Work Text:
Lois Lane made her way quickly back to her apartment. These couple last days have been really running on her nerves. Sure, she was a Pulitzer winning reporter, but what good is a reporter who can’t tell the biggest story of them all?
Five days ago, cute, shy, adoringly sweet, dorky and handsome Smallville boy Clark Kent had told her he was Superman. To say she had laughed straight at his face would be an understatement.
And then he took off his glasses, put them down, very gently she might add for a man of his strength, he had picked her up and flew her to the roof of the Daily Planet right from her living room.
Now she was coping with the fact that for one, her boyfriend of six months was also her secret-not-so-secret crush, and two, she, worldrenound reporter, could not tell a single soul! How unfair could life be?
And before she was able to talk to him and ask a million questions she had about Superman, the Justice League, Aliens and basically everything and anything, he took off. True, he had an apologetic expression and a shy tone while explaining something she couldn’t grasp at that moment. Invasion, space, League business, off world mission blabla, all just melting together in her head while trying to understand that she had been sleeping with Superman on a regular basis.
Now her head was spinning again, just thinking about every interaction they’ve had and all his disappearing acts. It was shameful to admit, but she was definitely on edge. And then another attack on Metropolis, because of course there always was another attack on Metropolis.
Some androids from LexCorp, some scientists losing control over their mindchips and now they were running havoc.
And usually she would run at the opportunity to report up front, like she always did, like her job, her integrity and her passion demanded. This time however, she went home. Let someone else handle the reports, she was prone to endanger herself anyway and since she knew Cla- Superman was off-world, no one was here to save her this time.
The streets were chaotic and people tried to get to safety. So far the androids did not attack buildings, merely people and cars, keeping the damage of the city limited. She ducked around a corner, before being spotted and bolted through a side alley to the back entrance of her apartment building. Time to get off the streets.
Who would come to save the day? The Justice League? Were there members still left on earth? Or did they all leave for the off-world mission? Did they already know about the situation in Metropolis? Could she find a way to “call” them somehow?
What would she even say? “Hello, this is Superman’s girlfriend? Please help?” That truly sounded pathetic.
She finally arrived, unlocked her door, closed it and leaned against it from the inside, exhaling a long sigh of relief for being more or less safe.
She heard some noise, definitely inside the apartment and her shoulders went stiff. Looking around she grabbed the first thing she could, a floor lamp and lifted it up. Ready to strike the intruder, she made her way towards the kitchen.
She immediately relaxed upon seeing the large man, who was absolutely panicking and searching through her kitchen drawers.
“You know,-” The man jumped in the air at her sudden voice and hit his head on the ceiling, which would have been impossible for any other person. “-you could just ask me, if you want to know more about me and not just ravage my kitchen drawers while I’m at work.”
“Lois!” Clarks eyes were wide and he was ogling at her, mouth agape. “I thought you were at work.” Was all he said dumbfounded.
“That’s what I just said.” She tilted her head and mustered him. He looked exhausted, tired and his limbs were hanging instead of the poise he usually possessed.
“You alright?” Concern written all over her face.
“Yeah…” Clark shuffled his feet, “I just didn’t hear you come in, ‘s all.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Superman, with his super hearing, didn't hear me come into my apartment?”
“Sorry! It’s still constricted from the mission.” He looked to the floor and she could see a tinge of red on his cheeks.
She opened her mouth to ask another question, but closed it when she heard a groan from her bedroom.
“You brought someone else with you?”
“I, uh… I-”
“And you brought them into my bedroom?” She took off faster than Superman could react and that was something.
Before she opened the door, all he could get out was: “It’s not what it looks like!”
She opened the already ajar door. The room was tinged in a dim light, curtains mostly closed.
Her eyes fell onto her bed, more precisely to the figure lying half naked on her bed.
All she could make out was a mop of messy black hair, a strong neck, leading to very firm shoulders and a nicely toned back.
His features were not unlike Clark’s, although a little leaner. Her view finally ended on some very tight black boxer briefs, emphasizing a very firm behind.
What? After all she was a woman, even while being with Superman, she could appreciate a nice specimen of the male gender, when she ran across one. And this one was very nice!
She could feel Clark’s nervous energy at her back.
Then the man in her bed groaned again and finally turned around.
