark was close to cumming, he could tell by the way his breathing was.

-“You’re close, Huh... Tell me about your favourite cover. Clark Kent, a little pervert.”- He said, pushing those words deep from his belly, they were turning him on even more. He could feel himself getting closer to finishing.

-“It- It’s the cover for Fall collection in Vogue...”- He breathed out.- “You look... So, so good in that leather gloves... That turtle neck, the- the coat...”- And then there was a moan, loud, deep one. Clark was done.- “I- I cummed... Holy, Those gloves, they do something to me, Bruce.”- He added in breathy and shaky words.

Bruce suppressed a moan as he buzzed all over his hand. The feeling like a blessing, giving him instant relief, the knot he had in his stomach gone in matter of seconds. He let out a sigh to the phone.

-“You did great Love, thank you... I’ll make sure you can scrape that Autumn collection off me.”- He added and laughed.

-“Yeah, sure...”- The words shaky.- “I love you, gotta get going.”- Clark added and without waiting for any response he hanged up.

He felt dizzy and satisfied, licking his lips, getting lost in the memory., one of his favourites from now on.

Chapter Text

The photoshoot Bruce did was proven a solution to the emptiness the gossip media seemed to be a victim of lately, it definitely wasn’t something bad. Those kinds of media seemed to make up most ridiculous lies just to earn money. All those articles leaving a bad taste afterwards, not even a one you could laugh about, just a bitter droplet which permanently attached to a celebrity, haunting them on every interview.

Of course, the emptiness wasn’t literal, it was just that the articles coming out after the Luthor incident weren’t as flashy as before. The panic and near-death experiences seemed to really traumatise people, huh?

Now the titles screamed at you with big, bold letters, catching your attention far too efficient.

“Gotham’s favourite sons coming out?!”

“Gayer than we thought?”

“Is this Wayne Enterprises downfall?- Helene Thompson comments!”

“New generation in business!”

Of course, the fact that the company was Queer-owned and the whole session was made as charity made up for a clear sign that Bruce Wayne supports LGBTQ+ community members. For him it was really weird that people didn’t notice earlier. He slept with a lot of men before, donated to charities which were meant to support such minorities, but looks like only the big controversies make it to the big titles. The best part was that Helene Thompson was burning alive, he just waited for the time she will barge into his office, screaming. He expected it to happen right after she will come back from her lunch break, it still was Monday, the photoshoot hit the streets just this morning.

He was finishing the dinner Clark’s mother left him. The woman was a great cook, he admitted that without any resistance. He felt happy he was accepted into the Kent family despite the fact he used to... Let himself get too loose sometimes. He was in the airport with Clark, waiting for the departure while he held his lover’s hand. The outfit he wore was absolutely unflattering, but he did that for Clark’s sake- the man would have too much on his plate with paparazzi chasing him around the streets, asking about Wayne’s private life.

The door to his office opened, Rhonda was trying to tell him something, but before she could she was shoved aside by no one other than Miss Thompson herself. He swallowed the last piece of turkey he had and shoved the Tupperware container aside.

-” Get out the way, you filthy-!”- Then the woman stopped herself when she saw that Bruce was in fact in his office.- “Ah, Bruce, so you really are here.”- She explained herself, while Rhonda closed the door behind her and rolled her eyes.

He looked at the woman in mid-forties. Her face without any wrinkle, dark brown eyes, a little wild, warm, but venomous if you look past that. Eye makeup was really minimal, while the red lip screamed with confidence. Her hair was long, slightly under the shoulder, with this awful light blonde, almost white. Her outfits were classy and expensive; he must admit that.  She looked like the most stereotypical CEO you will ever meet, the kind that seems trust-worthy, but really isn’t. But the woman was far more than just this, she was his personal mistake. He knew how she was from the beginning, but he let himself believe the rumours weren’t true, that a professional like Helene wouldn’t be a raging racist, homophobe, and God knows what else. He let himself believe that she would keep her opinions on a leash, simply doing her job with the precision she wears like a badge, not speaking a word. He always believed that personal beliefs should be shoved aside while working, keeping thing professional at all cost, he was promised that by her, yet she let him down.

-” It’s Mister Wayne for you, Miss Thompson.”- Voice calm, stoic. His eyes were a piercing gaze on the woman, not revealing a slightest bit of any emotion he felt.

She stood in front of him, while he sat behind his massive, wooden desk, which weighted far much that it should. The light from half-closed curtains painting a streak between them, separating, while he sat in the shadow, a menacing creature, looming over everything, a passive observer, she stood, her back straight, eyes running around the room looking for surprises, an unknowing prey in looming shadows territory.

-”I’m sorry?”- Her voice growing angry, the intensity it held at the tips giving her away.- “Oh no, Darling. You’re the one who should be begging here. Do you know how you make us loo- No, how you made yourself look?”- There it was, just the side he wanted to see. The woman was a lost cause, and he will make sure for it to stay that way. Call him vengeful but being the Dark Knight seemed to make him obligated to do such things.

-” How did I make myself look Helene, huh?”- He asked, making himself comfortable in his chair.- “Like a ‘faggot’? That’s what you want to say?”- He added, his voice as calm as before, not a slightest hint of any emotion in there which seemed to scratch the woman’s broken temper just right,

-” Do you know what this means in the stock market? Well, I know that you’re really fucking dumb, Brucie, but the stock market is full of businessmen who will not tolerate the shit you pulled right here!”- She screamed, her eyelid already twitching to his satisfaction. He let out a deep breath and chuckled. - “You fucking moron! What’s so funny, huh?”- The question just what he needed. He put on one of his charming smirks.

-” Oh, it’s nothing, Dear... But if you mean businessmen like your son Henry then you might be wrong, he not only tolerates it, but he in fact adores it. You should hear him screaming my name after that night when our stock market value doubled. The money he earned that day...”- He said in a voice you would pull out when talking about some good, old, jolly memories. The best part? It was true.

The words seemed to send the woman into freeze. He adored to see such faces, they always meant glorious victory to him. He smiled at her warmly, her fists clenched while she stared at him, lips so tonight she might smudge her red lipstick.

-” Oh, you’re fired by the way. I won’t tolerate such behaviour in here. I’m sure your son will be much more than happy to take your place.”- A final blow to the woman’s gut. He walked up to her and patted her shoulder. - “Pack your stuff, I have a meeting to attend.”- Was added as he walked out of his office.

-

The day he woke up and turned on the new channel to be greeted with THAT ad... He knew his day will be going to be extremely long, especially when you have co-workers which know you’re a fanboy of Bruce Wayne, or perhaps something more... Well, they know that there was definitely something, it’s just that the events which took place in Metropolis seemed to take their attention away from the fact he was in fully committed relationship with biggest fuckboy known to mankind. Sometimes he felt jealous he wasn’t the only one to touch that man, but the vision to keep Bruce to himself like a sacred artefact, an object of cult for the rest of the man’s life, watching his glory slowly turn into something far much greater, with every single grey streak, with every single line on his body, which represented the killing touch of time he shall look at the man. He will adore the every moment he gets to see those muscles tense and the way the body stretches, each movement meant to have an outcome, the art of living Bruce presented was beyond his brain. This man seemed to be purpose, each breath he took, each step he took was calculated into the sick carousel his brain presented everyone with. Clark could only watch- a spectator, a man to be blessed with the living being so godly he felt like a mere dust particle in his presence.

The first thing he was greeted with upon entering the Daily Planet was Lois taking him on the side, her eyes wide with shock.

-” Lois, is there something wrong?”- He asked, but he was already sure that it was more than sure. He knew he should be ready to take the pep talk about him deserving better than this.

-” Yes!?”- Her voice a whispering hiss. He smiled with closed eyes at that one. - “You fine with that? He could be cheating at you at this very mom-”- He didn’t let her finish, and he covered her lips with his hand.

-” Lois, I appreciate the concern, I really do, but I’m a responsible adult. I know Bruce, he already met with my parents, and they seem to really like him. Especially Ma, she says she will cook for him every- No, sorry, back to the topic.”- he stopped himself with a quite ashamed expression. - “Those things you’re saying are nonsense. I know his love life is... Intriguing to say the least, but he is a great man. Saying that he would cheat on me is a really personal attack on me, so please stop them. We are still together and will be, he is teeth rotting sweet and unsure, I adore it.”- He said with a tone which made her look at him with pity.

-” You’re a lost cause, Kent.”- She added, and on her forehead. She pulled him into a hug. - “I pulled a ‘Clark Kent’ there... Sorry for being overprotective.”- She added after letting him go, he answered with a warm smile which seemed to satisfy her needs. - “Do you plan on going official then?”- her tone much more teasing her.

-” I mean, Bruce wanted to, but I didn’t agree... Paparazzi isn't really my thing.”- He said honestly. Lois’s expression she didn’t expect an answer like this.

It was really funny to him how the Bruce he knew and was really happy to know was different from the one known to public eye. Anything slightly domestic and not so himbo-coded was out of question when it came to discussing his persona.

Silence fell between them, the black-haired woman seemed to be thinking about something, her eyes were focused. He remembered how much he adored this expression, he still does, but this star had went away- it's shine isn’t as strong as it was, it began moving in the specious galaxy, leaving just enough room for a new Sirius to arise, and embrace him, swallowing him whole, filling his lungs with suffocating, warm light which was the greatest prize he ever had.

-” Well then, I need you to do an interview with your little Boyfriend... Or at least make a spot in his calendar for someone.”- She announced proudly. He smiled at her, unsure what to think.

He knew that Bruce was a hardworking man, always giving more than he should, so it was quite obvious that his calendar will be full, especially after his time off.

-”Lois, Clark!”- Someone from the office gesturing to the news channel.

-”Bruce Wayne fires Helene Thompson!”- The news reporter screamed.

Everyone seemed shocked at the information, the woman seemed to be really competent, even for Clarks liking, but knowing Bruce there was something more to it, there always was. He looked at Lois, but she was already looking at him, her expression “You know anything about this?”, he just shook his head in disagreement to her. It’s not like it’s a first time someone gets fired like this from Wayne Enterprises, and of course the only comment (if any at all) anyone would get was: “You shouldn’t be interested in this topic.”, and each time there was a spike in productivity of the company, so no one questioned those weird methods any further, even if it was annoying not to know anything. The whole problem was, we aren’t talking about someone random, we are talking about one of most praised members of Wayne Enterprises.

Maybe he really should ask for that interview, he would have a chance today, they are meeting at Clark’s place, there was no particular reason to do so... But he was far more than happy to greet his guest.

