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“Oh c’mon, Perry,” Clark said, exasperation dripping from his voice. “You know I hate covering galas, regardless of whose it is. Can’t you send Lois?”
“Sorry, Smallville,” Lois said, smiling. “I’ve booked the night off. I have a date.”
Clark rolled his eyes at her and returned his attention to Perry. His boss was not very sympathetic.
“Kent, I don’t care if you like them or not. Get your ass down to Gotham, and get me a story. We’re done here.”
Clark sighed and walked out of Perry’s office. Lois followed.
“He has a point, Clark,” she said as they resettled into their desks. “Wayne’s galas are at least usually entertaining. I mean, if you find a bunch of old men drunk and talking about money entertaining…”
Lois laughed and Clark glared at her.
“No, seriously though, even you have to admit, that Bruce Wayne is gorgeous .”
Clark scoffed. “Yeah, he may be easy on the eyes, but his speeches are always so dry . It’s going to be hard to scrape together a story from this.”
“You’ll manage,” Lois winked. She turned back to her computer and started working.
The rest of the day dragged by. Clark decided he had better leave the office at a decent time to keep up the appearance that he was driving to Gotham. Around six o’clock he began to pack up his bag.
“Good luck, Smallville,” Lois joked. “Have a wonderful time.”
Clark chose not to acknowledge her, but said good night to a few of his other colleagues as he made his way out of the building and towards his apartment.
Bruce Wayne was handsome , Clark was willing to admit that. He was incredibly rich, and that combined with his looks had earned him the title of Gotham’s most desirable bachelor. Clark, however, didn’t buy into any of it.
The truth was, he couldn’t stand Bruce Wayne. He was arrogant, entitled, and honestly about as dumb as a doornail. He was commended for his charity work, but Clark couldn’t help but feel that the only reason he donated so much money was so that people thought he was a good person; that there was more to him than a rich, drunken idiot stumbling around his parties and taking women to bed left and right.
Clark’s phone chimed as he unlocked the door to his apartment. He pulled it out and saw that he had a text message from Batman .
Superman, please remember we have a league meeting tomorrow evening. Also, I hope that your day was pleasant. -B
Clark smiled lightly.
If anyone ever decided to ask him if there was anything going on between them, Clark would laugh it off. Both he and Batman knew that they couldn’t possibly have an official relationship-- neither of them even knew who the other really was outside of the league, and that was justification enough.
It didn’t stop them from developing a close friendship, however, which may or may not have developed into a very flirtatious amity. Clark knew that Batman was most comfortable when he was around Superman, and considering all that they had been through together, they did share a lot of memories with each other. However, all of those memories involved capes and cowls, so they couldn’t really take it further.
Clark wanted it though. He wanted it so badly, and he thought maybe Batman did too, but he was almost certain the dark knight would never risk revealing his identity, even for a relationship.
Clark shot Batman a return text:
Yeah, B. We have one every week. Thanks though, my day was fine. Hope you’re well. -S
He shoved his phone back into his pocket and decided he would shower, eat dinner, and then head over to Gotham.
When Clark emerged from the shower, it was later than he anticipated. He scarfed down some leftovers and stowed his dark gray suit in his cape. He had, as always, donned the Superman uniform so that he could fly over Metropolis without drawing attention to himself. Clark wore the costume under his clothes anyway, pretty much anytime he went out in the evening; but especially when he went over to Gotham.
The city was a magnet for catastrophe, and so, it seemed, was Bruce Wayne. He had a feeling he might need to be Superman tonight.
The air was pleasantly warm as Clark flew over to Gotham. He took deep breaths, relishing in the freedom that came with flying. He really didn’t want to go to Wayne’s gala, but he supposed his reward was the excuse to spend part of the evening airborne.
It was just after eight when he touched down in Gotham. He stepped into the nearest alley and pulled his suit on over his costume. He finished his disguise with his signature square-framed glasses, and made his way toward the museum.
There were security guards checking bags and invitations as guests entered the building. Clark flashed a goofy smile and his press pass to the guard. She waved him through the metal detector, and with a deep breath, Clark entered the gala.