Her eyes almost fell out of her head. Lying here, in her bedroom, during an android attack, almost naked was none other than Gotham’s Prince, Bruce Wayne.
His face constricted in pain, eyes shut and hands hovering over a clashing wound on his abdomen and side. Blood was seeping from his skin onto her sheets.
“It’s not what you think.” Was all Clark could press out, his tone as anxious as if his mother had caught him with the hand in the cookie jar.
“Not what I think?” She turned, pushed by him and returned to her living room, kneeling down to grab some case from the lower shelf of her TV board.
“Well, what I was thinking is, you had an off-world mission, returned at some point and rescued Bruce Wayne from whatever attacked him. Then, instead of bringing him to a hospital or to his Manor or even to your apartment, you brought him to my place, knowing that he would be safe. And then you were rummaging through my kitchen to look for a sewing kit, probably trying to sew his wounds, so he doesn’t bleed out.”
Her elaboration was calm, matter of factly. After all, she was an investigative journalist for a reason and she had been in many strange situations before.
“Well, if you say it’s not what I think… then I have to assume that you and Wayne are gay lovers who are somehow into a weird life threatening injury kink… and I had to question all of our relationship, since I didn’t think you were having an affair while being with me.”
She faced him, sewing kit in hand. His expression was purely baffled.
“Okay… then it’s exactly what you think…”
“Thought so, honey.” She went on her tiptoes, gave him a little kiss on his cheek and returned to her bedroom.
Clark was hovering at the door, while Lois started unpacking the sewing kit and the first aid kit she had produced from somewhere.
“I can do that, you don’t have to…” He tried to stop her, when she was disinfecting the needle.
“Clark, honey, not that I doubt your abilities, but have you ever sewed on a button or anything for that matter? ‘Cuz I thought you even brought your old comfy shirt to your mother’s to help fix the loose button.”
Clark’s ears turned dark red.
“Thought so!” Lois said, while pulling a threat through the needle.
“Now, I got this. Why don’t you go and help with this android attack outside?”
“Right, yeah… I should.” From the corner of her eye, she saw his feet hovering over the floor, something she still wasn’t used to.
He levitated to her side, gave her a quick peck on the cheek and started grinning. “I love you, Lois Lane! I’ll be back in a flash!” And with a blue and red blur, she was alone with the injured man in her bed.
‘Back in a flash’, she snorted inwardly, wondering if that was actually Flash’s pun. After all, Superman knew the Flash, right? Right!
Another groan pulled her out of her thoughts and back to the patient who was about to bleed out. How did her life get so weird so fast?
Sewing up a multibillionaire was never really high on Lois Lane’s bucket list. Yet, here she was, doing exactly that.
After Clark had left to fight the androids, she had opened the curtains for more light and started working on the man’s flesh wounds.
Bruce Wayne either had a high pain tolerance or he was really out of it. His eyes were mostly closed and he didn’t say a single word, merely a grunt or groan here or there.
She was half done, when she noticed he had lost consciousness. His pulse might have been a little weaker than it was supposed to, but it was constant, which was calming her anxiety. After all, she was trying to save him, not kill him.
She fixed up her work as quickly as she could. Grabbing some clean towels from her bathroom, she started cleaning the blood around his wounds before bandaging it properly.
While wiping the blood off his skin she took a closer look at the billionaire.
His muscles and body were in impeccable shape. As mentioned before, a little leaner than Clark himself, but a little more defined as well. Strong broad shoulders, defined abs, more like an eight pack with a strong V-form disappearing under his waistband, everything firm and toned to emanate real strength. His whole body was battered and bruised.
What caught her eye however, weren’t necessarily the muscles, rather his scar fetched body.
She clearly recognized two scars from bullets, the round imprints and slight discoloration was unmistakable. There were a few older cuts, thin lines, that fainted over the years. Some were newer, still rosing new skin, some were more bulging, others were barely visible.
How did a businessman and billionaire, air head and playboy Bruce Wayne, end up with so many scars?
And how come Clark had brought him here of all places? He must care very much.
More and more questions were lining up while she finished her work. Questions that needed to wait, until one or both of the men could answer it.
She left a clean shirt of Clark’s at Bruce Wayne’s bedside. His clothes were nowhere to be found, whatever Clark had done with them, she didn’t know.
Then she fixed herself a big mug of coffee and switched on the TV.