-” You good Smallville?”- Lois asked him, hand on his shoulder.

-” I’ll do the interview Lois... I mean, he would tell me anyways, but I’ll do it.”- He mumbled out, looking at the woman.

-” Hmm... Fine with me, but you have to finish the piece on tax fraud. You ran away from the meeting the last time we discussed it.”- A wink was added at the end. Hell, he was hopeful that she wouldn’t connect the dots or anything. - “Nice photos he sent you.”- She added with a giggle and walked away. At that very moment he felt as if he was burning alive. - “Never sit next to Lois again.”- He made himself a mental note, hopeful to remember it the next time.

-

The piece was far more than just tiring, it was one thing to discover the fact that one of the companies which basically helped Metropolis rise to it’s greatness with its materials, it was another to being able to write a believable piece with enough proof. He was aware of the fact the company will sue them, but he was aware that if the piece will be good enough there will be an investigation which will hopefully proof Clark right. He didn’t want fame, even if ever since the article on Dhalia he was more known, maybe not famous, people still didn’t know how he looked like, but the moment he stated his name most of the people he interviewed said that they knew him. It was a bad thing, they would grow more tense around him, never telling him enough like they used to. They became more and more guarded, scared they might share the same fate which Dhalia did.

-

City built on a lie?

The famous corporation known for helping build Metropolis to its glory today never paid their taxes? You might recognize the ‘xxx Corporation’ from its great input to build Metropolis, their workers build almost all of the infrastructure this city has, shaped it into its sleek and modern designs.  So what if this company we know as someone we can trust was profiting off of the fact our city wasn’t as great? Yes, that’s right. The company was well-paid for their work, but despite that they won a competition for the ability to rebuild the city, the problem is it was all fake. Mister Henry White, the owner of the company has a great friend high in the government chair- no one other than the ex-mayor of Metropolis who still has a chair in the city finances. The whole competition was a fake one for Henry White to get massive amounts of money which never got taxed, simply because he donated it to a charity. If we start digging deep enough we can trace back the fact a donation to ‘Metropolis support’ was made for exact amount of money Mister White received from our ex-mayor. If we start digging even deeper we can see that the charity had closed its activity a week after that, the money made its way through weird bank accounts just to make its way to Mister henry White.

That’s not all, until this day the company is living its tax-free glory, the missing money is covered by the ex-mayor, almost as if the company was just a myth, a legend which exist only in people’s mouth, not on paper.

The most ridiculous part must be the fact that we got to the fact Mister White doesn’t pay his child support to any of his fifteen kids, due to fact of having friends in government he never got any consequences. -” Whenever I’m trying to do anything, I’m being scared off by the police. I’ve been walking from shelter to shelter, because they took everything from me, that’s what they do!”- Says one of the women who had the luck to be in relationship with Mister White, for safety purposes she should remain anonymous.

-

He wasn’t sure what he was thinking about the piece. It wasn’t as captivating as he expected it to be, but everything there was true. He handed the paper to Lois, not sure what she would think about it, but it seemed like she liked it. They didn’t really have much time either way, the deadline was poking them constantly, it was important to release it as soon as possible.

Just like almost every single time with such challenging pieces he was met with the fact his shift ended. He didn’t know what he thought about that, sure he was going to finally meet with Bruce, but he wasn’t a fan of cooking. He didn’t really need to eat, so he never tried to become a master at the skill, but at the same time he thought that his skills were pretty decent. Sure, maybe not as fancy as Bruce’s tastebuds were used to, but it was tasty and nutritious (or that’s what he told himself to feel better with the fact he can’t cook).

-

He found himself doing classic carbonara pasta, sure it was a basic dish, but it was really satisfying to eat. The table was set in a romantic way he surprised himself with the fact he did so. The pasta was already plated, the red wine was set on the table, some candles were lit up, the lights were dimmed. He just waited for the simple knock on the door. He let out a deep breath, standing in the kitchen, thinking about the fact he will have to ask Bruce about the interview. It was stressful, the man seemed to be really strict with the work, not speaking about it unless asked about it, it was quite ironic considering the fact that the man was a workaholic.

At this point? He should call himself that too, he was the one brining Daily Planet to the table. He waited for this day, he knew what they would be doing after the dinner, and it was like a prize to him. Sure, they did have phone sex, but it wasn’t the same for him, he couldn’t touch the man, and he felt more than blessed to do so each time he had an opportunity to do so.

A knock on the door got him out of his bubble. He almost ran to the door. They cached eye contact almost instantly, he missed those green edged, blue orbs, which were so cold they hypnotized him, challenging to warm them up. He took those gloved hands into his, squeezing gently, pulling the man inside, to his warm home, with soft, gentle and rhythmic rock music playing in the background. He scraped the leather coat off of the man in front of him, hanging it on the hook, then he peeled off the gloves, placing them on the cupboard he had in the hallway.

-” You cooked carbonara?”- Bruce asked with delicate smirk on his lips, the question making Clark quite shocked.

-” Yes, how can you tell?”- He was genuinely interested.

-” It’s the smell. I really like carbonara, should I write down the fact you can read minds?”- He asked while sitting down, even such movement done with such grace it made Clark’s cheeks burn. He chuckled at the comment.

-” No, it’s just beginners luck.”- He answered, making his way to his chair.- “Wine, perhaps?”- He asked and was met with a nod. He opened the bottle, poured a glass and sat down. He felt tense, and the worst part was that Bruce could tell, he always could.

-” Something on your mind?”- The question like bullet through Clark’s brain. He found himself frozen while the other man began eating his pasta.- “It’s really good, Love.”- He added with a smile just to continue with eating.

Clark swallowed, he felt himself growing hot. - “Panicking over this, really?”- He asked himself and closed his eyes for a second. He took a deep breath in.

-” Lois wanted an interview, but ever since the week off there is no time in your calendar, so I thought I might do it while we are together.”- He said, his voice warm, just quite out of ordinary.

His lover looked at him for a moment, taking a sip of wine with the grace, you would expect from him, then he smiled a little, his eyes shone a little in the candlelight. It was on of not too many signs that the man had some sort of idea, which send Clark into even further spiral of confusion and stress.

-” Sure.”- He said, voice quite happy. Clark’s eyes sparked in seconds.

-” Really?”- His voice excited, but he was met with a silencing finger.

-” Only if I get to eat this carbonara off of you while you interview me.”- He said with full confidence and a smirk which send Clark into overheat. His cheeks grew redder and redder with every single second, he wasn’t sure if Bruce was serious.- “Well, of course you can wait a week or so, but then the Thompson case would be too old.”- He added in, as always straight on point, he shouldn’t expect anything else from this man.

-”O- Okay...”- Clark mumbled out, felling as his cheeks grew even hotter than before.

-

In the next ten minutes he was laying on the table, lights still dim, the candles around his naked torso. There he was in his naked glory on the table, as fully clothed Bruce Wayne circled around him like an eagle looking for its prey. Clark held onto his notepad as if his life depended on it. Bruce placed the pasta on his hairy torso, going down in a line straight to dick which already was hard.

-” You can start with the interview now, Mister Kent.”- The ‘Mister’ was expected, the tone of Bruce’s voice painfully playful. He walked up to Clark’s face and took off his glasses, it was a habit now, he always wore them.

-” Mister Wayne.”- He started earning a smirk from Bruce. - “The public is interested in why did you do the photoshoot for free.”- He stated, waiting for and answer pen ready to write.

He felt Bruce’s mouth on his torso, leaving warm trail of delicate kisses, growing closer to the pasta with each one.

-” It’s a show of support to LGBTQ+ people, especially when me myself is a part of the community. Wayne Enterprises is always open.”- He said, voice professional, steady, almost as if nothing was happening.

His tongue picking up the pasta, eating it from Clark’s chest, not using his hands, only mouth, each movement sending a twitch down to Clark’s cock as he watched this man work his way around the food.

-” Of... Course, Mister Wayne.”- He mumbled out as the man got lower now, eating the food off his abs. Bruce’s head popped up, waiting for next question.- “ You fired Helene Thompson, why? The woman was a true master at her work.”- He mumbled, Bruce rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, visibly unhappy at the question.

-” It was a mistake to even let her work here in the first place.”- He started, mot once again on Clark’s stomach, placing kisses on it.- “Work isn’t a place for you hateful opinions, and Miss Thompson couldn’t keep them to herself, going as far as cutting pay checks to people from minorities while I wasn’t present at work.”- He said, waiting for Clark to write it down, while consuming carbonara, going closer and closer to the man’s cock.- “She did those changes without my consent, it’s something I won’t tolerate in my workplace. That’s why she was fired.”- He stated, his voice calm.

His tongue worked around the left-over sauce, leaving the last bit of Carbonara, placed on Clark’s bladder for now, almost teasing the man. Clark bit on his finger, the soft breaths on his naked body was something he never thought he would find pleasing.

-”O...Okay... Thank you for the interview, Mister Wayne.”- He mumbled out as Bruce ate the last bit of Carbonara off of his boyfriend.- “You’re quite vengeful, you know...Love?”- He breathed out while Bruce started licking on his hard length.

-” I would call it a fact check, I slept with her son.”- He said as if it was nothing out of ordinary. Clark felt this funky feeling grow in his stomach as he placed his hand in Bruce’s hair, guiding him to his cock.

-

Bruce stood between Clark’s legs, he sat down, the perfect height to give the man the pleasures he deserved. He licked the length, ending at the tip which he pleased with a delicate kiss, just to begin sucking it at the slit. The precum was already coming out, much to his pleasures. Clark twisted against the pleasures, his hands around the edges of the table, restrained moans coming out of his mouth like breaths. He took in the whole head, licking around it, sucking. The movement was slow, stimulating, he sucked and licked. When he tasted the precum once more, without any warning he took in the whole length, making Clark moan really loudly. The hips began twitching, jumping up as Bruce worked up and down the length.

-” I- I'm close...”- A low sound escaping the alien’s lungs, rolling off his tongue with restrain.

Bruce once again began sucking at the tip as Clark’s hips began jerking up. His tongue working around the slit which seemed to work really well on the man. Not even a second later he pushed Bruce’s head down, making him take the whole length, he cummed hard in the mouth. Bruce swallowed the semen without any restrain as Clark was moaning deliciously, the man’s hands buried in his hair, tugging delicately at the strands as the orgasm slowly faded away. The tugging became more delicate, eventually stopping as Bruce took the dick out of his mouth. He brushed away his own spit with the sleeve of his crazy expensive shirt.

