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murmeloni · 2 months

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This is for the DCU Valentine's Day 2024!

Big thanks to @wait-whos-batman for organizing it!

Clark receives a card from a secret admirer on Valentine's Day. There's no signature and no way to see who it's from. It just says to come to the football game that afternoon. Clark is flattered, Bruce is concerned. But really… What could possibly go wrong?

“I'll have the story done by tomorrow, Perry, cross my heart”, said Clark, sandwiching his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he fumbled for his keys, simultaneously trying to shift his grocery bags into one hand without dropping them.

Clark's only answer was an aggravated sigh and a curt “You better”, before the line went dead.

“Good work, Kent. Make sure you get a little rest, Kent. Have a nice evening, Kent”, grumbled Clark sarcastically as he finally got the door open. Thankfully without dropping his shopping.

“Meow.”

Startled, Clark looked at the fluffy white and brown birman cat belonging to his downstairs neighbor Mrs. Hall. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he bent down and scratched the cat's head. “At least you're happy to see me, Lady Pawlington. And happy Valentine's Day to you too.”

The cat pressed her fluffy head against Clark's fingers for a moment, meowing again, before slinking forward to inspect the grocery bags. Laughing, Clark straightened up and lifted the plastic bags out of the cat's reach. “Unfortunately, none of the stuff in there is meant for cats. If a certain friend of mine is to be believed they're not even for humans but I know you can keep a secret.”

Still smiling to himself, Clark moved up the stairs, mind now occupied with thoughts of Bruce as it so often was. Bruce would have a lot to say about Clark's shopping, that was for sure. He was almost tempted to let slip what he'd bought at the Justice League meeting tomorrow, just to hear the lecture again, but he thought that was maybe a bit too pathetic, even for him. Although… It was Valentine's Day and Clark was spending it alone with chocolates he'd bought for himself - again - so he felt he was allowed to make himself feel better any way he could.

As he stood in front of his door, once again fumbling with his keys, he suddenly became aware of the heartbeat coming from inside his apartment. A very familiar heartbeat. Clark's stomach fluttered and maybe he moved a little faster than a normal human could to shove his key into the lock. The door clicked open and a bump sounded from his kitchen, as if something had been knocked over.

Clark quickly closed the door again before he used a burst of speed to join Bruce, who was standing beside the kitchen table. He didn’t even look up when Clark came to a halt next to him, the displaced air ruffling his artfully styled hair. Clark wanted to run his hands through it, but he hastily squashed the urge before he could do something stupid.

“Hey, B. What are you doing here?” Not that Clark cared. He was always happy to see Bruce. But he was also worried that there might be something wrong. It wasn't often that Bruce dropped by his apartment, never mind in the middle of the day and without announcing himself… Clark bit his lip. “Is there something wrong?”

For an endless second Bruce didn't react, just stared down at Clark's kitchen table, his fingers fiddling with a pink envelope. “No, nothing's wrong.” He cleared his throat. ”I was just in the area and wanted to see if you'd like to be Bruce Wayne's interviewer for the night.” A small smile curved his perfect lips and a part of Clark was going feral at the sight of it. So much so that he almost didn't understand Bruce's next words. ”But I guess you already have plans…”

Bruce's smile disappeared as he tapped the pink envelope on the table and finally Clark's brain switched online again. He stepped closer, frowning a little as he studied the envelope.

“Why would I have plans?”, he asked and paused. “Is that a Valentine's Day card?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, perfectly conveying his judgment. “What gave it away? The pale pink paper? Or the fact that it is covered in gaudy hearts and glitter?”

Clark ignored the snarky tone and carefully picked the thick envelope up. It was heavier than it looked and upon closer inspection it seemed homemade. Warmth flooded his chest, despite not knowing who this card was from. He'd hoped, for maybe a tenth of a second, that it might be from Bruce but the snark pretty much nipped that delusion in the bud. The disappointment of which Clark was studiously ignoring right now, thank you very much.

“I've never gotten a Valentine's Day card before.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Never? I find that hard to believe.”

Clark shook his head. “I was the opposite of popular in school and college.”

Crossing his arms, Bruce leaned his hip against the kitchen counter. “But you've been in relationships before.”

Clark shrugged helplessly, still not taking his eyes from the envelope. “Most of them weren't serious enough and the one that was… Well, Lois doesn't believe in Valentine's Day.”

“Hn”, made Bruce and that was apparently it for this topic because he began to busy himself with making coffee. He pulled out sugar, milk and two mugs, choosing Clark's favorite Batman mug, which was odd because he complained about the thing every chance he got. Only once the machine was happily gurgling along and there was nothing left to prepare did he turn around again to impatiently wave his hand at Clark. “Open it already.”

If Clark hadn't been so preoccupied with his very first Valentine's card ever he'd have started to wonder at Bruce's odd behavior. As it was, he swallowed thickly and gently wiggled his finger underneath the flap of the envelope, carefully prying it open without damaging it, which made Bruce huff in annoyance.

Despite the slightly gaudy envelope, as Bruce had so rudely put it, the card was really sweet. It was made from rustic looking carton and on its front were two hot air balloons, their domes made of flimsy pink paper, folded to look like hearts. A ladder was reaching from one balloon's wicker basket to the other. Opening the card, the first thing Clark saw was the ticket to the Metropolis Giants vs. Gotham Rogues football match this evening. A VIP ticket. Clark felt his mouth drop open in shock. That must've cost a fortune!

And then he noticed the poem. Written in a beautiful, looping script, it took up most of the space on the card. Heart beating a little faster, Clark ran a shaky finger along the lines as he read:

There is a silk ladder unrolled across the ivy

There is

That leaning over the precipice

Of the hopeless fusion of your presence and absence

I have found the secret

Of loving you

Always for the first time

"Always For The First Time" by André Breton

Meet me at the game tonight.

Love,

Your secret admirer

The sound of a mug being practically slammed onto the table in front of him startled Clark out of his reverie. Looking up, he found Bruce studying him with a carefully blank expression, knuckles white as he gripped his own mug a little too tight.

“Who is it from?”

Clark felt his heart clench in disappointment and realized he'd still held out hope the card might be from Bruce. He didn’t quite understand Bruce's annoyance but he chalked it up to him being like Lois in this regard. After all, why else would he be in Clark's apartment, looking to arrange an interview instead of going out on a date? He probably thought Valentine's Day was a capitalistic hoax or something unromantic like that.

Wordlessly, Clark handed over the card and while B analyzed it like it was a piece of evidence in one of his cases, Clark picked up his coffee. He realized before he'd even taken the first sip that Bruce had made it just the way he liked it: with a lot of milk and way too much sugar. For some reason that made him feel even worse.

“So what's the verdict?”, he joked weakly after the silence began to stretch, but Bruce ignored the comment. Instead, he fixed Clark with that intense, icy blue stare of his that never failed to make Clark feel weak in the knees.

“You're not seriously considering this.”

Frowning, Clark lowered his coffee. “Why not?”

The look Bruce gave him was the one he usually reserved for Hal whenever he suggested something ridiculous, like figure skating, under the guise of team building exercises.

“Clark… This envelope was already here when I let myself in. You're not currently dating anyone and you said yourself you don't know who this might be from. It sounds dangerous. Too dangerous. You're not going.”

Bruce's patronizing tone had Clark's hackles rising. Defensive, he snatched the card back and held it to his chest. “That's not your decision to make, Bruce.”

Truth be told, Clark didn't even know if he wanted to go to the game tonight. Because Bruce was right, it was weird that the envelope just appeared in his kitchen like this. But that didn't have to automatically be a bad thing. Any member of the League could have left the card there. It rankled, the thought that Bruce found him so undesirable that the only reason he'd get a card and a gift on Valentine's was to lure him into some kind of trap. Plus, Clark could be stubborn and petty, too. And right now he was sorely tempted to let that side of himself take the reins.

In the end it was Bruce's scoff and the curt “Don't be ridiculous” that made the decision for Clark. Crossing his arms, he raised his chin and glared at Bruce.

“Are you done? Because I have a date tonight I need to get ready for.”

Bruce's brows drew together, his jaw working. “You can't be serious. Be reasonable.”

But Clark only held Bruce's stare, not budging, until Bruce's eyes hardened. “Fine”, he snapped, whirling around and dumping his coffee in the sink before setting the mug down a bit harder than necessary. “Go. But don't come crying to me if you end up kidnapped!”

It was Clark's turn to scoff, but in his case it was more to cover up the hurt blooming in his chest. Unfortunately, his mouth opened before he could fully swallow back the words. “Because that's the only reason anyone would go out with me, right? Just because the high and mighty Bruce Wayne thinks I'm that unattractive doesn't mean everybody else does.”

Bruce's posture abruptly loosened, as if Clark's response had startled him. “Clark…”, he tried, but humiliation was entering the mix of emotions swirling in Clark's gut, made all the worse by the fact that, despite everything, all he wanted to do right now was cuddle Bruce. Or maybe bend him over the table and gently eat him out until he cried.

“You should go, Bruce.”

For a long moment Bruce hovered, looking like he wanted to say something else, but in the end he just… left. Clark stood in his kitchen and stared after him, stomach roiling. Maybe he really should go on that date. It seemed obvious now that Bruce would never return his feelings and maybe it was time Clark made an effort to move on. Taking a deep breath, he went into the bathroom. The game was starting in two hours and apparently he was going. The least he could do was look nice.

By now Bruce was already walking down the street outside but Clark still heard him when he whispered: “At least text me later to let me know you got home safe, Clark. And for the record? I don't want to be right about this. You deserve to enjoy a nice date.”

Clark swallowed, heart aching as he stared at himself in the mirror. “Maybe Lois is onto something with her dislike of Valentine's Day.”

<3 <3 <3

Bruce decided to walk back to his hotel instead of taking a cab. He needed to clear his head. Snapping at Clark like that… It was unforgivable. But just remembering the awed expression on his face as he’d traced the writing on that card was setting Bruce's teeth on edge. He'd come here to spend the day with Clark, following his heart's foolish impulse instead of doing what he should have done and gone on one of Brucie Wayne's famous ‘outings’. He should have planned something ridiculous to feed the gossip rags for a few weeks. Instead he'd come here and made Clark feel bad for something that was entirely Bruce's problem.

Striding into the hotel lobby, Bruce arranged his face into a lazy smile, despite the unease and jealousy still churning in his gut. He breezed past the reception and made it into his suite without anyone trying to talk to him. He'd barely taken two steps inside before he froze. There was a pink envelope sitting on the coffee table. It looked exactly like the one Clark had gotten and suddenly Bruce had a suspicion what was going on.

Setting his jaw, he stomped over and picked the envelope up, opening it with much less care than Clark had done. Just like he expected, it was the same card and there was a second ticket to the football game this afternoon tucked inside. There was also another poem:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

"How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Meet me at the game tonight.

Love,

Your secret admirer

Bruce felt the sudden urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. The poem was beautiful. It encompassed his feelings for Clark perfectly and made his chest feel tight with emotion. It had also most definitely been picked by Jason. Bruce had heard him gush about it to Waylon multiple times. Which was the reason for the headache suddenly brewing behind Bruce's eyes.

Rubbing at his temples he pulled out his phone and dialed Jason's number. He paced the length of his room as he waited for his son to pick up and when he finally did, Bruce didn't wait for him to say something.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Hello to you too, B. Nice of you to call”, came Jason's sarcastic reply and Bruce ground his teeth.

“Don't pretend like you don't know what you did. I told you not to interfere!”

Jason scoffed. “It's not like you'll ever get your head out of your ass and do anything yourself! The pining was getting painful to witness. Besides, this wasn't even my idea. The demon brat and I only made the cards. Dickie and Tim were the ones who delivered them.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about.”

“Oh come on, B! You're supposed to be the world's greatest detective! Figure it out! I mean, have you even looked at the fucking tickets?”

