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Superman met Batman on a Gotham city rooftop. Normally Superman didn’t stray away from Metropolis, but Lex Luther had come there to open a new research lab, and Superman was suspicious. He knew Lex Luthor, and he always had some other motive behind his actions. Superman had been spying from a rooftop across the street from the new lab, peering through the windows, when a looming figure appeared behind him. The rustle of a cloak and disapproving grunt gave away the stranger.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not your next villain with a ridiculous name.” Superman said.
“Go back to Metropolis, Superman.” A dark and raspy voice said behind him. “Gotham is mine.”
“No can do, buddy-boy, because sadly Lex is mine. I’ll probably be back from time to time, so you’ll just have to get used to me.” Superman stood up and turned around with a grin. For the first time he stood face to face with his broody, gothic counterpart, who was standing very, very close.
They'd been in contact before, sharing relevant information and discussing the creation of some Superhero team that never came to fruition, but they had never spoken in person.
Superman was surprised. He hadn’t expected the man who called himself Vengeance to have such beautiful eyes behind that mask and all that black paint. Neither had he expected the strong jawline, pink lips, long neck or lithe but muscular build.
Batman gave him an intense look that said he wasn’t pleased with Superman’s previous words. Superman gulped. “You don’t mind, do you?” He managed a small smirk.
“I’ll manage.” Batman stated briefly. Superman revelled in the vibrato of his voice. Suddenly Batman took a step away and said: “Stay out of my way.” before disappearing into the night.
*
Bruce Wayne met Clark Kent at a gala at the Gotham City art museum. Clark had been sent there to cover the art exhibition that was to be unveiled for his newspaper, The Daily Planet, apparently. Bruce had spotted him from across the room, picked up two glasses of champagne from a waiter passing by and walked over to the man who looked like ‘fish-out-of-water’ personified.
“Champagne?” He asked, and extended a glass to the tall, muscular brunette.
The man met his eyes and shook his head. Bruce noted his eyes were a deep blue behind his thick rimmed glasses.
“Can’t. Working.” The gorgeous brunette replied and motioned to the camera around his neck.
“Hmm. Shame. What do you do?” Bruce asked and took a drink from one glass while setting down the other on a nearby table. He looked his newest desire up and down as he waited for him to speak.
“I’m a reporter. Clark Kent.” He extended his hand. Bruce took it, but instead of shaking it, he brought it up to his lips.
“Bruce Wayne. Charmed” He said and kissed Clark’s hand.
“I know who you are.” Clark said with a hint of a flush as he pulled it back.
“Not everything I’m sure. Perhaps you could interview me some time? Get to know me better”
“Sure!” Clark smiled. A big friendly Kansas smile that made Bruce’s heart melt a little. He needed to get this man into his bed before the night was over.
“Does dinner work?” Bruce asked with a charming grin.
*
Bruce Wayne met Superman when Bruce begrudgingly thanked him for saving him from an attempted kidnapping. He was in a foul mood. This last week he’d been beaten badly by a gangster’s minions as Batman, kidnapped and forced to play hostage as to not reveal his identity as Bruce Wayne, and worst of all, Clark Kent - who he had not yet managed to get into bed - had rescheduled their date, or “interview” as Clark insisted, for the third time.
Bruce stood on the stairs to the city hall when Superman landed beside him, in front of a roaring crowd of photographers. If a flash of recognition could be witnessed in either of their eyes, neither the cameras nor they themselves managed to catch it.
“Superman. On time even. You have a better track-record than Batman already,” Bruce said jokingly as they shook hands for the cameras. “I’ve never even seen him.”
“Oh, don’t say that. I’m sure Batman would’ve saved you if he could.” Superman humbly replied. “He called me in personally to handle your safe return. He’s alright, if a little brooding.”
“Ah. Never liked the guy myself.” Bruce said casually and flashed his (quite literally) billion dollar smile toward another set of cameras. He tried his best to conceal the stabbing pain from his broken ribs that the public didn’t know about. “Way too much black. He could use a little colour in his suit.”
Superman threw him a look he didn’t quite catch. “I like his suit. You should see it close up. It fits him like a glove.” Superman defended his fellow crime fighter.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. So Superman had checked out his suit. Interesting.
Not that it mattered. There were some lines even the serial-heartbreaker and alleged playboy Bruce Wayne didn’t cross. Besides, he had his eye on someone else.
*
Clark Kent met Batman outside the GCPD main building. The hero had just taken the Penguin into custody and was exiting with Gordon.
