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Bruce wasn’t surprised that it was Clark who’d come after him. He wasn’t even surprised that Superman had figured out where he was. After all, out of the members of the Justice League, it was Clark who knew him the best.
Bruce just wasn’t sure why he was now facing Superman in the guise of Clark Kent, sitting across from him at a restaurant Bruce hardly ever came to now.
“You left.” Clark spoke the words in a soft tone, even as he scanned the menu he held in his hand. “You walked out of HQ without waiting for a response from any of us.”
Bruce glanced down at his plate. It was a fairly simple meal. The restaurant wasn’t one most people would associate with him. It was small and homely, rather than posh and expensive. It was perhaps one of the only places he felt he could relax, even if he couldn’t truly be himself.
After what had happened, after his files had been used against the people who had trusted him, he couldn’t face going back to the mansion. Couldn’t face taking on the mantle he knew everyone outside expected him to wear. Whether it was Bruce Wayne, the rich playboy, or Batman…right now, he just needed to forget that he’d been responsible for his friends being hurt; having their powers taken away from them or turned against them in the worst possible way.
But Clark was here. And if nothing else, he deserved a response. Even though Bruce wasn’t sure what the other man was expecting. After all, it wasn’t like he didn’t know how the Justice League would vote. “I thought I’d save you the task of telling me I was out of the League,” he answered, keeping his voice low; even though there was no one close enough who could hear their conversation.
“You don’t have a lot of faith in us.”
Bruce finally raised his eyes to Clark’s face, looking into the other man’s eyes. He shook his head and allowed himself a small, humourless smile. “I have plenty of faith in you. In all of you. But I also know that none of you will be able to trust me again.” He hesitated, but this was Clark; and Superman was the one Bruce had always felt closest to. “None of you will be able to look at me without seeing that I was responsible for the suffering you all went through.”
Clark nodded and set the menu down, then pointed to Bruce’s plate. “Are you going to eat that? Because if not, I think we should go back to Wayne Mansion and talk.”
“You want to talk?” Bruce took in a deep breath. He knew Clark wasn’t looking to hurt him, but maybe it would be easier if he did. Bruce wasn’t a stranger to pain. And if Superman did want to harm him, Bruce wouldn’t stop him. Wouldn’t fight back. Because he owed Clark way too much.
“Yes. I’d like to talk.” Clark’s voice was low and reassuring; his eyes focused on Bruce’s face, even though he was clearly also keeping his attention on who and what surrounded them.
“Yeah. Okay, then.” Bruce pushed back from the table and walked towards the exit of the restaurant. At the same time, he quickly sent a message to his driver.
By the time they got outside, the car and his driver were waiting for them. Bruce glanced at Clark, even as he stepped over to the vehicle and opened the door. “Do you want to talk back at the mansion?” he asked.
“Is that where you’d feel most comfortable?” Clark asked in return.
Bruce only shrugged, not putting voice to what he was thinking: that he wasn’t expecting his comfort to take any kind of priority. He got in the car and waited for Clark to join him before saying, “Wayne Manor.”
“Very good, Sir.” With no further comments, the driver began heading in that direction.
Both Bruce and Clark were quiet during the journey. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to speak; wasn’t sure what Clark planned to say to him. He didn’t think it was necessary for Clark to say anything more than that Bruce was out of the League, but if there was more that Clark needed to say to him, Bruce wouldn’t protest.
He owed the other man that much, at least.
Neither of them spoke or moved until the driver parked outside Wayne Manor. Then, Bruce got out of the car and walked to the door, aware of Clark following close behind him.
“Is Alfred here?” Clark asked, as soon as they were inside the mansion with the door closed behind them.
Bruce shook his head. “He has the day off today.” He turned fully to face Clark, looking into the other man’s eyes. “What do you need to say to me?”
“Shall we talk inside the main room?” Clark nodded towards the doorway.
Taking a deep breath and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stop Clark should the other man decide to hurt him, Bruce walked into the main room and sat down on the couch. He looked up as Clark stepped over and sat down next to him, close enough that their legs were close together. It made him feel slightly less alone that Clark was willing to be close to him…but he still felt a stab of guilt, remembering his responsibility in harming the members of the League. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Clark sat in silence for a moment or two before saying, quietly, “I know you’re sorry. I understand why you kept those files on all of us and I also understand that you never intended for them to be used. Not unless there was a real need to.”
“But…?” Bruce prompted, when Clark fell silent.
Clark took a deep breath and looked directly at Bruce, into his eyes. “You feel responsible and guilty for what happened to all of us. I came to see you outside of the League because I want to talk to you as a friend. Not as a superhero.”
“Are we still friends?” Bruce asked quietly.
“As far as I’m concerned? Yes,” Clark answered honestly. “What happened doesn’t change things between us, Bruce.”
“Maybe they should.” Bruce swallowed and looked away as he spoke the words. He wasn’t a stranger to feeling guilty, but this was the first time he felt guilty because he’d hurt his friends, hurt people he cared about.
