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Chapter Text

Clark steps into the castle Lex has the audacity to call a house, eyes sweeping over the familiar scene. He knows the way to the office by heart and makes his way there. Lex had called the farm, begging him to come by for dinner, and he wasn’t going to leave his friend hanging.

“Hey Lex I-”

“Clark you’re a lifesaver, thanks for coming,” Lex says as he stands from the desk.

“Lifesaver? How?” Clark asks curiously. Lex sighs and gives him that half smile that worries him. “Lex?”

“I’ve got a potential business partner coming by for dinner. He’s a huge player in Gotham, getting on his good side would be great for Luthor Corp.”

“Okay? Why am I here?” Clark asks, genuinely confused.

“Moral support. The guy’s a bloodsucking vampire bat who I can’t stand-”

“Is that how you talk about all potential business partners Lex?” a new voice asks from behind them. Clark whirls, surprised to find a man around Lex’s age dressed in all black standing there. The man’s eerily perceptive brown eyes land on Clark and he holds out a hand. “Bruce Wayne. You must be Clark Kent.”

“Yeah,” Clark says as he takes the hand and shakes it. He’s surprised by the strength of the grip, and the roughness of the palm against his. “How did you know my name?”

“Lex mentioned a farm boy he befriended out here, figured that had to be you,” Bruce explains with a grin that rubs Clark the wrong way. “Right now I’m not sure which one of us he’s trying to impress.”

“What do you mean?” Clark asks, belatedly letting the handshake drop.

“He’s either showing off that he’s capable of playing nice and making friends, or he’s trying to show off that he’s a good businessman.” Bruce says everything so bluntly Clark can’t help but look at Lex for guidance.

“How’s Gotham Bruce?” Lex asks.

“My city is how she always is,” Bruce responds, brown eyes thankfully moving away from Clark. “Are we going to get straight to dinner or are you going to pour me some of that scotch you’re hiding behind the mineral water?”

“The scotch is for people I like, I’m not sure I like you yet,” Lex replies evenly and Clark shifts on his feet uncomfortably. Bruce’s eyes snap back to him and he suddenly understands exactly what a piercing stare feels like.

“Why’d you invite him Lex?” Bruce asks with his eyes locked on Clark. He can’t move, can’t even blink under the force of those brown eyes.

“He’s my friend, I figured I might need a friendly face dealing with the heir to the Wayne dynasty.” Lex steps to Clark’s side and touches his arm. Clark barely feels it, really only aware of it because Bruce tracks the touch with his eyes. “Dinner will be served in the dining room, follow me.”

XxX

It’s uncomfortable. Clark feels completely underdressed and outclassed by the two men at the table with him. Bruce eats like he’s at dinner with royalty. Perfect posture, always grabbing the right utensil, and taking picture perfect small bites. Clark isn’t sure what to make of him, even as he and Lex engage in small talk that feels more like poorly concealed barbs than anything else.

“How’s Alfred?” Lex asks during a slight lull in conversation. Clark has no idea who Alfred is, but Bruce’s jaw twitches at the question.

“He’s great,” Bruce says carefully, brown eyes hardening with his response.

“Who’s Alfred?” Clark asks, just to contribute to the conversation. It’s the wrong choice, especially when Bruce’s eyes land on him. He feels a rush to apologize under the intensity of that stare.

“Alfred is my butler, and the man who raised me after the murder of my parents,” Bruce explains in an even tone. Clark instantly feels bad for him.

“I’m sorry-”

“Lex is testing to see if I snap at even the vague mention of their death, you have nothing to apologize about,” Bruce cuts him off as he raises his glass. Clark can’t help but look at Lex after that allegation. What he sees on his friend’s face is alarming. Lex looks genuinely pleased at the accusation. “Moving on from tragedy, what are the sights I should see in Smallville before I head back?”

Clark looks back at Bruce to see that he’s under that same scrutiny as before. It’s a little less alarming at this point, but he still feels incredibly exposed under that heavy gaze. It’s as if, without doing anything, Bruce knows there’s something different about him.

“The Talon just reopened, with a lot of help from Lex. It’s the single screen theater here in town, converted into a cool space to grab a drink and see art films or live performances.”

“Clark’s friend from school runs the place with her aunt,” Lex chimes in. “I’d say to ask about her but we’ll be here all night if you do.”

“You like her?” Bruce asks as Clark shoots Lex a quick glare. He looks back into the intense brown eyes, expecting that same hard stare but finds them sparkling with amusement. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Lana and I are friends,” Clark says firmly. “She’s dating the quarterback-”

“An easily cleared obstacle,” Lex cuts in. Bruce looks to Lex, eyes narrowing just a touch, before he looks back at Clark.

“I’m not one for high school drama, I had enough of that when I did my time. However, I will say I have to agree with Lex on this one. A high school boyfriend is hardly a commitment for life.”

“Bruce would know,” Lex says casually. Clark watches Bruce look at his friend dismissively. “What was her name? The pretty little blonde?”

“You’ll have to be more specific Lex, there have been quite a few pretty little blondes.” Bruce takes a sip of his drink while still looking at Lex.

“I feel like I don’t have the full story here,” Clark offers awkwardly.

“It’s nothing Clark,” Lex dismisses. “I just wanted to prove the point that Bruce is still alive after I took a girl from him, so the quarterback should also survive.”

“There’s no accounting for taste in high school, so don’t hold her boyfriend against her,” Bruce says, a dangerous grin sliding onto his lips. “It’s funny you should mention her Lex. The last time I saw her name anywhere was when she went off globe trotting with Lionel right after she turned eighteen.”

Clark isn’t sure what to do in this scenario. He wants to defend his friend, but he’s also alarmed by this side of him he didn’t know about. Bruce sets his glass down and raises an eyebrow.

“The vegetables are delicious, I’m assuming they were locally grown?”

“From the Kent farm,” Lex says with a look at Clark who shifts in his seat. He looks at Bruce and sees he’s being observed once again.

“What all do you do out on the farm?” Bruce asks and, surprisingly, Clark realizes he’s seriously asking. Whatever game he and Lex are playing, Bruce is obviously trying to keep Clark out of it. He’s grateful for the courtesy.

“We grow vegetables, have a few fruit trees, and cattle,” Clark answers honestly. Bruce nods once and grins, this one not holding any malice.

“Sounds like hard work. Do you help?”

“Every day,” Clark responds.

“Do you play sports?”

“I had a… short lived football career,” Clark says carefully. “Coach went a little crazy, I quit, team doesn’t miss me.”

“Bruce never played sports,” Lex offers. “His butler wouldn’t sign the release forms.”

“Protecting my brain was far more important than getting a trophy for throwing a ball.” Bruce sets his fork down and Clark looks at his plate to avoid both of their eyes. “Are you sure you want to talk business in front of him Lex?”

“Absolutely. Clark doesn’t mind, do you Clark?”

“Uh well, I don’t think I’m any help,” Clark offers sheepishly. He chances a glance at Bruce and gets a wink. That sends a confusing signal to his brain and he quickly looks at his plate again.

“I have no interest in signing my name to any Luthor contract. Ever. Not only do I think it’s a bad business move to partner with the company, I also find it insulting that the CEO can’t be bothered to come in person to try and grift me out of money.”

“The contract is generous-”

“It’s bullshit and you know it.” Bruce stands from the table, planting his hands on either side of his plate. “If you ever try an underhanded game to get percentages of any of my companies again I will destroy what little your name is worth.”

“You could’ve just said no,” Lex drawls but Clark hardly hears him. He’s too focused on Bruce and his controlled rage. What was in the contract? What could make him so upset?

As if reading his mind Bruce looks his way. He straightens up and holds out a hand. Clark stands and shakes it, not able to look away from those brown eyes. They’re almost enchanting in the way they dance between his own.