Two dozen reporters and twice as many civilians stood around hoping for a chance to talk to, or even glimpse at, Gotham’s own saviour.
Clark stared at him with a small smile tugging at his lips.
Over the last few weeks he- Superman and Batman had worked quite closely, with Superman pendling back and forth due to Lex Luthor's new lab. He hadn’t found anything suspicious yet, nothing that warranted he continued his visits in Gotham this frequently.
He would like to believe that Batman had finally started to let down his walls. On a four hour stake-out one night, waiting for the group of mobsters to show up at the meeting spot GCPD had received a tip about, Batman had spoken about his personal life for the first time.
It wasn’t much, only bits and pieces, but Superman could piece together the sort of person who hid under the suit. And he had accidentally given himself away with a throwaway comment when Superman spoke about childhood memories, revealing he was similar aged as Clark.
And if Clark wasn’t already attracted to the dark, looming presence of Batman, seeing him in combat, artfully moving around the room and working up a sweat, had only made Clark’s attraction grow.
Now, Clark Kent from The Daily Planet was staring down Batman like he had done so many times before, and he didn’t think twice about it until he accidentally caught Batman’s eye.
Clark froze as Batman parted the sea of photographers and journalists and stopped in front of Clark. He looked him up and down slowly, and Clark felt a shiver go up his spine.
The bat stared down at him.
“You were staring at me.” He said in his husky voice.
Clark smiled. He’d spoken to Batman plenty of times as Superman, but this was the first time Batman met Clark Kent, and yet he’d walked straight up to him.
“I was. Along with half of Gotham.” Clark extended his hand. “Clark Kent, Daily Planet.” He tried not to feel hurt when Batman didn’t take it.
Batman met his eyes again, those beautiful eyes staring into Clark’s soul. “Not like that.” The husky voice continued. “Most people won’t meet my eyesight. So either you’re insanely stupid or insanely confident.”
Clark opened and closed his mouth. He cleared his throat. He was very aware of the amount of people around him, trying to catch what they were saying.
“What are you doing out of Metropolis?” Batman asked.
“What would I be doing?” He suddenly realised he was dangerously close to flirting with the Batman. “I-uh, I’m chasing down Superman for an interview.”
Batman looked him over carefully “Pity. There’s a lot to do in Gotham.”
Click. Someone snapped a picture of them, inches apart and staring each other down.
Clark looked around at who it could’ve been. He heard another whisper from that voice that made weak , saying: “I’ll see you around.” but when Clark turned back to where Batman was standing he was already making his way out of the crowd as the Batmobile roared down the street to greet him.
*
Clark Kent finally agreed to get the interview with Bruce Wayne done with. It wasn’t that he disliked the guy, but he didn’t particularly like what he knew of him. From what Clark had heard, Bruce was a rich playboy who changed sexual partners as often as he changed his shirt. And he didn’t like Batman, which Clark had a hard time getting over.
He didn’t want to flatter himself either, but he had a feeling that this interview was a thinly veiled excuse to ask Clark to dinner, considering Bruce had sent a bouquet of big red roses to his office with a card that simply said: Léonie. 8 o’clock. - BW, asking him to Metropolis’s finest French Bistro for that evening. Clark might be reading into things though - he was never one to assume things about good hearted people. He couldn’t deny Bruce had a reputation however.
Arriving at the restaurant, Bruce was already waiting for him, and Clark felt horribly underdressed. Whilst Bruce’s black suit and white shirt were tight because they were tailored, Clark’s all american blue suit, white shirt and red tie were tight because they weren’t.
Bruce greeted him with a smile and looked Clark up and down, drinking in the sight. Clark politely reached out his hand. Again, Bruce kissed it instead of shaking it, and again Clark quickly pulled it away. He smiled apologetically and took a seat at the table when Bruce gestured for him to do so.
“I read your article about Batman.” Bruce said directly, across from Clark. A little smirk was playing on his lips. “I found it very interesting.”
“Did you?” Clark asked as he looked through his bag
“Yes, I found the paragraph on why Gotham doesn’t appreciate him enough refreshing. He obviously finds enough stimulation simply protecting the city without praise, but I’m sure it’s nice to be appreciated, especially from such a high source as yourself.” Bruce said. He licked his lips. “I especially liked the detailed description of the suit.”
“I- uh,” Clark fumbled on his words and with his notebook, knocking over an empty glass. He set it straight and looked down with a blush. “You praise me too much, I only think Gotham doesn’t appreciate the hero they have.” He replied, ignoring Bruce’s last comment.
