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i.
Somehow despite their many years of working together, and the fact that Clark was pretty sure he was Bruce’s best friend, invites to the cave were still few and far between. It was only the threat of a newly synthesized Kryptonite like substance hitting the drug markets that had gotten him one now. Still, it was a little cute that he was under strict orders to not leave until Bruce told him it was safe.
Plus, a highlight of humoring Bruce was Jason, practicing drills that were half critical fight moves, and half unnecessary acrobatics that were definitely Dick’s influence. Bruce had mentioned he was showing a lot of improvement, and that if all went well Robin would probably reappear on Gothan’s streets next month.
Jason caught his eye during the middle of a flipping series, and seeming to decide something spur of the moment, suddenly bounded off the matts and executed a series of back handsprings that finished with a round off that landed him right in front of Clark.
“What’s up?” Clark had to ask. “Do you need something? I can go get Alfred.”
Jason shook his head, and said, “It’s been bugging me the last couple days, so I gotta ask while the old man’s not here. Like, why Bruce?”
“Hm?”
“Why are you in love with Bruce? Cause you’re Superman, so like, no offense to Bruce, but you could do better,” Jason said so matter-of-factly it took Clark a moment to process what he’d actually said.
“What – I’m not –” he spluttered, fully aware he wasn’t making a strong case against being in love with Bruce.
“Come on, it’s insane that you’re sitting around pretending that you need Bruce to save you,” Jason said.
“He’s right that the danger is real,” Clark pointed out, holding on to the fact like it would save him from this conversation.
“But not that you need to sit around here like a damsel in distress,” Jason said, undeterred.
Clark could never have conceived talking to an adult like that at Jason’s age. Ma would have grounded him until he was thirty.
Ma had also raised him to never do anything underhanded, but desperate times and all that. Jason, despite everything, was still twelve, and if Clark knew one thing about him, he could be easily distracted by the thrill of doing something Dick had done. Especially if there was a chance he could learn how to do it better.
“What do you say I help you out? Dick and I have a move we perfected where I’d throw him and he’d land in perfect position to take someone out, if you’re interested in learning.”
“Teach me,” Jason immediately demanded. Gotcha.
Bruce came back later to catch them mid-maneuver – just one more time, and Clark was sure Jason would get it down perfectly. He wasn’t as quick a learner as Dick, but he was probably even more stubborn.
Clark managed to head off the lecture by asking about the case, which apparently still wasn’t going well. Jason mouthed “next time” as he darted upstairs to safety, under the pretense of homework he still hadn’t finished.
ii.
The Wayne Foundation Annual Gala was one of the must attend events for anyone or any organization that fancied themselves important. Ticket prices were set higher than Clark’s annual salary. All the money was funneled back into various charitable initiatives in Gotham – grants for hospitals, at-risk youth shelters, free doses of the latest and greatest anti-Scarecrow and anti-Joker antidotes, to name a few.
The Daily Planet, as an organization that did indeed fancy itself as important, always secured at least a couple tickets – one for whatever corporate bigwig wanted to rub elbows with Bruce Wayne himself, and one for whatever reporter got stuck writing up an article for the event in the society section.
It was supposed to be Lois’s turn this year.
Clark tugged at his collar for what was probably the twentieth time already in the last hour. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt more like a boy from Kansas than he did right now. Nearly everyone in the room could buy all of Smallville and not even think twice about it, and his suit was off a rack with just a little tailoring courtesy of Ma, because nothing ever fit quite right in the shoulders.
Meanwhile, Bruce, of course, was surrounded by a gaggle of beautiful women, in a suit that matched his eye color, and hugged his body in just the right places to suggest but not show what was underneath.
He was mid tug when Jason appeared, catching him as close to genuinely off guard as usually only Bruce managed.
“So do like all your coworkers make fun of your crush on Bruce Wayne, or what?” Jason asked out of the corner of his mouth.
“Have any comments to offer on this evening, Mr. Todd?” Clark asked, pulling out the notepad and paper from his breast pocket.
“Bruce said I wasn’t allowed to talk to reporters,” Jason replied, with a grin that could only be called cheeky. With a small wave, Jason disappeared back into the crowd.
“Brat,” Clark murmured to himself.
If Clark avoided looking at Bruce for the rest of the night that’s just because there were so many other people to talk to. For story purposes, of course.
iii.
The heart monitor continued to beep steadily. Bruce looked peaceful, lying there, the anesthesia he still hadn’t woken up from yet giving him a more restful sleep than he could find on his own. With the sheet pulled up over him, he almost looked like he really was just sleeping. His unmarred face gave away nothing about how cracked ribs during the last mission had turned into a punctured lung that had turned into emergency surgery in the Watchtower.
Clark didn’t usually like spending much time in the medbay, because Bruce had lined all the walls with lead, ostensibly over privacy concerns, and it was just a little too quiet as a result. (Clark knew full well, though, that Bruce had actually made that modification after an alien goo incident had caused Clark’s super senses to spiral out of control, and he never wanted to see Clark suffer like that again. Even if Bruce wouldn’t say so out loud.)
Today, though, there was nowhere in the universe he’d rather be.
The door made the distinctive gentle whoosh behind him, letting him know someone had come to join his vigil. Footsteps too quiet, too small, to belong to any of the League members followed soon after. The heartbeat was familiar, if elevated.
“Hey, Jay,” Clark said, softly, as Robin stepped up to Bruce’s bed. Jason’s hand shook, ever so slightly, as he reached out to touch Bruce’s face, like he wasn’t sure it was real. He knew Diana had gone to get him, and had likely filled him in on exactly what had happened, but though Diana was many things, she wasn’t necessarily the most nurturing member of the League. If Clark had to guess she’d told Jason how noble and brave Bruce had been in battle, and neglected to mention that Bruce was going to be fine and should wake up in a matter of hours.