His hands touched the cheeks of the man who was sitting on the table now. His thumb wiping away the tear from corner of Clark’s eye. His hands moved from the cheeks to the back of the man’s head, pulling him into a messy kiss. Their mouths weren’t aligned, the kiss was driven by a desperate and shameful need, with just a hint of love. The true starvation of those in need.

Bruce felt his darkest memories coming back, of him trying to feel something else than the guilt and emptiness which ate him alive. He remembered all those people, all those bodies under him, always crashing them down, their lust and his, mixing, blending into a soup of despair, of pure want. He remembered how he tried to scrub away the filth, the layer he couldn’t possibly get rid of, a layer which was a part of him. He remembered how he tried to forget about the fact he still was a young boy, a hurt soul trapped in a man’s body, not very real, not even slightly himself. An outcast in his own brain, trying to get rid of anything which haunted him by simply bringing his body to the animalistic origin, to the act you couldn’t call intimate, but to an act you could call a want.

He felt that way now, the way he felt so wrong pulling Clark, the glory of the man, the only person untouched by the filth of the world, only person to know him in his forms and accept him, only person his disgusting self didn’t hurt yet. He felt as tears rolled off his cheeks, down onto his jaw. Clark stopped; he gently put his fingers into Bruce’s hair and brushed them backwards.

-” We can stop.”- He said, like the angel he was. Even when he was pulled into the filth Bruce provided, Clark still sounded like he was more than happy to participate in the atrocious act.

-” Don’t."- Voice above a whisper, tender, filled with need.

The gentle, large hands undid his buttons in span of a minute, no time to rethink it. He bit back his tears, he wanted it, he felt relieved that the man wanted it too. Clark peeled away each layer of his clothes, now standing in front of Bruce, with each piece on the floor they were closer to the bedroom door. Once they will be past the door frame it will be more than sure that Clark wouldn’t be saved anymore. He felt weird about it, he had no restrains doing it in that bathroom, no second thought, maybe the fact of doing it in a bed, not in his house made him scared? Scared, that this one time he will be fully committed to the man? To someone... It was funny how he trusted this man with his life, would give it away from him without blinking twice, but the moment he would have to commit to him, creating a bond much deeper than a partnership, or a friendship he was scared.

He felt his back touching the soft mattress of the bed, the muscular, god-like creature above him, placing kisses on his collarbone, making sure to leave marking which made them committed. He knew that in relationships to hurt someone was far easier, and for his bad luck he was fucking great at it. He was scared to hurt Clark, not only physically, but in any way, he felt guilt eating him alive each day for the fact he even dared to touch anybody. He heard voices whispering to him how he should end it right here, how he should be the one dying in that alley that night. He heard it all constantly draining him, pushing him into conclusions he would never dare to think about.

He opened his eyes to see that Clark was in fact hugging him, lying beside him.

-” You shouldn’t force yourself, Bruce. I love you, nothing will change that.”- He whispered with the voice... The voice Bruce knew he never deserved to hear. - “Do you perhaps want to talk about it? Your heartrate tells me that you’re feeling strong emotions, yet your face has this cold expression.”- He mumbled out, face in the nook of the other man’s neck.

Silence fell between them, Bruce let it swallow them, swallow him to be precise.

-” Do you ever feel bad, regret it?”- He couldn’t believe he was speaking about it, the words hard in his throat, almost illegal to speak.

-” What do you mean by that?”- The voice as soft as it was before, a hint of care inside of it. The nose of the man against the naked collarbone of Bruce.

-” Me.”- He stated. The silence speaking for itself. - “I feel like I corrupt you, like I let myself get attached to something I can’t afford so I destroy it for make it worth less.”- Words from deep within his heart, something he didn’t dear to speak about, simply kept it to himself.

Clark pulled away, the hum of electronic devices could be heard in the air. The night was still young, but Metropolis night had this stoic calmness to it, the silence you would consider refreshing instead of alarming. The blue eyes, more like grey in that light were looing at him, the man’s expression hidden in the night that Bruce used to find nourishing, but now he found it to be devastating, destroying everything he had. The face usually glowing, radiating with emotion was now... invisible, connected with the darkness which surrounded them.

-” I don’t know in which world do you live in, I don’t care how do you see the world... Bruce...”- He stuttered, not knowing what to say. Walking circles in the dark room, each step a reminder to keep your mouth closed next time.

-” I’m sorry, Love. I shouldn’t bother you in the first place, giving you riddles you cannot answer...”- He said as he heard the voices in his head growing louder. - “That’s right run away, like you always do.”- They whispered, agonizingly tiring monotone voice.

He began standing up from the bed, while Clark grabbed his hand, pulling hm close. They naked bodies touching each other, chest against chest, skin on skin.

-

-” You’re not running away from me, Bruce.”- The voice much more serious than usual. - “If I only knew you feel that way about yourself... I worship you, every scar that you carry, every inch of skin on you.”- He said, voice serious, his hands moving around the Bruce’s body, who seemed still.- “If you need someone to corrupt I shall be there with my invincible body for you to corrupt, but you should know the corruption you fill me with is the desire for you.”- Voice hot on the other man’s shoulder, his head laying delicately against it.

-” Clark...”- Voice suddenly ashamed, something he never thought he would hear.

-” You corrupt me so well... If you need me to be destroyed, worth less for you to have me, then do it. I wish to be all of this just to be with you.”- He said, voice way bolder than he ever spoke. His hands found their way to the other man’s hips. - “I should bottom today.”- He whispered into the other man’s ear.

Bruce just buried his face into Clark’s chest, his expression unreadable. He pushed Clark onto the bed, he didn’t resist, he found himself enjoying the fall. The delicacy of his own bed and the man who he loved on top him. The delicate hands of the man, slightly cold to the touch were slowly, lazily finding their way to his asshole. He felt a tense feeling building in his stomach, the wait.

Deep inside he still felt sad at the fact how low Bruce thought of himself, but at the same time he was more than happy to help the man accept himself fully, to be there for the man in one of his lowest moments and highest ones in the future.

He felt a finger, slim, with a delicate roughness to it, most probably from all the scars and the work the man did in the free time. It was certainly something new for him, each movement of the finger making his head rolling back, exposing his throat with rough gasps escaping his mouth. Another finger came down, pushing at his hole, the pressure making him close his eyes tighter. The moment he was in he heard a huff of air escaping Bruce’s mouth. His fingers started scissoring his hole, the feeling and the stretch were something new to Clark, making him cover his mouth with one of his hands. His dick was already stiff, standing up straight, like he didn’t cum like fifteen minutes ago. It was moments like this that he was grateful for his great stamina.

-” You like it that much?”- Bruce asked, his voice quieter than usual, carrying some sort of weight on it, he knew where it came from, so he didn’t mind it.

-” Y- Yes...”- He struggled to get out with the glorious stretch in his asshole.

Bruce took out his fingers, the emptiness weird inside him, then he felt the tip of the man’s cock resting on his assholes entrance. Teasing him, refusing to get in just yet. He wondered if Bruce felt as thirsty in that bathroom as Clark was now. Each second painfully long as he awaited anything to happen.

Bruce pushed his tip inside, making him let out a shameful moan, louder than he ever want it to be. What’s worse, he already felt like coming, which was ridiculous considering the fact it was only the tip. He felt the precum rolling out of his dick, Bruce seemed to catch that too as a little smirk appeared on his mouth.

-” I think we should do this more often... Superman. Seeing you so excited makes my senses disappear.”- The name alone made Clark stepping really close to the edge. His face twisted in a grimace, much to Bruce’s satisfaction.

He pushed the rest of his dick in, in one swift movement.

-” Fuck!”- Clark screamed out and quickly covered his mouth with both his hands. He felt tears rolling off of his cheeks.

-” Looks like our hero knows curse words as well.”- He mumbled out, his voice restrained suggesting he felt a lot of pleasure, yet he tried to look unbothered. Still, the comment made his face blush even harder with embarrassment. - “You’re so good, my hero.”- He mumbled and began moving slowly.

At first the movements were quite uncomfortable, sending a twitch of pain into Kal-El's stomach, they were slow, long, making him feel weird inside. Then Bruce’s hands grabbed his pelvis, positioning himself between Clark’s legs, which were on the man’s shoulders. That moment Bruce hit a spot in his anus, making him moan out like a bitch in heat. Then one more time, and another one. Each time a pleasured moan escaped his mouth, twisting his mind, blurring the picture in front of him. He found his own eyes rolling backwards, the pure enjoyment overriding all the protocols in his body, he let himself get loose.

-” Honestly...”- Bruce breathed out in between the thrusts. - “I didn’t know your anatomy...”- He mumbled out, his movements growing even faster. - “Is so similar to ours.”- Clark gripped his sheets, the cover snapping under his grip.

-”I- I’m...”- He managed to mumble out before his hips bucked up.

His body tensed, swallowing Bruce’s cock even deeper, the relief hitting his body as he came all over his stomach, covering it with his semen. The movement and his grip on the sheets making them rip apart. His body fell onto the ruined cover and not even a moment later a grunt escaped Bruce’s mouth, his hips thrusted towards Clark, his cock deep in Clark, his semen filling the man inside and out, his eyes closed. He watched Bruce pull out, gasping delicately. He laid on his stomach next to Clark, panting as hard as the other man.

Despite the tiredness he found himself... happy. He felt like one of the things he needed in a longest time finally came true. He couldn’t count all the times he needed this to happen; he just needed to feel this connection between him and Bruce one more. It was dear to him, the moments like this, when he shared them with someone he loved. He felt accepted then, unjudged for one time in his life, despite being judged all the time. He felt more human than he ever thought, just a man in bed with person he cherished and thought amazing thing of, even if the person didn’t think so about themselves. His mind began racing to all those moments he saw Bruce in those adverts, on billboards in TV... An unrealistic crush, something to never happen, yet it happened here, right now. His hands gently rubbing the other man’s back, each scar a symbol of what he have been through, each scar a point of Clark’s adoration. He found them unspeakably beautiful, he himself couldn’t get any of them, it was a good thing, maybe... Yet the scars were signs of survival, a hope, a constant fight for living, a reminder of being human- something he couldn’t afford to have, despite the want for it. So, Bruce shall be the reminder to his humanity, he was far greater than any scar ever would be.

He played with those hairs for last time before making his way into the shower.