It was as Wayne’s galas usually were. Ritzy; the museum decorated with elegantly placed hanging lights, vases of flowers, and tasteful hanging fabric, and boozy; everywhere he looked Clark saw slender glasses of bubbling champagne already in the hands of guests or being distributed on golden platters by men in black tie tuxedos. Clark politely declined a glass, expressing to the server that he was a member of the press. At this, the server directed him to a roped off area from which he would be able to participate in the Q&A with Bruce Wayne himself.
Clark thanked the server profusely, and pushed his way through the crowd. He ducked into the ribboned area and pulled out his pad and pen. He spent a few minutes jotting down his initial observations, intending on using the notes to describe the gala in his article. Once he had written down everything that might be useful, the guests spontaneously erupted into applause. Clark joined them as he realized that Bruce Wayne had made his way out onto the makeshift stage.
Predictably, Wayne’s speech wasn’t very exciting. Clark made a few jot notes about the new direction the museum was taking, the particulars about the monthly exhibits Wayne Enterprises were going to fund, and the CEOs personal goals for the future of the museum. The Q&A began almost immediately after the speech, and as per usual, Clark remained silent. He took diligent notes based on what other reporters had asked Wayne, but did not ask any questions himself.
After what felt like hours, seeing that almost every reporter who was present had multiple questions, Wayne politely excused himself from the stage and wished his guests well with a surprising amount of sincerity.
Clark ducked under the rope again, intending on possibly reaching out to a few of the guests to get their opinions of the museum, however he was cut off by the man of the evening himself.
“Kent, isn’t it?” Bruce Wayne asked, extending a hand. “Bruce, although I’m sure you already knew that.”
Clark nodded, grasping Bruce’s hand. “Yes. Clark Kent, from the Daily Planet. Wonderful to meet you, sir.”
“Please,” Bruce said. “Call me Bruce, and likewise.”
Clark stood awkwardly for a second, unsure what to say.
“You have no questions for me?” Bruce asked, giving him a puzzled look. “I noticed you while I was on stage. Every other press pass holder seemed to find a new way to ask me the same damn questions as always, except for you.”
Clark shrugged. “I guess all of my questions were answered, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce laughed.
“Bruce,” he corrected. “I insist. And, I must say, I’m grateful that you don’t have anything to ask me. It gets incredibly boring responding to the same dull questions over and over again.”
Clark smiled. This was an attitude he never would have expected from ‘Billionaire Brucie.’
“I’m sure it does,” he said.
“I’ll often come down and talk to reporters who haven’t asked me anything,” Bruce continued. “I once met a young intern in Metropolis who was an aspiring journalist, but she had crippling social anxiety. She was very uncomfortable speaking in front of large groups, but was passionate about the field. After her, I’ve made an effort to speak to reporters who are more soft spoken. It’s my way of providing a sort of accommodation. Apparently, you don’t have that issue though, you just don’t like me.”
Clark’s breath caught in his throat.
“What?” he stuttered. “I don’t... not ...like you…”
Bruce laughed.
“Okay, maybe you do have that issue,” he joked. “I’m just teasing you. It’s just not often that reporters don’t have a million questions for me, being the wealthiest man in Gotham and all.”
Clark smiled, and was fairly certain that Bruce saw the panic draining from his face. When he had arrived at the gala, he had not been a fan of the man, but now that he was having an actual conversation with him, it seemed like he was a pretty genuine guy.
Clark was about to say something when he heard a loud crashing behind him. The glass windows at the entrance of the museum had shattered, scattering sharp pieces all over the marble floor. Clark scanned the entrance, and saw that there were hundreds of small, marching, mechanical toy monkeys making their way into the gala. He concentrated on the toys, and noticed that each one had a small screen built into their bodies. To his horror, each screen had a countdown displaying just over two minutes.
