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Clark considers himself very lucky to have Batman as a friend. They’ve been working together for a few years now, and while neither of them has shared their identities with one another yet, it feels like he’s known Batman his whole life. They trust each other. Believe in each other. Confide in each other.
They also argue about the most mundane things. How much sugar should go in coffee. The ideal cape length. Whether or not it’s a stupid idea for Clark to battle an enemy armed with kryptonite bullets. Their most enduring fight, however, is not mundane. It’s very important to both of them, and neither will back down until the other admits defeat, which means they’ll probably be fighting about it until they die.
“There’s just no way,” Clark repeats as they stare at the Watchtower monitors together. “My boyfriend is literally the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. I don’t care how hot your guy is, I guarantee he can’t compare to mine.”
“It’s hard to believe you when you make such outrageous claims. How the hell can he look like both a supermodel and a fairy prince? What does that even mean?” Batman says derisively.
“He’s tall, he’s pretty, he has really luxurious hair, his eyes are like glimmering moonstones — I don’t know what else you want me to say! He’s like the ideal male type for half of America.” Batman doesn’t need to know that this is literally true. Bruce is consistently voted one of the sexiest men alive.
Batman scoffs. “How passé. My partner surpasses pedestrian ideas like that. He’s indescribable.”
“What a cop out.”
“It isn’t,” Batman insists. “He’s- you don’t understand, Kal. He isn’t attractive because of his mouth or his nose or his eyes — not to say that his features aren’t stunning — but because of who he is as a whole. His smile is…it’s the first breath of fresh air after the storm has passed. His presence is enough to brighten the whole room. You look at him and remember that there really is beauty worth cherishing in the world.”
Damn, Batman must really love his partner. He’s never this eloquent about anything besides high speed vehicles. But Clark gets it. When he sees Bruce’s smile in the mornings he feels like he could float right off the bed and into the ceiling. Which he can do, but usually has the self-control not to. All those cliches about love making someone feel like they can fly — Clark totally buys into it now.
“Wow. You’re so smitten,” Clark teases hypocritically, and Batman grunts at him, not denying it. “Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You know I can’t let you meet him.”
“Yeah, you won’t even let us see under your own mask.”
“It isn’t as if you’ve shared your civilian identity either,” Batman points out.
“True. I do trust everyone here, but I’m still a little reluctant just in case Luthor gets wind of it and hurts the people I love.” Ma, Pa, Bruce, Lois, Jimmy. There’s no way Clark’s enemies are above using his loved ones against him.
“Understandable. Letting even one person know puts friends and family at risk.”
“But when the day comes that I feel like I can share this secret, you’ll be the first person I tell.”
“Thank you, Kal. That means a lot.” Batman gives him the tiniest bat-smile before saying, “You’ll be the first person I tell after Diana.”
“Hey. Come on now.”
The argument first started when Clark brought up Bruce while on a stakeout with Batman. It was a casual comment about wishing he were home with his boyfriend instead of staring at a mob boss’ car that resulted in Batman reluctantly admitting he would also rather be home with his family, but that this was an important chance for surveillance.
A little digging led to Batman eventually revealing that these plans of his included his current romantic partner. Clark started off by congratulating Batman on his relationship, happy that his broody friend had someone like that in his life. And then he made a fatal error.
“We should go on a double date one day! It’d be fun, World’s Finest and their significant others. I have to warn you though, that you might get a little starstruck when you see my boyfriend.”
Even Batman shouldn’t be completely immune to Bruce’s charms, Clark assumed. Bruce came off as an airhead and a flirt in public, but in their private moments together he was sweet and earnest and a bit of a dork. It made him all the more attractive. Batman would be won over too.
“Ha,” Batman said, raising his binoculars to focus on their target.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No way, not after that little scoff. Out with it, B.”
“Starstruck? I’m sure your boyfriend is a lovely person, but I think your feelings have blinded you.”
“No, I’m serious! He’s so completely out of my league, he turns heads wherever we go. Even you, Mr. Cranky Bat, would look twice.”
Batman snorted. “Not if my partner is there too. There’s no way yours is cuter than mine.”
Clark almost choked at hearing the great Dark Knight say something so petty, but his competitive spirit and adoration for Bruce could not be stopped now.
“Oho, okay, are we really doing this? Because I’m not going down.”
“That’s what your boyfriend said,” Batman muttered under his breath.
“B!” Clark gasped, giving him a punch to the arm (not that hard, since he didn’t want to shatter all of his friend’s bones, no matter what aspersions he was casting on Clark’s man).
“Sorry. Inappropriate. In any case, I’m happy for you, Kal, but I can assure you that my partner outshines him in every way.”