The billionaire let out a soft laugh. It would’ve been honey to Clark’s ears if he wasn’t aware of his every move as to not give anything he shouldn’t know about Batman away.
Clearing his throat Clark asked if he could start with his questions.
“One moment, dear, I only need to order some wine. Do you like it red?” Bruce waived over a nearby waiter. “Have you looked at any appetisers yet? My treat of course. You’ll be promoting me after all.” Another million dollar smile.
“Oh, I don’t think that would be allowed. It could be considered bribing.” Clark retorted.
“Then we’ll just be two friends out for dinner where one happens to share some information.” Bruce replied and ordered a bottle of something that Clark could tell would be more that the paper was willing to pay for. He felt a little uneasy at the dodgy set up, but he’d never accept a bribe, and no matter what he had heard of Bruce Wayne, he did not think he was a man who believed in bribes and corruption.
When the waiter left Clark leaned across the table on his elbows to make something absolutely clear. “Bruce, I just want to check that we’re on the same page in that this is not a date.”
Bruce’s winning smile stiffened a little, but didn’t leave his face. “Of course not. Like I said, just two friends having dinner.”
Just then the waiter returned with a bottle of red wine, and Clark retreated to his seat. The waiter poured some wine in Bruce’s glass, who swerved it around and then tasted it, before requesting the waiter leave the entire bottle at the table.
*
The second time Superman met Bruce Wayne was outside a gas station between Gotham and Metropolis, fifty minutes after he’d last seen him in Superman’s civilian form. His first instinct was to turn on his heel and leave, considering how their friendly-dinner-not-a-date had panned out , until he realised he wasn’t Clark Kent at the moment.
The poor sod was sitting on the sidewalk drinking a can of cheap beer. Superman flew down and landed gently on the ground beside the billionaire.
“Hey.”
Bruce looked up. “Hey Superman.”
Superman felt more comfortable around Bruce now, knowing he wasn’t actively pursuing him. He sat down next to Bruce on the curb. The billionaire didn’t even shrug.
“You know, you shouldn’t drink and drive.” Superman offered.
Bruce gave him a bored look and downed the remaining half of his drink in one go. When he was done he let out a sigh and set the empty bottle down before replying: “I’m not.”
Superman looked around, noticing the parking lot was empty. “Alright, where’s your car?”
Bruce let out a burp. He didn’t seem to care. “Totalled it.” He replied casually. “I’m waiting for my chauffeur.”
“I see. Rough night?”
“Something like that. Try a rough life. Although I have no right to complain.” Bruce said. Superman gave him a look. “Go on, say it.”
“Say what?” Superman said with an oblivious confusion that reminded Bruce of someone he’d rather not think about at the moment.
“That I’m a spoiled brat. That Gotham is full of orphans and I can’t say shit because at least I had money, and a million dollar safety net, and they had nothing.” Bruce went to take a swig of his beer again before remembering that it was empty. He looked back into the store, where the cashier was boredly scrolling through her phone and not caring about who was outside her store.
Bruce slapped his knees and stood up as if nothing had happened. “I’m gonna get another beer. Want anything?”
Superman stood up too, looking at Bruce with concern. He placed a hand on his shoulder and opened his mouth to ask if Bruce really believed what he said, but realised it was fruitless.
“Do you want a ride home?” He offered.
“I have one. In an hour or so.”
“I’ll have you home in five minutes,” Superman offered. “And you’ll get to fly.”
Superman thought Bruce looked quite unexcited by his proposition. Most people would jump at the chance to not only meet a superhero, but to have them take you home - not like that of course. Clark had meant- he’d meant- to get to fly! And not wait for an hour.
After a moment Bruce shrugged and stepped close to Superman, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Okay. Take me home, lover boy.”
Superman tried not to notice how Bruce’s warm body felt in his arms as Superman flew him home - bridal style nonetheless, because Bruce had insisted - and set him down on one of many balconies of Wayne Manor.
“Thanks.” Bruce said,letting go of his grip around Superman’s neck and jumping down. “I’ll leave you a good review.”
He immediately went inside the house, shouting for someone named “Alfred!” to draw him a bath despite the time of night.
As he took off, Superman wondered briefly if Batman ever soaked in long baths, and if he’d ever let him join him.
*
Batman met Clark Kent again on a Wednesday night in Gotham.
Clark was walking through a dodgy part of Gotham, which honestly was most of them. He had just changed from his Superman suit to his civilian form, when he was cornered by three men attempting to rob him.