Apparently the android attack was mostly under control by now. Superman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern were still rounding up the last of the machines and rescuing civilians that had been taken hostage or were trapped within one of the few damaged buildings. She exhaled a sigh of relief.
Some grunts from the bedroom alerted her to the fact that Bruce Wayne was awake again. She heard shuffling and decided to give him some time before looking after him.
Her bedroom door opened slowly and his piercing blue eyes caught her curious gaze, his posture tense. He squinted a little, recognition dawning over his face and the tension leaving, his shoulders sinking.
He was taking his steps carefully, limping with one leg, hissing through the pain, while one hand rested against his injured side.
She had the feeling he wouldn’t appreciate her helping him, so she simply stayed on the couch and watched him carefully. His ankle was swollen, that’s why he was limping, maybe fractured, maybe just twisted harshly.
He stopped halfway to the living room, grabbing the kitchen counter for support, taking a long, seemingly painful breath.
“Need any help there?” She asked as politely as she could.
“Hnn.”
That grunt and his dark expression, she interpreted as a ‘no’. So she watched him make his way carefully towards the other couch, his upper body now covered in Clark’s button up shirt.
She tried not to be too obvious in her staring, while he carefully let himself slide down into a sitting position on the couch. He titled his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, obviously in great pain, while still holding onto the freshly sewed wounds.
She waited and observed, the newscasting a nice disruption of the impending silence that quickly turned awkward.
“So… you and Clark…” She let the statement hang in the air, waiting for his reaction, while she was preparing two glasses in the kitchen. Nothing. Obviously not being in his airhead persona meant he wasn’t the chatty one, interesting.
“You want any pain meds? Seems like you could use it.”
“No.” That’s what she had expected. “Thanks.” That was definitely forced out of politeness and nothing else.
She had had her fair share with stubborn men, so she squeezed the painkillers with a spoon until they could easily be dissolved with the ginger ale she was preparing for him.
Holding the glasses in front of his face, he opened his eyes. Stunning, piercing and very sharp blue eyes staring back at her.
“The sugar will help you gain some energy.” She watched expectantly as he took the glass and gulped it down quickly, then she exchanged his first glass with the second she was holding. “You lost a lot of blood back there, this might be good for you.”
He took the water from her, a muffled ‘thanks’ and she sat back opposite of him, nursing her coffee once more.
Definitely not the chatty one.
“Sooo… you and Clark…” She tried again.
His sharp eyes scanned her face, for what she wasn’t sure. Still, he didn’t grace her with an answer but a rather subly raised eyebrow.
She took it as a cue to continue. “I didn’t know you two knew each other outside the occasional interview.” A small smile gracing her lips.
Silence.
He took a sip from his water. “We don’t.”
“Really? Because I think my boyfriend wouldn’t bring someone he doesn’t know well or care for very much back to my place.”
A suspicious glance met her features. “And you know, Mr. Wayne, it’s quite unusual to find someone of your… caliber… bleeding out on my bed. Therefore, the only explanation I can come up with is that you do indeed know each other way better than the two of you let on.”
Now her gaze was unforgivingly intense.
He was holding her gaze for a long suffering moment and then she saw the slightest shift in his shoulders, giving in.
Ha! She thought, Reporter 1, mysterious billionaire playboy 0!
“You were right, Clark and I… we work together. Occasionally.”
“Oh please go on. I’d like to hear more about that.” There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes as if sensing there was way more to the story than he would let on.
His shoulders were releasing some more tension and his tight facial features loosened up.
Good! The painkillers were doing their job after all. Stubborn man! He should have taken them, without complaining, he was in great pain after all and they would help him relax and thus heal faster. Maybe this was on the edge of legal, since she had drugged him without his knowledge, but it’s not like she gave him roofies in a nightclub, it was only for his own benefit, really. She cringed internally, way to go Lois.
He ducked his head and pinned her with a calculating glare.
“Off the record?”
“Of course, Mr. Wayne. Not like I could cite you on anything you tell me, while sitting half nacked, dangerously injured and slightly drugged with pain meds on my couch.” She gifted him a small grin in response to his affronted expression.
His eyes flickered quickly to the empty glass on the table. “You mixed them in.” Not a question, an assumption, a correct one for that matter.