There were a few startled screams that caught Bruce’s attention, and Clark took advantage of his conversational partner’s distraction. He slipped away from Bruce and made his way into the men’s washroom. Moments later, he emerged sans civilian clothes and took to the air, grateful that the monkeys were occupying the guests.
From his position near the roof, Clark could see that the monkeys were beginning to disperse themselves throughout the crowd, their cymbals clanging together with every second that was lost to the countdown.
His voice was loud as he yelled at the crowd: “Begin evacuating. Find your way to the nearest exit.”
Nobody hesitated, save for two people. Bruce Wayne was one of them, standing right where Clark had left him and trying to follow Superman with his gaze as he collected as many of the monkeys as he could, moving at superspeed, flying them through the roof and throwing them into Gotham Harbour.
Given the various exits, most of the guests were able to evacuate the building while Superman disposed of most of the toy bombs. When there were only 10 seconds left on the countdown, the only people remaining in the building were Bruce and an elderly man who Clark recognized as one of the museum’s curators. They were standing near an ancient Egyption vase and Clark could hear that the man was distressed that the object would be destroyed. Bruce was trying to convince him to leave it behind, but the man would not budge.
Clark flew in and grabbed the artifact, running it quickly through the front door of the museum and into another curator’s hands. With three seconds left, he ran back into the museum and found Bruce, arms wrapped protectively around the elderly man, back to the bombs and waiting for them to go off.
Clark dashed to the two men, and wrapped himself protectively around both of them just in time for the few remaining bombs to explode.
Most of the entrance was still destroyed despite Clark’s removal of the majority of the toys. The explosion ignited several small fires in the large room. After unwrapping himself from around Bruce and the curator, pleased to find them unscathed, Clark set to work blowing the fires out.
While he was busy finishing the job, Bruce led the elderly man out of the building, where he was reunited with the artifact he had been willing to risk his life for. Clark made his way out too, once the immediate danger had passed, and examined the crowd. Police were arriving on scene, and Clark was pleased to hear from several of the guests that everyone had gotten out safely save for Bruce and the curator, who was named Oscar. They commended Clark for saving them as well, and for putting out the fires.
Several reporters that he recognized from earlier approached him, begging for a statement from Superman to supplement their rapidly growing stories. He had every intention of giving them one, but was cut off once again by Bruce, who came pushing desperately back through the crowd and up the steps towards him.
Clark was caught completely off guard as Bruce cupped his cheeks in his hands and kissed him .
Not gently, either; firmly, passionately, feverishly, like the kiss had been a very long time coming.
Clark could feel the heat in his cheeks when Bruce finally pulled away. The billionaire looked like he was about to say something, but Clark didn’t stay long enough.
He kicked off the ground and flew back to Metropolis, his mind absolutely racing.
-------
The following evening, Superman was sitting at the table in the Watchtower, admittedly still reeling from Bruce Wayne’s kiss.
His lips had been incredibly soft, and even though it had taken him by surprise, he had to admit that he really enjoyed it . He was distracted by how much he wanted to do it again.
He was also torn.
He had thought so little of Bruce before the previous night, but having spoken to him for a few minutes, Clark had had a glimpse of the man behind the money, and he liked what he saw. But he also knew, deep down, that he had feelings for Batman, despite the vast amount of secrets between them. Batman was gruff, but Clark knew he was a sensitive, charming man underneath the cowl.
Ironic , Clark thought. I must have a thing for facades .
The rest of the league began filing into the room and taking their seats. Clark barely took notice, preoccupied with his thoughts of Bruce and Batman.
He felt vaguely like someone was trying to get his attention, so he forced himself to come back into focus.
“Earth to Superman!” Flash was laughing, waving his hand in front of Clark’s face. “Ha! Isn’t that funny? Earth to Superman, the alien…. get it?”
He looked around expectantly, but was only met with rolling eyes.
“Okay, well, anyways, I said, “How about that smooch, Supes?”
Batman, of course, walked into the room at the exact moment Flash spoke. Clark immediately blushed, and dropped his gaze to the table.
“Ooh!” Flash continued. “Ooh Supes is embarrassed! Swept off his feet by a billionaire. Honestly, Big Blue you could do a lot worse than Wayne.”