Clark would take some offense, but he could hear the slight undercurrent of amusement in Batman’s voice. It wasn’t as if there were any way of objectively proving either of their points, nor was an actual double date anywhere in their near future, so the argument was the same kind of silly trash talk that they engaged in whenever fighting over their favorite shade of blue or Hawkgirl’s best aerial trick.
“We’re at an impasse, then. I know for a fact that my boyfriend is better than yours, and I’ll prove it to you someday.”
“Even for you, Superman, some things aren’t worth holding out hope for.”
“You’ll see, my friend. You’ll see.”
They jumped into action shortly after, but the conversation would prove to be far from over.
The day after a particularly lovely date with Bruce, Clark is still on cloud nine when he enters the Watchtower cafeteria. After attending a local play in Metropolis, they went out to dinner and took a walk along the waterfront together while Bruce told him all about invasive species in New Jersey. It was a very informative walk. They kissed under the lights hanging from the trees lining the walkway.
Clark can still remember the way Bruce smiled at him, a little sly, before his eyes fluttered closed.
“The only thing that would make this night better is a kiss from a handsome reporter. Preferably one from Kansas,” Bruce said, waiting patiently as Clark cupped his face.
“Hm, I think the best I can do is one from Missouri. Would that work?”
“No, it’s gotta be Kansas. Please keep looking. Maybe you have one in storage?”
“You want me to check in the back, Mr. Wayne?” Clark laughed, kissing him first on the cheek. “You’re in luck. Forgot to do inventory this week; didn’t realize we moved our stock of midwestern journalists to a different shelf.” Bruce’s lips were soft on his, his hands toasty where they held Clark’s shoulders. Sometimes, the moments with him feel like a waking dream.
“You seem happy,” Batman comments now as Clark floats over to his table with his sandwich in hand.
“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” Clark sighs. He knows he looks utterly besotted, based on the way Batman smirks.
“Someone call the press and tell them Superman is a hopeless romantic.”
“Like anyone would be surprised to hear it. Anyway, it isn’t like you don’t get it. Even Batman’s heart has its soft spots.”
“Mn.” Batman takes a sip of his tea and makes no further comment. Clark boos him.
“C’mon, don’t be a wet blanket. I know you’re head over heels for your guy. What’s your favorite thing about him?”
“Are you really trying to engage me in sleepover gossip?”
“I don’t buy that you’ve ever attended a sleepover. And no, I’m just being a good pal and asking my dear friend about his life.” Clark’s emphasis on pal and friend causes Batman to scoff.
“Fine. I…suppose I love his generosity. He freely gives away so much of himself: his time, attention, affection, and never asks for much in return, even when he deserves the world. He’s selfless and good-natured. One of the most genuinely decent people I know.”
“Sounds like you’re pretty lucky too!”
“I am,” Batman admits, looking down at his tea. If he were anybody else, he would be smiling like a dope. “What about you? Don’t tell me it’s his face.”
“I’m not that shallow,” Clark protests, even though he does love Bruce’s face an immense amount. From his pout when Clark has to get out of bed for work, to his grumpy scowl when the weather is a touch cold and his nose and ears start turning pink. He’s just too cute.
Batman just takes another sip of his tea as he sideeyes Clark, who takes a moment to consider all of Bruce’s good qualities.
“My favorite thing about him is how kind he is. Children, animals, the elderly — he has the perfect touch with them all. He’s such a busy guy but he takes the time to talk to everyone, to treat everyone fairly. He’s been hurt before, but it made him want to help people, instead of turning him bitter. It’s obvious how much he wants to make the world a better place.”
“You match,” Batman comments, elaborating when Clark gives him a quizzical look. “You’ve found someone as benevolent as you are.”
“I guess I have.” Clark thinks about the care that’s evident whenever Bruce talks to Dick or Alfred, the kindness in his demeanor when he interacts with strangers and the respect he gives his staff (even if he purposely annoys them on occasion).
“It’s good. You deserve someone like that in your life.”
Batman’s voice is slightly awkward but candid, and Clark can’t help but beam at him. “Aw, I always knew you were a softie under all that armor and leather.”
“Just eat your sandwich, Kal.”
“He has a green thumb,” Clark insists as he speed-reads another file. He’s holed up at the Hall of Justice with Batman, combing through Green Arrow’s stolen expense reports and R&D documents as they try to figure out why Luthor has been stockpiling a huge number of antique vases recently. They were talking about Poison Ivy’s latest schemes and somehow ended up quibbling about their partners again.
“Does he really, or did he just give you flowers once?”
“He did give me flowers before, but he grew them himself! It was a lovely gift.”
“Hn, anyone with moderate gardening abilities could do that. Come back when he cooks you a meal with vegetables that he raised in his own garden.”