“Language–”, Bruce started to admonish, brows furrowing unhappily, but Jason had already ended the call. Cursing, Bruce put away his phone and opened the card once again. He looked at the ticket still tucked safely inside and immediately felt his insides freeze in humiliation. That was Alfred's Wayne Enterprises ID at the bottom.

Bruce closed his eyes. It was just like Alfred to enact such a dramatic and intentionally obvious plan to finally get Bruce to do something about his feelings for Clark, despite Bruce telling him repeatedly why that was a horrible idea. The question now was, what was Bruce going to do about this? He couldn't very well go to the game. After their fight earlier Clark would think he was trying to sabotage him. But if Bruce didn't go… That would mean Clark would be stood up. And on his very first Valentine's Day date at that. Bruce remembered the reverent way Clark had looked at the card, how he'd so carefully traced the words of the poem. He debated calling Clark now, telling him what Alfred and the kids had done, but…

But that would mean disappointing - and quite possibly humiliating - him. It would mean the first date Clark had ever had on Valentine's Day would have been nothing more than a poor attempt at meddling from Bruce's family. Just imagining the look on Clark's face made Bruce feel a little sick.

Which meant he had to go to the game and he had to do it right.

He swallowed, heart racing and palms clammy. This could potentially ruin everything. But the thought of disappointing Clark was simply unbearable.

Pulling out his phone once more, Bruce dialed Alfred's number. He got them into this mess so it was only fair he should get them out of it too.

“Master Bruce”, greeted Alfred in a voice that was the perfect blend of polite and smug. “What can I do for you?”

Bruce ground his teeth. “You know perfectly well why I'm calling, Alfred.”

“I believe I do, Sir. Should I make the usual arrangements?” Bruce had to take a deep breath. He could practically hear the self-satisfied smirk in Alfred's voice and it was driving him up the wall.

“It's his first date on Valentine's Day. Ever. He deserves a lot more than the usual”, snapped Bruce, irritated by Alfred's cavalier attitude. This little scheme could spell the end of Bruce's and Clark's friendship. “And just so you know: if this backfires I'm holding you responsible.”

“Very well, Sir. I'll have everything delivered to you within the hour.”

Bruce hung up the phone before he could say anything he might regret and instead began to loosen his tie with a little more force than necessary. He'd have to make this the best first Valentine's Day ever to make up for the argument and his children's schemes and that meant looking his best. He glanced at his watch. One and a half hours left. Bruce went into the bathroom and got ready for his date. Probably the most important date of his life.

<3 <3 <3

Clark was late.

He couldn't help it. He'd been on his way over when he heard a mine cave in in Africa and once he'd saved the workers he'd had to deal with the ‘representatives’ of the company that owned the mine trying to cover the incident up. He'd held them off, contacted the local authorities and Lois, and surreptitiously gathered what evidence he could while protecting the miners. When help had finally arrived, Clark quickly flew back to Metropolis, picked Lois up and brought her to the scene. The journalistic equivalent of setting the bloodhounds loose. The owners of that company won't know what hit them. Which was cause for celebration, really. Except that now he was late for his date. And he felt bad for even thinking that because obviously saving people was and would always be his top priority. But it sucked that his already pretty abysmal love life had to suffer further blows for it.

Of course the whole ‘being desperately in love with your best friend’-thing didn't exactly help matters any.

All of that to say, Clark wasn't just late he was also distracted when he climbed the steps to take his seat and meet his secret admirer. Doubts had started to creep in during the past two and a half hours. Because… Because Clark didn't want it to be just anyone waiting here for him. He wanted it to be Bruce. And he felt it wasn't fair to put that on whoever it was that had gone to all this trouble for him. But he'd come this far and if his conversation with Bruce earlier had shown him anything it was that he should really start to make an effort to move on. Going on this date seemed to be a good first step in that direction.

So Clark hurried to his seat, an apology on his lips. The game had started some time ago and he felt bad for whoever was waiting for him. They had to think they were being stood up. But then he reached his seat and the words died in his throat.

“Bruce?”, he whispered, and it shouldn't have been loud enough in this stadium full of people, talking and yelling and cheering on their team but Bruce turned his head anyway. Their eyes locked and Bruce slowly got up from his seat. And it was unfair, really, thought Clark despairingly, how utterly gorgeous Bruce looked. His hair was styled to perfection, his face was freshly shaved, and a light layer of makeup covered his skin, emphasizing his already sharp cheekbones and lush lips. He wasn't wearing one of his customary suits or his trusty turtleneck-sweaters-and-dress-pants-combo. Instead he was wearing a white linen shirt, the first few buttons of which were undone, revealing a tantalizing view of his collarbones. The shirt was tucked into dark blue slacks that showed off Bruce's impressive thighs and small waist in a way that made Clark's mouth run dry and his knees feel weak. And other people might think this was Bruce dressing down but Clark knew better. He knew that Bruce never allowed himself to be this comfortable outside of his own home and even then he often stuck to his armor of formal attire. Clark was a little speechless to be honest. Especially once his eyes landed on the flowers and chocolate lying on the seat next to Bruce's.

“Clark…” said Bruce quietly, a nervous tension around his eyes. “I… I didn't think you were coming.”

Clark blinked. The sole fact that Bruce was stating the obvious like this betrayed just how nervous he really was and that settled the worst of Clark's fears, the irrational part of him that thought this might be a cruel joke of some kind. Enough so that he finally found his voice.

“There was an emergency at work…”, he explained and abruptly realized that people were beginning to pay more attention to them than the game. Cheeks hot, he gestured at the seats. “Mind if we sit down?”

Bruce's gaze flittered over the people around him and Clark swore a light dusting of pink colored his face as well. “Of course.”

A little stiffly, Bruce gathered up the flowers and chocolates and handed them to Clark. Who, as he accepted them, noticed with a dip of his stomach that the bouquet was an assortment of his favorite flowers. Chrysanthemum daisies, cornflowers and blue hyacinths. It was carefully wrapped, looked stunning and had probably cost a fortune. Much like the chocolates. They were pralinés from that really expensive chocolatier downtown that Clark absolutely adored but never allowed himself to splurge on. Or rather that he never could splurge on because he'd not have enough money to pay his rent if he did.

Clark swallowed. “Are those… are they really for me?”

Bruce averted his eyes but nodded imperceptibly and Clark's stomach did another violent flip. “Thank you. They are my favorite. And they're really beautiful.”

They lapsed into silence as they sat down. It was awkward as heck. Possibly because Clark was stuck racking his brain not only for things to say but for any kind of explanation. Bruce's words from earlier, his expression as he'd looked at the card, they were all still fresh on Clark's mind. His surprise and his concern, even his (likely involuntary) condescension had seemed genuine. It just seemed impossible that this had been his plan all along. Why not ask Clark out? Or admit to leaving the card when Clark surprised him in his kitchen? There had to be another explanation.

Finally, Clark couldn't take it anymore. He turned to Bruce, leaning closer to speak directly into his ear, not wanting to be overheard. Just as he did, however, a loud cheer suddenly rose through the crowd and the people around them started to wave excitedly. As Clark turned to look, he felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. The kiss cam. He and Bruce had been caught by the kiss cam and their faces were currently plastered all over the huge monitors around the stadium.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”, shouted the masses and the chant was interspersed by whistles and catcalls. Clark turned to look at Bruce once more, who was staring back at him with wide eyes. The stadium announcer was goading them on, the screams of the crowd got louder and Clark… Clark snapped. Without thinking, he darted forward and pressed his lips to Bruce's in a brief, but undeniably electric kiss. Not wanting to push his luck, he pulled back just as quickly, lips tingling and the need to go in for a second, more thorough taste of Bruce's pink lips burning in his veins. He couldn't help but stare. He knew he should turn away, avert his eyes and pretend he only did it to appease the crowd, but…

Bruce wet his lips, leaving them all pink and shiny, slightly parted and the embodiment of temptation. Their eyes met. And then Bruce's fingers were suddenly curled into the front of Clark's shirt, pulling him in and in and… and they were kissing again. Desperately, wantonly. Bruce's tongue darted out to tease the seam of Clark's lips and Clark was only too happy to open his mouth for him, a low moan escaping without permission as he did so.

They got lost in each other. Distantly, Clark was aware of the cheers and wolf whistles, of the stadium announcer making some lewd comments and the camera flashes going off all around them but none of it mattered. He was solely focused on Bruce. His taste, his smell, the rapid beating of his heart and the breathless, bitten-off noises he made that no one but Clark would be able to hear.

It wasn't until Bruce had to pull back for air, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated to the point that only a thin ring of blue was still visible, that reality finally came crashing in again. Clark froze, his mind instantly careening towards a full-blown panic attack.

What the hell was he doing, kissing his best friend like that? And was this even really Bruce? Or was this a trap after all, some kind of magical doppelgänger trying to trick Clark? It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen to him. It wouldn’t even be the weirdest thing this week and that thought was petrifying. Except…

…Except that was definitely Bruce's heart, pounding away in his chest not two feet away from Clark. Clark would know that sound anywhere. But if this wasn’t a trap, then what was it? None of the possible answers flitting through his mind seemed to make any kind of sense and his thoughts began to spiral.

Something of what was going on in Clark's head must have shown on his face because Bruce's expression abruptly cleared and he looked away, shoulders drawing up defensively.

“I believe I owe you an explanation”, he said, quiet in a way Clark didn’t know what to do with. Bruce, the real Bruce, was always quiet, but he was never subdued like this. It twisted something in Clark’s chest.

“I believe you do”, he answered after a moment longer of studying Bruce, but when Bruce made to stand, still not quite looking at Clark, a fresh, unexpected wave of panic rose within him and before he even knew what he was doing he quickly grabbed Bruce's wrist.

“Can we… Could we stay until the end of the game?”, he blurted and felt heat crawl up his neck. Because the pathetic truth of the matter was: Clark didn't want this, whatever this was, to end yet. Or ever really, but that wasn’t an option. And not just because it was his very first real date on Valentine's Day but because it was a date on Valentine's Day with Bruce. Clark had dreamed of something like this happening for so long he didn’t even know what it was like to look at Bruce and not want. And this right here was probably his only chance to get it. Well, a glimpse of it but it was better than nothing.

Clark took a deep breath. “I get that this date is probably just part of some plan of yours and that you actually have something better to do and this is not–”

“Yes”, said Bruce, cutting Clark's pathetic rambling short. He cleared his throat, long elegant fingers splayed on his thighs and Clark had to try very hard not to stare too much. Those thighs regularly starred in his fantasies. “I never meant to ruin your date, Clark”, Bruce continued softly, still not quite meeting his eyes. “So yes, we can see this date through and watch the game if that's what you want. I promise I'll explain everything after.”

Clark’s shoulders sagged. “Okay, yes… Thank you.”

He even smiled a little, despite being more than a bit apprehensive. The explanation Bruce owed him hung over them like a dark cloud. But he pushed all of that aside and made himself focus on the here and now instead. On his date with Bruce, the game they both loved and the fact that they were spending Valentine's together. It would later all turn out to be a scheme or a publicity stunt or something of the sort but for now Clark would pretend it was real. He only had to figure out how to go about that. After several more minutes of tense silence, awkward shuffling and even more awkward glances, Clark cleared his throat. Now that the decision was made he was determined to enjoy himself.

“If this were a real date what would you do?”

Bruce's gaze snapped to him. “What?”

“If this was actually a date”, repeated Clark, feeling utterly stupid but forging on anyway. “What would we be doing now? What uh…” he waved his hand, his neck feeling increasingly hot. “What moves would you pull?”

Bruce cracked a smile at that and for the first time since Clark arrived his shoulders relaxed. “Well, if this was a date…” Dimples showing, Bruce stretched, lifting his arms over his head. Clark stared, mouth running dry, as the move accentuated Bruce's broad chest and strong biceps and he was distracted enough that the arm coming to rest on the back of his chair was a surprise. Once Clark realized what Bruce had done, he burst out laughing.

“Very smooth, Mr. Wayne. Did you steal this move from one of your kids?”