Chapter Text

Shimmer of the night sky, cold breeze of the upcoming winter, gently twirling around the nape of your head, twirling it’s circles around your neck, coming lower and lower. The shiver going down each vertebra of your spine reacting, making you close your eyes at the feeling... The uncomfortable feeling, which you find soothing, delicate, a reminder of you being just a human. Starts above your head, an uncanny event looming over the Gotham City- never telling you anything good. Each star, a representation of a human being, each star dying, just like humans. You wouldn’t even notice if a one star went missing, only if you were close to it, just like humans- when a person goes missing, nobody cares expect the people close to them. We share this similarity with everything around us, when a brighter star shines, just like sun does the smaller ones disappear. We wait for the bright star to go away to shine once again, but we aren’t the only ones to shine- there is a lot of average starts, there are only a few bright enough to outshine the others. The moon is between the starts, standing there like an oddity, an alien with a stolen light from no one other than the sun itself. It tries to fit it, it really wants to be a star, perhaps a normal one if it was given it... But it never will be a star, it pains the moon, it wishes to be one, to fit in, but it never will. The lunar being cannot see it’s special uniqueness which makes the stars ponder how to be so unique, so different... But the moon doesn’t want to be, the moon only sees the stolen light, the perfect harmony around it in which it doesn’t fit. 

Perhaps the sun is the greatest Superman, it doesn’t need anyone to shine, he just is the centre of attention, someone who fits in, but out glows everyone. It’s so close, so real, yet so inaccessible.  

Perhaps the Moon is the Dark Knight, the Moon needs the sun to shine, it is uncapable to do so on its own, without the sun it blends with the shadows, yet every single star wishes to be just so unique as the lunar being. 

Oh, Gotham... You shall be a ruin without your saviour.  

“Batman: Is he dead?!”

“The Dark Knight is missing!”

“The odd case of a night vigilante...”

“The Luthor fight kills Batman?- Shocking photos!”

But he stands tall, eyes, enhanced with technology searching the messy streets, looking- it never stops. It’s hours, hours of unpaid labour, his muscles sore, throbbing in the Kevlar suit, each filament of his muscles burning with every movement. He missed it, the pain it brought him, the reminder of his human, pathetic and average life he lived. The man in the suit had bad days, he had injuries, he was rumoured to be dead, rumoured to be a metahuman... People gave him everything, while he was nothing. He always perceived himself as someone not good enough. 

He still went back to the times when Superman made his appearance, when the ‘Justice Gang’ united, then the thoughts rose:  

What if he just gave up? Left it to those metahumans sorry asses? They were already better than he ever was, just because of a biological advantage.  

He was so miserable, so angry and pathetic. It was until he met Superman, the partnership sounding like a slap across the face. He felt as if the hero, the being which looked like it was sent by the gods to guard the Earth wants a partnership with a mortal? Must be a joke, a painfully unfunny one.  

He refused the offer, far too many times... It took Clark too much time to convince the vigilante to participate. The man was a sensation for him, his way of being, his quiet, un hearable by ‘the Man of Steel’ himself getaways and footsteps sending shivers down his spine, something the biggest threats he faced didn’t do.  The Dark Knight most certainly was a strange phenomenon, a mortal so well-trained he was stronger than any metahuman he ever met. A man who used tech to bring his body above perfection, he was like walking order, everything in that man made sense, even the calculated breaths he took while fighting. It was scaring and respect awaking, Superman had the freedom, the power to let himself be careless, but Batman? He didn’t get such things from his life, maybe that was why he was so guarded with everything he did? That question remained unanswered to Clark and to Kal-El still, he never dared to ask, he never felt the real need to do so.  

The cold wind, flying into the cowl while he glides above the city streets, the pressure the wind made still tingling the sore ribs, reminding him of his past injuries, something he never asked for.  

Another thing he didn’t ask for was his Boyfriends supervision during his patrol. 

-” Alfred, please send a message to Clark that I will handle the matters with my own hands.”- He said to the intercom. A light buzz suggested that his Butler indeed received the message. 

-” Of course, Master Bruce, I just don’t guarantee it will work.”- The painfully British voice buzzed back. 

He landed on the cold asphalt of uncanny empty street, landing was perfect, something he wouldn’t expect after such a long time off his duty. The press already assumed he was dead, naming Superman who patrolled the streets for him as his descendant.  

 He blended with the shadows, just like he always did, and it always worked. His steps like feathers falling onto the ground, his steps something even the super-ears couldn’t hear. It was a group of people, about to jump a man who wasn’t able to pay for the drugs they were selling him. Both sides of this conflict will end up in the prison tonight, and he will take great care of that fact. 

The alleyway was dark, old, slightly dim and yellow streetlight providing just enough light to count the people and the general shapes of their faces and see the large, plastic trashcan which must belong to the restaurant next door. The trashcan was open, there was a ladder to the rooftop, and some kind of a metal rod on the ground next to trashcan.  

-” Listen man... It’s the second time you swear you will pay the difference next time.”- One of the thugs mumbled, the collar of his coat standing up, covering the general shape of his face. 

-” Y- you know how it is... But you never minded telling me about the price change too!”- He said, his posture suggesting he was stressed, playing with his life. 

One of the five man responsible for the drugs started pushing his hand into his coat- there was no time to waist. 

First punch flew to the buyer, metal-covered knuckles of his fist connecting perfectly with the man’s jaw, sending his body flying up. The next one was the one who was about to grab his gun. Batman’s hands flew to his head, pushing it down to be met with his Kevlar kneecap, crack of the nose-bone of the skull was satisfying. One was already pushing his ack towards the fire escape ladder, everything was in slow-motion for Bruce, adrenaline pumping through his veins like drugs. Two thugs at the time? No problem for him. They ran at him full speed, hands slightly lifted, getting ready for the kick-boxing position. He grabbed both their necks, doing it swiftly enough for them to don’t manage to put their guards up. Both men were slammed against the brick wall, he let go of the necks, his hands twisting into fists, connecting to their noses, then grabbing their hair and slamming their heads together full force, sending them both into the clouds.  

He managed to grab the thug who helped his boss onto the ladder, he pulled the man down by his feet, the head slamming against the metal ladder, then onto the concrete of the pavement. Blood from the man’s forehead started flowing- “Nothing lethal.”- he thought, jumping over the man.  

His hands grabbed the ladder, the fifth man’s feet visible as they left the ladder. He climbed as quickly as he could. The man was on the run, one thing Batman had to admit was that he was fast with that twink build of his. He pulled out a batarang while he ran, the man already near the edge, he sent it flying at man’s back. The swift weapon puncturing the man’s body like butter, deep and smooth- just like it was meant to be from the beginning. He grabbed the man by the collar, just when he was dangling off the rooftop, nearly 80 kilos of weight in his extended hand, an exercise he didn’t expect to do tonight. He pulled the man onto the rooftop.  

He kneeled over him, one knee on his neck, the other one next to his head. He grabbed the man’s hair holding his head up. 

-” Who do you work with?”- He growled out, not a sign of tiredness in his voice. 

-” Y- you aren’t d- dead?”- He stuttered, genuinely scared. - “ I- I work alone, I cook the meth, dammit!”- He screamed out, pupils dilated, the man was probably high too.  

He slammed the man’s head against the rooftop, sending him unconscious. He breathed out, already this much and it was only the beginning of the night. He took the man and threw him over his shoulder, then he heard it, the breeze.  

-” You can take him down.”- He said, his voice quite fed up as he turned around to face Clark. 

He looked at the man in the suit, with an unconscious criminal dangling off of his shoulder- he missed it. He took the man and laid him on the pavement, he could hear the police wailing, they will be here in a moment, just enough time for both of them to get away. 

-” I thought you got the memo.”- Voice cold, piercing his heart. It was a hurtful thing to hear after such a long time of getting the sweet Bruce only, but he missed that part of him. Of course, he knew that it was all for the man to protect himself, it was just the way it always was. Batman couldn’t risk revealing his identity at any cost, he had too much too loose, just like Clark did... 

In fact, everyone who lived had too much to lose. It could be something smart, insignificant to others that you will miss when you die, perhaps a feeling of how a warm summer morning in between the nature soothes your soul. The ripe fruit on the trees awaiting the harvest, the smell of sweetness in the air. Maybe it was something like coming back home after a hard day to lay down in your bed and sleep.  

He flew back to the rooftop, Batman was doing something on the panel on his left hand, his expression was focused, or at least that’s what Clark assumed because of the wrinkle next to his right nostril. The man looked menacing, the silver light of the moon touching his features lightly, leaving the most of the man in the shadow, making him look as if he belonged right there. He listened to the heartbeat, awfully stable, awfully the same, as if nothing scared this man, this man who made Superman feel little. 

He walked up to the man, he didn’t bother to move, he never did if it wasn’t necessary, in this case it wasn’t, and Clark was more than happy that this isolated man with a heart of a fortress buried deep in the snowy mountains, let him in. Under all this ice, this paths you tried to cross, to follow, after you walked the longest one there was yet, another one, this time leading you into spikey mountains, behind and under it all that man had to offer was something beautiful- a corpse flower of sorts, something so unspeakably different that even if it blooms, it’s still hard to love with its smell. Bruce bloomed under all of this, he bloomed with love and empathy, it was as rare as the corpse flowers bloom.  

-” You don’t want my help? Even a lift?”- He asked, voice as soft as ever, knowing well tat the Bat hated heights. 

Just as expected, Batman pulled out a key to his motorcycle, and gently made them jingle, to let Clark know that he indeed has a transport, all this and he still didn’t take his eyes off the screen. 

-” Oh, come on now!”- He whined, making Bruce roll his eyes. 

He walked up to Batman, his hands grabbing his waist. The man tensed up, his face coming to meet Clark’s, to say something, but at that very moment they took off, more precisely- into the air.  

Bruce stabbed into Superman’s back with his claw-shaped fingers in the gloves, holding Clark desperately, scared to fall down. 

-” Are you sick?!”- He screamed against the air which passed them by at amazing speed. 

It was colder up there, the air seemed gentler, perhaps not so toxic, much clearer. His eyes were closed, he felt pathetic, a man like him, scared of heights? It was ridiculous. Kal-El's hand rested under his ass, pushing him, holding him (most probably with strength that would vaporize a bus), chest to chest. They stopped suddenly, in a vertical position. The oxygen was much rarer here, the lens in his eye giving him a warning about the lack of it, it still was breathable but generally speaking- much harder. 

-” I’m holding you, Love.”- The voice gentle in the dark sky Bruce was so used to see, not to touch it. - “No one is here, no one will see us too.”- He whispered as he removed Batman’s cowl. 