That’s not that impressive. Even Clark can do that. But, to be fair, most of the produce is from the farm, and only some from the windowsill garden he’s been keeping in his apartment. Maybe Batman’s partner has a whole big setup in his backyard or something. Bruce has gardens on the grounds of the manor, but they’re mostly dedicated to flowers that his mother loved. That’s why he’s always so happy when Clark brings him homegrown herbs and tomatoes. Clark can’t imagine Batman’s boyfriend does anything much more grand, especially if he’s working with Gotham soil and weather.
Clark flips to another file on Lexcorp’s shell companies out of Batman’s folder and decides to change tack.
“Forget gardening then. How about other hobbies? My boyfriend is pretty athletic. Honestly, I feel like he’s good at every sport I’ve ever seen him play.”
“A good throwing arm, decent agility, and strong cardiovascular endurance can carry you far in many sports,” Batman says dismissively. “Now, if he were good at ballet, or surfing, I might be impressed.”
Clark thinks about Bruce’s upbringing. Bruce very well may have learned how to dance or fence or snowboard in boarding school. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was good at those too. But you’re deflecting. I bet your partner can’t even throw a frisbee.”
Batman sets his highlighter aside as he thinks about it. “He’s certainly not that bad. I think he played football in his youth, and he works out on occasion, but on the whole he prefers more intellectual pursuits. Reading, painting, tinkering. He’s quite handy.”
“Why do you need someone handy? You can fix almost anything yourself.”
“Just because I can do it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate having a handsome man offer to do it for me.”
“Fair enough.”
It was really sexy that time Bruce helped a girl in the breakdown lane fix whatever was wrong with her car. Seeing him with his sleeves rolled up and a smudge of grease on his face did things to Clark that led in short order to some backseat canoodling. And on the flip side, Bruce does seem particularly grateful whenever Clark offers to fix things like the wall clock in his office. That also resulted in some canoodling.
“He’s also good at crossword puzzles and picking up foreign languages.”
“No wonder you two get along.”
“Yes, well, we don’t all date people for their supermodel looks and athletic bodies,” Batman mocks, and Clark lobs a pen at him.
“Don’t make light of my love. My boyfriend is smart too! But his areas of expertise are…kind of random. He’s well-rounded?”
“I suspect more in the realm of a trivia master than a true polymath.”
“There aren’t many real Renaissance men or women these days,” Clark points out. “Anyway, more importantly, he’s a great listener. He never tunes me out. Unlike somebody I know.”
“I’m a fantastic listener. I just didn’t think that the daily pattern of your friend Jimmy’s tie was worth more attention than this tax document from Lexcorp’s art supply subsidiary.”
“He’s into art now?” Clark holds out a hand until Batman passes the paper over. “I’m sure he’s doing something like sprinkling kryptonite powder into all his green paint pigments.”
“As bizarre as that sounds, I wouldn’t put it past him. In fact, the art connection may be more important than we thought…”
“Alright, give me the stack and I’ll filter out everything that seems related.”
Even if Batman zones out while Clark talks, there’s still no one Clark would rather be partnered with on this.
After a long day at work (made longer by some tsunami rescues), Clark bumbles out of the Daily Planet to be met with his boyfriend, leaning against one of his absurdly expensive cars. Even when he’s just standing around he draws everyone’s attention, but Clark is the only person he has eyes for. The way his entire face lights up like daybreak when their eyes meet never fails to make Clark’s heart tumble in his chest.
“Bruce?” Clark says as he receives a quick kiss before Bruce herds him into the passenger seat. “Did we have plans for tonight?”
“No, but you’ve been complaining all week about being swamped, and I thought I could at least provide you a little stress relief.” He winks and Clark has to focus on buckling his seatbelt so that he keeps his cool and doesn’t try to make out with Bruce over the stick shift.
Bruce drives them to a little Cuban restaurant to pick up a large bag of takeout he must have ordered ahead, and then they’re zipping back to Clark’s apartment. Clark is tempted to scoop his boyfriend into his arms and carry him up the stairs, but settles for holding the takeout instead.
Dinner is eaten on Clark’s couch, the two of them stealing bites and swapping stories about their week. The masses would riot if they knew their darling prince would rather spend his time with his feet tucked under Clark’s thighs on his secondhand couch than at the best of Metropolis’ fine dining.
Bruce just fits into his life in a way he never expected, and Clark has never been more happy. This is one of his longest relationships so far, and he’s a little afraid of the day he has to tell Bruce about his secret life. But that’s a worry for another time.
“And Dick wants to dye his hair blue, which I told him I couldn’t stop him from doing, but that he’d probably look a little goofy in pictures next to his red headed crush,” Bruce tells Clark as they clean up his coffee table.