“Oh you stubborn men need to understand that sometimes pain killers help you heal faster. And in your case, Mr. Wayne, it really was the best choice. Not like you’re going anywhere in your condition. Just swallow it.”
He let out a long resigned sigh. And here she was again, Reporter 2, mysterious billionaire playboy, still 0!
“Guess I already did. Swallow them, that is.”
A bemused smile graced his tired, yet handsome face, meeting her devilish grin.
“That you did. Now, you were telling me about that work?”
“Right.” He took a small breath, his posture straightening out and his whole appearance changed into business man, CEO mannerism. It was a fascinating shift of personality to witness up close.
“As you are well aware, I am a well known figure in the higher society circles with some fortune to spare for the occasional charity event. These events often happen to be targeted by less fortunate individuals, leading to several unpleasant experiences with guns or kidnappings on my part. These rather unpleasant experiences however, led to the pleasure of getting to know Superman, as he, as so often, saved the day, specifically my day. As you mentioned before, Mr. Kent has been to Gotham as well for some interviews and at one point he accidently took off his glasses. Now, Ms. Lane, you might think me to be unobservant, but leading a multibillion dollar company, you might also suspect that I notice some things, occasionally. Thus, having been saved recently by Superman and now seeing his features in front of me, I put two and two together. Clark Kent was Superman.”
His tone was monotone, almost bored and she couldn't pinpoint why, but there was more to this than he told her.
“So you found out who Superman was and didn’t exploit it? And Clark was utterly grateful and you became super besties?” She asked skeptically.
“Not quite. You are correct, I didn’t want to exploit Superman. I’m an admirer of his work and I think the world with all its dark places is in dire need of heroism and the selflessness and hope that Superman stands for. So, I made him a deal.”
“A deal?”
“Ms. Lane, I am a businessman after all.” He was now showing her a smug smile and the likable part of him was suddenly nowhere to be seen. It was fascinating and creepy how he could change his persona from one second to the next, almost like a chameleon.
“As you know, Wayne Enterprises invested in some very risky green energy projects in some regions that are of rather questionable political stability. Now, for these projects to actually make a difference to the people, government stability is definitely an advantage. However, it cannot be guaranteed. That’s where my deal with Superman comes into play.”
“Superman would never agree to subdue any government, how unruly it is whatsoever, all he does is protect the innocent!”
“And that’s exactly what he is doing. I asked him to have a closer look though on these regions and to intervene to the terms of his own judgment with his own methods. Thus, merely protecting the innocent but with the effect of also assuring the safety and progress of WE’s green energy projects.”
“That’s all?” She asked him, not believing that there wasn’t more to it.
“Well… not quite. You see, Superman is a very busy man and can’t have his eyes and ears everywhere at once. Which is why, when the Justice League formed, WE’s research and development department… was heavily invested in building and securing their base.”
“You mean to tell me that you personally invested a good fortune of your company to build the Hall of Justice?”
He winced a little. “Not exactly the Hall… the OTHER base…” She ogled at him. There was another base? And Wayne knew about it, while she didn’t?
“You see, when investing and supporting the Justice League, there are more eyes and ears to look into unstable regions and therefore make sure my investments will be secured. It’s a win win. A business decision, really.”
He took another slow sip of water, his eyes steadily losing their sharpness thanks to the quickly acting meds.
“And so you just hang out with Superman on occasion and get sliced up by what exactly?”
Wayne’s eyes were glazed over now and she could sense he was on the verge of falling asleep.
“Alien. Was working in the ‘atchto’er, adjusting some progra’ming, Aliens attacked. Was in the wron’ place at the wron’ time, ‘s all.”
“Wait, does that mean the OTHER base you mentioned is in space?”
His eyes were drifting close but he stirred and opened them again, trying to keep his consciousness.
“Mmmhhh.”
“In conclusion, you do also know the other Leaguers, if you work on their programs, right?”
“Mmmhh.”
She tried to quickly think of the best questions, it seemed like the meds were doing their part and he was more or less willingly answering everything. But should she really use his momentary weakness like that? It wasn’t really fair, now was it? And besides she could ask Clark later.
However, there was one question she needed to ask. “Where do all your scars come from, Mr. Wayne.”
He was almost asleep, his eyes closed and his head hanging low on his chest. His immense blood loss and the drugs working in perfect sync. Yet he did answer in a murmur which she made out to be ‘criminals, shot, stabbed, broken bones... ‘. Interesting!