As he was thinking out a way to fight them off without revealing himself, Batman swooped in and did it for him.
After a few punches directed towards the first two, all three ran away. Batman turned ans his eyes met Clark’s. They stood in silence, neither breaking eye contact.
“Can I bring you home?” Batman asked after a moment.
Clark blinked. He’d misinterpreted the question for a moment and said yes before he could realise his mistake.
“Er- I mean you could escort me somewhere, at least.”
Batman nodded. “Anywhere.”
For some reason, he ended up on a rooftop overlooking most of downtown Gotham, with a bag of McDonalds in his lap after he had mentioned he was hungry.
Batman sat beside him.
“French fry?” Clark asked, and offered one to the dark ranger.
To his surprise, his brooding Batman shrugged and accepted it, reminding Clark that underneath that black cowl there was a regular man who he was dying to meet.
“Do you often save damsels in distress?” Clark asked, before realising what a stupid question that was to ask a superhero he himself had personally saved multiple damsels and misters in distress.
“A few.” Vengeance personified grumbled, before asking for another fry. Clark happily handed three over.
“Are you always this quiet then?” Clark asked.
“When I need to. I’ve been told I talk too much when I’m out of costume.”
“And you wouldn’t be willing to give me that scoop? Batman stripped of the suit.” Clark froze as he realised what he said. “I mean-“
Batman smirked. Clark’s heart almost stopped. “I know what you meant. I like when you ramble, but you can save your breath. I won’t be telling a reporter who I am underneath the mask because he has a pretty face.”
Blushing profuse Clark ignored the question and asked on: “Surely Superman knows?”
“Superman may be my best friend, but not even he knows my civilian identity.
Best friend. Batman considered him his best friend. Clark couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to pry, but he knew nothing would come of it.
“You sure know how to pick your friends.” He did instead.
Batman looked at him for a moment. “Yeah. I only surround myself with people worth knowing.”
“And me?” Clark asked.
“We met today.”
“Not really, we’ve met before.” Batman stiffened. His shocked eyes caught on to Clark’s as Clark realised he might have said too much. “A-a few weeks ago, outside GCPD.” He hurried to fill in.
Batman relaxed a little. Clark let out a breath.
“Yes. I remember now.” Batman replied, and Clark’s heart both swelled and shrunk. He hadn’t remembered, but he remembered now.
After a few more minutes in comfortable silence Clark stood: “It’s getting late, I think you get me down so I can head home.”
*
Bruce took a deep breath and sweeped the last of his drink. Across the room of the banquet hall he could almost see the way Clark Kent was avoiding him with his gaze for all he was worth.
Finally he made a beeline for the man, who seemed to squirm on the spot.
”Hey, look. I’ve been doing this all wrong.” Bruce ran a hand through his black curls, then reached it out to Clark. ”I’m Bruce. Just Bruce, and I think you’re cute so I came over to talk to you.”
Clark apprehensively shook Bruce’s hand. ”Clark. I’m flattered, but-”
”But you’re not interested, that’s fine. It’s definitely not the usual response, but that’s absolutely fine.” Bruce said with a soft smile and dropped the hand. No kiss.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets Bruce turned his head to the side. “Don’t worry, this isn’t some game. I’m done trying to chat you up. I do, however, find your personality charming, and if you can forgive my shameless flirting I would still like to be your friend, or friendly at the very least.”
Clark finally returned the smile, and Bruce felt a heavy weight lift from his chest.
“I’d like that.” Clark replied.
“Great. So tell me about yourself. You get up in Smallville, is that right? You said it was in Kansas?”
Clark seemed pleasantly surprised that Bruce had remembered details from their previous small talk. A genuine smile spread across Clark’s lips as he spoke of his family, and Bruce only wished he’d be the cause of such a smile one day.
“-I suppose my dad was always a big influence in my life. He told me to always value three things in friends: loyalty, kindness and honesty. I think that’s pretty sweet.”
Bruce felt a little jab in his chest as Clark spoke. He’d learnt a lot about Clark already, but not all of it as Bruce. He was being dishonest about their relationship, and why he’d decided to stop pursuing him.
Instead of saying any of what he couldn’t, Bruce smiled. “He sounds like a very smart man.”
*
The day that Superman found out Batman’s secret identity had been an accident.
Batman hadn’t meant for it to happen, perhaps ever. He didn’t want his close friend looking down on him once he realised his secret identity, considering his outspoken distaste of Lex Luther and most billionaires.