“It was nice meeting you Clark. I hope you don’t think less of me for turning your friend down.” Bruce releases his hand and spins, marching out of the dining room as if the place was his own home.

Clark can’t help but stare after him, even using his powers to keep an eye on him through the wall. He overdoes it and sees Bruce’s skeleton. Before he can correct the overuse, he notes the fracture lines in Bruce’s left ribs. Tiny fractures splinter from the bottom two, as if he was hit by something really hard.

“Thanks for the moral support Clark. I told you Bruce was an asshole,” Lex says before chuckling into his glass.

“He’s something,” Clark agrees absently.

XxX

Clark startles awake, gasping down air as if he’ll never be able to fill his lungs, or whatever he has, again. He shakes his head as he tries to dislodge the very vivid dreams that are still clinging to him. Brown eyes as intense as they were across the dinner table plague him. Even thinking about them makes his aching anatomy twitch with interest.

It’s a visceral type of panic that has him conjuring up mental images of Lana. He’s in love with her, has been for years. Meeting a billionaire jerk doesn’t change that. He calms himself thinking of Lana. Helping her with homework, working on getting the Talon ready for opening night. It soothes the ache just enough that he dares to let himself remember a flash of his dreams.

Strong hands. A dark bed. Begging for more as Bruce teases him with scorching kisses.

Nope.

Horrible idea.

Aching, Clark lets himself remember every vivid detail as he carefully begins to stroke himself.

XxX

“Chloe!” Clark practically shouts the blonde’s name as he spies her at a corner table. She jumps in her seat, eyes darting to him over the screen of her laptop.

“Not that I hate being noticed before anyone else here,” she says with a beaming smile as he walks over, “but that’s the sound of desperation in your voice. What do you need?”

“Anything you know about Bruce Wayne.”

“Wayne? Like Gotham City billionaire?” Chloe asks in shock. “Wow Clark. One insanely rich friend wasn’t enough for you?”

“Lex had him over for dinner last night, he shredded him in denying whatever contract he was sent. The guy…” Clark trails off as he tries not to think about those brown eyes. “Something is weird about him.”

“Not my normal brand of weird, but color me intrigued,” Chloe says with a smile that only worries Clark when she’s asking questions about him. She types on her laptop, bobbing her head as everything loads. “Here we go. Bruce Wayne, net worth well into the billions… Oh.”

“What?” Clark asks as he grabs a chair and pulls it up next to her.

“His parents were murdered right in front of him at age nine. That could definitely explain the weirdness,” Chloe frowns sadly at the screen. “Okay, so huge tragedy, he’s left a multimillionaire and his butler is in charge of raising him. Graduated top of his class, no sports… he is very easy on the eyes.”

“Chloe,” Clark chastises. She laughs.

“Sorry Clark, not all of us are only programmed to notice one person. Wow okay he runs Wayne Industries, Wayne Tech, Wayne Enterprises, and the Wayne Foundation at the very least. This guy practically owns his city.”

“What else?” Clark presses as he watches her scroll.

“I mean, he’s been photographed with supermodels? What am I looking for here?”

“I don’t know,” Clark admits. “I just… can’t get him out of my head.”

“I’m flattered,” a familiar voice says behind them. Clark whirls and comes face to chest with Bruce Wayne of all people. He’s glad he can’t blush as Chloe squeaks in horror.

“How do you do that?” Clark asks, bewildered and more than a little caught off guard.

“Alfred is a master of sneaking, I learned from the best. Mind if I sit?” Bruce asks, motioning to the free chair. Chloe sighs dreamily and Clark fights off a groan.

“Not at all,” he relents. Bruce smirks, a quick twitch of his lips as he takes the seat.

“Chloe Sullivan, Smallville High Torch, can I ask you some questions?” Chloe asks as she holds out a hand.

“You can ask one,” Bruce responds as he shakes it.

“One?! Hmm… okay. There are whispers of a vigilante roaming your city. Any thoughts on this unknown person who’s scaring the criminals?” Chloe asks. Clark’s eyes widen.

“How do you know that?” he asks her incredulously.

“Oh please Clark. You spend your afternoons working the farm and I spend it roaming every corner of the internet I can reach. So, Mis-”

“Just Bruce please,” Bruce cuts her off. “As for this supposed vigilante… honestly I’m not sure I believe the person exists. The descriptions make it sound like a giant bat is flying around my city. It seems a little far fetched.”

“Not really,” Chloe says firmly. “I’ve read accounts from so many sources and they all claim the exact same thing. This big bat drops from the sky, kicks their butts, and is gone before the police can even begin to put down their doughnuts. It would take serious collaboration between rival criminal organizations to come up with the same description over and over.”

Clark rolls his eyes fondly at Chloe’s rambling. When he looks at Bruce he finds those brown eyes locked on him. It brings back very vivid memories of his dreams, and what he did that morning. Immediately Clark ducks his head.

“If there is a giant crimefighting bat in Gotham and I see him? You’ll be my first phone call,” Bruce reassures. “Then I’ll call a mental health professional because I’ll have really lost it.”

“Cappuccino for Chloe!” the barista shouts from the bar. Chloe hops up and rushes over, leaving Clark no choice but to look at Bruce.

“Chloe’s…” he trails off as he gets lost in those brown eyes.

“She’s going to be one hell of a reporter one day,” Bruce compliments. “That bat thing has only been going on for two months and she found it all the way here in Smallville? Smart girl.”

“She can be a little crazy when she gets into reporter mode,” Clark says with a smile as he looks back down at the table.

“Why were you researching me?” Bruce asks. Clark sighs, wishing he was a better liar than he is. He looks up, immediately catching those hypnotic eyes, and decides that since he can’t lie he can at least tell a half truth.

“I had dinner with another billionaire last night. It’s such a weird occurrence that I was just curious.” The moment he says it the brown eyes narrow and he feels like he’s being read like a book.

“What were you curious about? Aside from a few things I don’t like talking about I’m an open book. Ask away.”

“What was in that contract? You were obviously mad about it.” His question and observation make Bruce look thoughtful.

“It was a very thick contract that spent twenty pages explaining how good a partnership would be between my company and the one owned by Lionel. Hidden in the middle of that twentieth page was a line about how agreement would give Lionel a majority of Wayne Industries. If I hadn’t read it line by line I’d have given away the company my great grandfather built from nothing.”

“That definitely sounds like something Lionel would do, but I don’t think Lex knew that was in there,” Clark defends his friend. Bruce smiles, an edge of sharpness to the expression that sets Clark on edge.

“You’re a good man Clark, that doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’d be very careful about who you call a friend. People are prone to judging others based on the company they keep.” Bruce’s words make Clark frown. He wants to press him, ask questions about Lex and himself, but then he sees Whitney walk in with a few of his football buddies.

“Look at that, Kent got a new boyfriend,” one from the pack sneers. The others laugh, even Whitney smirks, as they continue on to another table.

“Aw,” Bruce says sarcastically as he pulls a cellphone from his pocket, “my first taste of small town homophobia. How quaint.”

Clark can’t help but watch Bruce dial and put the phone to his ear. The billionaire says something quick and fast into the receiver, eyes locked on the football players as he says their last names, obviously reading them off their letterman jackets. With that done he slides the phone back into his pocket.

“What was that?” Clark asks, unable to help his curiosity. Bruce’s eyes slide his way and pierce right through him.

“Gotham City University, of which I’m a major donor, frowns on potential players showing signs of hate speech, as does the Gotham Knights which I own. The world is far bigger than the county line of Smallville, I hope you don’t share the same mindset.”

“No I definitely don’t,” Clark says, trying not to think about his dream. Bruce raises an eyebrow and Clark knows his panic shows on his face.