“Please tell me he’s decided to go through with it anyway.”
“I think he’s reconsidering,” Bruce chuckles.
“I’m really happy I got to see you today,” Clark tells him once they’ve finished cleaning and they’re loafing on the couch together, nominally watching a nature documentary. He reaches out and toys with a lock of dark hair that’s somehow escaped Bruce’s carefully coiffed hair. Bruce is undeniably handsome when all dolled up for work, but Clark thinks he’s most attractive when his hair is a little mussed up and he looks mildly cranky about being awake.
“Show your appreciation by moving over,” Bruce commands with mock arrogance, pushing Clark until he’s lying down. He stares imperiously down at Clark for a second before a smile cracks and he leans forward to steal a kiss.
“I still can’t believe I got so lucky. What’d I do to deserve you?” Clark asks, wrapping his arms around Bruce as they cuddle. It’s a tight fit for two grown men, but they make it work with Bruce half-draped over Clark’s body.
“What a wild question. I’m the one who lucked out,” Bruce responds, tucking his head in the crook of Clark’s neck. “I still can’t believe you said yes that day. I was sure it was going to end in Lois laughing at me at every interview for the rest of my life.”
“I honestly think I went into shock for a few seconds after you asked. It just did not compute.”
“What, the fact that no one had snapped you up yet? Their loss, my gain.”
“I should be the one saying that. But- oof. Bruce. Love of my life,” Clark says as he slides precariously close to the edge of the sofa when Bruce rolls over to straddle him. “We’re about to have a rough landing.”
“Clark. Light in my sky. We’ve dealt with rougher,” Bruce responds, laughing as they do indeed slide in a heap onto the floor.
“Is that a hint, Mr. Wayne?” Clark reaches up to tug at the end of Bruce’s tie, pulling him closer, until Bruce plants his hands on the floor around Clark’s head.
“It always is, Mr. Kent.” And then there’s not much talking to be done for a while.
To say that Clark is…frustrated, would be an understatement. Before the emergency call came in, he was minutes away from commuting to Gotham, where Bruce was waiting for him in his bedroom, wearing little to nothing, if his phone call was to be believed. But imminent threats to Earth always come first, so Clark had to give his excuses about a last second layout change requiring his presence at the office. Luckily, Bruce was as understanding as usual, and promised Clark he would go catch up on some of his own work while waiting.
Now Clark is standing here next to Batman as they monitor the convoy ship carrying J’onn and Shayera, instead of enjoying whatever sensual surprise Bruce planned for him. Sometimes it really does feel like the universe conspires against them.
“At least it’s proceeding smoothly,” he mutters.
“It better be,” Batman says, a thunderous air all about him.
“Interrupted something important?”
“Yes.” But the grit in Batman’s voice isn’t the usual terse exasperation that comes from trying to locate the Joker or Clayface. No, this is something less dangerous, but still irritating…
“Rao, were you in the middle of a date?” Clark gasps, and Batman’s hand tightens on the console.
“I’m not talking about it,” Batman growls.
“Sure, you don’t have to, but I get it. I’ve had to reschedule a few dates myself, and it never feels great.”
“There’s a difference between calling off a date and-”
Batman cuts himself off, glaring furiously as they listen to their friends greet their visitors warily. The talk transitions smoothly into a request for the League’s help, so they both relax slightly as they observe. But Clark replays what Batman last said to him and jolts with realization.
“Holy- were you about to-?” Clark makes a helpless gesture that he hopes conveys his meaning, and Batman scowls even harder.
“That was the plan.”
Clark whistles low. No wonder Batman’s more pissed off than usual. Nothing like getting bat-blocked by the job.
“I don’t blame you. But I’m sure your boyfriend understands.”
“He does. We’re not competing over this,” Batman warns, jabbing a finger in Clark’s direction.
“Of course not. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. I’m just glad you’re, uh. Getting your needs met?”
“I am. Very thoroughly. He’s…competent,” Batman coughs, his face turning slightly pink. Clark, faced with the information that his best friend’s sex life is apparently very fulfilling, turns a bit pink too.
“Yeah, you would like that.”
“It’s perfectly reasonable to prefer a partner who knows how to handle themselves in the bedroom.”
Clark thinks about how he’d been a little nervous at first, since Bruce had dated many more people than Clark ever had, but with communication, they quickly figured out what worked best for both of them.
“Yeah, especially when they know what they want. My boyfriend’s a little demanding, but it’s cute. I like giving him what he needs.”
“Alright, that’s enough about this topic,” Batman says brusquely, returning his attention to the screens. “We never speak of this again.”
“Agreed. You, um. Should probably wipe the security tapes, too.”