Bruce didn’t protest, he let it happen, quietly accepting his fate. It felt strange, somehow new to feel the cold, night breeze in his hair while being in his suit. He opened his eyes as the wind made its way down his neck. The feeling was unspeakable, he felt suspended in the air, free as his chest risen and fallen, searching for the oxygen. His eyes were wide, adapting to the things surrounding him, almost as if he needed to take in as much as possible before it was gone. The cloud blurring his vision, the grey-white fog around them moved away, revealing something Bruce never thought he could see. 

Gotham city, something so old, so well-known by him... He knew this city by heart, he could navigate it blind, yet he felt as if he was blind the whole time. Skyscrapers, dark, looming figures, above the city skyline, above the average buildings, like trees in an old forest- tall and scary. Just hints of lights, of live in them, points of light, of white, orange and sometimes colourful hues, hypnotizing, just like billboards. All of the lightning singing a song, humming a tune, it was addictive, making you look, making you see, making you feel like a moth, an insect going straight into the burning, awful fire. He felt like this, he felt as if he fell in love with the city, which hurt him every time it got chance to, once again, this time it was stronger.  

He felt... Weird, the thought that he ever thought about the fact he would give the city away, simply because ‘he wasn’t enough’ was so distant now. He will train himself, make himself absolute perfection if it was needed, he will do everything which is in his power if he will need to keep his city, his. 

- 

Metropolis wasn’t perfect, the imperfections made it human, even if it was made it awful and hurtful. 

Superman got kicked out from Gotham City after taking its protector into the sky. He felt like a hurt puppy, but he knew that he deserved it. He deserved it, and it was totally worth it, worth to see the childish shimmer in Bruce’s hollow, empty eyes... It was an experience for him, the delicate shimmer around his iris... The sight alone worth the slap across the face. It was rare, Bruce kept himself restrained, giving himself new bars to reach, new rules to follow. The most painful to see was that the man kept himself awake for crazy amounts of time to punish himself for a simple mistake like letting his guard too low for a second, he called it “Discipline.”, but Clark felt like the word ‘punishment’ was more accurate for the situation.  

-” Superman? You okay?”- Hawkgirl asked him, flying right next to him as Green Lantern and Mister Terrific tried to ‘pacify’ a creature which got out from Luthor Corp. 

-” Yes... Just thinking, thank you for care.”- He mumbled out, his voice distant.  

He flew down next to guy who tried to stop the 3-meter-tall thing from eating a group of people. The ‘thing’ was a giant, blue, aggressive ball of goo, which rolled itself around, eating anything it thought was suitable, with each new thing consumed it sized up. There was seemingly no way to stop it for now (Mister Terrific was searching for something). Clark swiftly grabbed the love birds and escorted them out of the park, while guy tried covering the thing with giant cage, but it kept squeezing out. Kendra evacuated people out of the way, making sure no one will be eaten. He felt out of place, but maybe it was just his mind playing tricks... 

-” Giant lass jar!”- Terrific screamed out, sending the whole team into a state of shock. - “Green Lantern! Maintain the thing while Clark pulls out the things it ate, Kendra evacuate people and preferably some larger objects. I will go look for the glass container!”- And then he simply disappeared, he sounded more enthusiastic than usual, which was weird. 

Of course he would get the worst job... He knew that getting the stuff out of his hair and suit will be painful... Guy tried to keep the thing in place, it was scared of giant hands which came out of the ring, so Green Lantern figured out that he would make it stay in place by simply cutting all the roads of escape away. Superman put his arm inside, the warm feeling sending a shiver down his spine, the thing let out a weird screech, but it didn’t bother to do anything with Clark. He pulled out a bench, put it aside and in seconds the thing was down to 1 meter.  

Kendra flew down, staring at Clark blue hand and then at the thing. 

-” You put your hand inside...?”- She asked, visibly disgusted by the fact. Clark let out a sigh, and she started laughing. 

He put his hand in one more time, searching for anything. This time the thing screamed. 

-” I think it hurts him, Guys.”- Clark mumbled as he pulled out his hand. 

-” Don’t be drama-”- Guy said, not a second later Superman was swallowed by the thing. 

Both of the heroes started laughing their asses off.  

Clark saw everything behind a blurred, blue tint, well that was definitely a unique experience. The positive side of thing was he didn’t hear them laugh, and that he was warm in this winter freezing cold. He felt something poking him, it must be the thing he searched for before he got swallowed. It was some kind of a metal container, maker by “Luthor corp.”.- “So it ate it’s cage? Interesting.”- He thought to himself. He took the metal box, he felt the body around him tremble at the movement. He began to move once more, the trembling grew, he moved, not stopping. He saw the heroes back away, well more like Kendra which seemed disgusted once again. Moments later he found himself hearing the nightlife of Metropolis clearly once again. He laid on the pavement, surrounded by a strange, blue liquid, with the metal box in his hand. 

Mister Terrific was back, putting the thing in the glass container which looked like a normal jar, expect the fact that the lid was glass too.  

-” You look bad.”- He stated, his voice indifferent. Clark didn’t know what to say, he just blinked twice searching for help.  

- 

“Metropolis superhero gets swallowed by the Blue monster!” 

The press was always there to feel you better, right? Apparently, there was pictures and videos of Superman being thrown up by the thing all around the internet within one day. 

He lied on his bed, the apartment cold, somehow empty without Bruce in it. He found himself yearning for any contact with the man, even if he saw him hours ago... Looks like love did scrambled eggs out of Kryptonian brain too.  

His phone ringed, it was no one other than Lois. 

-” Smallville! Should I expect you in the office today?”- She said, voice rather serious, and for the first time in his life Clark felt as if it wasn’t another joke. 

-” No, what happened?”- He mumbled out, voice not enthusiastic, he tried his best to sleep off yesterday’s night shame. 

-” The article about the Tax fraud you wrote the other day? An absolute hit! You’re getting a rase, companies want an interview with you! Youd did it, Smallville!”- he screamed into the telephone, making Clark move his head away from the speaker. 

He felt like screaming, emotions held him in a chokehold, not letting go of him. He felt proud, a great piece after a great piece, it was something that every single writer dreamt of! He never did it for the fame, it was more like a job that would pay for his bills, without sticking out too much, but there he was, getting interview because THEY wanted to speak with him. 

-” Oh my, Lois!”- He screamed out, suddenly wide awake, he felt as if nothing, even the shame he carried as the Superman could stop him! 

-” Yes... But there is bad news, Kent. Superman incident? Second page in every single newspaper in Metropolis.”- There it was, the harsh reality. He felt as if all the colours drained out of him, painfully bringing him back to Earth. 

-” Ouch...”- He mumbled, genuinely hurt. 

-” You better get all the slime out of- “- Lois started, her voice extremely joyful. 

-” Okay, Miss Lane, that’s enough.”- He said and hung up.  

- 

Knock on the door got him out of the texting spiral he had going on with Bruce, the man seemed to have some kind of time off which was something nice to see, besides he promised to get to his apartment later- it was nice to see that he wasn’t really mad at Clark. 

His steps were heavy on the flooring, laying down for the whole day wasn’t a good idea, but even heroes needed a time-off, okay? 

-” Everything best to our saviour Clark Kent!”- Jimmy and Cat screamed at him the second he opened the door, Lois stood behind them with a smile plastered on her face. 

Before he could respond they were already inside, taking their shoes off. He just let out a sigh, putting his phone on the shelve in the corridor as he let Lois in and closed the door behind her. 

-” I tried to come alone, but they were too eager to celebrate.”- She said and moments later was hugging him, a quick friendly embrace. - “I made some changes to the article, but still, it’s your work, you should be proud of it.”- She added, her voice sounding proud. The woman made her way to the living room with bottle of vodka in her hand. 

He watched his friends settle down; it was a heart-warming sight. He felt human, not as alone as always in moments like this, even if he still was Clark Kent around them, not Superman. He was really grateful for these people, they made him feel at peace, somehow understanded, they made his workplace something he waited to see. His whole life he felt different, unwanted and judged, always scared when staring was too long, “What if they know?”, an anxious question, growing stronger in his head each day. The visions of people finding out and ding something to him, making him into a lab rat, not a living being. The thought of a dehumanization haunted him daily, even if the irony was that he wasn’t even human to begin with. His fear of people became blurred the moment he set his foot into the Daily Planet, the place seemed to make his worry vanish, the people were so nice and talkative, they made him feel... Normal. Normal to such degree that he became bored and considered the work monotone, and it was something he never thought would be a case. He was proud of that boring and monotone work, it gave him sense of something stable, routines always made us feel secure and at peace... That’s why we are scared of something new, something different, because it makes us step out of the comfortable routine we learnt. New paths always come with surprises we can’t control and that’s why we always choose the secure options.  

For Clark Kent, Kal-El or Superman being thrown into a repetitive routine was a kind of blessing... Finally at peace after long years of living in the shadows, always unsure in the dark which surrounded him, always at high alert. 

He walked up to his friends, sitting between them. The feeling he missed. 

-” How about we drink a toast to one and only man who has a success after a success!”- Jimmy said and poured the vodka into the four glasses (how did they get there?). 

Everyone took a peg and drank it, Clark too. After all this time he forgot how the liquor tastes like, he never seen sense in drinking it if it didn’t get him drunk. His eyes closed, which made the group laugh out. 

-” You’re this innocent, huh?”- Cat laughed and Jimmy followed. 

-” Oh, you don’t want to play a drinking game with him... He is our always sober king.”- Lois stepped in, he was grateful for it. 

-” Exactly guys, someone has to take care of you.”- He added, sounding like a party popper. 

-” You’re always so tense Clark, almost as if someone was there to haunt you down.”- Jimmy said, already on his second peg, rolling his eyes. The man looked confident, must be his field of drinking.- “You need to relax, you’re like on top of the hill, there is only a way down or a flat way to follow, differently speaking- the hardest part is behind you.”- Jimmy was on point, all of his co-workers were. They all had to be, working in the journalism department expected you to be exact. 

-” Jimmy is right, Darling. You don’t want to be like Becca, heard she never goes out.”- Cat ran her mouth like she always did, he could see why she was in the celebrity part of Daily Planet. 

-” Oh, Cat! She is specific but it isn’t a reason to bring her up.”- Lois argued, making Cat roll her eyes. 

-” But she is right Lois, the woman is weird! I mean the photo department is generally weird and she is the retouching field, always behind the screen! No wonder why they made her the executive there. I work in that department, believe me.”- Jimmy argued back, Lois was cornered and Clark just smiled at the scene. 

-” You should support me, Smallville! You’re the only one who doesn’t run his mouth around like crazy in that workplace.”- She whined out, Clark was outraged by the fact he was being taken into this situation. 