“Good.” It’s all Bruce says, but Clark is left once again feeling like he’s been seen through. “I have to be in Metropolis by nine this evening to catch my plane back to Gotham. Anything else I should see in town before I go?”

Clark instantly thinks of something. It’s ridiculous and crazy, but he hopes it’s not too weird to say. Bruce sits there, silently observing him, and he smiles.

“Do you want to see the farm?”

XXX

Chapter Text

The drive to the farm is weirdly comfortable. Bruce drives fast, but it’s nowhere near the reckless nature of Lex behind the wheel. The radio is tuned to a rock station, turned low as Clark points out the farms they pass on their way.

They pull up the driveway slowly, Bruce somehow looking more at ease than he did in town, and park behind the family truck. They hop out in unison, Clark watching Bruce for any sign of judgement. He doesn’t see derision, but there’s an obvious curiosity in the way the billionaire looks around.

“Clark?” his dad calls from the tractor he’s working on. Clark motions for Bruce to follow him as his dad wipes his hands off on an oil stained rag. “Who’s this?”

“Bruce Wayne sir,” Bruce introduces himself, holding out a hand. Clark looks between them, hoping his dad doesn’t embarrass him. A scoff leaves his dad’s lips but he takes the hand.

“Jonathan Kent. Do you mind telling me what it is about my son that attracts the super rich?”

“Dad,” Clark half whines. Bruce just laughs, a genuine tone that instantly earns Clark’s undivided attention. It’s unreal how good a smile looks on the handsome face.

“I can’t speak for anyone else, but I like the blunt honesty. It’s refreshing when you know who I deal with on a daily basis.” Bruce releases his father’s hand and points to the motorcycle sitting near the barn. “Is that yours?”

“Yeah but it’s not running. Martha says it’s about time to leave my wild youth behind, but I’m not giving up yet.” If Clark wasn’t watching Bruce so intently he would have missed the flicker of shock across his face at the mention of his mother’s name. He wonders why, but Bruce recovers quickly.

“Do you mind if I take a look at it?” Bruce asks.

“Knock yourself out, but be careful of your suit,” Jonathan says with a definite hint of judgement in his voice. Bruce smiles, shoots Clark a quick wink, and makes his way over to the motorcycle. Once he’s closer to the barn Clark turns a look on his dad. “What?”

“Can’t you be nice?” Clark implores. Jonathan sighs.

“Clark, you keep bringing people here that have no business on a farm that also happen to be too old to be friends. It makes the dad in me worry.”

“I think I’ve got an idea of what’s going on!” Bruce calls from the motorcycle. Clark looks over to see he’s dropped his suit jacket in the dirt and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m assuming you’ve got tools somewhere?”

“If he breaks my motorcycle-”

“He’d probably buy you a new one,” Clark drawls in response as he walks toward the barn. “I’ll grab the toolbox. You really know what you’re doing?”

“I do,” Bruce says as Clark draws closer. “My father had quite the classic car collection, I’ve restored all of them.”

“Bruce Wayne, a man of many hidden talents,” Clark teases with a smile. Bruce bobs his head side to side, as if considering his words.

“The depths of Bruce Wayne would make your head spin,” Bruce says with enough seriousness in his tone that Clark frowns. He goes into the barn and grabs the toolbox, bringing it back to Bruce who mumbles a thanks. As if in a trance the man opens the beat up metal case and rifles around until he pulls out what he needs. He starts to work on it and Clark finds himself staring at him. “I’m guessing Lex didn’t make a good impression on your father?”

“Pretty much. He’s been gruff with him since the day we met,” Clark says as he crouches beside the kneeling Bruce. “That’s common ground for the two of you at least.”

Bruce chuckles, looking over at him as he unscrews something. Clark can’t help but smile at the grin directed at him, well aware that they’re shoulder to shoulder. Whatever Bruce is messing with pops free and the man goes back to tinkering.

“I’m going up against a bad impression of all rich people because of Lex, why am I not surprised? That’s okay, I’m always up for a challenge.”

“He’s not that bad,” Clark immediately defends his friend. Bruce snorts, swiping at his face and leaving a streak of oil on his cheek.

“I’m sure the side you see is nice. I know the before Smallville him and the business side. There can be several different versions of the same person.”

“Like you?” Clark fires back. “You were harsh with Lex last night, but you were nice to Chloe, myself, and my dad.”

“Bruce Wayne is different than Bruce,” Bruce explains. Clark frowns in confusion.

“I don’t get it,” he admits. Bruce pulls out some tubing, scrubs it clean on his slacks, and blows into one end. Clark is horrified by the glob of dark goop that splatters on the slacks right above the knee, but Bruce doesn’t seem to care. “Your suit-”

“Literally means nothing to me. As for the Bruce and Bruce Wayne thing, it’s good it doesn’t make sense. If you understood you’d know too much.” Bruce quickly snaps everything back together and rubs his palms on his slacks as he stands. Clark can’t help but watch him mount the motorcycle and turn the key. When it rumbles to life Bruce gives him a grin that has every second of his dream flashing in his mind. “And that’s how you fix a motorcycle.”

“Holy cow,” Clark’s dad says with an impressed laugh as he walks over. “I might’ve misjudged you Bruce.”

“I’m used to it Mr. Kent,” Bruce says easily as he turns the key to shut off the engine. “You’ll need a few new parts if you plan on riding this regularly. I’ve got some spares in the garage at home, I can send them your way so you don’t have to track them down.”

“How much are those parts worth?” his dad asks suspiciously and Clark gives him a quick look to be nice. Bruce is oblivious as he hops off the motorcycle.

“A few grand? I don’t have the receipts in front of me to know. I’m kind of in the middle of a totally different project and you’d be helping out by taking them off my hands.”

“What project?” Clark’s dad asks and Clark can tell he’s still trying to judge him.

“I’m building a custom car from the ground up,” Bruce answers, brown eyes looking between father and son. “It’s still mostly sketches all over the floor and a frame-”

“Unless you want to become the official Kent family mechanic,” Clark says as he grabs Bruce’s arm, “I suggest we keep moving.”

He pulls Bruce along the fence line, pointing out their cows and explaining how they work the land to keep them safe. Bruce says nothing as he continues on his own little guided tour, and he’s wondering if the billionaire is bored out of his skull. He starts to apologize when Bruce happily hops the fence as a calf walks close. Clark can’t bring himself to say anything as he watches the man pat the calf gently and brown eyes move his way.

“You rescued me from your father back there.” It’s not a question but a blunt statement. Clark nods in response to it. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t be just as suspicious of a man who’s willingly hanging out with a high schooler on a farm when he obviously doesn’t belong there.”

“He’s just really cautious,” Clark defends softly.

“Because I’m a grown man hanging out with his high school son? Or is there something else?” Bruce asks. Clark tenses, remembering the sensation of being seen right through at the dinner table. “He doesn’t like Lex but let you go to his home in the evening for dinner, so what about me being here is worrisome?”

“Bruce,” Clark says, dragging out the name while trying to come up with a lie. He finds those brown eyes on him, as intense as they were the night before, and completely crumbles. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll judge him, his family, how we live? You’re literally a billionaire visiting a struggling family farm.”

“Right,” Bruce says. The tone suggests to Clark that he doesn’t buy it, not completely. Clark knows he needs to change the subject, get them away from the topic of reasons to be nervous, but he doesn’t know how to lie to those eyes that seem to be analyzing everything about him.

“I was told we had company!” His mom’s voice is a welcome distraction. Bruce tenses, absolute pain flickering across his face before he smooths the expression into a small smile, and Clark makes a mental note of it as his mom walks over to them. “Don’t tell me you have him helping you with chores Clark.”

“No Mom,” Clark defends himself as Bruce smiles tightly. “Bruce Wayne, this is Martha Kent, my mom.”