Batman grunts in agreement.
Despite hanging upside down from a chain around his legs, Batman is cool-headed enough to continue arguing, “He’s the most considerate man I know. Which is saying a lot, since I know you.”
Aw, that’s sweet. But Clark isn’t going to let himself be distracted.
“Sure, he might be considerate, but is he supportive? Does he have your back no matter what life throws at you? I mean, outside of the Batman stuff, obviously.”
Clark and Batman have been “captured” by some less than friendly alien bandits, but the plan requires that they wait it out in captivity until John and Diana give them the signal to break free of their bonds. Normally, they’d be putting on the frightened or foolishly defiant act, but their captors have left them hanging alone for two hours now, and there’s not much to do besides talk. Clark actually has to mind his strength so he doesn’t snap the chains by accident.
“Of course he does. Our relationship might still be considered on the shorter side, but during that time he’s been nothing but a constant when it really matters.”
“Wait, what does that mean?” Clark asks, sensing weakness like blood in the water. “When it really matters? Is he flaky? Oh my god, I bet he is!” He tries to point at Batman’s flattened lips with his elbow.
“He isn’t flaky, he’s just got a very demanding job. It requires him to be on call and ready for action at all hours.”
Probably an emergency surgeon or something. Still, inconsistent schedules and missing appointments might not bode well in the long run.
“Okay, just don’t let him take advantage of your trust.”
“He won’t. Besides, we’re hardly in a position to complain about being flighty, are we?”
“No, that’d be pretty hypocritical,” Clark admits. “My boyfriend’s always really understanding about it, but I think it’s because he knows what it’s like to have a high pressure job. People are always calling him about stuff, but I still feel a little bad when I make my excuses. I need to make it up to him where I can.”
“It comes with the territory,” Batman sighs. “I’ve ruined more than a handful of relationships for this exact reason. I’m hoping history won’t repeat itself.”
“Don’t be pessimistic. He sounds like a real keeper. Still not as good as my own SO, but-”
“Of course, how could I ever forget.”
“-from what you’ve told me, I think you guys will make it work. I mean, if anyone can, it’s the goshdarn Batman, right?”
He grins at Batman, who eventually gives him a little smile back. It’s probably the blood rushing to his head that’s softened him up. Actually, they’ve been hanging here for a while now. Maybe B really is getting delirious.
“Diana,” Clark hisses into his comms. “Wonder Woman? Lantern? Are we clear yet? B’s starting to look a little woozy.”
“I’m fine, Kral. K…khal. Mm. Maybe I am woozy,” Batman grumbles as he begins to pick at the locks around his ankles.
Barry finally brings things to a head when they’re riding back to Earth after a short jaunt to another galaxy.
“My partner is a wonderful cook,” Batman is saying, his hands firm on the ship controls. “And an even better baker.”
Clark clicks his tongue, even though it might have been his own fault that they ended up on this topic of conversation. He just wanted to gloat about the nice breakfast Bruce made for him the other day. “I’ll have you know that the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had in my life was made by my boyfriend.”
“Iris does her best, but she tends to burn things,” Barry sighs from behind Clark, who makes a sympathetic noise.
“Maybe cold dishes are more her speed.”
“Neither Mera nor I are that adept in the kitchen,” Arthur admits.
“Well, if we ever have a League potluck, we’ll count on Batman’s partner to cook enough for all of us,” Clark teases, and Batman levels a stern look in his direction.
“This just proves you don’t think your boyfriend could hold his own against mine.”
“Now you’re just putting words in my mouth.”
“Y’know, food is the one place you two can actually compete without having to bring your boyfriends up to the Watchtower or something. No security breach from a peach cobbler,” Barry points out. “I mean, if your guy’s really as good a cook as you say, Bats, then I’d like a sample.”
“Me too,” Arthur agrees.
“Me three,” Clark says, mostly to see Batman’s mouth downturn in its usual disapproval.
But to his surprise, Batman actually makes a thoughtful “hrnn” noise, and capitulates.
“Fine. I’ll ask him to make something, and alert you when I bring it to the Watchtower.”
“Perfect,” Arthur says, exchanging a grin with Barry. “What about you, Kal?”
“You’re just trying to sucker food out of us at this point.”
“Maybe,” Barry says, “but you’re not going to let this challenge stand, are you?”
“I’ll let B take the first crack at it,” Clark says magnanimously. “I’ll go after him, so we have more snack days.”
“More snacks is always a plus.”
“The number of snacks doesn’t actually increase,” Batman points out, and Barry shakes his head.
“It does if I can convince people you guys have started a new tradition of providing munchies for meetings.”