-” What? I don’t even know her, but if she is the one making those retouches then I must say that she is great at it.”- Voice polite, making the room roll their eyes. - “Guys!’- He added. 

-” You’re too good to be true.”- Cat said. - “Speaking of you Clarkie...”- Her tone dangerous. - “You’ve got someone?”- Well, that was straight forward. 

He blushed at the sudden question, he thought they were over the play Cupid era, looks like he was wrong. The room grew silent, both Cat and Jimmy seemed extremely interested by the topic while Lois looked scared, waiting for everything to start unfolding. 

Looks like he was silent for too long. 

-” I’m taking it as a ‘yes’.”- Jimmy purred out, smirk plastered on his face. - “Who’s the lucky woman? You know, you’re a great person, so I don’t expect anything less from her.”- His voice sounded caring, genuine. He smiled at the fact he had such friends who were down bad to hear anything he had to say. 

-” I don’t think I can tell you yet...”- He mumbled out and moments later regretted it as Cat’s eyes sparked with the same shimmer she got after seeing a new gossip. 

-” Is that someone famous! I would never expect it to happen, Clark.”- She started her rambling talking. - “I knew that making you my descendant will be a great decision.”- She said proudly, her eyes closed. 

-” Tell us, we swear to don’t tell anyone.”- Jimmy added before scanning the room, locking eyes with Lois which seemed panicked. - “Looks like Lois know already.”- He added, his voice had a hint of sadness. Clark gave him a panicked smile. 

-” You guys are gossipmongers! It won’t be a day before everyone knows!”- She defended herself, while Cat made a sign that she will zip her mouth, Jimmy just rolled his eyes. - “Smallville wants to have his private life private, not haunted by paparazzi.”- She had a fair point, Clark nodded.  

It was funny seeing how people argued about you and your life while you sat beside them in silence. He knew that both sides of this conflict spoke their truths because of the fact they cared for him. Jimmy and Cat wanted to know if the candidate was capable enough for him, while Lois wanted to protect his much needed peace.  

-” You know I’m not good at keeping secrets either way, but I still do.”- He stated, the whole rooms attention on him. The first two pairs of eyes shone with hopeful stare, while the third one had begging expression in it. He let out as sigh. - “I’ll tell you if you won’t gossip about it, my heart is too weak for people I care about.”- He added while making himself comfortable on the floor on which he sat on. 

-” You have my word for it, Clark.”- Jimmy said, knocking on his left side of chest, while cat took her shot of vodka up and drank it as a sign of promise. 

-” If you say even a word... I’ll make sure you suffer guys.”- Lois said and drank a peg to keep the promise. He laughed at that, his heart filling with the nice feeling of warmth. 

Knock on the door could be heard, they all looked at each other. 

-” I ordered food to your apartment.”- Jimmy said and winked.- “Chinese, we didn’t have that one in a while.”- He added and took out his wallet, then proceeded to throw it to Clark.- “You’re the closest to the door.”- He added, making Clark roll his eyes. 

Clark got up, stretching his back with the wallet in his hand. He opened the door, not bothering to look if it really is the food. 

-” This happy to see me?”- The unemotional voice sending a shiver down his spine, making him freeze. 

That’s right, he forgot about the fact Bruce was supposed to be here today. He covered the man’s mouth with his hand, the man blushed, his eyes a little bit wider than usual. 

-” Lois, Jimmy and cat is here...”- Clark whispered into the other man’s ear. He was blushing too. 

-” Should I go?”- Bruce asked, his voice muffled behind the hand, which Clark took off now with a silly smile on his face. 

-” No... They already asked about who I was dating, they might as well get a reveal if you’re fine with tha-”- He wasn’t able to finish, because he was pulled into a quick kiss. 

-” Clark! How long does it take to pay for the food?”- Jimmy whined, making Bruce tense up. 

Bruce was back to his high-guarded self, of course he wouldn’t put up the Brucie Wayne act, but something more... toned and likeable. Clark felt sorry for the situation. 

-” I will be more than happy to show myself with you.”- He said, voice nonchalant, which somehow always worked on Clark. 

He closed the door behind them and took off Bruce’s coat. He walked back into the living room sitting awkwardly in his spot. 

-” It wasn’t the food, guys.”- He mumbled out, hiding his face between his hands. 

-” What do you mean by that- Holy shit, it’s Bruce Wayne.”- Jimmy said, frozen in place, making the woman’s heads turn. 

-” Yeah, sure and I brought wine.”- Bruce mumbled out nonchalantly. - “You choose to steal my boyfriend away from a date, so looks like we will get drunk together.”- He said, putting the bottle on the table, then taking place next to Clark. 

It was rather obvious that the room would be silent, it wasn’t something he was particularly worried about, thought. It was Lois Lain, whose expression told him enough to know she was being protective over Clark. Weird situation considering the fact they are exes.  

-” Okay... Okay...”- Cat managed to push out. He knew all three of people in the room, the star Daily Planet crew. Cat was always extremely talkative, so seeing her like that was something new. - “I’m sorry Clark, but the last thing I expected to see is Bruce Wayne.”- She added, looking directly into Bruce’s eyes. 

He didn’t say anything in response, which was really out of character considering the fact that they knew his party persona. They all stared at him, probably with a lot of questions, which he hoped he wouldn’t answer. 

Another knock on the door was heard, an intense one. 

-” And... That’s the food.”- Clark said and practically ran to the door, leaving the wolves to haut their prey. 

Chapter Text

Golden autumn goes away, with the golden day, as winter takes its place, freezing the skies, making them bright with blinding white light. The sun not so golden anymore, the leaves not so warm, orange hue, the nightmare of a naked branch taunts your mind. The rests of the lively nature stumbles away for the frozen times to begin. As the city steps away from the wet era and covers itself with the featherily light white coat of snow, the shallow puddles no longer playing the tune which rainfall pushes onto it, its frozen within, its frozen in its greatness state, whishing everyone ‘Happy Christmas’, before it’s too late.  

White snow, white harmony, delicate glitter of Lady Winter, you coat the cities, you coat every surface you meet, you greet the new times, you cleanse every dirt on your way. Make the sins go away too, let my clean my skin within what you have to offer, oh, the deepness of your of the snow, coat me whole, cleanse my soul. I shall be the one with you, I shall be whispering to people around us too. They will hear our whispers loudly, they will seek the voice of snow, oh great Lady Winter take me whole.  

And when the Christmas time begins, release me, make me free, make me seek my vengeance for the things you did to me. Set me free, make me your Templar, your gospel of wisdom you carry in the endless snow, and I will make every city the Winters home. I will help you carry your white, featherily light glitter; I’ll help you sprinkle it on top, I’ll help you cleanse the sins of the City you shall call home. The Christmas time will begin, it always does, my help to you shall suffice, when the homely mood surrounds, when the atmosphere of whimsical holiday settles, I’ll carry the presents to you, I’ll rearrange the skies so that my Lady Winter will be the gospel of the holy night. 

And as the snow coats everything alone, shimmering in the moonlight, feeling like it’s home, I’ll stand tall, I’ll watch it happen. I will overlook every second of the process, I’ll coat everything evenly with my snowy powder, I’ll make the decorations for the jolly time to come... All of this effort for you, Lady Winter, to call city a ‘home’.  

And so was done, Metropolis and Gotham were eaten alive. The rumbling of snowy times, where presents and gifts are giver around, the decorations hanging in their glory, awaiting the looks, tempting the eyes for a second longer, because no time will suffice. The greens, the red and blueish hues from the freezing days and night, which blend into one, you name it all, you know it all. When the air is just a little too cold, when the ground is a little too still- this, this is when winter begins.  

Knock on the door could be heard, rumbling through the apartment. Clark’s steps too tired to do anything, his hair dripping wet because of the shower he took moments before. He put on his glasses, never putting anything at risk. 

-” Its freezing out there.”- Was heard and the man was shoved aside, while black mass walked inside. 

Bruce hung his coat on the hanger and took off his shoes, not bothering enough to pay attention to half-naked Clark, who certainly would be a temptation. He locked the door behind the other man, taking off his glasses and looking at Bruce, who already was talking on the phone by the balcony window. “Never leaving work, huh...”- He thought to himself, the man looked awful, but it was a nice surprise to see him after three days. Bruce was overworking himself when Christmas time arrived, and it always was he same. Getting too much work on himself, saying things like “I want to take something off of these poor people, they have families.”, then came the nightly patrols and sleeping whenever he got a chance, resulting in a half-dead human being which looked too good to be true on those photoshoots which seemed to happen weekly. Clark adored Sundays, because Bruce could sleep peacefully on them, his face was relaxed and in moments like that he didn’t seem to fight for his life at every step.  

There were worse days for him too, but it wasn’t anything that Clark wouldn’t manage to handle. The Dark Knight seemed much more... Open, if you can call it that. The little smiles became more frequent and he sometimes he discarded his cold demeanour to make a comment which made superman smile just a little bit. 

-” I’m sorry I got here unannounced, it’s an immediate matter- Oh, my god, you’re naked.”- He said with a serious face at first, which melted into a fuzzy blush. He stood there for a second, watching what Clark had to offer. 

-” It’s fine...”- His tone confused with this awkward eye contact. - “Can I just-”- He mumbled, and Bruce just wagged his head. 

- 

Bruce was still standing in the same spot when Clark came back, looking at something on his phone. He decided to grab the man’s waist, pulling him close, making him put his phone away. 

-” I missed you.”- He said, voice soft, tender at the edges. 

-” It’s been three days, don’t be overdramatic.”- Bruce said back, his voice unusually soft. - “Work is killing me, I didn’t sleep in four days, taking naps whenever I can...”- He whined, that was something new too- the man must be really tired to be this out of character. 

-” Are you sure you’re Bruce? You don’t act like him...”- Clark said, hugging the man tighter. - “I’ll let you go with a warning this time.”- He added, smiling delicately. 

They stayed like that for a while longer, in the quiet, in the peace Clark learned that Bruce adored. They pulled away, Buce on the couch, while the other man was in the kitchen, making them some tea- it was the best drink for cold days, the sweet orange smell with honey and raspberry underneath, it cured your soul, sang you a lullaby to sleep while you drank it. It was another thing which Clark found extremely joyful on this earth.  

-” You wanted to tell me something.”- He said, setting the steaming hot beverages on the coffee table.  

-” It’s the yearly Gala.”- He said, the dark circles under his eyes more visible in the over-the-head lightning. - “They send me an invite; I managed to find it in the ridiculous amount of mail I receive.”- He explained, massaging the bridge of his nose, movements visibly tired. - “And as they always do I have one for my ‘other half’. Looks like they want me to settle.”- He tried to joke, while Clark completely froze half-way in drinking his tea. 