Bruce chuckled. “If anything they're the ones who stole it from me. Besides, you can't tell me it's not working. I've got my arm around you and made you laugh.”

“Touché”, said Clark and allowed himself to lean closer to Bruce. The alluring scent of Bruce's aftershave rose around him and Clark inhaled sharply, heart pounding. He licked his lips.

“What else would you do?”

Bruce hummed, arm tightening around Clark's shoulders. “I would ask you about yourself”, he said in a low voice. “Get to know you and tell you a few anecdotes of my own. I'd try to make sure you're comfortable with me.”

Clark's heart skipped a beat, butterflies dancing in his stomach. “What would you like to know?”

Bruce met Clark's eyes, his icy blue gaze intense in a way that made Clark feel slightly breathless and said: “Everything.”

<3 <3 <3

Bruce forgot they were playing pretend. He didn’t mean to. And a part of him still was extremely aware of the fact that he owed Clark a damned good explanation once this was over. But the bigger part of him was all too happy to just let himself drown in it. To tease and flirt and soak up every blush and shy glance he could get from Clark. Every laugh and smile, every time Clark leaned into him or gave him that fond look he sometimes got… Bruce took it all and locked it away in his heart.

But then the game was over - the Metropolis Giants had trounced the Gotham Rogues and somehow that didn't feel like a very good omen - and suddenly Bruce's time was up. Abruptly, he realized that he wasn't prepared to let it go, that he wasn't prepared to go back to just being friends, but at the same time he didn't know what he could say or do to prevent the inevitable. To prevent Clark from leaving.

As if by silent agreement they stayed seated a little while longer until most of the people around them had left and the first members of the clean-up crew made their way through the rows of seats. Bruce wondered if Clark was as reluctant to put an end to this as he was. Still, things were different now that the game was over. The spell was broken, there was a distance between them again and it felt insurmountable all of a sudden. Bruce knew he should say something, start the explanation he owed Clark, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was terrified.

Clark shifted in his seat and looked around, his eyes anywhere but on Bruce. “We should probably head out, too.”

Bruce nodded stiffly and stood. Clark silently followed suit and together they left the stadium.

“Did you drive here?”, asked Bruce once they were outside and Clark shook his head.

“Ride with me?” He didn't know where that question came from. Clark didn't need a ride home. All he had to do was walk to the nearest semi-secluded alley and then he could fly the rest of the way. It was a lot faster than navigating a bike through this kind of traffic.

And yet Clark didn't say no.

He turned to look at Bruce for the first time in what felt like hours (but was more like fifteen minutes tops) and a small smile pulled at his lips. It was a little tense and didn't fully reach his eyes but it was a smile nonetheless. And then he said: “That would be lovely, thank you Bruce.”

Tongue suddenly too thick to form words again, Bruce quickly turned and led the way to the parking lot where he'd left his bike. It was only once they were standing in front of it that he realized another mistake. “I don't actually have a spare helmet with me.”

The look Clark gave him was unbearably fond that it made Bruce's knees go a little weak. Bruce didn't deserve that look. He'd been so selfish today. Clark should've hated him. And he probably would, once he knew the truth. “I don't need a helmet. Don't get me wrong, helmets are important and I don't like being a bad role model, but this once it's okay.”

Bruce didn't know what to make of that. Clark usually insisted on doing things properly, not just to blend in but to be a good example, like he'd said. Studying him a little closer, Bruce watched as two spots of color rose in Clark's cheeks, but he had no idea what that meant. So after another moment, he simply took the flowers and chocolates from Clark and placed them securely in the tankbag where they'd been stored before. Then he put on his helmet and swung his leg over.

“Hop on”, he said, patting the seat behind him. Clark hesitated, but then he climbed on behind Bruce, tentatively wrapping his arms around Bruce's middle. It took every ounce of Bruce's self-control not to react to the contact or let himself sink into the touch like he so desperately wanted to. Still, as he revved the engine and pulled out of the lot, his mind was filled with images of Clark's hands sliding just a little lower, leaving his waist behind and dipping between his legs, cupping him while he drove.

It was a miracle they didn't crash.

The thirty minutes until Bruce parked the bike in front of Clark's apartment complex simultaneously were the longest and shortest of Bruce's life and he felt the loss of Clark's arms around him so acutely it was like he was losing a part of himself. Which was so pathetic Bruce wanted to bang his head against the wall. Since he couldn't do that without alerting Clark to what was really going on, he busied himself retrieving their things from the tankbag before climbing off and following Clark to his door. Thankfully, the awkward air between them prevented Bruce's mind from wandering again, which unfortunately also meant that his anxiety was building with every step they took towards Clark's apartment.

“Meow.”

Bruce's thoughts stuttered to a halt as his eyes found the fluffy white and brown cat sitting on Clark's doormat. “Since when do you own a cat?”

“I don't.” Clark smiled and bent down to scratch the little feline gently behind the ears. “Lady Pawlington belongs to my neighbor. She just likes to visit from time to time.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Lady Pawlington?”

Laughing, Clark picked the cat up. “What? Do you not think she deserves that title?”

Bruce snorted, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “Not at all. She looks very regal.”

Giving the cat one last gentle scratch, Clark set it down at the end of the corridor before he returned to Bruce and unlocked the door. They headed inside and with the sound of the door clicking shut behind them all of Bruce's anxiety suddenly returned with a vengeance. He didn’t want to lose this, but most importantly he didn't want to hurt Clark and he feared at least one of those things was inevitable.

To stall for time, Bruce headed into the kitchen and rummaged around for the vase he knew Clark kept there. He felt Clark's eyes on him the entire time but he didn't dare turn around and instead focused entirely on filling the vase with water once he'd found it and arranging the flowers just so. His hands were trembling, his pulse was elevated and he knew it would only get worse. And yet he couldn't make himself turn around and face this.

“Are we going to dance around this all day?”, asked Clark, taking the decision from Bruce, who reluctantly turned to face him. ”Or are we going to talk about what happened?”

Bruce told himself to just get this over with and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “I'm sorry”, he began and stopped again because the rest of the words got stuck somewhere in his throat.

Clark sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why were you at the game today?”

Instead of using his words like he should, Bruce pulled out his own Valentine's card and silently handed it to Clark. There was so much he wanted to say but he just couldn't get his tongue to move and he hated himself for it. Clark's brow furrowed in confusion as he accepted the card. “How did you…?”

“Open it.”

Wordlessly, Clark did and the furrow between his brows only grew as he stared at the card. “What is this, B?”

Bruce pressed his lips together tightly before he finally made himself explain: “It was Alfred's idea.”

Clark looked down at the card again, knuckles turning white with, Bruce guessed, the effort not to crinkle or rip the paper. He was always careful. It was one of the things Bruce loved about him. “What are you saying?”

Closing his eyes, Bruce braced himself. He tried to view this as a case report just so that he could talk but it was difficult. “The cards, the tickets… Alfred organized it all and he roped the boys in to help him.” He ran a hand down his face. “I knew as soon as I read the poem in my card. It's one of Jason's favorites. He confirmed it when I called him earlier.”

Clark was silent for a long time. “I still don't understand.”

Bruce didn't dare meet Clark's eyes. “Alfred and the kids made these cards and delivered one to you and one to my hotel room. They wanted to bring us together.”

“So what was this supposed to be? A prank? A set-up? Were all of you going to have a laugh about it later on?”

Bruce's hands curled into fists at the hurt in Clark's voice and he bit the inside of his cheek as his heart started to race in earnest. This was what he'd been terrified of. This was the part that could ruin everything. “A blind date.”

“What?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “It was supposed to be a blind date.” He turned away, feeling like he was going to throw up but he knew he couldn't leave it at that. He owed Clark more, so much more than this. And he didn't know what made him do it but a reckless part of him thought if he had to hurt Clark and ruin things between them… He might as well go all in. “Alfred knows how I feel about you, how I've felt about you for the past couple of years, really. He was always trying to make me tell you and I suppose he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Clark fell silent once again and Bruce couldn't decipher the look on his face. Usually Clark wore his heart on his sleeve but right now he was surprisingly hard to read. Terrifyingly so. Finally, he asked, very quietly: “Your feelings for me?”

Bruce nodded, still not looking at Clark. He couldn't. He felt like an exposed nerve right now, like one wrong look or word could end him.

Clark made a soft sound. “You didn't want to ruin our friendship”, he whispered, and then he was suddenly right in front of Bruce.

“Look at me, B.”

Reluctantly, Bruce did as he was asked, because he couldn't not. He'd do anything for Clark but fear was tying his stomach into knots. Until Clark reached up and gently framed his face. “Why were you at the game today, B? Why did you go along with it? You could've just called me and told me what was going on. Why didn't you?”

Bruce swallowed hard, trembling all over now. “I didn't want to disappoint you”, he said quietly. “You should have seen the look on your face when you opened the card, Clark. You looked so happy. I didn't want to take that from you.”

A soft smile appeared on Clark's face and his thumbs began to softly caress Bruce's cheeks. “Bullshit, B. Tell me the real reason.”

A flush rose to Bruce's face and he looked at the floor. He couldn't stand to look into Clark's beautiful cornflower eyes right now. The last thing he wanted was to make himself even more vulnerable, to show his soft underbelly. But this was Clark. He wouldn't hurt Bruce, not on purpose. And he had yet to tell Bruce to fuck off. Hope swelling in his chest despite his better judgment, Bruce decided to tell the truth one more time.

“I finally wanted to know what going on a date with you would be like. I've wanted that for so long, Clark, wanted you for so long, you have no idea. When you opened that card earlier and said you'd go out with whoever sent it, I was so jealous I could hardly stand it. I wanted it to be me you were so excited about.”

Clark was so close now that Bruce could hear the way his breath hitched. “Oh Bruce”, he whispered, resting his forehead against Bruce's own. “The only reason I decided to go on that date was because I thought I couldn't have you. You're the only one I want. You always have been.”

“What?” Bruce desperately searched Clark's beautiful eyes for a hint that this was real.

“I love you, Bruce.”

An involuntary and undeniably needy sound slipped past Bruce's lips as he struggled to comprehend Clark's words and something flared up in Clark's eyes. Something hot and sharp that made Bruce's stomach flip with a mix of nerves and arousal.

“And you love me too, don't you, B?” Clark's voice was practically a purr as he leaned even closer, his grip on Bruce shifting. One hand slid to the back of Bruce's head, burying itself in Bruce's hair, while the other wrapped around his neck. The touch was so possessive that Bruce's brain immediately kissed its higher functions goodbye.

“I do”, croaked Bruce, already breathless as his body reacted to Clark's proximity, to the feel of his touch, his warmth and that intoxicating scent of his Bruce could never get enough of.

Clark's answering smile was nothing short of predatory. “Good.” And then he was kissing Bruce.

Bruce melted into the contact with a moan, instantly surrendering. Clark's hands tightened a little around Bruce's throat and in his hair and suddenly it felt like those hands were the only things keeping Bruce upright. Clark's tongue plundered his mouth and the kiss was hungry, domineering in a way Bruce didn't know Clark could be. He felt dizzy with it, overwhelmed by how utterly he was at Clark's mercy and loving every second of it.

After a moment, Clark broke the kiss and crowded Bruce against the kitchen counter. His hands drifted to Bruce's hips, grabbing them tight and in one fluid move that stole Bruce's breath, he lifted him onto the counter.

“God, B. You don't know how often I've dreamed about this, having you here at my mercy like this.” Clark nuzzled the side of Bruce's neck, sending shivers of want down Bruce's spine. Bruce tilted his head to give him better access and the approving sound that rumbled out of Clark's chest at that, instantly got him from half-mast to rock hard.

“I can hear your heart racing”, murmured Clark, leaving a trail of wet kisses along Bruce's throat as his big hands landed high on Bruce's thighs, kneading and massaging them and making Bruce feel lightheaded with lust. “I can hear your blood rushing to fill your cock.”