Batman had been battling with Poison Ivy and, as per her name, gotten poisoned. He was heaving deep breaths, burning sensation in his veins, dying.
Superman had received his distress call and flown from Metropolis to Gotham and Batman in a few seconds. He found Batman in the streets, and refusing to let him die, screamed at him until he told him where he could receive help. Wayne Manor.
The choked out request seeme strange, but as Batman passed out in his arms, Superman had no choice but to hope that the billionaire had what Batman needed.
Kicking up the front doors he was greeted by an older gentleman.
“Help! Where’s Bruce Wayne? Batman said to come here, I-I- He’s dying!” Superman hyperventilated. “He told me you would help.”
The old man nodded. “I’m Master Wayne’s Manservant, carry him through here.”
Superman carried Batman in his arms through the mansion after the old man. They stopped in front of an old grandfather clock, but before Superman could argue, it opened up as a door that lead to a long staircase into a dark abyss. And then it clicked.
Even before he saw the Cave and the gadgets, even before he laid Batman down on a metal slab next to the Batmobile as Alfred rummaged for the anti-venom, even before Superman carefully removed the mask covering his face, he knew.
Now that the man laid still, his face pale and black with makeup around the eyes, there was no doubt about who Batman truly was. The same dark eyelashes, cutting cheekbones and lips that usually curled into a teasing smirk he knew so well. The charming features that belonged to Bruce Wayne also belonged to the stoic Batman, and Clark felt a storm of emotions brewing within him.
Bruce groaned, and suddenly the mortality of the man seemed all the more palpable to Superman. Knowing he was just a man meant he could easily die like one. Batman was no God or Kryptonian. He was Bruce Wayne. And currently the veins on Bruce’s neck stuck out, looking green through the skin, and his forehead was slick with sweat.
Superman carefully touched the side of his face and kissed Bruce on his forehead, before stepping back as Alfred came rushing over.
He stuck a needle in Bruce’s arm and gave him a shot of some unknown substance.
“Will he be okay?” Superman asked.
“Physically? Yes. Overall…” Alfred turned to him and gave him an unreadable ook. “That remains to see.”
Superman nodded solemnly and left before Alfred could stop him.
Just as he left the room, Bruce’s eyes cracked opened to see the figure, before he fell into unconsciousness again.
*
The day Clark revealed his secret identity hadn’t been an accident.
After taking a few days at attempting to combine the two very different images he had of the same man, Clark decided it was only fair that his partner in justice not only knew what Clark had learnt, but what he hadn’t told him.
It was Clark Kent who knocked on the door to Wayne Manor.
The butler, Alfred he remembered, opened the door. ”Yes?” The man asked.
”Is Bruce Wayne in? I need to speak with him?”
”Mr. Wayne is very busy. He is not to be disturbed.” Alfred replied.
”Will you please tell him it’s Clark Kent?” Clark asked, a note of desperation in his voice.
The butler had looked him up and down before asking him to wait in the foyer. He disappeared for a moment. When he returned it was with the words: “Follow me,” and then he led Clark down the hallways of Wayne Mansion.
Alfred left him outside a large set of wooden doors with a gesture that showed he could enter. Clark took a deep breath, thanked the elder gentleman, and slipped inside.
Bruce was sitting in his bed, surrounded by papers as he studied a document. He lowered it as Clark entered.
“Oh hello, Clark.” Bruce said, and took of his reading glasses. Clark wanted to laugh at the irony but the knot in his stomach wouldn’t allow for it.
“Hello Bruce, are you alright?” Clark asked.
“I’m just fine. I think I caught the flu.” Bruce said with an easy smile that was clearly an attempt to hide the pain he was in.
Clark wondered how many scars were hidden underneath his pyjama shirt and robe. He wondered how many new ones were healing since he’d found him on Gotham’s streets. He shook his head to get the imagery out. He didn’t want to think about it.
Clark had neither heard from Bruce- or Batman to be correct- nor seen him since the incident. Superman had parolled both Gotham and Metropolis alone for a week, though he knew part of it wasn’t because of Bruce’s injuries.
Clark wondered if Bruce would ever rest properly if he didn’t have Alfred. It was clear Bruce didn’t take care of himself properly. He’d seen Batman get beaten to a pulp and come back not two days later multiple times, so why didn’t he now?
“I’ll be back to normal in a few days, speaking of which, dinner? If you’re in town.” Bruce asked with another suggestive smile, before returning his expression to neutral. “As friends, of course. Like we discussed.”
