Chapter Text
The rooftop outside GCPD was quiet, save for the hum of the city and the occasional slam of a distant car door. Gotham was always noisy, but around Gordon’s office, it had a certain muted heaviness.
Clark hovered just a step behind Bruce as they waited. Gordon’s blinds were drawn—lunch break—and it was strange to Clark that Batman had to wait for someone’s schedule. Bruce didn’t look impatient. He stood still as a gargoyle, cloak draped around him, eyes narrowed under the cowl.
When Gordon finally appeared, sandwich in hand, his gaze flicked from Batman to the tall man in blue hovering nearby. He didn’t even break stride as he said, “Your guy looks taller in the daylight.”
Clark blinked, heat flooding into his cheeks. Your guy? His brain stumbled over it. Jim Gordon—Gotham’s top cop—just casually referred to him as Batman’s… partner. Out loud. In public. Right in front of Bruce.
Bruce didn’t correct him.
Instead, Batman gave a low grunt of acknowledgment and started walking toward Gordon, all business. Clark nearly tripped on his own cape trying to follow, the words your guy replaying in his head.
So Gordon knows. He must. That’s why Bruce never clarified last night. He didn’t need to. Because it’s already… us.
Clark tried to school his expression, though his smile was tugging a little too wide.
They reached Gordon’s corner of the rooftop, the commissioner taking a bite of his sandwich like he’d seen it all before. Batman’s voice dropped into that gravelly register that made even Superman’s spine stiffen a bit. Low, deliberate, practiced—it wasn’t Bruce’s real voice, Clark realized, but the one he used to make sure Batman stayed larger than life.
“We’ve confirmed activity on the east docks,” Batman said. “Shipment routes don’t match Wayne Industries manifests. Someone’s piggybacking.”
Clark stayed politely quiet. He was here as backup, and Bruce had made that clear with a glance earlier. Still, when Gordon raised a brow at him, Clark offered, “I checked the manifests on my end. He’s right. Something’s off. Someone’s covering their tracks.”
Gordon grunted. “Figures. Good to have your guy backing you up, Batman. Makes the job easier.”
Your guy. Again. Clark’s stomach flipped. He looked at Bruce, who didn’t so much as twitch. No denial. No correction. Just that unwavering bat-stare into the shadows.
Clark’s chest tightened with something warm and embarrassing. So that’s it. It’s… official. Public. We’re a thing. Out here, as Superman and Batman. That’s why Bruce is quiet about it as Bruce Wayne—because he can’t risk the press. Of course. I should’ve known.
Clark’s mind spiraled as Bruce and Gordon finished their exchange. He’d been so caught up in trying to play it cool last night that he hadn’t even realized he was already dating his colleague. Dating Batman. How long? Months? A year? He felt his ears burn. He couldn’t just ask—he’d look like a terrible boyfriend for forgetting an anniversary.
When Gordon finally finished his sandwich, he gave a curt nod. “Keep me posted. Both of you.” Then, with a glance at Clark, he added in his usual deadpan, “Your guy’s polite. You could learn something from him.”
Clark nearly choked on his own breath. Bruce didn’t react.
Gordon walked off, disappearing into the building, and Clark was left staring at Batman, who was already turning away.
“Business is done,” Bruce said flatly. “You can go back to Metropolis.”
Clark blinked. “I… don’t really have anywhere to go right now. I can stay.”
A shrug. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll just meet you at the cave then,” Clark said quickly, before Bruce could disappear into the shadows like he always did.
Batman didn’t argue. He simply walked to the Batmobile, cape sweeping dramatically, and slid inside. Clark floated into the air, following at a careful distance, smiling despite himself.
The Batcave was colder than he remembered. Vast and echoing, lit by monitors and fluorescent light. Clark landed lightly on the stone floor and trailed Bruce to the massive console. Bruce peeled the cowl off, running a hand through his damp hair before sitting down in the high-backed chair. The tired lines of his face stood out more without the mask, softened just slightly by the glow of the computer screens.
Clark sat next to him, still a little in awe of how enormous the place was. “I still can’t get used to this cave,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.
Bruce didn’t look at him, fingers typing across the keys. “I can tell.”
“How?”
“Because you always pick the seat right next to me.”
Clark let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well—of course I do. Obviously I’m going to stick by your side.”
That earned him the faintest scoff, and a subtle shake of Bruce’s head. The kind of reaction that, to anyone else, might have looked like irritation. But Clark recognized it now—Bruce’s quiet way of letting him in.
Clark studied his profile as Bruce worked. His face was so serious, so intent, the shadows under his eyes only deepened by the black eyeliner smudged faintly around them. It should’ve looked grim. Instead, Clark found himself smiling. This Bruce—focused, a little tired, stripped of the armor of Batman—was endearing in a way he couldn’t explain. Cute, even.
Bruce caught him staring. His head tilted, eyes narrowing. “What?”
Clark startled, heat rushing up his neck. “Nothing,” he said quickly, sheepish, flustered.
Bruce gave him a long look, then turned back to the screens. Without another word, he stood, cape trailing behind him as he headed for the little alcove tucked away near the cave wall.
Clark frowned, unsure what he’d said wrong—until Bruce came back a few minutes later with two mugs in hand. He set one down in front of Clark without a word.
Clark blinked, then smiled again, softer this time. Bruce didn’t hug. He didn’t say things out loud. But he made him coffee. He let him sit by his side. He introduced him to Gordon as his guy.
That was Bruce’s way of saying everything.
And Clark—flustered, smiling, still unsure of their anniversary—decided he’d take it.