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am,” Bruce says as he holds out a hand. His face remains impassive but Clark can see the tightness around his eyes. Clark’s mother smiles and shakes his hand, oblivious to what Clark sees.

“I’m sorry these two put you to work immediately. Fixing the motorcycle-”

“Bruce offered,” Clark defends himself again with a smile at her. “He also got it working, so you’ve got him to thank for that.”

“I can’t stand not fixing a problem,” Bruce explains, his voice a little rough. Clark looks at him, surprised by the small smile on his lips that looks genuine despite the emotion in his voice.

“Are you staying for dinner Bruce? We’ve got plenty to go around.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Bruce says, eyes moving to Clark. He smiles at the billionaire.

“It would be rude to refuse,” he points out. Bruce nods, looking back at his mom with that faint smile.

“I don’t exactly have anything for a host gift-”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” his mother waves off his words. “It’ll be our pleasure to have you stay. Do you have a change of clothes? It seems you got a little dirty fixing Jonathan’s motorcycle.”

“My luggage is in the car, I have a flight at nine to get back home.” Bruce says everything in his polite voice, but Clark can see his head spinning.

“I’ll bring him back up to the house in just a minute,” he reassures his mom. Bruce gives him a shaky smile as she walks away. Once she’s out of earshot it falls away completely. “Okay, what’s-”

“My mother had the same name,” Bruce explains quickly. “I don’t… it’s strange to see a loving family dynamic. I feel like an alien around the three of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark offers genuinely, embarrassed that he pressed by saying his mom’s name on purpose.

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” Bruce dismisses. “I’m sure I’m quite the oddity. I don’t exactly fit in with my peers, haven’t since they were murdered. It’s a strange thing to always be the outsider looking in.”

“I know the feeling,” Clark says before he can think better of it. His comment earns him curious eyes. Foot already in his mouth, he knows that he can’t lie. “I’m adopted, kinda considered the weird Kent kid by everyone. It always seems like I’m separated from even my friends by this invisible wall of unspoken… I guess mystery? I don’t think that’s the right word for it.”

“The world really is bigger than the Smallville county line,” Bruce says with a soft smile that warms Clark’s chest. “You have to find your place in it. If it doesn’t exist, carve it for yourself.”

“Bruce Wayne is a philosopher now?” Clark asks. Bruce chuckles and offers a shrug.

“A man of many, many talents.”

XxX

As if taking Bruce to the farm wasn’t a bad enough idea, Clark realizes just how bad it is as he watches the man vanish into his bathroom to shower. Every vivid detail of his dream rises to the surface as he looks around his messy bedroom. He had no idea that he’d be inviting anyone over when he left that morning and it’s bad. His dirty clothes are scattered around the floor, textbooks are open on his desk, and there’s a definite odor of something lingering in the air.

He hears the shower start and rushes around his room, using his super-speed to grab his clothes and toss them into his hamper. Boxers, socks, shirts, everything is haphazardly thrown in without care. When that’s done he quickly straightens up his desk, not wanting Bruce to see the failing grade on his math assignment he’s currently trying to make up. The bed worries him most of all. He didn’t exactly change the sheets and, if Bruce were to look at all…

“What the fuck?” Bruce’s voice has him freezing mid-step, eyes wide as the billionaire stands shirtless in the doorway of his bathroom.

“Bruce,” he barely breathes the name. This is bad. This is beyond bad. Bruce steps fully from behind the door, exposing a horrible bruise on his left side. Clark remembers the fractured ribs and tries to pivot attention. “What happened to your ribs?”

“I took an aluminum bat to them. Now explain to me exactly what I just saw,” Bruce orders. Clark flounders.

“What did you see?” he counter asks to buy himself some time. Bruce levels him a hard look, as harsh as the one he gave Lex when he tore him to pieces. “Bruce-”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot Clark. What was that?” Each syllable feels like a punch laced with meteor rock. Not knowing what else to do, Clark sinks onto his bed.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he begs. Bruce’s expression softens just a touch.

“I’m a master of secrets,” Bruce says, just enough behind his voice that Clark believes him. He takes a deep breath and tells him what he knows.

XxX

“Alien.” Bruce says it like it is. A flat fact that hangs on Clark’s shoulders and makes truly being close to people impossible.

“Yeah,” he replies with a sigh, eyeing the man carefully. There’s no sign of a freak out, no rushing to a phone to call the government, just Bruce standing there and staring at him like he’s waiting for him to laugh and say it’s all a joke.

“I’m in the bedroom of a super fast alien.”

“And super strong,” Clark offers carefully. “And I can… see through stuff if I focus.”

“Jesus,” Bruce says with a laugh mixed into it. “You’re actually serious?”

“I am. I know it’s a lot-”

“That’s an understatement.”

“-but you have to understand that I’m not a threat or anything. I’m just a… teenager,” he finishes lamely. Bruce scoffs, a grin flickering onto his lips that quickly falters into a serious expression.

“Please tell me Lex has no idea about this.”

“No idea,” Clark confirms. Bruce bobs his head up and down in a nod.

“Okay. That’s… for the best. Do your parents know what you can do?”

“Yeah, I talk to them about it,” Clark says honestly. “Are you going to freak out?”

“I’ve seen my fair share of shit in Gotham, this doesn’t even scratch the surface of weird,” Bruce reassures and Clark feels the tension leave his body. “Do you… still have the ship?”

“It’s in the storm cellar,” Clark responds with a wince. Bruce laughs, a short bark of one.

“I’m going to actually take that shower. Here,” Bruce dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tossing it next to Clark on the bed. When he gives the man a confused look he gets a firm one in return. “So you know I’m not making any crazy calls in there.”

“Oh. Good point,” Clark says with a sheepish smile. Bruce stares at him a moment, eyes moving between his own, before he shakes his head and steps back into the bathroom. The moment the door is shut Clark falls back on his bed and lets out a heavy breath. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Bruce knows. He knows and he’s not immediately demanding to put him under a microscope. He knows and he’s showering in Clark’s bathroom.

Showering. That brings forth a mental image that has him regretting ever thinking it. The temptation is there, as real and palpable as it never has been before, to look through the wooden door that separates them. He doesn’t, but he really wants to.

When Bruce steps from the bathroom in a clean suit and damp hair Clark can’t help but let a dreamy sigh slip out of his mouth. Chloe saying he was easy on the eyes is the biggest understatement of the century. Their eyes lock and Bruce gives him a grin that he’s absolutely sure gets him whatever he wants at all times.

“What?” Clark asks at the grin. Bruce says nothing, just slowly draws closer. When he’s standing right in front of Clark he crouches, bringing them eye level. That close the brown eyes are intense and Clark is absolutely drowning in them.

Carefully, Bruce reaches out and touches his cheek, sliding his hand to hold his face. Clark forgets everything as he feels the featherlight touch of the thumb brush against his skin. It has him reacting immediately, aching like he was when he woke up. He silently hopes Bruce doesn’t look down as those brown eyes look between his.

“I should’ve known you weren’t human,” Bruce whispers softly and Clark has to fight back a groan of want.

“What do you mean?” he practically pants out.

“You’re too perfect.” The answer makes him want to look away, but he can’t stop staring into those beautiful eyes. They finally leave his, focusing on something else, before locking back onto him again with a spark of mischief. “Although I must say, it’s very human to need to change your sheets.”

XxX

Clark is beyond mortified as they sit down to dinner with his parents. Bruce is of course grinning every chance he gets, politely answering every question his mom and dad ask. He doesn’t say anything about knowing the truth and Clark is grateful. Instead he compliments every dish and makes small talk with them both about the farm and how certain things are done. It’s picturesque and domestic, and Clark thinks he might be well on his way to forming a true crush that’s not Lana-centric.