On Wednesday, Clark is sitting at the Wayne Manor dining table with Bruce and Dick, who are each typing away on something on their laptops. Clark is reading something for Lois, but Dick summons him over from across the table.
“Can you look over my Shakespeare presentation?” Dick asks.
“Sure.”
“I can look at it,” Bruce offers, glancing up like a prairie dog at Dick, who shakes his head.
“No thanks! You’re too enthusiastic. It’s off-putting.”
Bruce frowns, narrowing his eyes when Clark goes to sit next to Dick. “I see how it is. Fine, make your little alliances.”
“Don’t worry, Bruce, you can look at my science project later.”
“Hmm.”
Clark gives him an apologetic smile and starts listening to Dick’s questions. Bruce pretends to be steamed about it for a little longer, but it’s all forgotten by dinner time, or so Clark assumes. But that night, after Clark turns out the light in Bruce’s bedroom and slides into bed, Bruce more or less headbutts him in the clavicle as he wraps himself around Clark like a koala.
“What’s up?” Clark asks. He can tell that Bruce is squinting at him petulantly through the dark.
“You know that I love how well you get along with Dick, right?”
Clark makes a noise of agreement, lacing Bruce’s fingers with his own. “He’s a great kid.”
“He is, and I’m thrilled you guys hit it off. That being said, you owe me for siphoning my son’s attention away,” Bruce mumbles into Clark’s chest.
Laughing at the jealousy in his voice, Clark agrees. “Okay. Whatever can I do to repay my debt?”
“Will you make me your apple cheddar pie? The pretty one with the leaves on the crust?”
“Is that all? ‘Course I can. I’ll bring it over on Friday.”
“Thank you. I’m not going to share it with you, though. It’s your punishment for dethroning me in Dick’s heart.”
“Alright. But sweetheart, you know you’ll always be Dick’s favorite. He adores you. As do I.”
“I know, I just want an excuse to shake you down for some pie,” Bruce says mischievously, leaning up to leave a kiss on Clark’s jaw. “I love you too, sunshine.”
“Goodnight, darling.”
As promised, Clark delivers his homemade apple cheddar pie to Bruce on Friday afternoon. Bruce does indeed spirit it away without letting anyone touch it, but it slips from Clark’s mind as he, Dick and Bruce head out into town for a fun night at the bowling arcade that just opened up in downtown Gotham.
If Bruce wants to eat an entire apple pie by himself, who is Clark to stop him? In fact, Clark should have made him two pies. He’ll have to remember to do that next time Bruce makes a dessert request.
On Saturday, Batman sends out the missive to Clark, Arthur, and Barry that he’s procured the goods.
Clark is the first to arrive, and he finds Batman in the Watchtower cafeteria carefully cutting modest slices of pie and distributing them onto plates.
“Oh, finally, a chance to experience B’s boyfriend’s famous cooking.”
“Settle down,” Batman scolds as Clark floats around him to get a better look at the still intact portion of pie.
“What’d he make?”
It looks like an apple filling, and the crust is nice and flaky, with decorative crust leaves adorning the edge…wait.
“His family’s award-winning apple cheddar pie,” Batman says proudly, as he cuts another slice. “I’ll leave a note with allergen information, but I know you don’t have any food restrictions, so go ahead and take a slice.”
Clark numbly receives the plate that Batman hands him.
“B, where did you say you got this pie?”
Batman frowns, gesturing at the slice he just served Clark. “I told you, my partner made it for me.”
Clark stares at the apple pie he very distinctly remembers creating by hand. The leaf patterned crust, the five vent holes that he cut, the amber glass dish he bought with Ma at a yard sale ages ago. He can smell the sharp cheddar in the flaky crust, the delicate balance of cinnamon, cloves and allspice. This is his pie.
“And you’re sure he made it and didn’t just…buy it somewhere?” Not that Bruce would ever sell Clark’s pie, but Bruce and Batman are acquainted, and it isn’t completely implausible that maybe Batman’s boyfriend forgot to make something so he asked Bruce for his pie in a fit of desperation because with his constant surveillance of Gotham he would have seen Clark entering Wayne Manor with a dish in hand and drawn the reasonable conclusion that it was a homemade pastry.
Okay, maybe that’s a little insane.
“Are you accusing my partner of being a liar?” Batman asks, his voice frosty.
“No! Not at all.”
“He made this himself, with a secret family recipe taught to him by his beloved mother — a wonderful woman whom I have had the good luck to eat dinner with many times — and I don’t appreciate whatever it is you’re trying to say here, Kal.”
Batman is glowering at him, no doubt about it, even if Clark can’t see beneath the lenses of his cowl. But that mouth, set in a grim line that he’s seen many times before, is starting to look familiar in a new way.