He let out a soft snore and she took the glass from his hand as it was dangerously close to being dropped. Then she put a blanket over him and kept her silent vigil, lost in her thoughts.
***
Superman entered her apartment again using the balcony instead of the front door. She didn’t mind, although she was still trying to get used to it.
Lois excited her bedroom with the blood stained sheets. Clark looked tired, like really tired. He still found the energy to gift her his sweet smallville smile. Which she reciprocated before turning to her laundry room.
When she reentered the living room, Clark’s hand was carefully hovering over Wayne’s unconscious form. Concentration marking his facial features.
She knew now, he was using his super senses. It was fascinating. Would she ever get used to the fact that she was sleeping with Superman?
“He ok?” She whispered, knowing Clark could hear her, no matter what.
He looked up, locking his inhuman blue eyes with hers. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but his pulse is even, not as strong as usual… but with the broken ribs and all…” He trailed off.
“You know the pace of his usual heartbeat?” She raised a skeptical brow. “Just how close are you and Bruce Wayne, really?”
Clark winced. And Lois knew it was now or never. “What has he told you?” Clark asked hesitantly.
“Some, but not all. Spill it Smallville! You’ve got some explaining to do. And don’t even think about not telling the truth, you are a terrible liar.”
“I always considered that to be a good trait…”
She sat down on her couch, gripping his hand and pulling him close. “It is honey, but right now you owe me some answers!”
Superman rubbed the back of his neck. She was baffled at how much it felt like a nervous Clark-action, not Superman. How had she never seen it before? Even Bruce Wayne found out after facing both Superman and Clark. How had she not seen it?
“We work together.” Clark started slowly. “He has a lot of money. Aside from being an eccentric billionaire, he actually has a good heart. So… he funds the Justice League and you know… helps out here and there.”
“Helps out?” Lois raised her eyebrow. “Really? That’s what you are going with?”
“Uhm yeah.”
“And when he is ‘helping out’,” she made quotation marks with her fingers to emphasize the ridiculousness of his statement, “he does get shot or occasionally stabbed by one or the other alien, right? Because that’s just how the Justice League operates, putting untrained billionaire civilians in the field and if they die, they just die.”
Clark winced again and cringed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“And what did you mean then, Clark? Because from what I have seen of his body, those scars don’t come from nowhere. So either Bruce Wayne is an irresponsible adrenaline junky and nobody knows about it or he is constantly acting as a dumbass in public to distract from secretly dressing up playing herooooooo…”
Her eyes went wide at that and she slapped her hands in front of her mouth. “Oh my God!” She looked at Clark, wide eyed. “Oh my God!!” He stared back like a deer in headlights.
“Ohhhh myyyy Goooood!!!” She looked at Clark, looked at Wayne’s sleeping form, back to Clark, back to Wayne. “NO!” Was all she let out before taking a deep breath.
“Lois, it’s not what you are thinking.” Clark tried to calm her with both strong hands on her shoulders.
“Oh really? ‘cause right now I am thinking that Bruce Wayne is actually Batman. And now you look me in the eye and tell me that I am wrong, Superman.”
Clark’s eyes widened a fraction. “Yep! That’s what I thought!”
Clark opened his mouth, closed it, opened it anew. Like a fish on dryland, nothing came out of him though.
A groan from the couch distracted the couple, staring at the subject of their discussion. Bruce Wayne, a.k.a The frigging BATMAN, stirred on her couch.
Wayne’s- Batman’s glassed yet calculating gaze fell on the couple. He closed his eyes, letting his breath out with a long suffering sigh. “She knows.” A fact, not a question.
A week ago everything was normal. Lois was enjoying her career as a reporter. She had a nice apartment, a wonderful sweet normal boyfriend, a good sex life with said sweet boyfriend, an annoying yet respected boss, a little crush on Superman and nothing out of the ordinary.
Today, everything was different. Her boyfriend was Superman, he could fly for fuck's sake, Bruce Wayne was Batman and said Dark Knight almost bled out on her watch, in her oh so normal apartment, she might add.
She had to come to terms that her life was not normal at all, her boss was still annoying, her sex life probably still good, and she currently hosted two of the world’s greatest heroes in her living room. And worst of all? She couldn’t even write an article about any of it.
Life was cruel.