Either to muse Bruce’s obvious lie, or to calm himself that the poison hadn’t affected Bruce, Clark cleared away some papers and sat at the side of the bed. He raised his hand to Bruce’s forehead to feel his perfectly fine temperature. While Bruce was busy staring at Clark’s hand the kryptonian did a quick X-ray of his skeleton and checked his pulse. Only a few ribs were bruised - it’d hurt for a while but he would heal.
When their eyes met again Clark quickly pulled away his hand. “Maybe, you don’t seem to have a fever.” He answered the question before clearing his throat and looking down. “If you still want to.” He added.
Bruce chuckled at his shyness, and damn it if it wasn’t charming. Clark would be caught up in that sound, and wondering why he had been so apprehensive about Bruce when he was clearly a very attractive man, if he hadn’t seen the way Bruce winced at the action.
Clark looked at him. His eyes were weary, and Bruce immediately picked up on the fact that something was wrong. “Bruce-” Clark started.
“I could never not want to.”
“What?”
“What you said before, if I still want to. I could never not want to… have dinner. With you.” Bruce said slowly.
“Bruce I-” Clark tried again, seriously.
“That is, if you want to.” Bruce interrupted, sensing that he’d overdone it. Damn it if Clark Kent didn’t make him stumble over his words the way you would expect, well Clark Kent to. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, of course. Or ruin your journalistic integrity by… befriending you.” He tried to backpedal.
“You didn’t seem so worried before.” Clark said with a little smile. “And I think it’s too late for that.”
He raised his hands to his hair and twisted down a single strand that fell across his forehead.
“What are you doing Clark?” Bruce asked, amused at his serious expression.
“Just- be quiet for a moment.” Clark told him, before reaching for his glasses and slowly taking them off.
Bruce looked at him with a smile and quirked an eyebrow. Then he blinked, once, twice, before sitting up straight, his amused expression dropped.
Clark just stared at him, his blue eyes seemingly bluer, and his back-slicked hair messier than Bruce was used to, yet so familiar with.
“Please say something Bats- Bruce” Clark corrected himself.
“You’re Superman- I mean Clark? I mean…”Bruce just stared at him for a second. “I… don’t know… what… I mean, actually.” He hesitated.
Bruce leaned closer with an outstretched hand and grimaced in pain.
“Please, don’t. I know what happened to you, you don’t need to hide it.” Clark tried to stop him making his way across the bed.
“Shut it.” Bruce slapped his hand away and moved closer, crinkling the documents on the bed under fim. He didn’t even look at them, only focusing on Clark. On his eyes, his lips, his jaw, his hair. It was so incredibly obvious, yet somehow he had never noticed it. Was he so in love- interested in Clark Kent that he hadn’t even glanced at Superman a second time. Had he never really seen past that pathetic excuse of a disguise.
And then Bruce was next to Clark on the bed. He grabbed his jaw in a firm grip and examined him again.
“You’re superman.” Bruce stated, almost to make sure.
Clark smiled nervously. “Yeah,” he breathed.
“I can’t believe your disguise is a pair of glasses and the lack of a fucking hairstrand.” Bruce said, moving Clark’s head to examine his face from either side.
“...Bruce?” Clark asked slowly.
“Hmm?” Bruce met his eyes, before realising what he was doing and how close together they were. His gaze flicked to Clark’s lips for a moment. Then he pulled away.
“You’re superman,” he said again, almost defeated. “I thought I’d ruined our friendship.”
“What?”
Bruce looked down. It was the first time Clark had ever seen him less than smug or less than stoic.
“Superman never seemed fond of Bruce Wayne I just assumed - well, it’s not that strange considering his arch nemesis is billionaire Lex Luthor. He must chant ‘eat the rich’ and chew up people like myself. Why would Bruce Wayne be the exception.” Bruce looked up.
“I’ve never said that.” Clark said.
“I’ve read your pieces, I know what you’re like, Clark. Besides, you never called.”
“Who should have called?”
“Superman. Afterwards, after you saw me. This me. My civilian identity.”
“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. I was trying to give you space.” Clark said lowly.
“You’re my best friend, Clark, which I now realise I’ve told you already, and maybe it doesn’t say much because I don’t have many friends, but I thought I lost my best friend. And now you, Clark, come here and I think I have one good thing left and now I lose you both.” Bruce groaned in frustration.
“That’s not why I came here,” Clark said. “It wasn’t some mean ‘gotcha’ moment.”
“Well you sure as hell don’t like Bruce Wayne. Neither of you.”