“Have you traveled a lot?” his mom asks, pulling Clark from his musing as Bruce nods.

“I have. After I graduated high school I left Gotham behind for a few years to find myself. I climbed snow covered mountains, stayed with monks in an ancient monastery, and learned how to be the man I want to become.”

“Wow that’s… deeper than I expected,” his mother says with a laugh. Bruce smiles, an earnest one that makes Clark swoon.

“I’m not one for company, certainly not the social butterfly that I’m supposed to be, so partying and traveling with friends to some crazy getaway wasn’t for me.” Bruce looks his way and Clark can’t help but smile warmly at him in return.

“That sounds really cool,” he offers. Bruce stares at him, that smile on his face growing. It feeds that warmth in his chest as they finish their meal.

XxX

“Come on,” Clark goads as they approach the barn, “I promise it’s cool. Unless you’re too good for seeing the best place on the farm?”

“You think you’re being cute,” Bruce grumbles but obliges him. Clark beams and hauls him up the stairs to the loft. Bruce looks around the space, an impressed look on his face.

“Welcome to my fortress of solitude. That’s what Dad calls it.”

“This is nice,” Bruce agrees as he goes to the open hay window, brown eyes taking in the setting sun. “Alfred calls every room I take over my cave, so I made my own.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Clark asks as he leans against the window next to him. Bruce points to the telescope and he nods. “I have an… interest in what’s out there.”

“Understandable.” The man looks thoughtful for a moment before he sighs. It’s a heavy one, as if he’s bracing himself for something deep. “When I was a kid, I was terrified of bats.”

“Really?” Clark asks, a little caught off guard.

“Big time. When we were walking my mother and father to the Wayne family crypt I ran off, unable to face my new reality. I fell into a sinkhole in the backyard, straight into this pitch black cave. A swarm of bats came flying out, squeaking and brushing past me.”

“That sounds scary.”

“I was terrified, but I thought of how brave my father was, how he faced that mugger down without fear… and I stood up on a broken leg and stayed in the middle of their swirling and flying. I swear my feet left the ground for a moment,” Bruce looks him in the eye and, in the setting sun, Clark knows that he’s being trusted with something important. “I saw my future in that moment. I understood exactly what I wanted to be. I traveled the world to reach that goal.”

“What?” Clark asks in a whisper.

“I wanted to be the terror in the night, I wanted to rid Gotham of all the evil. Even with every penny to my name, I can’t do that. So I have to be more.” Bruce digs his hand into his pocket as Clark frowns.

“I don’t think I understand,” he admits. Bruce takes his hand, slapping something cold and metal into it.

“Chloe isn’t wrong, there is a giant bat in Gotham,” Bruce says. It sounds distant to Clark’s ears as he stares down at the odd weapon in his hand. It’s shaped like a bat, with sharp edges that look ready to tear. He looks from the thing in his hand into the brown eyes that stare at him with such a serious tone he gulps.

“Why… are you telling me this?” he asks, desperate to understand.

“I’m telling you because you trusted me. I’m telling you because, after my twenty four years of life on this planet, I’ve found someone that can understand and he’s not even from this world. You’re something special Clark, something that I don’t think even you understand. You can be so much more than the weird Kent kid. This?” Bruce taps the bat in Clark’s palm. “This is me trusting you with everything I am. Consider it insurance if you need to, a way you know I’ll always keep your secret, or consider it how I really mean it.”

“And how’s that?” Clark asks. Bruce gives him a smile, closing his hand over the bat in his palm and lacing their fingers. It sends a thrill through Clark’s brain, screaming that this is big and he absolutely needs to listen.

“I’m trusting you to not tell the world that you met the Bat of Gotham. You, Alfred, and myself are the only ones who know. This is the biggest leap of faith I’ve ever taken Clark. This, the symbol in your hand, is the legacy I will leave behind. Not everything I do as Bruce Wayne, not the technological advancements any of my companies make, not even whatever children I may have. This. You now know it.”

Bruce brings their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of Clark’s. It makes him swoon, enough to step into the billionaire’s space and press a needy kiss to unsuspecting lips. There’s the briefest hint of pressure back before Bruce pulls away enough to separate them.

“I’m twenty four Clark, I can’t,” he says with conviction. “I won’t cross that line.”

“Sorry,” Clark immediately apologizes, pulling his hand free and staring at the wooden planks beneath their feet. Bruce chuckles, steps closer, and kisses his temple.

“Grow up, go through all your high school drama, and when you’re older? I’ll make whatever you want to happen a reality,” Bruce whispers in his ear, sending every single drop of alien blood Clark has running south. Another kiss is pressed to his temple, lingering just long enough to allow him a kiss to a strong neck. “I’m a Wayne Clark, we always keep our promises.”

With that, Bruce steps back and gives him a wink. Clark can’t help the wide smile on his lips as he watches him walk down the stairs. The drama of Lana, of the unspoken feelings Chloe pretends she doesn’t have for him, it all feels so far away as he watches the man clad in black leave the barn.

“A Kent will hold you to them!” he shouts as Bruce crosses the threshold. While straining his ears he catches a warm and deep chuckle.

XXX

Chapter Text

“This is the biggest thing that has ever happened in the history of the world!” Chloe says loudly from inside the Torch office. Curious, Clark steps inside and finds her there, Principal Kwan giving her that stern look of disapproval.

“I said to get more in touch with the student population. Whatever that thing in Gotham is certainly has no effect whatsoever on my students. Don’t make me close the paper again Miss Sullivan.” Kwan leaves the office, not even acknowledging Clark’s presence. Chloe groans and sinks into her desk chair.

“I don’t know if I have enough bat puns to make you smile,” he says as he walks closer. Chloe scoffs.

“This is big Clark, I know it is. Do you know how corrupt Gotham is? Some person in that city has had enough and is striking back. Two crime families that have been in power for at least three decades have been decimated. The crazy part? Whoever is behind the Bat isn’t killing anyone. They’re left strung up and definitely bruised, but the criminals are still breathing when the cops get there. This vigilante is exposing the corruption of the court system, the cops… it’s unreal how much one person is doing.”

“That is impressive,” Clark agrees as he looks at her computer screen. On it is a grainy security camera image. He smiles at the long black cape and pointed bat ears. “They certainly like being dramatic.”

“Imagine that coming at you? I’d be terrified!” Chloe says excitedly. “Imagine if someone did this in Metropolis. I know there’s more than one dirty cop there, power breeds corruption after all, but wow… what does it take to drive a person to that point?”

“It takes giving a damn,” Clark says, eyes on the computer screen.

XxX

When he gets home from school he finds his parents in the kitchen, frowning over bills at the table. The sight is unfortunately familiar and the smile he’s had all day falters. His mom taps on the calculator again, shows the screen to his dad, and he fully steps into the kitchen.

“With this, we can-”

“I can do more,” he offers without preamble. “I’m sure Lana will give me a job at the Talon-”

“As much as I appreciate the selflessness,” his dad says with stern look, “you going out and getting a job isn’t necessary.”

“If it helps with the bills-”

“We just got a letter from the owner of the bank,” his mom cuts him off. Clark feels his stomach drop, preparing for the worst. “Every loan has been forgiven.”

“What?” Clark asks, astounded. “That’s… a mistake right?”

“I thought so too,” his dad says with a twist of his lips, “until I looked at the new signature at the bottom of the letter.”

Clark moves to the table and grabs the aforementioned letter. He reads it line by line, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. When he gets to the best regards he smiles at the no nonsense signature of Bruce Wayne.

“Bruce,” he says aloud. His dad hums.

“Do I need to go to the police about what you got up to in the loft?” his dad asks, voice thick with concern and controlled anger.

“Jonathan!” his mother immediately scolds.