Before Clark could say anything else, Jason beat him to it.
“Is this why you won’t tell him you’re in love with him? Because you’re afraid?”
“It’s okay if you’re afraid, Jason,” Clark said.
Jason, carefully, so carefully, moved his hand back to his side, and turned to look up at Clark.
“You’re deflecting,” he said like he had Clark in the middle of an interrogation.
“So are you,” Clark responded kindly. He knew what it was like to see Batman looking vulnerable – rather like the entire world had tilted on its axis and you were in freefall.
Jason’s mouth set in a hardline, his shoulders high, and his hands balled into fists at his side. Clark could practically see him chanting, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” in his head.
“Come here,” Clark said, and took a gamble that Jason wouldn’t pull out a batarang and stab him, wrapping his arms around him. Robin often seemed larger than life, all flash and color. But Jason was just a kid, and sometimes kids just needed someone bigger than them to lean on.
Neither of them ever spoke of it again. And the next time Bruce was seriously injured, Jason was gone.
iv.
Bruce would be furious when he found out. Scratch that, Bruce might literally never speak to him again when he found out. The only reason Clark was confident he wouldn’t end up with a Kryptonite knife shoved into his chest was, well, that was the whole issue, wasn’t it? Batman wouldn’t kill.
Finding Jason had been easy. Despite everything, his heartbeat still sounded the same. So there they stood on some random Gotham rooftop, Superman an extremely unwelcome guest in the city, and Red Hood pointing a gun at his head, even though they both knew it was pointless.
“I know I shouldn’t get in the middle of you and Batman –” Clark began to say.
“Yet here you are,” Jason interjected.
“But you should know that he did try to kill the Joker,” Clark said. “The only reason he didn’t is that I stopped him.”
Even after everything he’d heard about Red Hood, and even though he could see the gun pointed at his head, he was still surprised when Jason actually shot him.
“Fuck!” Jason shouted, throwing the gun at Clark’s face for good measure. “Are you – fucking of course you did! I’m sure you flew in with giant heart eyes and just hoped Batman would get it.”
“It wasn’t about that,” Clark said quickly, because the idea that he’d done it just because of something so – it was because it was Batman, and he couldn’t cross that line – there were entire universes out there that served as warnings against why Batman couldn’t —
“Of course not,” Jason said, all of the anger drained from him. Somehow, that was even worse, though. “Superman was just selflessly protecting the Joker.”
“Jay–”
But he was already gone.
v.
Jason didn’t tell him why he was in Metropolis, and Clark figured it was for the best he didn’t know.
Somehow they had ended up in Clark’s apartment, eating burgers Jason had made Clark pay for, while Jason insulted both the style and comfort of Clark’s couch for five solid minutes.
“Seriously, though, my couch is literally from the dump, and it has more support than this,” Jason said, seeming to finally conclude his one man show on Clark’s taste in furniture as he took his first bite of food.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the visit,” Clark said. “But you have literally never once come to visit me before. So.”
Jason chewed like he had a vendetta against the very concept of manners, mouth open, food barely still inside. Disgusting, but also not the demeanor of someone who was on the run from something serious, so that was a small silver lining. And besides, as far as Clark knew, Jason was on decent terms with his whole family these days. Even with Bruce, whatever that looked like.
Eventually, Jason swallowed, and put the remnants of the burger back into the wrapper.
“I’m going to do you a favor, because this stopped being fun years ago,” Jason said, like whatever was going to follow didn’t matter in the slightest. So of course, it was destined to be something of monumental importance.
“When are you going to tell Bruce that you love him and want to have his babies or whatever?”
“Jason –” Clark might be Superman, but even he had a limit to his patience.
“Fine, fine. What I really want to say is this. Haven’t you ever noticed that I’ve always asked why you haven’t told him, and never once said that he didn’t already know?”
“Motherfucker.”
+1
If Clark had been in a better mood, he would have thought of Alfred before he burst through the window into Bruce’s study. Instead he stood in a pile of glass, glaring at Bruce who didn’t even have the decency to close his laptop.
“You know we have a no suits upstairs rule,” Buce said looking up briefly, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
“You knew. You’ve known this whole time I was in love with you!” Clark shouted.
At that, at least, Bruce finally stopped typing, and looked up to meet Clark’s gaze.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I wanted you to be sure. I figured you’d come to me when you were.”
“You’re a bastard,” Clark said, advancing towards the desk. No. Advancing towards Bruce .
“So I’ve heard,” Bruce said wryly.
Clark couldn’t take it anymore. He shoved the desk aside, computer, papers, pens, scattering across the floor. Bruce’s eyes darkened in a way Clark had only ever imagined, and that was it. Clark reached down and grabbed both sides of Bruce’s face, and kissed him.
Bruce’s lips weren’t soft, and they weren’t forgiving. But they were perfect, giving back everything Clark gave, just as intense, just as passionate, in a way no lover had ever been able to before.
“Wait – wait – do you love me?” Clark asked, pulling back, though a very real part of his brain was screaming that it would be better to get killed by Darkseid than stop what they were doing.
“Clark, do you really think you could have gotten in here if I didn’t?” Bruce asked, and oh, those bruised lips, that shirt slipping off his shoulders, he had done that. He wanted to bite –
No. No, he had to focus.
“You have to actually say it,” Clark said.
Bruce rolled his eyes, but Clark knew him too well to not see how utterly fond he looked too. He’d never imagined he’d see it directed straight at him.
“Yes. I love you too.”
Clark was going to eat him alive.