Clark splayed his big hands, the tips of his thumbs and pointer fingers pressing against Bruce's erection. Electricity raced through Bruce's veins and he abruptly felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. He couldn't quite believe what was happening, wasn't sure any of this was even real, but at the moment it didn't matter. As long as Clark kept touching and teasing him like this nothing else mattered.

“Clark”, he moaned, pleaded, really, and finally allowed himself to touch Clark as well, to wrap his arms around those broad shoulders and hold on tight.

“I've got you”, said Clark, low and intimate as he pushed Bruce's thighs apart to wedge his hips inbetween. Bruce's blood instantly caught fire and suddenly his clothes felt stifling, restricting. He needed them off. He wanted to feel Clark's skin, to finally touch every inch of it like he'd longed to do for years. Hands trembling with desperate need, he began to tug on Clark's stupid checkered button down shirt.

“Off”, he growled and the first button gave way under his fumbling fingers. “I swear those fucking shirts of yours.” He pressed a kiss to Clark's throat. “They shouldn't work on anyone but somehow, whenever I see you in one of these they drive me to the edge of reason. Every. Damned. Time.”

Clark chuckled breathlessly and squeezed Bruce's thighs, sending a jolt of lust through him. “You're one to talk. Jesus, Bruce, have you seen your legs? And you always wear these tight pants. It's been driving me crazy.”

“Then do something about it, boy scout.” Bruce continued to unbutton Clark's shirt and nearly salivated at every inch of golden skin revealed.

Clark smirked and the next thing Bruce knew a draft of cold air hit his suddenly very naked skin. “Fuck!” He gasped, arousal spiking. His clothes were folded neatly on top of the table and for some reason the sight of them, this blatant show of Clark's power, made his cock begin to leak against his naked stomach.

Grinning, Clark crowded between Bruce's legs again and the fabric of his jeans scratched along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Bruce's hands flew to Clark's shoulders, fisting the material. He intended to get back to working Clark's shirt open, even the score and get him naked, but then Clark's fingers were on him

On his chest, trailing over his pecs in featherlight touches, around his nipples and down his ribs, and Bruce lost the capacity for rational thought. He arched his back, pressing his skin against Clark's fingers.

“So responsive”, murmured Clark, kissing his way down the side of Bruce's neck, scraping his teeth over the delicate skin. “Makes me want to take you apart, B.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Bruce turned his head and captured Clark's lips in a kiss. Clark groaned and crowded even closer, his clothed cock rubbing against Bruce's exposed one, probably smearing precome all over his jeans as he licked into Bruce's mouth and the image of the two of them like this was so unbearably sexy to Bruce.

After a moment, Clark pulled back. His curls were sticking up every which way, his pupils were blown, his lips swollen and shiny with spit. He looked so beautiful, it made Bruce's heart ache. “Are you sure? We can take it slow, if you want, B. We have time.”

Frowning, Bruce grabbed the back of Clark's neck and drew him back in. “Don't you dare. I want you inside me, Clark. Now.”

Clark moaned and wrapped his arms around Bruce. “Hold on.”

Before Bruce could even fully process the words, everything around him became blurry. It stopped again just as fast and when he blinked his surroundings back into focus he found himself lying on Clark's bed, Clark hovering above him. Literally. But that wasn't what caught Bruce's attention. All of his focus was taken up by the fact that somewhere between one blink and the next Clark had gotten rid of his clothes and was now fully naked as well. All that golden, unblemished skin, the cut of his hips and those perfectly defined abs… Bruce swallowed thickly and lifted a shaky hand to follow the path of his eyes with his fingers.

Clark shuddered, lowering himself until his body was covering Bruce's, his weight settling on top of him. They both groaned.

“I can't believe we're actually doing this”, whispered Clark, framing Bruce's face with his hands. “I've been dreaming about this.”

Bruce's breath caught in his throat and he gently carded his fingers through Clark's hair. “Me too. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to experience this.”

Clark's gaze softened and the kiss he pressed to Bruce's lips was so unbearably tender it had tears springing to Bruce's eyes. “I love you, Bruce.”

Bruce's heart stuttered. “I love you, too”, he answered, lips brushing Clark's as he spoke. Then he grabbed a fistful of Clark's hair and tugged lightly as he spread his legs as wide as he could. “Now, I think I was promised to be thoroughly taken apart.”

Laughing breathlessly, Clark leaned back and his fond expression made Bruce squirm. “So impatient”, he said, clucking his tongue. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson and make you wait.” But even as he said that he began to slide down Bruce's body, wedging his shoulders between his spread legs. His hands slid around to Bruce's ass, lifting him up. Anticipation built in Bruce's gut and by now his cock drooled a continuous stream of precome onto his stomach.

For a long while Clark just stared, gaze fixed hungrily on Bruce's cock, and Bruce squirmed helplessly in his grip.

“So darn pretty”, murmured Clark and then he was diving forward, licking a long stripe up Bruce's cock, swirling his tongue around the head before kissing his way back down. Bruce shouted in surprised pleasure and arched off the bed. But Clark wasn't done. Not by long shot. He didn’t stop at the base of Bruce's cock and instead moved further south, laving attention on Bruce's balls.

And then he moved even further down and Bruce's brain short-circuited as he stopped breathing. Clark's big hands shifted on Bruce, spreading his cheeks as he lifted his hips like it was nothing, and then his tongue was licking a broad stripe over Bruce's hole.

Bruce's entire body twitched as if it was connected to a live wire and his heart was beating so fast he feared it might explode. The pleasure coursing through his veins as Clark licked and sucked and bit at his hole, pushing first one then two fingers inside alongside his tongue was too much for him to take. But he couldn't escape it. Clark wouldn't let him. His grip on Bruce's ass was unrelenting and Bruce was sure he'd have finger-shaped bruises there later. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life, more turned on, and if Clark didn't stop soon he'd come just from that clever mouth and fingers alone.

“Clark”, he moaned, squirming, torn between getting away from the stimulation and grinding down into it. “I'm… If you don't stop…”, he gasped, trying to warn Clark, but if anything his attempt to get Clark to slow down had the opposite effect. Because Clark slid a third finger into Bruce, pushing them all the way in while his tongue circled around Bruce's stretched hole and then those blunt fingers found his prostate.

Stars exploded in front of Bruce's eyes. He was distantly aware of the sob he let out, the way his back lifted off the mattress, but everything was hazy as the pleasure consumed him. When Bruce finally came back down, panting and boneless, he quickly became aware of the fact that Clark's fingers were still buried deep inside him. Clark's gaze was fixed on Bruce's face, a hungry look in his eyes. Once he noticed Bruce was back with him he held eye-contact and very deliberately crooked his fingers. Lightning shot up Bruce's spine and a high-pitched whine tore itself from his throat.

“I want to fuck you, B. Just like this, when you're already sweaty and overstimulated. I want to make you cry.”

A violent shudder worked its way down Bruce's spine. Clark's voice was completely shot, his mouth was bright red, spit covered his lips and cheeks and his eyes seemed almost wild with arousal.

There was no way Bruce could deny him.

Exhaling shakily, he reached down and tangled his fingers in Clark's hair, pulling weakly, but Clark didn't budge. “Say it, B”, he rasped. “Tell me you want me to fuck you till you cry.”

Moaning, Bruce squeezes his eyes closed. His spent cock did its best to rise again even though it was impossible for him to go again this soon. “Fuck me, Clark. Do it”, he gasped, wiggling his hips to finally get Clark to move.

With a low curse that sent a shiver down Bruce's spine, Clark pulled his fingers free and began to crawl up Bruce's body. Bruce was still limp and sluggish as Clark slid his arms under his legs and lifted them, positioning himself at Bruce's entrance. Bruce moaned again as he felt the wet tip of Clark's cock against his hole, Clark's precome mixing with his spit as he slowly pushed his way inside. Bruce's tired body lit up at the delicious pressure and he threw his head back. It felt like forever until Clark was fully seated inside and when he finally was, Bruce's chest was heaving for air, sweat trickling down his spine as his nerves twinged and prickled with overstimulation. Clark was just so big, filling Bruce perfectly, pressing against his prostate without even trying.

And then he started to move in earnest and Bruce's brain immediately switched offline. Each and every one of Clark's powerful thrusts hit Bruce's prostate head on, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through his entire system, robbing him of his breath and making him feel like he was drowning in it. Bruce's being narrowed down to Clark. Clark above him, surrounding him, in him… There was nothing else in existence right now.

“Look at you, B”, panted Clark, hips picking up speed as he rocked into Bruce. “You're a mess. And you're so darn pretty like this.”

He leaned down and kissed Bruce, practically fucking his mouth with his tongue and Bruce felt like he was losing his mind. Weakly, he clawed at Clark's back, tried to hold on for the ride as Clark relentlessly forced his body towards a second orgasm. The coil of pleasure in his belly was wound steadily tighter and tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“There you are”, breathed Clark, his thrusts growing erratic, his kisses more desperate and when he slammed home one last time, filling Bruce with his hot seed, Bruce tumbled over the edge as well. He'd never had a dry orgasm before. He didn’t even know he could, and it honestly felt like only Clark could have torn the pleasure from his body in this way.

Afterwards, Bruce's mind went dark for quite a while. He just drifted along in a cloud of exhausted satisfaction, lethargic and completely unaware of his surroundings.

When he eventually came back to himself, he was lying on Clark's chest, wrapped up in those strong arms. He sighed in contentment and closed his eyes. “That was quite a ride, cowboy.”

Clark laughed, arms squeezing Bruce a little tighter. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me, B.”

Bruce felt himself flush and buried his face in Clark's chest. “I can't believe I actually find that charming.”

Clark began gently stroking Bruce's back. “I can't believe I'm finally allowed to have you.”

Heart stuttering in his chest, Bruce craned his neck and pressed a soft kiss to Clark's jaw. “I'm all yours.”

Clark turned his head and captured Bruce’s lips in a tender kiss. “And I'm yours.”

Smiling, Bruce settled back down. He was in the process of drifting off to sleep when Clark's voice roused him once more. “I guess that means we owe Alfred a gift basket or something.”

Bruce groaned. “They're going to be unbearably smug about this.”

Chuckling, Clark kissed the top of his head. “I'm sure I can think of a few things to make this worth it though.”

Snorting, Bruce shook his head. “You're insatiable.”

“Only for you, B. Only for you.”

<3 <3 <3

As it turned out, Clark's first Valentine's Day date was a smashing success.

#DCUValentinesDay2024 #bruce wayne #superbat #clark kent #happy valentines #valentines cards #superbat fanfiction #fanfic

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kryptonian-bat-thing · 4 months

Text

The Calm After The Storm

(a short fic heavily inspired by frownyalfred's post)

Clark rushed out of work as soon as he could. There was a single message on his phone from an unregistered number, but he already knew it probably came from one of his secretive friends in the next city over.

"Mister Kent,

It is with a sense of urgency I invite you to pay a visit to Gotham. The details will be discussed in person, but as you may guess, this does concern our friend in common.

- My sincere gratitude, A."

Alfred. Something had happened with Bruce, he knew. Flying through the clouds, he already had some idea of what the situation was: Jason Todd. The boy was declared deceased not more than a week or two prior, and both Bruce Wayne and Batman seemed... off.

The socialite wouldn't appear as much on events and interviews, and when he did, he acted like everything was fine, but never stayed long enough to prove. Batman wasn't showing up to some of the Justice League meetings, leaving most of the leadership to Wonder Woman and Superman. They didn't even hesitate to allow him some time away from his duties. The criminals of Gotham began getting more bruised when caught, more scarred than usual.

Clark's only regret is that he didn't get to it sooner.

Arriving at the Manor's grounds, he paced to the door, glad that the nightfall hid his figure from any prying eyes. Alfred was already at the door.

"He's underground." The old man cut the chase, a thank you rushed his lips. A single drop of concern showed in between his wrinkles. Clark put a hand to his shoulder and shot him with what he hoped looked like a comforting smile.