“Billionaires don’t just buy banks and toss away money Martha,” his dad fires back. “This screams payoff to me and I certainly don’t like the implications-”

“I kissed him,” Clark cuts in before the fight can really start. They turn horrified eyes his way and he smiles. “He told me that he wouldn’t cross that line.”

“You kissed him?” his dad asks as if clarifying, like his brain can’t process the information it has. Clark nods slowly. He’s never seen even an inkling of hate from his dad, but the dread is still there. “I thought… Lana?”

“I like her, but he-“ Clark winces as he thinks about how explaining his dream is going to be the most awkward thing ever. “After dinner with him at Lex’s house I had this dream about Bruce-”

“No details needed sweetie,” his mom saves him. “So you like him?”

“I do. He might’ve seen me use my speed-”

“Clark!”

“-and I might’ve told him the truth about everything-”

“What?!” his dad exclaims in horror. “You told him everything everything?”

“Everything. He handled it well and gave me insurance that he’d keep my secret,” Clark defends himself.

“Like what?” his dad demands. He understands the frustration his dad feels. This is the one thing they don’t talk about to anyone. Clark’s powers and origin are enough to get him taken away for life. Telling Bruce does seem like a bad idea if he didn’t know Bruce. He digs the bat weapon from his pocket and holds it out.

“He’s the vigilante that’s been roaming his city, taking out the criminals who have been in power for decades.”

“That Gotham Bat? That’s Bruce?!” his mom asks, horror on her face. He nods at her. “Clark! He’s not you! He’s going to get hurt!”

“We aren’t adopting a fully grown man,” his dad says and Clark laughs at their concern.

“Maybe he’ll be part of the family in the future? Who knows?” he goads, earning him a serious look from his dad.

“Finish high school first.”

“I’m calling him,” his mom says with worry dripping from her voice. “He can’t be doing that.”

“Martha-”

“Mom-”

“Can I come in?” Lex asks, knocking on the screen door. Clark smiles at his friend as he quickly slips the bat back into his pocket, Bruce’s warning ringing in the back of his head.

“What’s up?” he asks as Lex pushes open the door.

“Well it seems that an enemy has gotten in the gate so to speak. Bruce Wayne just bought the local bank, which all Luthor Corp local money goes through. He also apparently decided to forgive just about every outstanding loan from his new purchase.”

“How is that a bad thing?” Clark asks curiously. Lex’s face shows a brief flash of emotion, something close to annoyance in the way he bites his lip.

“The Wayne family have never liked mine, we’ve been rivals in the business world since our grandfathers ran the companies.”

“Knew I liked that boy for a reason,” his dad says into his coffee mug. His mom nudges his ribs and Clark has to fight back a smile.

“It all seems great now, but he’ll collect and it will be bad,” Lex responds firmly. Clark frowns at that. Bruce certainly didn’t like Lex, but it didn’t even seem like it was tied to the business side except at dinner.

“What exactly is he going to collect on?” his dad asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. “He forgave the loans, was a perfect dinner guest, and seems to have a good sense of right and wrong.”

Lex just rolls his eyes, which Clark knows from experience immediately sets his dad off, and pulls his phone from his pocket. He dials a number and puts it to his ear. They lock eyes and Clark doesn’t see his friend. For the first time, he sees a different man that he’s not sure he likes.

“Bruce Wayne. Tell him it’s Lex Luthor calling.” Lex’s jaw twitches and he hangs up the phone with a sneer that has every warning bell ringing in Clark’s head. “I’m going to get this settled.”

“It’s fine Lex,” Clark reassures. “Isn’t this what you rich guys do? Buy banks as investments or something?”

“Forgiving hundreds of thousands of dollars in loans isn’t a smart business move,” Lex growls as he spins on his heel.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” his dad says into his mug again.

“Jonathan-”

“Bruce might be right,” Clark says carefully, watching Lex kick his car tire through the wall of the house. “Maybe I don’t know Lex.”

XxX

“Bruce here.” The voice filters over the speakerphone in the Kent kitchen, the family huddled around it.

“You bought the bank?” his dad asks first.

“Mr. Kent? Yes I did. Alfred,” Bruce says away from the phone, “watch that monitor.”

“Why exactly did you forgive the loans?” his dad asks and Clark gives him a pleading look to be nice.

“Honestly? I knew it would piss off Lex. What does it say about him that he’s been in town for a year and hasn’t done a thing for the community? It’s all a game of optics and public opinion.”

“Seems a little harsh,” Clark says.

“Hi Clark. It might but that’s the business world. Look, the bank owner was wanting to sell so he could retire. I don’t think anyone in Smallville wants a Luthor running their bank. Plus, I’ve heard rumors about their company, whispers of some illegal activity going on… As owner of the bank I can see every penny they deposit.”

“You need to be careful,” his mom says, worry blatantly dripping from her voice.

“Hello Mrs. Kent. You don’t need to worry about me, the Luthor family-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about Bruce,” she says with a frown. Clark can imagine Bruce’s entire body tensing up and rushes to apologize.

“Bruce, I had to tell them, Dad was drawing some bad conclusions about your bank purchase.”

“Mr. Kent I’d never-”

“I know son, Clark explained the whole thing. We’re just worried about you doing what you’re doing.” Clark smiles at his dad and his fatherly tone, well aware of the strangled noise Bruce makes on the other end of the line.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing they can do to me that Alfred can’t patch up. Right Alfred?”

“No comment sir.” The British accent must be Alfred, and Clark can’t help but smile at the absolute attitude in that response. “We have movement at the docks. It would seem Cobblepot is making his move.”

“I’ve got to go,” Bruce says quickly. “If you need something, just call okay?”

“Be careful,” Clark’s parents say in unison.

“They’ve kinda adopted you already,” Clark explains with a smile.

“Bruce Kent? I don’t think I like the sound of that. However,” Bruce pauses and there’s a shuffle of fabric, “I do like the sound of Clark Kent-Wayne, if you want to hyphenate.”

“Now hold on,” his dad starts and Bruce chuckles as the line disconnects. Both of his parents look at him and Clark gives them an innocent smile.

XxX Two Years Later XxX

Clark paces impatiently, house phone to his ear as he waits for the call to connect. His mom and dad both say it’s going to be okay but he wants reassurance. The line rings once, twice, three times. His hopes fall.

“Bruce here.” The calm voice over the line stops his pacing.

“Hi,” he breathes into the receiver.

“Clark? Is everything alright?”

“I can hear everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…”

XxX A Month Later XxX

“Bruce here.”

“I just shot lasers out of my eyes,” he spits out the moment Bruce answers the phone. The other end of the line is quiet. He takes a breath.

“Are you okay? What happened? Walk me through it.”

XxX Three Years Later XxX

It’s a cold day when Clark walks with his mom through the cemetery. It seems like the entire town is there to watch them lay his dad to rest. It hurts, a deep ache in his chest that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover from. Despite his pain he stands strong, practically holding his mother up as she cries into her handkerchief.

The words said by the preacher wash over him, unheard by his ears as he stares at the box that holds the man that raised him. Memories as fresh as if they just happened wash over him. Lessons learned. Laughs shared. Serious talks. They all blur together in a swirl of pain that he can’t see past.

Lana steps to his side and takes his hand. He appreciates the gesture of comfort. Their relationship is a mess that he can’t even begin to think about, especially not in that moment, but her presence is warm and comforting in the darkness.

The ride back to the farm is quiet. As they pull up the driveway Clark sees a man on the porch. He helps his mother from the truck and approaches the uniformed man slowly.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“Clark Kent?”

“Yes? What do you want?” It’s a bit gruff when it leaves his lips but he can’t be bothered to care. The man holds out an envelope and he takes it cautiously.