Wonder Woman scoffed. “Honestly, Flash, not that I’m judging Superman’s choice in romantic partner, but really ? He could do so much better than Wayne.”
“Bruce Wayne is not my romantic partner, okay?” Clark said. He tried to sound convincing, but he could tell by the murmurs and giggling throughout the room that he had failed. He snuck a glance at Batman, who was sitting silently next to him. Riddled with guilt, Clark spoke again: “Can we please just change the subject and start the meeting?”
Flash held his hands up in surrender, but was still smiling.
Batman cleared his throat and spoke quietly.
“I agree,” he said. “As interesting as Superman’s love life might be, it’s not really any of our concern, is it? We need to focus.”
Clark wasn’t certain, but it really sounded like there was a touch of hurt in Batman’s voice. He tried to put it out of his mind and focus on the meeting, but he just couldn’t do it. He stayed silent the whole time, sneaking glances at Batman’s face and wishing desperately that his cowl was not lined with lead, simply so that he could see if the man behind the mask was okay.
Somehow, the meeting finished and Clark thought that he had gotten off easily. He was wrong; Flash and Lantern approached him while they were all packing up and began to grill him about the kiss.
Clark tried to keep the details to a minimum, but realizing that according to the rest of the league, he had no reason to hide his feelings, he caved in on a few small tidbits.
“I saved him and Oscar, one of the museum’s employees,” Clark explained. “He was probably just caught up in the adrenaline.”
“But you’re not complaining, are you Supes?” Wonder Woman prodded, joining into the conversation. Clark glanced at Batman, who was packing up the notes from the meeting very quickly. “Tell us,” she continued. “Is he a good kisser?”
Next to him, Batman slammed his briefcase shut and stalked out of the room. Clark felt a pang in his chest. Even for Batman, the departure was abrupt and undeniably emotional.
“What’s his problem?” Lantern asked, watching him leave. Clark sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I have a hunch,” he said. “But I’ll go and find out for sure.”
He thought about what he was going to say to Batman as he made his way toward the founder’s quarters.
He was certain he had feelings for Batman, but he was also pretty sure that nothing would ever come from their flirtation no matter how much he wanted it. He was also certain that there had been something electric about the kiss he shared with Bruce Wayne. There was an undeniable attraction there, and though he had only had a taste, he had to admit that the prospect of being able to develop an actual romantic relationship with Bruce was enticing. He could have things with Bruce that he could never have with Batman.
Was he crazy, though, for throwing away what he had built with Batman for some billionaire he had kissed once? At the same time, he knew as much about Batman as he did about Bruce, despite their years of partnership.
Clark had made a decision by the time he knocked on Batman’s door.
It was a moment before it swung open. Batman was there, still in full costume, looking at Clark through white lenses.
“Can I help you?” Batman growled.
“Can I come in?” Clark asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “I want to talk to you.”
Batman didn’t say anything, but stepped aside, gesturing for Clark to come in. He walked in and dropped without hesitation onto the leather couch. He had been in this exact position many times, catching up with Batman about their individual projects, but this time was different.
“I’m sorry,” Clark said. “I’m sorry that the talk about the kiss took up League time. I didn’t want to talk about it, but Flash and Lantern kept pushing it.”
Batman was staring at him, but didn’t say anything. Clark blushed. He had anticipated a lecture of sorts, so was stunned by Batman’s silence.
“And, um…” he stuttered. “I know we kind of have this... thing ...going. At least I think we do, and, well, I guess I just wanted to...make sure you were...alright?”
Clark’s intonation rose as if he was asking Batman a question. This time, he responded.
“I’m fine.”
“Really?” Clark said. “Because you don’t seem fine. You stormed out of the meeting, and now you’re not really talking to me.”
“What do you want me to say?”
Clark ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I want you to tell me what’s going on here. I want to know what we are.”
Batman was still staring at him. Clark was still blushing.
“We are teammates, partners once in a while, friends…” He said, trailing off. “You kissing some billionaire doesn’t change that.”