-” You want me to come?”- He squeezed out, completely panicked.  

There was a crazy amount of scenarios of what could go wrong racing through his head. He could make Bruce a target of public shame just because he was a simple not really known reporter, or perhaps he would put Bruce i a bad light because he would answer a question wrong... 

-” I don’t think I’m made for those kinds of gatherings, well not from that side.”- He quickly said and was met with the usual “You better watch your words.” Batman look of those steel blue eyes, the green rim as piercing as a million of spears. 

-” You won’t need to speak a word.”- He added, looks like it was important for him.  

He never thought that the roles would be reversed like that. The thought of ‘dating Bruce Wayne’ came with another one, which stated that ‘He would never go public about a relationship with a common human being’, but there they were in completely reversed situations, where he was the one wanting to flex his boyfriend. Ever since he told the fact that he dated no one other than the Gotham’s favourite son to Jimmy and Cat they were at the edge of going public every single day, because both of these people couldn’t keep their mouth shut properly.  

-” But Clark... I just need to warn you that you might hear some awful shit about what people think about me when you agree, because I need to send a confirmation that I’ll be coming with a ‘+1’.”- Bruce said, sipping his tea. Words came out of his mouth nonchalantly, despite they rather... concerning nature. - “I don’t push you; I know that you will be there as a reporter.”- He added with a wink at the end. 

-” What? How?”- Clark was stunned at the information which was added in at the end. The schedule wasn’t even made yet for the Christmas events. 

-” I spoke with Mister White about it.”- His tone indifferent, normal and casual, but the situation in which your boyfriend calls your boss about your whereabouts is everything but casual. Clark just let out a deep sigh; he should’ve expected that.  

-” Are you aware that I only have scraps of life left in my job? Mister White will start send me winks... And they are awful.”- He whined out, covering his face with his hands. - “Fine.”- He mumbled out. 

-” Hm?” 

-” I’ll go with you, Love. You know it’s hard to say ‘no’ to you.”- Clark mumbled out embarrassed at his own words. 

Bruce just placed his hand on his thigh and squeezed it as a sign of affection.  

-” Oh, well then... Brace yourself for the impact.”- He said with a playful smirk. 

-” I should be the one saying it to you.”- Clark pointed out with a rather confused face. 

- 

“Bruce Wayne is... Dating someone?!”

“Bruce Wayne and Batman!: A relationship so secretive that Bruce had to act like a playboy?”

“Top 10 perfect matches for Bruce Wayne!”

“Who is suitable for one of the Waynes?: Psychologist responds with a shocking answer.”

“New episode of weekly podcast: Is there anyone to match the greatness of a Wayne?”

“Himbo finally settling? She might be pretty!”

“Model who slept with Bruce Wayne reveals her suspects for possible partners!”

“The recent Bisexual coming out and now a other half?!: New BOYFRIEND of a Wayne!”

- 

Okay, maybe Bruce wasn’t exaggerating, and it wasn’t even half a day since the response went back to the organizer of the Gala. Clark started wondering if these people didn’t have such articles on stand-by, it would be much more possible. What made him even more stunned was the fact that the invitation came in two weeks before the gala, the deadline was crazy considering the fact in what these people came in, money really could buy you anything if you had a good amount, huh? 

He prepared himself mentally for the fact that Bruce will indeed put him in a ridiculously good-looking suit, and if it wasn’t him, then Alfred will do it. They were already told to meet up, that they will go to Gotham and order the suit. He felt tired at the thought alone, wearing nice clothes was like imprisonment for him, and he bets that being in jail would be much more pleasant. 

-” Clark? You’ve got a minute?”- Cat cached him off-guard, breaking him free from his thoughts.  

-” Sure... What’s up?”- He asked and offered one of his smiles which turned out a little bad.  

-” Nothing in particular... But is that you?” 

-” What do you mean?”- He was genuinely confused.  

-” You’re going to the gala with-”- And then he understood, cutting her off with a hand gesture. 

-” Yes...”- He admitted, it’s not like he really had any other choice.  

It seemed like cat’s eyes lit up almost instantly, almost as if he saw God himself. He knew that there was nothing good behind that look.  

-” Oh, I’ll make sure that Jimmy will take the most flamboyant pictures of you, besides I will write the best article in history of all Galas!”- Cat purred out proudly, almost squeaking with excitement. She gave him a quick hug and almost ran off to her desk. 

Looks like he will be a centrepiece of his workplace after events of that Gala. He felt slight tap on his shoulder. 

-” You realise that you probably won’t have a life after this, right?”- Lois asked him, her tone half serious, half-joking.  

-” I do... But if it means Bruce will speak about us whenever he wants... And well, my crush on Bruce Wayne won’t be a joke in here anymore, then it’s worth it all.”- Clark confessed with a smile on his face. 

-” Lost cause, Smallville... Lost cause...”- Lois mumbled out, her tone breathy as she walked away to her desk. 

- 

As it turns out his duty was taken off of him by Cat, leaving him to accompany Bruce for the whole night. His lover wasn’t mad about it, he was more than happy to share the struggle of talking with vacant, rotten rich people.  

They stood in the tailor shop, on top of a wooden stool. The man took the measurements off of him, while Bruce followed him like a shadow, but never bothering him. 

-” I must say you’re a true hidden gem, Mister Kent.”- The man spoke up, noting down something on his notepad.- “Mister Wayne over there has a true sleeper build, and I love to bring it out with the suits he wears, oh believe me Bruce, each time I see those compliments on my creations I get heart palpitations... But back to you Mister Kent, how do you manage to hide so much muscle? I’ll make sure to show it just a little bit, not too much if you like to hide it though.”- The man said in joyful tone, leaving a wink at the end. Clark found himself smiling at the comments, but the most important matter was the fact that Bruce looked at the man’s doings with laser focus.  

-” That’s all, am I right, Mister Kowalski?”- Bruce asked, his voice casual. 

-” It is, it is. So now for the designs.”- He said with a smile and walked to the table, making them come with him. The three men sat down, he taken out various folder, flooding the table with them. 

Bruce presented one folder to Clark, his face nonchalant, just like always in social interactions. Bruce looked like he knew what he was searching for, making Clark look quite stupid with the slow analysis of everything. 

-” Is there any particular theme this year? I didn’t have the pleasure to meet anyone going to this year’s Christmas Gala.”- The tailor asked, looking through the designs. - “Mister Kent, you should open this folder if you’re looking for the ones that will hide your muscular build, the patterns which Bruce handed you should be great too. I’m happy to help.”- He added, his eyes going back at Bruce who was extremely focused. 

-” I think there is none, besides the ‘Wear something with a colour’ one this year, ever since the last year’s 1860’s fashion was a flop, practically no one had era-accurate outfits.”- Bruce mumbled out, not bothering to take his eyes off of the folder.  

Clark was looking around the room slightly panicked, he felt awfully uneducated at everything that was currently happening around him, he knew that Gala was indeed a flop, he helped Cat cover it after all... Buth those designs that he had in front of him? They were a whole another topic to him. Everything seemed like ancient scripts he didn’t understand, besides his sense of fashion was awful. Every suit he ever wore? It was Lois doings... He was grateful for it each day. 

-” Clark, do you need help?”- Bruce’s voice hit him through the blur. He noticed that the tailor on the other hand had evaporated.  

-” Huh?” 

-” I didn’t think this through, I should’ve told you about some basics.” 

-” Its fine... Do you have any direction for me? Patterns or cuts? I just feel so blind... There is so much.”- Clark had mumbled out, his mind already spiralling. 

-” Well I thought we could have some elements that resemble each other, but not matching.”- Bruce said, taking the folder away from Clark.  

He looked so effortless explaining the basics, the papers flowing under his hands, finger against the surface explaining the patterns like a true designer, suggesting colours and cuts that would lay nicely on Clark, somehow managing to restrain himself from slipping in some (suggesting) comments. He tried to get the man to wear something fitting, something for his eyes to see only, and he managed to do that by putting in a tight-fitting vest under the over-sized coat that Clark was supposed to wear. He felt proud of that achievement, seeing the man in his civil persona, with something that would expose his true from just a little bit, even if it was only for Bruce to see, was driving him insane. The amount of attraction he had toward that man was unspeakable, no matter what he wore, Mister Wayne himself will be there to appreciate it as much, as humanly possible. 

- 

The gala night came quicker than expected, everything was taken care of, each detail was studied by Bruce with obsessive precision, which made Clark worry just a little bit. Everything was flawless, from the outfits, down to the transport and even the route they would take to get away from the paparazzi. With each day the speculations about Bruce’s ‘+1’ grew wilder and wilder, the fact that he didn’t comment on it and treated it as something minor in front of public eye seemed to drive people mad. Bruce and Clark grew more and more exhausted by this act with each day, so when the judgement day came, they felt free for the first time in three weeks.  

Alfred agreed to drive them and pick them up from the event, which was certainly a rare event, the man was truly biased towards Clark, of course, he never said it was true, but Bruce had a pair of eyes, and he did see how the man acted.  

-” I think I’m going to die.”- Clark mumbled out, it was the first this he said ever since they started driving. 

Outskirts of Gotham were strange, they looked straight out from a horror movie, lonely villas littered the ground, each one with quite a nice hectare around. The fact that there were so many guards around, like guard dogs, looking after the buildings. Driving around such areas with intention of being “unseen” was strange, but Bruce knew that those homes were empty, everyone choose to drive through the city, to simply show-off, since the Gala took place in the city centre, besides Mister Wayne had to be fashionably late, he always was, and everyone somehow adored it (besides Bruce). 

-” You won’t.”- He answered, looking out the window. He himself was stressed, but it was because he was worried if it wasn’t too much for Clark.  

The black Rolls Royce Spectre rolled through the streets, fast, but just slow enough for everyone to see, a car out of character for Bruce Wayne, because “The man preferred something classic or a sports car.”, which was another cover up.  

-” The way people are looking seems like humiliation ritual, you know?”- He whined, making Bruce smirk, Alfred just smiled into the rear-view mirror. 

-” And that’s what it exactly is.”- Bruce answered, leaning his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. - “Don’t worry, the worst is about to begin.”- He purred out smoothly, getting himself into the Brucie Wayne persona. 

-” I’ll miss you when we’ll walk in there.”- Clark added, noticing the behaviour change. 

-” Don’t you worry Darling, I’m there for you only.”- His tone playful, mouth already kissing the skin of his lover’s neck. 