“Superman doesn’t like the way Bruce Wayne talks badly about Batman.”
“Because I do hate Batman. I don’t like him, but I have to be him to do any good whatsoever in this fucking world.” Bruce grunted.
“And Clark didn’t like that Bruce was trying to seduce him when he was interested in someone else.”
“Figures.” Bruce muttered underneath his breath, forgetting that Clark- Superman- could hear it perfectly clear.
“You were clearly just trying to get another notch in your bedpost!” Clark raised his voice in defence. Bruce looked offended. Clark continued, saying: “And don’t be so fucking self obsessed. I’ve never said that I hated you, or Bruce, or Bats, and don’t assume you know me just because you know what I’ve chosen to share. Don’t you think I was scared of losing someone I care about too?”
Bruce stopped and blinked. He stared at him. “You’re a fucking dickhead, do you know that?” Bruce said, spite in his voice. He didn’t dignify the remark with anything else. They both knew that it was exactly that simple, but that it was so much more.
They sat in silence. Bruce was waiting for Clark to leave, Clark was waiting for Bruce to ask him. Neither spoke for a long time.
“To be perfectly clear, I don’t hate Bruce Wayne, and though it’s true I might have put Batman on a pedestal, it doesn’t mean I think you’re bad for not living up to some fantasy.” Clark said solemnly.
Bruce just looked at him. Waited for the last farewell, the kicker, the: “but”. It didn’t come. He decided he’d help him do what Clark was clearly too nice for.
“You can go if you want.” He said finally. He’d been rejected enough in his life to know when it was coming.
Clark sat still, examining his face, his expressions. Bruce tried very hard to force it into a monotome, bored look. “Do you want me to?” Clark asked.
“Do you want to?”
“No.” Clark said firmly. “I haven’t said what I came here to say.”
“And what is that?”
“That the reason I’m so hesitant about Bruce’s advances was that I was in love with someone else.”
“You mentioned.” Bruce interrupted the speach Clark had prepared for the hundredth time.
Losing his temper Clark placed a hand over Bruce’s mouth and wrestled him down on the mattress so that he was holding him down underneath him. Bruce tried to fight it but Clark’s super strength was stronger. “Shut it for one second, will you? The person I love is you. It used to be Batman, but I’ve realised it’s both of you, or none. Just - you. What or whoever you are.”
Bruce stared at him again. Shock, horror, awe and relief swimming in his eyes. Clark looked down at his hand and with a shaky breath he slowly took it away. Bruce opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Instead their breaths mingled in the air.
Bruce wasn’t good with feelings or words. Instead of saying what he couldn’t put into words he placed a hand on Clark’s neck and leaned up to kiss him. It was a slow, gentle kiss filled with passion without being passionate. Bruce placed all the things he couldn’t explain into that kiss and hoped with all his being that Clark understood what he meant.
As Bruce pulled away, Clark was caught in the way Bruce’s eyes sparkled. He saw the message behind them, and nestled his head into Bruce’s neck. Lightly kissing it, he whispered: “I know.” into the soft skin.
Making sure to stay well above him, so as to not further hurt Bruce’s ribs, Clark sat across Bruce’s lower abdomen with his hand on either side of Bruce’s head.
He kissed his neck, along his jaw, placed a peck on the tip of his nose, and then met his lips again. This time, the kiss was faster, and sloppier, and it reminded Clark of being a teenager bumbling around in excitement.
“Clark.” Bruce breathed out in what sounded like relief. Clark could listen to it all day, couldn’t wait to hear Bruce moan his name. When he did, not a minute later, it was a song to his ears.
“Clark.” he moaned again, and Clark felt the warmth that was spreading in his body pool in his lower abdomen, and if he wasn't mistaking himself, Bruce was experiencing something simliar.
Pulling away, he was struck again by the beauty of Bruce Wayne. His lips were blushing pink from the kissing and his face was tinted red as he heaved breath after breath. His dark raven hair laid around his head like a crown and his cutting cheekbones made him look like the inoffical King of Gotham that he was. How could Clark had been so stupid before?
Bruce gulped, then continued hs pattern of huffed breathing and asked: "Do you want to stop?"
Clark knew what he should say. "I should probably say yes, but I don't want to." He stated. "Do you? Should we wait?"
Bruce flashed him the billion dollar smile he'd so missed. "Fuck no." He said around a smile, before tugging at Clark's pants to bring him down on him again.