Clark’s face fell.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” he said, quietly.
“I’m sorry, Superman,” Batman said. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Clark took a deep breath, but it didn’t stop the confession rising in his chest.
“I want to know what we are ! Beyond teammates, partners, and friends, Batman. There’s more to us and you know it. I want to hear you say it. I want to know for sure that I’m not an idiot for deciding five minutes ago that I was going to throw away a potentially happy relationship with Bruce Wayne in pursuit of a man who might not actually love me back!”
Batman, much to Clark’s dismay, simply continued staring at him.
“Jesus, Batman,” he said, standing and heading for the door.
“Wait, Clark,” Batman said. Only it wasn’t Batman’s voice; the modulator wasn’t on, and he had called him Clark .
Clark turned around. This time it was his turn to stand and stare at the other man.
To his surprise and delight, Clark watched as Batman reached for and gripped the brim of the cowl, pulling it up and over his head.
“You love me?” Bruce asked. The cowl was hanging empty in his hand, and Clark would have found the sight unnerving had he been able to pull his gaze away from Batman’s--Bruce’s--face.
“You’re...Bruce?” Clark stuttered.
“Yes. I’m Bruce Wayne,” he said. “And you’re Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet who doesn’t ask many questions.”
“But you…”
“I saw you sneak into the washroom while you thought I was distracted,” Bruce explained. “I wondered what the hell you were doing until I saw Superman emerge and float up to the ceiling.”
Clark’s mouth was open slightly.
“I couldn’t...there was…” Bruce tried. “I didn’t have time to get into my own costume. I don’t have super speed, it would have taken far too long, so I tried to help as Bruce. I was distracted by my revelation at first, but once I got over it, I started to lead people to exits. Then I saw Oscar...he’s a sweet old man, I couldn’t let him die. I tried to convince him to leave the vase, but he wouldn’t. He’s so grateful that you saved it, and us, of course. I am too.”
Clark took a few slow steps forward and sat back down on the couch.
“I was overwhelmed, honestly,” Bruce continued, moving to sit on the couch next to Clark. He laid the cowl on the floor and unbuttoned his cape. “If I’m being honest, I thought you were very attractive in a sexy, nerdy sort of way, but I couldn’t help but think about Superman the whole time I was talking to you. When I saw that the two men I was attracted to were one in the same, I kind of felt like you seem to be feeling right now.”
Clark met Bruce’s gaze.
“So the kiss…” Clark said.
“It was real,” Bruce said, quietly. “After you had saved everyone, saved the vase, Oscar, and myself, and put out all of those fires, I was overcome with affection and desire; something I’m not very familiar with. I acted rash, running up the steps to kiss you like that, especially when I knew the cameras were on you, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted you for so long, and finally , unintentionally, I had discovered the secret that was keeping me from loving you.”
“You love me?” Clark asked.
Bruce smiled softly.
“More than you could ever know, Superman.”
Clark was unsure how to react, his gaze shifting back and forth between Bruce’s eyes, trying to find some sort of indication that this was all actually just a lie; a practical joke that the League had played on him.
But, he couldn’t find anything, and the feel of Bruce’s lips suddenly pressed to his was enough to make him stop looking. He closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders and let himself kiss back .
They stayed intertwined for several minutes, exploring each other’s mouths, trying to make up for years and years of lost time. Finally, Clark pulled away.
“So you really love me,” Clark said, meeting Bruce’s eyes. Bruce chuckled, and Clark watched his shoulders relax.
“Yes, Clark,” Bruce said. “I’ve loved you for a really long time. All it took was the opportunity to know every part of you to present itself. Now that I can love you as Kal and Clark…”
“And I can love you as Batman and Bruce,” Clark said, leaning in for another kiss.
“I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you…”
“I won’t be able to stay away from you…”
Their lips met again, but only briefly as they both began to laugh. They barely broke apart, but it was enough for them to whisper:
“I love you, Clark Kent.”
“I love you too, Bruce Wayne.”