- 

The flashing lights, blinding and hypnotizing, straight into your face as you exited your car. Clark found himself a little stunned with the experience, it was... Something. He never thought he would find himself in this position, not behind the usual metal barriers where he usually was, but in front of them. His feet against the red carpet, as if they belonged there. His hand was gripping Bruce’s one, he felt like an alien, he was one, but now? The feeling was awful in his chest, gripping onto his lungs. Alfred drove off, leaving them be, he knew that they were half an hour late, judging on the emptiness on the carpet, paparazzi and reporters were there, all of them- Daily Star, Daily Planet, Picture news, Gotam gazette, Gotham times... All the biggest ones with their reporters and photographs, ready to snap a picture and make a comment on everything.  

-” Clark, just a moment, we won’t stop for interview or anything, we’ll dash to the tables.”- Bruce whispered out, his voice soft, delicate, something which made Clark blush and his heart stutter just a little bit. 

Everything paused, every single pair of eyes staring at them in silence- something which never happened on such events. Then like a waterfall hitting a surface the flashing lights of cameras and screams of reporters could be heard. They chanted Bruce’s name, begging for an interview, but what’s even worst Clark could hear his name being told too, looks like his recent public activity in writing really did have an impact on his persona. He felt strange with such recognition as Clark Kent, the normal, grey reporter from Smallville, he knew how to act, he was Superman after all, but this? As Superman he was saving people, they didn’t expect anything else from him then, but he knew really well that the reporters will expect you to be fun and well-spoken, entertaining... But as a hero? You could’ve been anything, simply because your actions were valued enough. 

Piercing gazes on them, he saw reflection in them, he saw himself in these people. He worked like those people, his eyes, two points in the room, writing down everything he could, catching each detail, each small button on the celebrity shirt. He was like a wolf in the room, like a predator, hunting their preys with his eyes, looking for a lamb that would suffice, now he was the hunted one. He remembered how he looked at people, the same they now looked at him, they tried to memorise every single detail they could, to later write it down, to have content to share.  

His suit was truly flashy, he felt weirdly comfortable in it, even if he never thought he would wear such piece in his life. His boots were just normal black, leather boots, with a slight heel which made him look prouder, above them were oversized indigo pants, with ikat print on them, the print was made with a shimmering thread which glistened like a star on a night sky, blazer was made with a matching material, the slightly oversize cut hiding his muscles, the long coattails of his blazer covering his ass, as well as the upper half of his thighs. The blazer was unbuttoned, with a blank, black pocket square tucket in. Under the blazer was a black vest, which had a corset lace at the back, making it adjustable, but also really thigh fitting, to Bruce’s satisfaction. His shirt was a blank, black one as well, the shirt cuffs were visible under the blazer with their silver pins on top, which matched the chain above the tie. The chain was attached to the collar, going on top of a tie which matched the blazers and pants material. His hair were in the same curly, chaotic pattern as always, with his black glasses resting proudly on his nose.  

Bruce on the other hand really out-did himself, the man seemed to have a new, higher standard with each outfit he wore. Clark wasn’t there to admire him (well, he kind of was) as he always did, but he just couldn’t stop himself from doing so, he imagined all the descriptions he would write about that man’s outfit. The black, two-inches tall, leather loafers on his feet, making him slightly taller than Clark were accompanied by over-size, wide legged pants, they were made out of a blank, black fabric, on top of them rested a black leather belt with a big, silver, engraved buckle. Higher up rested the black vest, made with the same fabric as the pants, which was tied with a black corset lace on the both sides, kissing the man’s waist, making him look even thinner. Under it was another vest, but this one was dark, bloody red with a baroque design which was embroider with the same shimmering threat, the left sleeve of the vest was short, its wavy nature sticking out delicately from underneath the black vest, the right sleeve on the other hand was extremely long, covering the entirety of Bruce’s hand, it was oversize and really wavy like a skirt. Underneath it all was a black, blank shirt, it’s cuffs were pinned with a “W”-engraved pins, then a tie which matched with the material used on the second vest. Above the tie was a chain similar to the one that Clark wore. Bruce wore rings on his fingers in the same silver colour as the chain and pins on his shirt cuffs. His hair was combed back, with the same messy manor as always, but this time his perfect, stell-blue eyes had a black crayon under them, giving him a wild look. 

Bruce was holding onto Clark, his inner instincts told him to, the man seemed stressed out ever since they walked out the car, which was surprising considering the fact that he worked in the industry and gave hundreds of interviews as Superman. They walked into the building, ignoring the howling people behind them, begging for just a comment. - “They’ll comment it on their own.”- Bruce thought to himself, rolling his eyes. What was important now was taking their place, hoping that all the, oh, so sweet, greetings and speeches were done by the time they arrived.  

He wasn’t in this building for the first time, the old, Gotham infrastructure was really spacious, especially considering the fact that this tenement was a hotel and a gala place from its beginnings. They walked in the first, dark hallway Bruce could find. 

-” Are you okay?”- Question soft on his tongue, eyes connecting with the other pair. 

-” Yes...”- Came out from the other man’s mouth, soft, unsure. - “I just never expected it to look like this... I mean you always look so relaxed while doing all this, with those flashes in your face.”- He explained himself, his hand going onto his partners cheek. 

-” I just grew used to it.”- Bruce admitted, leaning into the offered touch. - “I’m surprised you took it this bad, you looked shocked.”- He blurted out, then regretted his words. 

-” Look, it’s not like that when you know. It’s usually just civilians and maybe one TV reporter... Not a whole army.”- His voice fed up. He took his hand away and let out a deep breath. - “A long night awaits us.” 

- 

They sat at the table, as always Bruce Wayne and his ‘+1’ were sat next to the host, it was a weird tradition at this point, sure it meant that he was important, but his getaways weren’t as easy as they could be. The food wasn’t served yet, but they got a glass of champagne each, neither of them will be drinking it, but that’s something out of the picture. 

Rhythmic tapping of high heeled boots disturbed their peace, which was too long anyways. Bruce knew what kind of sound it was, he knew it far too well. A light touch on his shoulder, a long-fingered hand resting, squeezing, demanding attention with the alabastrine skin.  

-” Bruce Wayne.”- A delicate, singing voice rang in his ear. 

-” Mykaila Depp, what a meeting.”- He said with his fake, gentle tone. Clark blinked twice at the sound, begging silently for help. 

-” So your new victim is no one other than Clark Kent.”- The woman said with the same tone as before.  

Clark felt alerted, while Bruce acted as if he didn’t care, which was a lie, because the twitch of his eyelid was invisible, but hearable for a certain pair of ears.  

-” I heard only great words about, Mister Kent.”- She said, her face with sharp eyes now on Clark. - “If he ever gets bored you can come to me, I’ll wait.”- She whispered with a wink. 

-” I don’t think I’ll get-” 

-” If my standards get lower, I’ll make sure to find you, Mykaila? Was that your name?”- Clark interrupted and placed his hand on Bruce’s thigh. The woman blinked twice with a puzzled expression.- “Never heard about her, Darling.”- He added, looking at Bruce. 

-” She was one of really petty one-nightstands I did back in the day.”- Bruce added to the play, the snowy woman just cracked a rather nasty smile and took her departure. - “Really well played.”- Bruce added in with a hint of admiration.  

-” Oh, thank you, Mister Wayne.”- Clark said, matching the playful tone, never bothering to take his hand off Bruce’s thigh. 

-” Dancefloor would be a smart move right now, we could show ourselves just a bit more.”- The billionaire suggested, placing his hand on top of Clark’s hand, squeezing, pulling the man onto the dancefloor. 

The atmosphere was changed drastically, women and men in their flashy outfits, littering the parquet, just like planets in their colourful glory litter the endless galaxy. They twisted their bodies, danced and twirled around, their movements full of glory, of intention, each one seemed to be made with focus. The kaleidoscopic movements, colours changing, blending, switching, mixing, all this glory for your eyes to see. Just like birds flying freely, cutting through the air with their razor-sharp wings, a dance, a flowy scene, bodies, something human twisting in a form of art, in a form of interpretation, souls, the star beings on the dancefloor, making people look free. Like a false belief the freedom could be seen, they were part of it, bumping into others as they danced.  

If we’d go again, all the way from the start... 

And Clark couldn’t tell if the smile he sees on his lovers face was real, the delicate lift of his cheeks, the expression full of love holding him captive. 

I would try to change things that killed our love... 

As they moved through the dancefloor, their hands together, not bothering to break apart, never again, as he watched the grace in front of him. 

Yes, I’ve hurt your pride, and I know what you’ve been through... 

He knew the cold side of the person in front of him, he knew the soft side, the one which held him captive just now... Even if it was fake, for the public’s eye to see, he didn’t care. The softness of those eyes, full of love which admired him just now, as they danced to the music, he would stay in this moment forever if he could. 

You should give me a chance; this can’t be the end... 

His eyes were filled with joy and love, he looked at the man he loved, feeling free, he felt free... His usual public persona has melted away, he looked at those curly hair in the dim light, holding him captive, making his eyes feel teary. 

I’m still loving you... 

All those galas, all those smiles, all those years he did it all, getting away before it’s too late, never committing to anything which could hurt him in the future, never creating weakness which could hurt him in any way. 

I’m still loving you... 

The pathetic feeling, the weakness he feared was in front of him, in the finest form he could’ve ever imagined, in the form which wasn’t weak, in a form he didn’t have to protect, to hide away... It was in a form of something he could embrace and feel. 

I’m still loving you, I need your love... 

And Clark, looking at the man in front of him didn’t consider relationships a problem anymore, he simply knew what to do, he never felt invalid... He didn’t feel hopeless anymore, he didn’t feel like too much, he felt like he was just enough. 

I’m still loving you... 

And now they both weren’t scared that they destroy each other, and they both didn’t fear their feeling anymore. They could live freely now, never scared for themselves, protecting each other, supporting each other through tough times.  

Still loving you baby... 

Their bodies connected, close, chest to chest, hands hugging each other, hang on their waists. Close as they looked into each other’s eyes. The pure blue of Kansas skies, connecting itself with the steel of Gotham’s darkness, the dirt, the sleek modernity connecting, embracing, being just one, just enough, just blue of iris. 

-” I love you, Clark Kent.”- Cutting words through the songs, through mouths who spoke words they weren’t supposed to be speaking, delicate, above a whisper, intimate in a world full of unwanted eyes. 

-” I love you, Bruce Wayne.”- Deep, loving and soft, something no money could buy, something people in this hall couldn’t simply afford.