“All the way from Gotham City, to be delivered right to your hands.” With that the man tips his hat and walks back to his waiting car.

“Bruce?” his mom poses softly and he forces a smile to his lips as he helps her inside.

“Probably. I’ll see what he says, you go rest Mom.” His words make her nod and move slowly towards the living room. He watches her go as he breaks the seal on the back of the envelope. Once she’s settled on the couch he pulls the thick paper free and unfolds it.

‘Clark,

I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t know your father that well but he seemed like a damn good man. He had to be to raise you.

Tell your mother that everything is covered on the financial side of this. Right now what matters most is that you’re there for her.

Grow from this. Don’t let it change you in the wrong way. The world already has enough of that with me.

I’m sorry I can’t be there in person but if you need anything at all I’m a phone call away.

-Bruce’

Clark lowers the letter, a smile on his lips for the first time in days.

XxX Five Years Later XxX

Gotham City. It’s beautiful in its own way. Tall skyscrapers that gleam in the skyline as the sun sets, reaching for the clouds that remain just out of reach. Old buildings that hold as many secrets as the years that have passed since they’ve been built. It’s a beautiful and dangerous city, and Clark loves it immediately, almost as much as Metropolis.

He walks through the city, killing time until the Wayne Foundation fundraiser gets started. Reporting on it for the Daily Planet is a big deal, the byline alone will bump up his stock as a reporter, but all he can think about is how he’s going to see Bruce in person for the first time in ten years. Just the thought of it has him smiling.

He remembers the teenage crush, how it lingered in the back of his mind even through his ill fated relationship with Lana. There’s a sense of hope in his chest that this reunion won’t be awkward. He had stopped calling Bruce years ago, knowing that he was meant to live his life. Now twenty five and two horribly failed relationships under his belt, he wonders if the sparks will fly again.

The sun sets and the streets clear. He would find it odd, but he is in Gotham after all. When night falls the Knight comes out. He smiles to himself, turning down a different street to take him to the Wayne Foundation headquarters, absently wondering how Bruce feels about the titles he’s earned for himself. The Batman. The Gotham Bat. The Dark Knight. The city has embraced their vigilante with cautious optimism.

It’s too good to be true, walking through Gotham and expecting no trouble at all. Clark feels a hand grab his collar and he goes with the forceful tug to pull him into the alleyway, hearing the gun click as the safety is flicked. It presses into the back of his neck as he’s pushed against the damp brick wall.

“Don’t make a sound,” the mugger sneers. “I just want your wallet and your phone.”

“I don’t think you want to do this,” Clark warns.

“I agree,” a strange voice says behind them. Clark can’t place it. There’s something mechanical about it, as if it’s being digitally altered before it even leaves the man’s throat.

“Woah Batman come on!” the would-be mugger exclaims wildly. Clark’s eyes widen as he realizes who just rescued him. “A guy’s gotta make a living. You got my boss locked up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put you in the cell next to him.” It’s a threat that sends chills down Clark’s spine. The mugger laughs.

“I’ve got a gun next to his head! Whatcha gonna do?” The question is a sneer, a triumph thought to be won. Clark holds his breath, listening to Bruce’s heart. The beat is steady and sure. He’s obviously done this before. There’s a flap of fabric and the mugger screams. “My ha-”

He’s cut off by a black glove fist connecting with his head. Clark jumps at the impact of the mugger’s face against the bricks next to his. The man slumps, hitting the ground in a limp pile. Clark turns to face Bruce, a smile on his lips at the sight.

“Hi,” he barely breathes out.

“Clark?”

XXX

Chapter Text

He’s not sure what to expect. A smile might be a bit much, but he hopes to at least get one of those grins that still haunt Clark when he closes his eyes. Instead he gets a glare as he’s grabbed. Clark lets out a yelp as his feet leave the ground and they land on top of the building.

“What-”

“I don’t want Superman in my city,” Bruce says flatly, brown eyes staring directly into his soul. Clark flounders, unsure how to respond to that.

“I’m not… here for that?” It leaves his lips a question and he groans. “I’m supposed to be covering the Wayne Foundation thing which, why are you out in the city when you’re supposed to be there?”

“I have to be fashionably late.” It sounds weird from the cowl and voice changer, but a Bruce grin shines for a second and Clark feels the familiar warmth in his chest. “Do you want to see the cave?”

“Really?” he asks, unable to hide his excitement. Bruce chuckles and, even though the voice changer garbles it, Clark’s hopes rise.

“We’ll take my car.”

XxX

Car is an understatement. Clark is pretty sure it should be classified as a tank. They roar through the streets of Gotham as only someone who’s lived there their whole life like Bruce can, taking alleyways and shortcuts that leave Clark’s head spinning. He finds himself laughing with delight, especially when they drive through a waterfall.

Bruce shuts off the car the moment they stop, the lack of the now familiar rumbling engine making the silence deafening, and pulls off the cowl. Clark is instantly entranced by the reveal of his face. He looks exactly how he remembers, as if that day at the farm was yesterday. When those brown eyes meet his he knows his face is giving away his thoughts.

“Hi.” It’s such a simple but beautiful greeting from Bruce. Clark feels his lips lift in a wide smile. This, who he’s dealing with now, is Bruce. Not Bruce Wayne, not Batman, but Bruce. The man who stole his heart and called him perfect. The man who could’ve easily taken advantage of his naïveté but stood by his morals and made a promise.

“Hi.” It leaves his lips just as breathy as it did in the alley. Bruce stares at him for a silent moment, those hypnotic eyes dancing between his, and Clark knows that he’s doomed. Lana? Lois? Why did he even try? It was never a simple crush. He’s been smitten with Bruce since his subconscious pointed it out in his dream.

“I like the glasses,” Bruce says, tossing him a wink before he climbs from the car. Such a simple statement, but it has Clark glad he can’t blush once again as he takes a moment to smile at nothing before following him out.

“They help hide that I’m…” he trails off, eyes sweeping over the Batcave. His jaw drops. It’s an actual cave, with natural rock formations mixing with sleek steel as his eyes move to the center of the space. A massive desk sits in the center with four monitors on it, powerful computers tucked underneath and out of the way. Beyond that an armory sits, open and waiting for the suit Bruce wears. The shower catches Clark’s attention, his mind immediately conjuring up a torturous mental image.

“Aside from Alfred and myself, you’re the only one who’s been in here,” Bruce says as he walks towards the desk. Clark can’t help but watch him lean over and hit a few keys, pulling up a map of the city and running his eyes over it.

“It’s impressive. I just have a one bedroom apartment,” he comments as he walks closer. It’s not even a conscious decision on his part. Bruce is just that magnetic. Those brown eyes lock on him, seeing so much Clark feels exposed.

“No ring, no tan line from one either. You never married your high school sweetheart?” Bruce asks and Clark stamps down on his excitement that maybe he’s interested and poking around for information.

“No,” he says with a chuckle to hide his nerves as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “Just two failed relationships.”

“What’s that like?” Bruce asks and Clark gives him a curious look. “I’ve never been in anything long term.”

“Right,” Clark says looking down at the steel beneath his feet. Bruce certainly does grace the gossip columns with a new woman quite often. “Why’s that?”

“When people know you it gets hard to hide. Batman and Bruce Wayne need a level of separation and, if the relationship fails, how can I trust that they wouldn’t immediately run to the highest bidder with the truth?”

“So the billionaire playboy-”

“Is a very fun act,” Bruce confirms as they make eye contact again. There’s something about the expression on the man’s face that Clark wishes he could decipher.

“Is it one you’d ever give up?” Clark questions casually and carefully. Bruce’s eyes dance between his, a softness taking over his expression that makes Clark feel like he’s flying despite knowing both feet are firmly planted on the ground.