Clark looks at the pie, at B, at Flash running through the doorway now with gusto, at B’s gloved hands and the curve of his jaw, at his own hands holding the plate, at the piece of spiced apple drooping out of his slice and the crimp of the crust that he formed around his own knuckles so carefully, delicately, because he was making something for the man he loves—
—who’s deeply, understandably annoyed with him now for insulting…himself.
Oh, Rao. How did Clark never realize?
“Bats, did he seriously make this?” Barry waves his fork around. “This is great, no wonder you were bragging.”
“I’ll give him your compliments,” Batman says, giving Barry a small smile.
“Barry, can you be in charge of passing out pie? I need to talk to B about something.”
“Sure thing, Supes.”
“Unless it’s an apology, I’m not sure I want to hear it right now,” Batman says, his voice still icy.
“Yes, I wanted to apologize, but- in private?”
“Fine.”
Barry watches them with some confusion, but salutes as Clark hurries Batman — Bruce!!! — off toward their quarters. His room is first, so he unlocks the door and dithers as Batman enters slowly, clearly bemused by Clark’s sudden strange behavior.
“I didn’t think it needed to be this private,” he says as Clark paces the floor of his room in tight little circles.
Batman has to be Bruce. It’s the only solution to this pie conundrum that makes any sense.
Does Batman already know that they’ve been seeing each other? No, he seems pretty peeved with Clark, which would just be silly if he knew Clark and Kal were one and the same. So they’re both stupid.
Clark can’t just ask Batman if he’s Bruce Wayne; it’ll immediately send him on the defensive and they’ll never get anywhere. The only solution is for Clark to reveal himself.
If he’s wrong about this, well. He has some bigger mysteries on hand to deal with, and Batman is likely the best person to help with that.
“B, first of all, sorry about the pie thing. I didn’t mean to insult your partner.”
“Alright,” Batman says begrudgingly, clearly still kind of irritated about it. Clark takes a second to register how sweet that is. God, he really loves Clark that much, huh? That’s adorable. He pictures Bruce’s face under the cowl, frowning at him now, and a pang of affection tugs at his chest.
“Second of all, I need to tell you something, but it’s important that you know that I only just figured it out, okay? I wasn’t trying to lie to you — well, alright, that’s a slightly stretched truth given what you’re about to find out — but up until three minutes ago, I was just as in the dark as you are.”
“Kal, get to the point.”
“Right. Sorry. Okay, it’s probably best if I just show you. Do you want to sit down for this?”
“Kal.”
“Okay, okay. Getting on with it.”
With a shaky breath, Clark uses his speed to change into the spare set of work clothes he tucked away in his closet for the occasions he needed to go straight to the Planet from here. He rumples his hair, pops on the glasses, and then stops in front of Batman.
“Hi, sweetheart. Looks like you shared some pie with me after all,” Clark says weakly, waiting for Batman to respond.
For a few seconds, there’s only silence, as Batman stands woodenly in place, his face frozen. And then he surges forward, pinching Clark’s face in his gloved hand, squishing Clark’s cheeks together like a pufferfish.
“No,” he mutters, now running his fingers over Clark’s lips, his nose, his forehead. “What? No.”
“Yeah,” Clark says, patiently allowing Batman to manhandle his face until he’s satisfied. Batman tugs Clark’s glasses off, stares at him for a long moment, and then puts them back on.
Batman rips his cowl off, tossing it at Clark’s bed, and there, with the mussed hair and luminescent blue eyes that Clark so loves, is Bruce Wayne.
“Clark?” he asks, still in disbelief. “How did you- how did I not figure it out?”
“I’m asking the same about myself.” Clark raises his hand to cover up the upper half of Bruce’s face, and it’s still undeniable whose lips he’s looking at. “I mean, I’m pretty intimately acquainted with this mouth, and I still couldn’t see it.”
Bruce continues to stare at Clark in a daze, so Clark takes one gloved hand in his, holding it to his chest.
“This doesn’t change anything for me, Bruce. It’s a little weird, having to reconcile my boyfriend with my best friend, but my feelings for you haven’t changed. Love of my life.”
“Light in my sky,” Bruce responds automatically, and then says, wondrously, “Oh. It was more true than I ever knew.”
“I guess so,” Clark says, smiling when Bruce reaches with his other hand to cup his face. To know that the man he loves is also the person he trusts most in the world is a lot to digest, but he can’t say he’s unhappy about it. He always did respect Batman’s skills and knowledge and competence. Knowing that it’s been Bruce this whole time just makes Clark’s admiration for him grow more.
The sweet and considerate boyfriend who Clark so adores? Batman. The dependable and brilliant partner who Clark relies on? Bruce. His head and heart are spinning, and so are Bruce’s, if his raised pulse is anything to go by.