Heading inside, behind the grandfather clock, down the spiral staircase, into the dark cave. He'd been there before, but not unaccompanied. It feels more eerie than ever.

The man in black was turned away from him, facing many screens at once. Every time they'd start a conversation, Bruce would acknowledge his friend first, even when he tried to sneak up on him. However, Clark beat him to it.

"Bruce," the man of steel kept his voice soft and reassuring. "I heard about what happened. Listen, B... If you need anything, you know the League and I are here for you."

No response. Bruce's heart had the same rhythm as always, steady and calm, like the ever lasting beat of a sad song. The dim light kept the kevlar cape and the removed cowl glistening, creating such an abnormal ambient. Clark sighed before continuing the speech he heartily organized on the way.

"I understand that you may be sad right now, but... no matter what, I--" Clark's thoughts and voice were cut off by a dry laugh that came out like thunder. It sounded almost masochist, a single "hah!" from the deep pit of Bruce's lungs.

"Sad? I'm not sad..." the suffering chuckle gave away to a Batman low and static voice, turning into a growl as he grit out of his teeth:

"I'm furious."

The response left Clark with furrowed brows and wide eyes. He almost took a step back, before hovering around to the side to better see his friend. Bruce's eyes were puffy and red, as wide as his own, furrowed brows in concentration and a deep scowl. His hair was stranded and oily like he forgot to wash it and he could use some shaving too. Wasn't looking much like a celebrity right now, his friend thought with ache.

Following his eyes, he saw what was on the screen: Joker sightings, evidence saved from a blown up ware house, what was once a crowbar but now is burnt and bent like a pretzel. Pieces of the Robin's suit with DNA scans all over, as well as... blood.

Bruce's hands weren't typing anymore, they were turned into fists. A huff or two came out of his lips, soft enough that only enhanced hearing like Clark's could have picked up on.

His heart rate hadn't changed at all. It didn't speed up as the scowl burned with anger and pain, those baby blue eyes filled with vengeance to the point of burning.

"He won't do anything like that again," Batman almost whispered. "he won't get the chance to." And rushed a turn around to his Batmobile. Before he could reach for his cowl, though, a soft and warm hand caught up his wrist.

"You don't want to do this, Clark." a threatening growl. "You know it must be done."

"I know you, B, and this isn't it." his frown was still present as he didn't let go when Bruce struggled to pull his hand out. Even as Bruce took his hand to his belt, he didn't budge. They stayed like this until the older man gave into the touch.

"Fine. Fight me, then. I'll still try, I'll try until you have to kill me. And you will," he spat words unlike his alter ego would do, pushing his voice louder and louder. "You might get it to happen, but I will not let this man go! So end it, Kal, end it here and now! Do it!"

Bruce's face was close to his own now as he yelled. If he was wearing his glasses, this would be much more uncomfortable than it already was. Bruce stared into the sapphire eyes that shone willingly upon him until he exhaled the rage out of his body.

"Please..." his voice almost cracked as it came out of his breathless self. He couldn't hold back the tears anymore, and he hated it. Bruce hated everything about crying, from the running nose to the vulnerability it puts him in. He looked down so that his best friend wouldn't see what a mess he was.

"Bruce, listen to me..." Clark finally let go of his wrist and lifted the older man's chin towards his own so he could look him in the eye. "We can't let our lowest moments define us. You were the one to teach me that, remember?"

Avoidant of his glance, the dark knight furrowed in response. The broad man grasped his shoulders and pursed his lips before speaking again.

"How many times haven't I lashed out and wanted to fix things my way, and you convinced me to use my brains for once?" a shine crossed Bruce's eyes in a second as he reminisced such moments. Kal could be such a hot headed person in battle he would often launch himself into trouble without planning. And he'd get hurt, because he was fighting for the wrong reasons. Many anger issues born from his habit of never leaving matters unresolved could sometimes take the best out of him, but luckily Batman and Wonder Woman would always be there to rescue him.

"This... this is different, Clark." he shook his head twice and took a step back, turning around from a pitiful glance.

"It might be, but still." taking a step forward, he embraced Bruce's shoulders from behind. They didn't display so much affection in front of others, but Clark knew he'd accept it. "Don't shut me off, please. I don't want you to lose yourself to that thing, B."

That thing. That mound of darkness that lured in every corner, the thing that kept him awake after completing every single one of his duties, what made him fight until he could no longer stand and would still come back crawling if needed. It wasn't driven by any heroism or narcissist policy, but born from rage, grown in vengeance and flourished in madness. He sighed and leaned into Clark's touch, allowing a single sob to come out.

"It was my fault, Clark... I wasn't there when he needed me and now..." another sob. He pulled himself inwards to hide from Kal but the man only snuggled him closer.

"You did all you could, B. I'm sure Jason wouldn't want to see you like this."

Turning around in a swift move, Bruce returned the hug, half of a sobbing noise escaping his throat. His legs trembled as Clark reached under the cape to rub his back in comforting motions.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, his knees giving in. Kal held him with no problem, lowering them to the floor so he wouldn't be hanging. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Words turn into sobs, that slowly turn into exhales. Fingers buried in both capes as this embrace holds something sweeter than honey and stronger than steel, a bond so deep they drown in each other's touch.

Bruce feels the weight in his shoulders lift off as he drifts to a light sleep in the current position, holding onto the red cape as hunky forearms lifted him and he rested against biceps covered in blue. He hadn't slept in days, just like Clark had thought.

On and off consciousness, Bruce didn't fight being carried into his bedroom. His friend didn't use his superspeed, only carried him carefully and used his cape to cover his eyes from the brighter lights. Laying him against the bed, he removed the cape and armor from the bat suit and left them hanging on a chair, leaving Bruce in his under armor, which wasn't much comfortable, but at least he could sleep in it.

"I'll go now... Call if you need anything, okay?" Clark whispered, not to disturb the almost asleep man. As he pulled away, a hand grasped his cape with laziness.

"Don't," Bruce's voice still strained out of his throat. "I can't sleep. I keep dreaming of him and I feel so..."

He didn't finish the phrase. He didn't have to. Clark took off his own cape and sat down beside his buddy, looking at him in the heavy lidded pearl eyes that blinked slowly, a silent thanking as the rest he craved approached him.

"Don't worry, B." he smiles, letting a hand slide through the one's hair, who sighs and snuggles into the feathered pillow. Clark pulls the sheets over Bruce as he feels the man starting to snore.

"I'll make sure you're okay."

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sorryiwasasleep · 5 months

Text

Superman is an Anti-Vaxxer?! Chapter 1

Bruce and Clark are discussing their relationships next steps and how to handle the publicity that comes with being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne, when Clark worries about his past affecting Bruce's reputation.

Bruce thinks that's laughable, because how could farmboy turned reporter Clark Kent ruin debauched playboy Bruce Wayne's reputation.

Then Clark tells him something that Bruce never in a million years saw coming.

Superman is an anti-vaxxer.

Or, well, he's not in belief and ethics, but on paper?

Clark Kent is a documented anti-vaxxer with exemptions for himself from one's required for work, and most recently, a documented exemption for his son Connor from the one's required for school. Cited as being for religious beliefs and never questioned too hard before, which is good since they actually need it for impenetrable skin.

But now he's dating the CEO of the company that essentially runs healthcare in Gotham.

The Batfamily are told and make fun of Clark.

Like, a lot.

But also, they help with a plan and things work out both for Bruce and Clark's relationship and reputations.

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sinematically · 6 months

Text

Clark Kent and his Mystery Boyfriend

Audience: General Words: 2.5k Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen, OC - Katie, Perry White. Dick Grayson and Timothy Drake make a lil appearance too Read it on AO3

Summary: Clark Kent had a long-time boyfriend that no one had ever met, so naturally they assumed that this "B" Clark spoke of didn't exist.

Clark Kent had a long-time boyfriend that no one had ever met, so naturally they assumed that this "B" Clark spoke of didn't exist. They’d been together for a long while, according to what Clark was saying. The timeline he hastily established almost made it look like Lois and he broke up because of this mysterious B.

But, knowing Lois, and knowing the boy scout Kent, the office just assumed Clark made up a fake boyfriend so people wouldn't ask about the breakup with Lois. They always looked at him with pity, patting his shoulder when he would share stories of their frankly unbelievable dates, maybe passing a comment or two, knowing he would never hear them.

Until maybe a year into the "relationship" there was a large bouquet on Clark's table with a note written in code. Clark seemed surprised when he spotted the roses. Clark smiled, neatly moving them onto a safer spot so he wouldn't accidentally knock them over and didn't address it. He didn't need to glance at the code more than once to read and decrypt what it meant. Lois, of course, did. She picked up the card and spent a good 4 hours decoding the message on it. When she finally got the last pieces of the puzzle she burst into laughter

"Holy shit, Smallville, your boyfriend is batshit crazy!" she said and dissolved into another fit of giggles.

The office got used to seeing random bouquets delivered to the office. Sometimes Lois got them too, but her bouquets were usually pink or white roses. Clark's were always deep red, long-stemmed roses nestled in a bunch of baby's-breath flowers.

Yet, the assumption that he didn't exist, or at least if he did -- he wasn't all that Clark made him out to be, didn't go away.

3 years into the relationship, Lois was fed up with all the office gossip.

Really, the tipping point was when Steve started a betting pool. His theory? Clark was dating Metropolis’s very own Lex Luthor. Understandably, Lois was pissed. So, during one of Clark's off-world missions sick leaves, she gathered everyone in one of the conference rooms and told them they were allowed one question each. She could choose not to answer them, which would result in the person getting another question.

"Who is he dating?"

"I'm not telling you that, Cat"

"Is he hot?"

"...Yes. He is"

When Clark was back at work, he noticed how there weren’t a lot of whispers, or nearly as many judgements being passed as he sat down. They even started asking questions. Clark knew Lois was behind this somehow but as long as they didn't know who Clark was dating, he was fine with the questions. He even answered them as honestly as he could.

This is how the Planet found out that Clark was dating a single father.

"Wait do they call you Pop?" Katie asked. She was new to the Planet and had only been at her job two weeks when Lois held the secret meeting. She was very intrigued by the whole thing.

Clark flushed a deep red, "Oh, no, oh god no, no... uh, yeah no. I mean, I've known the kids since... yeah, I've known them as long as he has but no... They're adopted so, you know, they don't even call B dad, they wouldn't, yeah, no"

Katie always asked the most questions. She was how the office found out that Clark spent a weekend in Paris, but she kept to herself that they went and watched a Broadway play the weekend after. She also clocked that Clark’s suit from the Christmas party was custom-tailored to fit him perfectly. She was very flustered when she realised Clark was packing a lot of muscle.

Katie was also the first (outside of Lois, Jimmy and Perry White) to put two and two together. All the expensive dates, impromptu vacations, a secret man from perhaps… Gotham? She got transferred to the investigative journalism team afterwards.

Her stories were smaller, and she picked up a lot of sports and celebrity life pieces, but she worked out of a little spot next to Jimmy’s table, across from Lois and Clark’s.

/|\^._.^/|\

It was nearing a decade into their relationship now, 7 years. Clark had been off-world, just re-entering the atmosphere when the explosion went off. He didn't hear Jason when he called out for him. It broke him.

Perry didn’t ask too many questions, just for an approximate time frame before approving Clark’s time off. When Clark, teary-eyed and at a loss for words, tried to explain himself Perry shook his head. “No father should have to go through that, both of you… go to Gotham, be with him” was all he said.

But, following the fate of many couples who lost their child, Clark and B broke up. Only Lois, Jimmy, White and Katie knew.

The office caught on once the flowers stopped. The rumour mill began churning again, and it wasn't long before Clark snapped. But of course, Clark Kent snapping didn't look like a regular person snapping.

Clark Kent snapping looked like a panic attack, running away from the bullpen and towards the roof of their building. Katie glared at the people near the water cooler who had been talking about how sad Clark looked. Lois and Jimmy had followed him up.