Clark sat silently for a few moments before he said, in a quiet voice, “We always had a good relationship, Bruce. I’m not angry or upset with you for what happened. I can’t say that I’d willingly go through it again, but I understand why you did it.” He paused before adding, “I also understand why you feel guilty. I’d like to help you with that. If you feel like you can trust me enough.”
Bruce snorted softly. His first instinct was to say that he didn’t trust anyone. But that wasn’t entirely true. And it wasn’t exactly fair to Clark. After all, they were friends even outside of the Justice League. Still…. “How do you plan to help me?” he asked in a low voice.
“Spanking,” Clark answered. “I’m talking about spanking you.”
Bruce’s first instinct was to laugh. To accuse Clark of not taking it seriously. He opened his mouth to respond in his normal deflecting way. But then he caught Clark’s eye, saw the serious expression on his friend’s face, and swallowed hard, looking away. “You want to hurt me.”
“I want to help you.”
Bruce stared at the carpet, unable to look into Clark’s eyes. He couldn’t deny that he felt guilty. Couldn’t deny that he was struggling to deal with the fact his own actions had led to the rest of the League experiencing their weaknesses being turned against them. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice low and tense. “If I…if I let you do this, will you forgive me? Will it repair things between us?”
“I don’t need to spank you to forgive you, Bruce.”
Bruce raised his eyes to Clark’s face, seeing the honesty and openness there. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself fighting,” he admitted quietly.
“You don’t need to worry about your reactions, or about holding back on them. Because I’ll be able to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. And you won’t be able to hurt me.” As he spoke, Clark reached out and grasped Bruce’s shoulder, pulling him in close.
Swallowing hard, Bruce allowed himself to be positioned across Clark’s lap. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable, aware of Clark’s arm wrapped tight around his waist. The other man was holding him still against his stomach and Bruce’s backside was the highest point of his body.
The first strong smack caught Bruce by surprise with how hard it was. He couldn’t help letting a quiet groan when the second and third smacks also landed, Clark’s hand finding a new spot on his backside each time it landed.
Despite the fact his pants were in place, Bruce could still feel the sting and burn of the smacks as Clark settled into a pattern, working over every inch of his bottom, from the crest down to mid-thigh. By the time Clark had covered every inch in the stinging smacks twice over, Bruce was wriggling like a worm caught on a hook, letting out gasps or moans whenever Clark’s hand found a particularly sensitive spot.
Clark didn’t speak, just continued to smack firmly. It was almost worse, that he didn’t say anything. It let Bruce get inside his own head and think about exactly why he was in this position. To think about what he’d done and the fact that his own actions had caused his friend so much distress and pain.
By the time Clark had started over from the third time, Bruce couldn’t stop his breath from hitching. Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He’d suffered through worst pain and not shed even a tear, but this wasn’t about the physical pain. This was about him hurting his friend…and Clark deciding to step in and help him with his guilt.
But despite his best efforts, Bruce couldn’t stop himself from squirming in response to the smacks. And while he couldn’t be sure, it felt like Clark was now smacking that bit harder and faster and he couldn’t stop his legs from jerking in response. Not kicking, not quite kicking, but his body was reacting despite his best efforts. Even though he believed he deserved this and didn’t actively want to get away, his body was still trying to shift from the burning, throbbing pain.
But it didn’t matter how much he writhed and squirmed. It didn’t matter how much his legs jerked. Clark kept him in place, kept smacking his backside…as if Bruce wasn’t moving at all.
Eventually, the pain of the spanking and his own feelings of guilt became far too overwhelming. Bruce slumped over Clark’s lap, the tears coming hot and heavy. But he wasn’t crying because of the pain from the spanking. It hurt, but he was overwhelmed by the emotions that he could no longer keep buried below the surface.
When Bruce slumped limp over his lap, Clark paused and began to gently rub his back, speaking in a low, caring voice. “I don’t blame you for what happened, Bruce. I know you never intended for any of us to be hurt.”
Fighting to stop the tears, Bruce whispered, in a hoarse voice, “But the others don’t feel the same way.”
“They don’t know you as well as I do. It’s going to take time for them to be able to trust you again. But you will be able to earn that trust back,” Clark promised. “It might take a while, but I have faith that you’ll prove to them that you’re truly sorry.”
“And until then, I’m out of the League.” Wiping at the tears that stained his face, Bruce pushed himself up slowly.
“Only temporarily,” Clark replied. “Think of it as more of a grounding than permanent expulsion.”
“So first I get spanked. Now I’m grounded.” Shaking his head, Bruce gingerly sat down next to Clark, biting his lip as his backside throbbed. “What am I, a rebellious teenager?”
Clark wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, giving him a comforting hug. “Just give it time. They’ll forgive you eventually. Trust me.”
Bruce relaxed against his friend and sighed. “I do trust you,” he admitted quietly.
And for now, that was enough.
The End