But Bruce’s expression slowly blooms into the smile that Clark has a deep familiarity with, and knowing he’s seeing it on Batman’s face makes his heartbeat race.
“I’m still processing, but I can tell you I certainly don’t love you any less. It’s just strange to imagine that my sweet Clark is also the strongest being on this entire planet, but at the same time it’s almost a relief. At least this way I know you can protect yourself most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” Clark frowns.
“Kal, you got sprayed with kryptonite paint two weeks ago despite knowing it was coming.”
“I hadn’t expected it in the sprinkler system!”
“Thank goodness someone did,” Bruce says archly, and wow, that does something to Clark’s insides, hearing Bruce teasing him while wearing the batsuit.
“Thank goodness,” Clark mumbles.
“On the plus side, I no longer have to worry about how to break the news to you about my second job. I…had some fear that it could be a dealbreaker.”
“Same here. I think I need to adjust to the fact that you know what it’s like to live a double life, but it’s also reassuring to know that you understand exactly why I randomly disappear throughout the day.”
“It’ll be nice not to have to scrounge up any more flimsy excuses,” Bruce agrees. “Dick was telling me there were only so many emergency parent-teacher conferences I could go to in a year.”
“Oh my god. Dick is Robin, isn’t he?” Clark asks, realization dawning. And then another truth hits. “Oh, lord, I’m the flaky boyfriend!”
A surprised laugh slips from Bruce’s mouth. “Like I said before, you’re not flaky. Clark and Kal both have very demanding jobs. You, on the other hand, are much more forgiving of Bruce Wayne’s shenanigans than anyone’s ever been.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re a CEO, a philanthropist, and a father. Anyone who thinks you aren’t busy is silly.”
“See, this is exactly what I was talking about,” Bruce says. “So supportive. Cute, too.” He grins when Clark remembers that every single compliment Batman’s ever spouted about his perfect partner was about him. He can feel his face turning red. And the things he said about Bruce, to his face, apparently.
“Wait,” he says, pulling his glasses off to rub at his face. “Beauty worth cherishing in the world? Seriously, B? Clark Kent?”
“What? It’s the truth. Clark Kent is very handsome. You said my eyes were like moonstones,” Bruce accuses. “Pretentious.”
“It is not.”
“Yes, a little bit. Wait. This means I win,” Bruce says, his posture straightening.
“What?”
“Your pie. It’s much better than anything I ever would have given you. Ergo, I win.”
“Wait, that’s hardly fair, I didn’t even get the chance to present your food yet.”
“Angel, you’re delusional if you think I would have made something better than your pie. I can cook, but you know my forte is breakfast and Dick’s favorites. Certainly not award-winning by any means.”
“You could make a pie,” Clark argues. “You can do basically anything. I’ll show you how.”
“You could, but at that point you would never know if it was a product of my own ability or your teaching skills. Face it. I have the better partner.”
“No, I’ll never admit it. We are, at the very least, tied.”
“Kal, you're not seriously trying to argue that Bruce Wayne is better than Superman, are you? That’s absurd,” Bruce laughs, his lovely eyes scrunching with amusement.
“It isn’t even Superman who you fell in love with!” Clark exclaims.
“True,” Bruce says, “but he and Clark share many of the same delightful qualities. Honest, hardworking, compassionate.” He tugs one glove free and drops it to the floor of Clark’s quarters, before taking a step forward. “And, if I may be so bold, they’re both extremely attractive.”
The other glove follows.
Clark swallows. His hands fall naturally on Bruce’s hips — oh, jeez, Batman’s hips — tugging him the last step forward until they’re only a breath apart. They observe each other for a moment before each breaking out into a sheepish smile.
“It’s really you.”
“It is.”
Clearing his throat, Clark says, his voice rasping, “I’ll shelve our argument for now, but don’t think it’s over.”
“Mm,” Bruce agrees as he reaches up to loosen Clark’s tie.
“So. Your partner. He’s competent in the bedroom, eh?”
“Definitely. Perfect for someone as demanding as me.”
“...can you keep the batsuit on?”
“Most of it, sure.”
“Oh,” Clark says, coming to one last realization as Bruce begins undoing the utility belt.
“Hm?”
“This means that time we met with the x’Noverians…afterwards, you had on- so under the suit, that whole time, were you wearing-”
“Yes,” Bruce says, kicking off his boots, and Clark feels his throat go dry.
“Wow. Okay.”
“Would you like a repeat performance?” Bruce asks, smirking.
“Very very much so, please.”
“I can arrange that. But right now, you have a job to do.”
“Understood,” Clark says, catching the hem of the cape as it flutters past him. A gentleman knows better than to leave his lover waiting.