Clark had been given the rest of the day off, while Perry held a meeting with the staff reminding everyone of workplace conduct. Lois was seething with rage, shooting glares at various people in the room. Katie sat next to Lois, furiously typing into her laptop. Jimmy flashed an apologetic smile but didn’t say anything.

Clark came back to work the next day and did very little at his desk, he was later assigned a piece that required him to visit Central City for a few weeks. The gossiping had died down by the time he was back. Lois, Katie and Cat had taken it upon themselves to strike the fear of god into anyone caught gossiping, and the office had learnt their lesson.

Clark looked like a kicked puppy most of the day, till he slowly started feeling like himself again. Weeks passed, then months, before they had their usual Clark back. The office was starting to learn how much they missed their boy from Kansas.

Then the Daily Planet was brought by Wayne Enterprises. Clark Kent put down his papers the day the deal went through.

Most of the office was out, they’d been given a parent-company sponsored lunch as a welcome into Wayne Enterprises. Perry had stayed back to finalise some of the details over a call with Lucius Fox. Jimmy and Katie were sitting across from each other, franticly texting Lois who was on her way back from the airport.

"Kent! Don't you dare walk away from m- KENT!" Perry's booming voice practically rattled the windows as Clark walked away, calmly, from the editor-in-chief's office. Perry waited, threw his hands into the air and then slammed the door to his office shut. He was back on the call almost immediately, apologising to Lucius for stepping away so abruptly.

Clark calmly cleaned his desk out, while Jimmy leaned against the tall cabinets, chewing on his inner cheek. He was charged with stalling Clark, so Lois could talk him out of quitting. Katie was keeping a watchful eye, hoping she was subtle enough not to set Clark off again.

"Maybe you should just talk to him" Jimmy offered. Clark snorted, "Yeah, because I didn't try that, what... a thousand times?" "Well, maybe then you should… respond? He’s been reaching out, this is him reaching out right?” Jimmy said, crossing his arms.

"And what? Wait for an apology? Or worse, hear him say he wasn't sorry at all? That I should just go back, be ok? You don't know him like I do... I'm- I'm not putting myself through all this again. I tried, I tried to be there for him but I can't keep giving and giving and giving if he doesn't want to take it"

"He's trying too! Okay? This is him trying," Jimmy said, like a desolate child.

"He's not the only one who lost his kid, Jimmy" Clark said, loudly.

Jimmy didn’t think he could stop Clark as he walked towards the elevator. The doors shut silently.

Lois burst through the elevator doors forty seconds later, her heels clicked loudly as she marched towards the conference room. She had a phone jammed between her ear and shoulder, her left hand held her heels and her right hand her laptop. “You better have a good fucking reason to pull this shit” was the last thing Jimmy and Katie heard before the door slammed shut.

Clark was back at work a week later, with a significant pay hike and a new laptop waiting for him from Wayne Tech’s latest line, “Made to be Indestructible” was the tagline. Lois had 3 bouquets of roses at her desk, lunch from her favourite sandwich shop around the corner and a new coffee machine was being installed in the office cafeteria. “For Lois Lane” read the note slapped onto the new coffee machine.

No one knew what happened, they were just relieved there were flowers in the office again, and a new coffee machine.

It was this same year Wayne Enterprises sponsored a field trip for all Gotham Academy students to come visit the Daily Planet. One of the kids -- introduced himself to Lois and Clark as Tim -- had slipped a note into Clark’s pocket asking for a meeting. Tim had written that he had a message from the Gotham Bat. Clark, after reading the note, exhaled a slow deep breath. He asked the teenager to follow him into one of the conference rooms, and 25 minutes later the kid left the room smiling.

Clark was back in Perry’s office, requesting more time off, saying he needed to sort out some family issues. Perry looked at the kid who was hovering around Lois, then at Clark, and then back at the kid who had moved on tinkering with Jimmy’s camera.

“It’s Thursday now, and you’re not scheduled to come in on Saturday, are you?” Perry asked, but before Clark could reply, Perry continued “I’m giving you one day, and no pay. One day. If I don’t see you in your seat Monday morning, I don’t care who you’re with Kent, you’re out!”

Clark came back to work looking visibly less stressed. He had a bounce in his step and if Katie’s surprised yelp was anything to go by, he had a poorly concealed hickey on his collarbone.

Lois had yet again been sent a very nice lunch spread, and Katie’s table had a small bouquet of yellow roses. Jimmy was pouting, mumbling about how he had a lot to do with the change too. At lunch, Jimmy found a brand new camera and a new laptop from Wayne Tech at his workstation.

It was a day of celebration for the office when they finally saw a bouquet of deep red roses on Clark’s table.

Clark, as usual, set them aside so he wouldn’t knock them over.

/|\^._.^/|\

Many more years passed, and the office had gotten used to the stories. They also wanted, desperately, to meet Clark's B

Clark was spending the weekend at his mother's, and his boyfriend’s kids spent the weekend with him because B was caught up with work. Together, they’d baked enough pie for the whole office - Perry White was in a good mood for a whole afternoon after the cherry pie. Clark was telling Lois about how his last movie date ended with his boyfriend passing out on the couch, so Clark naturally carried him into their room and tucked him into bed, while they waited for Perry to assign their assignments in the morning.

Stories about Clark’s boyfriend were as normal as hearing Perry’s loud sigh of frustration, Lois’s heels clacking as she paced the bullpen floor, convincing a senator or governor to give her a name or a number. It was as routine at Cat Grant's gasp followed by whatever gossip was being announced to the pen. As common at Katie and Jimmy flirting, or as Kevin and Ben bickering, and Steve hitting on an intern. The flowers never stopped, and neither did the lunches.

Once in a while, on a special occasion, the whole office was treated to Clark’s boyfriend's generosity. When Clark has gotten his first Pulitzer nomination, or for Lois’s second win. When Katie finally got her first investigative piece bringing down a big Pharma company went viral, or when Lois got engaged.

Clark’s first and Lois’s third Pulitzer was for their piece on Cadmus’s illegal genetic cloning. It had been the biggest news story for months and got their paper a new set of eyes. As a congratulations, Perry had taken the whole team out of drinks.

It was that night when the office first saw someone from Clark’s home life.

A man in his mid-20s had snuck up on Clark in the middle of a conversation with Lois and loudly congratulated him. No one recognised the kid, so they didn’t pay too much attention.

All except for Cat Grant, who had the pleasure of meeting Richard Grayson on multiple occasions. Most recently at Bruce Wayne’s charity gala. She connected the dots, but sadly the wrong ones.

When Clark had gone to the bar to fetch Lois and Katie another drink, Cat went up to him. “You’re seeing him, aren’t you? Richard Grayson?” She asked.

Clark almost dropped the drinks, looking bewildered.

“Dickie? What? Cat, are you insane? Dick isn’t even…” Clark needed to take a second and let out a deep sigh “He was 13 when B and I got together. 13! And his name doesn’t start with B, for chrissake!” Clark shook his head, walking towards the booth where Dick, Katie, Jimmy and Lois were seated.

Cat, disheartened she guessed it wrong didn’t rearrange the puzzle pieces to make it fit. She just got herself another glass of wine and joined their table, sighing loudly when Dick introduced himself to her. Lois looked at Clark, who shook his head mouthing “Don’t ask”

A few moments later, Perry stood up and demanded Lois and Clark make a toast. Lois went first, while Clark tried to get out of it. He was in the process of being dragged onto his feet when the last guest for the night joined the party.

“Oh hey, B, you made it!” Dick said loudly, bringing attention to the man dressed in a black suit, taking off his coat dusted with snow. He was dressed very fancy for a bordering-on dingy bar in Metropolis. He nodded at the bartender who seemed to recognise him, but that wouldn’t be fair because who wouldn’t recognise Bruce Wayne?

The man’s face was plastered across a few magazines, many tabloids and a few billboards around the city. He was one of the richest men in the world, one of the most desirable bachelors in the country and he was smiling at Clark like he hung the moon in the sky.

“B…” Clark trailed off and moved to hug him

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT, CLARK IS FUCKING BRUCE WAYNE” Cat Grant gasped

/|\ ^._.^ /|\

If you liked it, leave a note!

#dc #batman #superman #superbat #superbat fic #superbat fanfiction #clark kent #bruce wayne #clark kent x bruce wayne

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superbattrash · 1 year

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Superbat: Safe Flight

Alternative title: another bridal carry fic, how original

Hi, this is for that sweet anon, who wanted more angry bridal carry Bruce. Enjoy! <3

“Don’t,” Bruce mutters.

“I didn’t say anything,” Clark says, despite his entire frame shaking with suppressed laughter.

“I can feel you laughing.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so close,” Clark singsongs as he tightens his arms. He’s enjoying his win way too much.

“Then carry me some other way,” Bruce demands. He squirms around in Clark’s arms but there’s no way for him to move around much in this position.

“I thought we concluded this was the most efficient way to carry you,” Clark says and he’s doing that thing with his eyes where you know he’s being earnest and truthful and Bruce wants him to drop him so he can fall to his death.

Bruce harrumphs which is enough to let Clark know he’s won. At least it’s usually enough to have him end the conversation, but not today, of course not. Why make it any easier on Bruce than he absolutely has to? Clark needs to take things just a little further.

“At least I covered you with my cape,” he says helpfully.

Like that’s any comfort.

“Why you do that, I have no idea,” Bruce mutters. It’s not like Clark has to wrap people in his cape. Bruce doesn’t do that whenever he saves someone. There are other ways to make sure people are kept safe. Shields for example or any other type of weapon or gear. Or in this particular case Clark could simply fly backwards.

“It’s to protect you from the wind,” Clark explains like Bruce isn’t already aware of this fact.

“I have my own cape, Kal,” he says, because he has to say something. He knows he’s just being difficult, but he isn’t happy with this situation, not at all. There’s a reason he usually says no to Clark.

“Well, mine is prettier.” Bruce let’s out another grunt and Clark grins like he just won a particularly amazing contest. “Red looks really good on you.”

“Shut up,” Bruce mumbles and crosses his arms tighter over his chest. There’s no need for it – he’s wrapped in Clark’s cape after all – but the movement makes him feel better. He’s physically telling Clark this isn’t alright with him which is the entire point.

He should’ve said no. He should’ve insisted, actually, but he doesn’t have the batwing nearby and he still hasn’t installed any type of wings into his suit. It’s an error he’ll rectify as soon as he’s home; there’s no way he’s letting Clark carry him home like this ever again.

It’s not even like he can blame Clark; Bruce did sort of willingly let him carry him home. Usually, he’d never approve such a humiliating scenario unless extremely necessary to his own survival but today’s different. Today he’s late for an event and even if he could magically find a way to the gala and get his hands on a proper suit, he’s soaking wet. Aquaman better handle the rest of the flooding or Bruce will be so pissed. He nearly drowned! There’s no way he’s going to let Arthur live that down. Stupid unreliable water-powers.

Either way Bruce has accepted a ride from Clark, and they did agree that this was the least humiliating way for them to travel. Now that he’s squished up against Clark’s chest Bruce is starting to second-guess their decision though. Clark’s heart is steady, his chest broad and warm and Bruce is terrifyingly aware of how easy it would be to settle against him and doze off. He blames this week’s lack of sleep for his thoughts.

“It’s still a long way home,” Clark comments like he’s been reading Bruce’s mind. “You can relax, you know?”

“I am relaxed.”

“My neck hurts just looking at you,” he tries. It’s a semi-successful strategy; Bruce is much more inquired to listen if it’s about someone else’s discomfort. Not today though.

“Look away then,” he says and turns his head away. Just because he’s stuck against Clark’s chest doesn’t mean he has to look at his face. His very attractive, very close face. God, if he didn’t have such extreme control over every single physical reaction of his body, he might’ve done something stupid. Like press his cheek against Clark’s shoulder. Or tilt his head up enough that he could reach Clark’s lips with his own and- nope, not going there. Lack of sleep is horrible for the brain, Bruce’s even more so.