Instead, Clark placed his hands over Bruce's. They shared a look, and then Bruce was unbuckling it. Clark pulled the belt out of it's loops and chucked it on the floor. He looked into Bruce's eyes as he pulled off his long sleeved shirt. He leant down and captured Bruce's smiling lips in a kiss and played with the sleeves of Bruce's robe before Bruce shrugged it off. Clark helped him pull the shirt over his head.
Once Bruce's chiseled chest was exposed, Clark trailed the lightest fingers across the darkly bruised purple and yellow areas, before tracing a few scars on his upper chest. As Clark had thought, he had a bandage over the shoulder and another just under his left peck.
Clark looked up at Bruce, who was awaiting his reaction. "Beautiful." He said, and kissed him again. "You're utterly gorgeous."
He moved back, unzipping his jeans and dropping them down to the floor along with his boxers. Kicking off his socks, he then stood completely naked in front of Bruce, who was propped up on his elbows.
"You're one to talk." Bruce said, draping his eyes over Clark's body. His gaze got stuck between Clark's legs, staring at his hard cock.
"Your turn," Clark smirked and helped Bruce out of his pants and underwear so that he wouldn't have to move too much.
Climbing atop of Bruce again, he parted Bruce's legs with his knee, and placed pressure against his prostate from the outside. "Now let me do the work and take care of you." Clark said as he moved his knee carefully. Bruce gasped, not expecting the action. "Top drawer in the nightstand." He almost moaned as Clark kissed his neck.
Reaching over, Clark managed to reach the drawer and pull out a condom and a bottle of lube.
"Someone has high expectations," he mused as he noticed the size of the condoms. "You're lucky I can reach them."
Tossing the condom aside for the moment Clark focused on the lube and prepping Bruce. Bruce wasn't used to being a pillow princess, and preferred to take an active roll in sex, but he couldn't complain when Clark spread him open. He was moaning Clark's name, and Clark couldn't get enough. His dick twitched at the sound. Taking his sweet time, staring at the beatiful mess of a man before him, Clark worked him open.
When he was ready and Clark's fingers pulled away, Bruce only stared at Clark as he ripped the condom packet open with his teeth and rolled it on. Bruce shrudded. Then he was at his entrance, slowly pushing in.
Impatiently, Bruce started to push down on it when Clark grabbed his arm and held him down. "Don't hurt yourself for nothing." Clark said, worry seeping through in his voice.
"You're not nothing." Bruce stated with a smirk, and then Clark pushed into him fully. They both moaned.
"Fuck, Bruce..." Clark choked on his own breath. "Bruce..."
"For fuck's sake, just move, supes. Or I will." Bruce threatened, revelling in the feeling of Superman's cock up his arse.
Clark obliged, and soon they were both continually moaning in ecstasy. Clark managed to hit Bruce's prostate with hard thrusts while doing minimal damage to Bruce, who didn't seem to care at all. He'd happily break all his ribs in exchange for this very moment. Reaching a hand down between them Clark started working Bruce's cock.
It didn't take long before they were both close.
"Bruce, I... Fuck... you feel so good. I'm not gonna be able to do this for much longer... .Oh fuck!" he panted.
"Me neither..." Underneath him Bruce panted heavily, trying his best to resist the urge to flip them over and ride Clark until he came. Instead he grabbed him by the neck and forced him closer. "Kiss me," he whispered.
Clark obliged, and kissed him deeply, one hand now on Bruce's hip, sure to leave new bruises, and one behind his neck. Clark thrusted into Bruce with force, and the typically-playboy arched his back and moaned into the kiss. Clark lifted him up by his grip on Bruce's neck and with a few more thrusts he knew he wouldn't last.
"I love you," he moaned as he came inside Bruce, "I'm your's forever if you'll have me."
"Always," Bruce moaned. "I'll never not want you, need you or... Fuck" he came a second later.
Carefully pulling out of Bruce and safely collapsing next to him on the bed, they basked in their after glow. Their hands found each others and intertwined.
After a few moments of catching their breaths they found themselves laughing. It hurt like hell for Bruce, but he didn't care. Not when Clark kent was next to him.
Turning his head to the side he gave Clark a millionth smirk. Clark smiled back, knowing there was a million more to come.
"So, would you like to stay for dinner?" Bruce asked.
"If you let me cook you breakfast."
"Maybe the day after tomorrow. You don't want to offend Alfred on your first stay."
"And how long will that be exactly?"
"Two weeks minimum, give or take. But who's to say you'll ever want to leave?" Bruce smirk turned gentler.
"I won't need much convincing," he said and kissed Bruce's forehead.