“Bruce,” Clark says and there’s a scolding tone to his voice. It’s his ‘I wish you would just listen to me, it’s for your own good’ voice. He uses it more with Bruce than anyone else on the team.

“What.” Bruce still doesn’t look at him. There is a good chance he’ll feel those pesky butterflies in his stomach if he looks into Clark’s eyes right now. He’s not a teenager, this isn’t a silly crush. There’s no reason for butterflies, yet he still hasn’t found a way to get rid of them. In fact, they only seem to increase the more time he spends with Clark. Which is a lot. They are teammates, after all.

“We’re several hundred feet in the air,” Clark points out. He’s stopped trying to catch Bruce’s eyes at least.

“I’m aware,” Bruce says.

“There’s nobody else around,” Clark continues.

“I know.”

“I’m holding you in my arms,” he says, and Bruce wants to roll out of said arms and fall all those hundred feet just so he doesn’t have to be a part of this conversation. It’s almost like Clark is trying to get Bruce to confess. All that’s left is candles and soft music and it’d be as perfect as it gets.

“Yes,” he says instead of voicing any of his panic.

“The least you could do is try to enjoy it,” Clark says.

See that’s the problem right there. It would be way too easy to enjoy this, to get used to it. To accept Clark’s offer once or twice and then suddenly every other time he asks. Soon Bruce will start expecting Clark to fly him home and then he’ll start to offer Clark a cup of coffee before he leaves. Clark will be too polite to refuse, and Bruce will get used to his company. Will crave it and miss it. Miss him.

There is absolutely no reason for Bruce to kickstart the process his feelings are already doing their very best to never let him forget.

“Enjoy being suspended in the air?” In your strong arms, so close to you that I can feel the heat of your body, the strong beat of your heart. “Sure thing, Kal. I’ll get right on that.”

“You don’t have to put up a front, Bruce,” Clark sighs. “I know you’re exhausted. I can feel it in your entire body.”

“Don’t do that,” Bruce says gruffly.

“Do what?”

“Don’t… read me.” It makes it seem like you care about me. “It’s creepy.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark says quietly. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” He really is. Or at least he will be, as soon as he’s back on the ground on his own two feet.

He’s been getting more and more obsessed with these thoughts of Clark recently and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he says or does something stupid. Confessing is out of the question – there’s no way he’ll ever risk losing Clark’s friendship because of some foolish feelings – and it’s not like he can actually decide when he sees Clark. They work together, they’re the founders of the League. They have a responsibility to the team and each other. Not even the minimal possibility of Clark not rejecting him is worth jeopardizing that.

There are a few moments of silence before Bruce realizes that Clark hasn’t said anything back. He doesn’t usually give up this easily, but perhaps they’re both a little off today. He dares a glance towards Clark’s face and ignores the soaring of wings in his stomach. Clark is looking straight ahead, his mouth set in a tight line.

Oh. He’s upset.

Rightfully so if Bruce is really honest with himself. He’s being carried several hundred miles home – superstrength or not, Clark is carrying his full weight and flying slow enough that the wind won’t hurt Bruce at all. He’s wrapped Bruce in his cape, he’s trying to take care of him in his own way.

And Bruce… Bruce is too caught up in his own stupid feelings to make even the smallest of efforts. If he wasn’t well in his thirties, he might’ve just ignored it and pretended not to notice (youth is a strong, although shitty, excuse), but this is Clark. Sweet, caring Clark, who would move literal mountains for Bruce if he asked.

Bruce squirms around some more; he really can’t move around well when he’s burrito’ed into Clark’s cape. He wiggles his shoulders around so much that Clark stops in the middle of the sky.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asks, because of course he does. He can’t ever not be nice and caring. Which is probably why Bruce likes him so much.

“No,” Bruce says softly and decides to hell with it. He flops his face onto Clark’s shoulder and nuzzles at it. He is reminded of Selina’s cats but tries not to think too much of it. “Sorry for being… like that.” It sounds better than ‘an asshole’ but somehow loses some of its strength. It’s better than nothing though.

“You’re like that a lot these days,” Clark says carefully. He starts flying again. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Bruce says and then because he can’t keep pushing everything away: “Just a lot on my mind.”

“You can talk to me; you know that right?”

“You make that abundantly clear.” It’s supposed to come out sharp and a little sarcastic, but instead it just sounds soft and grateful, which… isn’t too bad, Bruce supposes.

“I’m going to keep reminding you though,” Clark says, and Bruce can tell by the movement of his chin that he’s smiling again. Good.

“I know.”

Flying Air Superman is much faster than any other type of transportation and within the hour Clark sets Bruce down on the manor’s grounds, very aware of not being visible from outside the fence surrounding the entire property. Or, well, he tries to set Bruce down. Getting unwrapped from the cape is a little tricky. While Bruce prides himself on being rather elegant in most cases, not even Batman can get unwrapped from a giant piece of fabric while being put on the ground without stumbling a little. Cue Clark’s very capable hands grabbing his elbow and making sure he doesn’t fall flat on his face.

While Bruce is grateful, he’s also acutely aware of how close Clark is. Somehow, it’s worse (better?) than when Bruce was pressed against his chest. This feels much more insistent than simply being in Clark’s arms. Bruce takes a small step back, proving to both himself and Clark that he can indeed stand on his own two legs, contrary to what his little side-step-dancing just showed. He finally untangles himself from Clark’s cape, pushing the fabric off his shoulders before handing it to Clark.

“Red really does suit you,” Clark says fondly before he clasps it onto his shoulders again. It’s a design he’s gotten from Bruce’s cape – very neat to be able to detach the thing in emergencies. Or if you want to wrap your best friend in it.

“Shut up,” Bruce echoes his earlier response, although his words are much less sharp this time around. It’s clear that Clark notices because his smile grows even if he doesn’t say anything.

Bruce looks towards the door. He’s still in the suit but it’s still early evening. He has a few hours to kill before he has patrol. He could go for a cup of tea in the study.

Don’t invite him in, don’t invite him in, don’t offer him a cup of-

“I was going to have a cup of tea,” Bruce says and doesn’t bite his own tongue off, despite his inherent need to do so. “If you’d like one?”

“Oh, yeah, that-” Clark starts and then promptly stops. He tilts his head just slightly to the side, but Bruce knows that look. Has seen it more times than he can count.

“Emergency?” he asks.

“A fire in Australia,” Clark says. He sounds sorry.

“Go,” Bruce says with a flip of his wrist. Clark looks like he wants to say something but then closes his mouth and nods before taking off. Bruce sighs. Better this way; he’s pretty sure his lack of sleep might’ve turned into a lack of brain-to-mouth filter.

He’s still going to sit down for a cup of tea. First, he has to change though. Clark’s cape might have kept him fairly warm but the evening winds of Gotham are unforgiving and he hurries inside.

Later that evening when he’s nestled in his favorite chair with a steaming cup of tea in his hands Bruce gets a text – and he usually doesn’t text with anyone but his kids these days, so he’s surprised to find it’s from Clark.

Would love a cup of tea next time. Are you free tomorrow? :)

Bruce smiles softly and for once doesn’t curse the butterflies in his stomach. It’ll be okay, it’s just a cup of tea. What could happen from a cup of tea?

#misha writes #superbat #superbat fanfiction #silly little cracky thing #Superman/Batman #superman x batman #Clark Kent/bruce wayne #Clark Kent x bruce wayne

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violent138 · 5 months

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Small snippet of a fic I'm trying not to work on

Clark's watching Barry doodle during a league meeting and he's struck with how much he wishes he could do that.

A few short lines and Barry's distilled the faces Hal makes, he's captured Diana's sleek, slightly wavy hair. Aquaman's face resting on a palm, on the border between bored and attentive.

Clark wishes he could capture Bruce like that. Keep him, and figure out the man in 2D, because Clark would never touch the man himself otherwise.

There's too much those lines will never understand about Bruce. Barry doesn't. The Bruce he's sketched onto some corner of the official paper is stony, singular.

He's missing Bruce's eyes, the flickers of interest, the curve of his absurdly pretty mouth as he holds back a grin, the way Bruce's Adam's apple shifts, the way he huffs out amused breaths sometimes. The strategic positioning of those shoulders, the relief when Bruce finally takes it all off, sometimes shoves it into Clark's hands to just hold it.

Barry nudged him and Clark shook himself out of it, blinking confusedly. Did he miss a question?

Barry slid a scrap of paper toward him. It's his doodle of Clark, clearly recently made. It's Clark looking longingly, eyes softened, mouth amused. And damn if it isn't the closest thing Barry's drawing could come to of what Clark thinks when he looks at Bruce.

"Thanks," Clark murmured, tucking the drawing away. Barry shrugged at that, going back to doodling their logo, the rough arrangement of people around the table. Someone, especially a founder, should chide him for not paying attention, but Clark knows Barry could answer any question thrown at him.

He goes back to examining Bruce, itching to solve him.

#guess who's in a sappy mood this fine afternoon #if you guessed me fuck off #superbat #league meetings #barry doodling his way through them is a hc of mine #batman #justice league #clips from the watchtower #my fic writing #ao3 author #longing looks are my kryptonite #drabble #superbat fanfiction

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amisti · 9 months

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✨ Masterlist of my fics (ao3) ✨

Zukka

I Will Bring Honour To Us All (and i will bring you home) in ao3

A Mulan (1998) with Zuko as Mulan and Sokka as Shang, but with many, many twists.

While the story is overall the same, I added the White Lotus as the group of old uncles because we need more of them.

📝 Words: 23,626

Pt1. Series: Mulan AU (Avatar)

We Had a Plan! (...thank you for not following it) in ao3

Sequel to I Will Bring Honour To Us All (and i will bring you home)

So Mulan 2 (2004) with Zuko as Mulan and Sokka as Shang with a few twists.

📝 Words: 21,779

Pt2. Series: Mulan AU (Avatar)

It's Called Erotica, Sokka (if you are gonna write it, do it properly) in ao3

Sokka could not imagine something worse...Zuko found out about his fan-stories...

What's worse? HE IS ACTUALLY READING THEM AND GIVING FEEDBACK.

📝 Words: 1,536

SuperBat

Is This Entertaining? in ao3

In a dystopian future, the totalitarian nation of Panem is divided into 12 districts and the Capitol. Each year two young representatives from each district are selected by lottery to participate in The Hunger Games. Part entertainment, part brutal retribution for a past rebellion, the televised games are broadcasted throughout Panem. The 24 participants are forced to eliminate their competitors while the citizens of Panem are required to watch.

In a surprising turn of events, Bruce Wayne ends up volunteering to be one of the two who represent District 12. He and his counterpart, Clark Kent, are pitted against bigger, stronger representatives, some of whom have trained for this their whole lives.

In other words: Hunger Games but make it superbat, with a few twists here and there

📜Chapters: 8/17 📝 Words: 62,412/?

Series: Hunger Games but make it superbat

it was your idea (you don't have the right to feel hurt) in ao3

Inspired by this tiktok from @theactorbat

Character A lying to keep their relationship with B a secret. Character B, who was the one that asked to keep the relationship a secret, but didn’t expect Character A to be so cruel about it.

Make it SuperBat, Superman as A and Batman as B.

Couldn't get the idea in my head, kept getting comments asking for fics recs and I live for the applause so here it is…

📝 Words: 2,058

I got better things to do in ao3

Brucie Wayne is just another tool in his arsenal.

📜Chapters: 3/3 📝 Words: 1,667

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

COMING SOON!!!

Zukka

10 Things I Hate About You AU! in ao3

I'm writing ✏️

I Want to Steal The Bride (Made of Honour) AU! in ao3

I'm writing ✏️

Superbat

Hunger Games AU in ao3

I'm writing ✏️

(beta-ing : 9 Chapter 🤓)BACK IN MAY

FAR IN THE FUTURE!!!

surprises <3

#amistifics #ao3 fanfic #zukka fanfic #masterlist #superbat #superman x batman #superbat fanfiction

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starberrysap · 6 months

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"No matter how much he tries to distance himself they always end up the same way: together. On the battlefield jumping in front of bullets or in the darkness between sheets, grasping at each other’s warm bodies."

Clark and Bruce fuck. Bruce is confused when suddenly there's feelings involved (but it might not be as bad as he thought it would be?) (actually it is that bad, but it might just be worth it).

#pookies I wrote another fic pls check it out if you want to <3 #superbat #clark kent #bruce wayne #dc #superbat fanfiction #superbat fic #fanfiction #ao3 #my fics #superbat ao3 #superbat smut

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bisayawa · 1 year

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i wouldn't mind spending forever with you

small superbat thing :3

bruce startles from his seat beside clark; the book in his hands forgotten.

"i ― uh..." clark's face goes red, from chin to forehead.

"forever?" bruce is thankful his voice doesn't break. he didn't think he'd be crying on a lazy saturday with the love of his life but such unexpected things should be expected form the life he leads.

"i didn't mean ― no, i do but ― oh!" clark's eyes are welling up with tears as well.

it was involuntary? his confession, his admission, a tiny prayer just for clark & the world, a string of words, to be with bruce forever... he wasn't even thinking about it? he just said what his heart was beating out?

"oh, bruce." clark seemingly took his silence for something deadly. "i'm sorry ―"

"no!" the bookmark is falling from the novel. "no, it's alright. clark... i wouldn't mind spending forever with you, too."

you make life easy. you make life colorful. you make me smile at inopportune moments. i look in the mirror & see the laugh lines you put on me. you're an orange wedge in the morning. you're light in the shape of my beloved.

all these things he couldn't seem to say, too heavy on his lips to muster. he hopes the beat of his heart is enough to speak it for him.

"bruce," clark takes away his glasses & wipes at the tears in his eyes. "i don't ― i didn't want to spring the question out like this. i don't even have a ring yet."

"we'll get one." bruce found the words breezing out, through the tightness of his throat & the curve of his lips. he was almost shaking. "we'll get one, and we'll spend forever together. that's the plan, isn't it?"

clark sniffs & stares.

bruce is smiling. it reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners with dimples. the usually harsh lines of his face ease into bright levity, into something so soft.

"that's the plan," clark chuckles.

#superbat #clark kent/bruce wayne #im scared of the source material bc these bitches have had gay tension for like 70 yrs or smth #superbat fanfiction #my fic.

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whoseyscientist · 1 year

Text

BEST BRUCE WAYNE/BATMAN FICS I KNOW 2!!

A part two of bat fic recs cause i’m insatiable and something tells me you are too~

Here’s the list of one-shots (or max threeshot) i’ve read and adored where bruce is the focus, mix of agonising angst and tooth-rotting fluff.

There’s still shipping, but this is overwhelmingly more filled with general batfam and justice league shenanigans, which in itself is annoyingly hard to find but a gem everytime you spot it out in the wild~

_______________________________________________________________________

BATFAM

The Dark Knight Strikes Back

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172390

If Bruce knew anything, he'd know one simply didn't finish Minecraft.

Tim would have told him, but he didn't exactly expect him to actually play-- Bruce didn't play things.

Dick remembers Bruce playing things. Jason does, too.

There's a hard line between what Bruce was like before and what he was like after the, well, you know. The thing with Jason.

Maybe it's time for that to change.

(^ starts crackier than you’d think which distracts you from all your crying by the end)

Have I Told You About Minnie?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517115

After you’ve known Matches Malone long enough, you get used to him telling you about his kids. Not that his kids know about it.

(^ its the only way bruce gets to brag about his kids and its through a thick new jersey accent and bushy moustache bveisrl)

I Used to Be an Adventurer Like You, Then I Took an Arrow to the Knee

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437716

Stephanie was just on patrol and now she’s stuck somewhere, sometime, with Bruce.

They bleed and bond and mostly try to keep each other alive— you know, just a Tuesday.

(^ bat bonding steph focused)

though your eyes will need some time to adjust

“I think…” Stephanie takes a deep breath, “I think I’m bad.”

“I don’t.”

“So what, I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“I am Batman.”

Stephanie snorts, “Yeah, you are… but what if I’m still bad?”

“Then I forgive you.” _______

Or: Stephanie and Bruce, figuring it out

Cycles of Sunshine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41123100

Scenes from a life spent raising a son.

Or: Alfred & Bruce throughout the years.

(so good man ;_;)

big pockets & juice boxes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33193552

“Juice boxes,” Bruce explained, pulling out one for himself, “the most common stakeout drink.”

Jason blinked. “Nah, pretty sure that’s coffee.”

“Most common stakeout drink for children,” he amended after he swallowed.

“And you just carry them around?”

Bruce shrugged. “Never hurts to be prepared.”

(^ batman is a fanny pack dad as he was always meant to be<3)

The D-Word

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9597686

so jason gets into the habit of dropping the d-word in there just to see what he can get away with, want a batmobile? take it. fleeing his siblings after irritating them? you do you jay chum.

"bAtMaN dOeSn'T mAkE pReSeNtAtIoNs" - The Sequel

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39791658

Tim sees the PowerPoint

(^ do yourself a favour and just- read through this whole series. they even made the actual powerpoints its amazing)

I got a jar of protection

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40491972

the bat family all have their own little quirks, Jason with his books, Dick with his hugs, and bruce's... trays?

or: Duke accidentally knocks over something sentimental to Bruce and finds out why.

(so bittersweet because on one hand alfred on the other family bonding)

_______________________________________________________________________

SUPERBAT (PLATONIC/ROMANCE)

Favorite Strangers

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663516/chapters/39073186

When Batman v Superman!Bruce ends up in the comics world, he'll have to navigate another version of himself, his family and the man he tried to kill if he wants to get home.

(^ killer concept but this hurttttt too ;-;)

To Bring Light Back To Your Eyes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640703

Months after the Justice League is formed in the wake of Steppenwolf's attempted incursion, Superman begins pulling away, becoming isolated and withdrawn. Bruce wants to help, but doesn't know how. He goes to Martha Kent for advice, and an offhand comment leads to a clumsy, though successful, outreach.

Or, Bruce bakes Clark terrible pie to make him feel better, and Clark finds this very endearing.

(delightful)

Whoever Falls First

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679041

"There's more kryptonite out there. When the Superman returns, there's going to be an all-star battle royale in the criminal underworld. Every megalomaniacal freak will want a piece of it so they can get a piece of you. And some of them will manage. They'll weaponize it and won't hesitate to use it against you, and when that happens I will not have you flailing around like an idiot."

aka: Bruce teaches Clark how to fight.

barely a shard of heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37311268

In the end, it was the Joker who killed him.

He'd not been aiming for the Bat - nor had he been aiming at anyone in particular. It was just a game he decided to play. A bomb, buried in the basement of the Gotham ballet. An unexpected guest in the form of arts patron Bruce Wayne.

And Clark? He was thousands of miles away, dealing with a tsunami in Japan.

(^ crazyyyy)

good in red

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42127347

“I can’t get it off me,” Clark whispered, turning his hand over so the blood embedded into his skin caught the fluorescent lights of the Cave, “Please, Bruce.“

(^ platonic but also just so sad for clark, you can’t save everyone :(( )

The End of Infinity (With You)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38216218/chapters/95480404

The end of the world was just over the horizon.

(^ I remember losing my shit for this, clark and bruce talking before they die </3)

My Own Desert Places

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290077

Batman had been making himself scarce since the media storm started, but he shows up for an interstellar mission when no one else could go. Clark just wishes he knew what to say to fix things, but that can wait until after the mission.

Unfortunately unfriendly aliens, crash landings, falling trees, and the freezing cold makes everything much more difficult. Now Clark can only hope they can stay alive long enough for the rest of the League to find them. There are worse times to have a heart to heart with his best friend, right?

(hit like a ton of bricks ;-; loved the very realistic way they displayed acesexuality and the media's frenzy of it )

_______________________________________________________________________

JUSTICE LEAGUE

Lugubrious Alarmism

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27812494

Magic is always a pain. Superman might temporarily be a toddler, but the League's knows they've gotten off easy this time: everyone's in the proper dimension, there's no annoying entity trying to teach them a lesson, and the de-aging spell should wear off without any weird consequences in less than a fortnight. Babysitting duty gets ten times more adorable with the purchase of a Justice League plushie set. Now Clark can continue his heroic adventures with his friends: fighting crime, spreading justice, and... beheading Batman?

(toddler clark keeps beheading batplush and it is hilarious, i was dying of laughter, platonic, hints of superbat)

Flying Lessons

https://archiveofourown.org/works/549770

Batman teaches Flash how to pilot the Javelin-7. Flash is clearly better suited to the ground.

(^ fun bat and flash banter, platonic)

Put Away Childish Things

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21361447

Clark has a birthday party. It's pretty great, until it isn't.

(Hal and bruce taking a moment to just- talk about life and bruce comforting an emotionally raw hal, platonic)

In the name of the father, the billionaire, and honorary bat-uncle

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38067379

It becomes a bit of a tradition, after this; when Wally gets mad, he announces with a (obnoxiously loud) screech he'll be living with Uncle Bats until Barry gets his act together, except the smaller redhead doesn't use the word 'act' and Batman, with a reputation to uphold, has to resist the urge to cover Robin's ears.

Or; everyone fears Batman. the younger heroes tend to forget it. Bruce is thrusted into the hesitant uncle role.

Thin Line

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41584209

Bruce knows he walks a thin line between Batman and my friend's dad with a lot of the younger heroes. He just isn't sure when they skipped Mister Wayne altogether and he became Uncle B. (Or, Bruce may have an adoption problem, but this is not his fault. They just showed up.)

(^ these two fics being peak ‘uncle batmannnn can’t we go to batburger???’ vibes)

_______________________________________________________________________

GOTHAM/ BATLANTERN

to span the tide

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37793593

Batman looks after Gotham City. Maybe, Bruce Wayne has something to contribute as well.

or, five (plus one) times Bruce Wayne is observed as he quietly takes care of the people of Gotham City.

(^the bats actively connecting with gotham and its citizens has a special place in my heart)

and i'll be two steps on the water

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38005144

Studying his profile as she pours, the name clicks in her head like she knew it would. Even downturned, that face is unmistakable, and the realization thunders lightly in her mind.

Bruce Wayne.

(^ batty connecting with gothamites is just my jam especially if they were robbers or killers who had no choice, mans just trying to do good c:)

A Work in Progress

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41426337/chapters/103887219

Bruce is recovering from Scarecrow's latest fear toxin, having had a hallucination more terrifying than any before. He learns he has more kids than he thinks, that trips to a country cabin can be surprisingly healing, and that maybe it's time to accept that people worrying about you can be a good thing.

(^ batlantern, and bruce having a father/daughter camping trip just to ground himself where literally all the other bat girlies just tag along is IMMACULATE i love that idea so goddamn much)

The Mission Worth Fighting For

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165110

The one where Harry Jordan and Bruce Wayne wake up in a hotel with only a couple of wallets, some weird things they don't think they want, and no idea who they are.

There is only one bed.

(hilarious and so very in character, loved hals and bruces relationship grow from ‘who is this grump??’ to this is my grump :) batlantern)

In Ruins

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925469

It's the late 1930s and Bruce Wayne is an expert in Egyptian archaeology. When he's called down to Egypt to help out an old friend, he meets Hal Jordan and everything goes downhill from there.

(^ took me an embarrassing amount of time to realise it was an indiana jones au and when i say embarrassing amount i mean right now- i have just right now realised it was an indiana jones au. in my defence, i’ve never seen the movie sooo) ((anyway, it’s really good))

#bruce wayne #batman #batman fanfiction recs #batfam #justice league #dc #bruce wayne fanfiction #batfam fanfiction #batfam fanfic rec #fanfiction recs #superbat #superbat fanfiction #batlantern fanfiction #batlantern #justice league as a team #forgot to add the most inportant tags #bruce wayne is a good parent #bat dad #utility belt fanny pack

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