“I might, if the right person was interested. The real question is can someone put up with all sides of me? Batman, Bruce, and Bruce Wayne are all very different. The persona of Bruce Wayne can easily be altered to adapt to a lasting relationship, but once that step is taken it would be difficult to walk back.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Clark says, instead of voicing the desire to say that he would be interested and is more than up for the challenge of juggling the personalities.

“I’m no good to my city if I’m found out,” Bruce says with a shrug, “it deserved the attention and care.”

Without another word Bruce goes to the armory and begins to remove his suit. There’s an ease to it, a decade’s worth of time climbing in and out of it making it look second nature, and Clark is entranced. Not just by the skin so easily and thoughtlessly bared to him, but by every mark that graces the skin. The obvious circles from bullets, the long and thin lines from blades. It’s a testament to Bruce’s willpower that he still suits up.

“I’m not you,” Bruce says, reading him like a book as he stares. Their eyes lock and Clark wants to reassure him that they’re beautiful, in their own odd way. He starts to say it, unsure how to even phrase it, but stops himself. How would that be taken? “If you’re wondering why no one’s ever said anything about them, I don’t usually get that undressed.”

Clark understands, eyes going wide as Bruce completely removes the suit and the skintight boxers beneath it. This is Bruce’s way of showing him everything in more ways than the obvious. Can he handle it? Can he stand to know what happens to the man while out in his city?

“I’d like to hear about each one,” he replies with a faint smile. Bruce looks at him, naked and unashamed of it, and grins.

“Play your cards right and I might tell you.” With that, Bruce steps into the shower and turns on the water. Clark openly stares as he scrubs himself clean, blood flowing south until he’s aching and telling himself that his job doesn’t matter. They can skip the whole thing and spend the time in the shower together until the water runs cold.

XxX

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bruce asks for the twentieth time. Clark gives him a nod.

“I’m not afraid of stepping into an event at Bruce Wayne’s side,” he reassures for the twentieth time in return. “Keep asking me and I’m going to think you’re ashamed of being seen with my Smallville self.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow at that. He gulps nervously, aware of how enclosed they are in the elevator. A slow but steady step is taken and Clark finds himself boxed in by Bruce. It’s not the worst place to be, except his body is already trying to betray him and react.

“It’ll start whispers Clark,” Bruce whispers, hands coming up and straightening his tie. The attention makes him hard in an instant. “Can you handle them?”

“I can,” he barely breathes out. Bruce hums, touches a quick hand to his cheek, and steps back just as the doors open. Instantly eyes are on them, no doubt expecting Bruce’s arrival. Clark wonders how incriminating it looks to the gathered crowd for Bruce to toss a wink at him over his shoulder.

XxX

People are treating him differently than they usually do at these kinds of events. The patrons of the fundraiser actually give him statements with smiles instead of dismissive gestures meant to tell him to move on. He doesn’t quite understand why until he sees Bruce across the room. Their eyes lock and he smiles at the grin tossed his way. The elevator stunt makes sense now. These people are whispering about them and want to make a good impression on the richest person in Gotham. What better way to do that than be nice to the man that Bruce seems interested in?

When Bruce gives his speech Clark listens with rapt attention, hearing the passion in the words that no doubt goes over the heads of many in attendance. He learns that Bruce’s mother started the foundation, believing that Gotham was worth saving, and reading between the lines he knows Bruce keeps it going in her memory.

When the speech wraps up and the attendees give their polite applause Bruce isn’t subtle about giving him a genuine smile. Even without his super hearing Clark would hear the whispers that erupt from the simple gesture. He smiles back, well aware that it makes the whispers grow.

XxX

When Bruce has rubbed enough elbows and can slip away from the crowd Clark follows. The balcony they wind up on is empty and he leans against the railing beside the man who gives him an exhausted look. He bumps their shoulders, happy when they stay together.

“I’m incredibly antisocial,” Bruce whispers. Clark chuckles at the confession. “My skin crawls having to talk to so many people.”

“Well,” Clark starts carefully, “maybe you need someone to rescue you from time to time.”

“Who would be crazy enough to do that?” Bruce asks, eyes laser focused on his own.

“I would. I can dazzle them all with my midwestern politeness as you make a daring escape.” That earns him a cautious smile, barely playing at the lips he finds himself staring at.

“Are you sure?” Bruce questions. Clark hears the hope, faint and barely there though it is, and nods.

“Ten years ago you said that I was something special, but I have to disagree. You, all sides of you, are what’s special. I like the Bruce I know, the Batman I can’t wait to learn more about, and I can easily handle Bruce Wayne.” His words make that hopeful smile grow so he grins. “Besides, doesn’t a Wayne keep his promises?”

“Only if a Kent holds him to them,” Bruce practically purrs out. Clark can’t take another second of it. He turns to fully face Bruce and finds eager lips meeting his.

XXX

Chapter Text

Clark is trying to meet his deadline, he really is. Bruce however seems to have other ideas. As he sits on the large bed that is more luxurious than anything he’s ever lounged on before, forcing his eyes to stay on his laptop screen, he feels the mattress shift next to him. A warm arm curls around his torso and he smiles at the screen.

“I have to get this sent in or I’m getting fired,” he reminds Bruce.

“What I’m hearing,” Bruce purrs as he slides closer, “is that if I distract you I won’t have to share you.”

“Is that your evil plan?” Clark asks, giving in and looking down at brown eyes already locked on him.

“It’s tempting,” Bruce says, pressing a kiss to his arm. Clark shakes his head.

“I’m pretty sure you said I could work on this after we showered-”

“You’ve been working on it,” Bruce pouts, kissing his arm again. Clark tries not to give in, but Bruce is easily his favorite weakness he’s discovering he has. First it was a careful offer of a shared shower that quickly devolved into roaming hands and heavy kisses. He can only imagine what he has planned next.

“What do you have in mind?” Clark asks, already giving up. Bruce grins, devilish and sly, as he scoots closer.

“Lay back. You’re going to keep working on your article,” he commands and really, it shouldn’t sound so good to be bossed around. Clark complies with the demand, laying back on the plush pillows as Bruce moves his laptop to his stomach.

“What are you-” the words die on his tongue as Bruce vanishes under the heavy bedding. There’s a press of lips to his thigh and he bites back a sigh as Bruce’s body slides between his legs. “Bruce…”

There’s no verbal response to his groaned whisper. Just another kiss to his thigh, followed by a kiss to his already reacting anatomy. He whines, closing his eyes, as he feels Bruce’s tongue tease the base.

“I don’t hear typing,” Bruce says, his breath warm. It makes Clark twitch. “Type or I’m stopping.”

The threat works. Clark hits a few keys, finishing up his sentence. His reward is a slow and torturous lick from the base of his cock to the tip, making him bite back a groan.

“When you’re done you’re going to read it to me,” Bruce says, his lips against the tip. If anyone heard the noise it pulls from Clark he would be embarrassed.

XxX

Alfred doesn’t bat an eye at his presence in the cave that night as Bruce suits up. If anything the man just seems quietly pleased to have him there, hiding a proud smile when Bruce pulls his cowl on. The butler sits at the computer desk and taps on the keyboard to pull up the map of Gotham, all business as Clark’s sure Bruce prefers.

“Petty crimes in the Bowery tonight sir,” Alfred says as Clark watches Bruce sling the belt around his waist.

“Make a note of that for the Foundation. I think the Carmine Fishing Company closure is making people desperate.”

“A job fair then? I’ll make sure your assistant makes the calls in the morning.”

“Perfect,” Bruce compliments, switching on the voice changer. Clark smiles at the change, still unable to pick Bruce’s voice from the noise of it.

“That voice changer is cool,” he comments and Bruce grins.

“It’s a modulator built into the cowl. Changes my voice before it even leaves my throat. I’ll be back shortly, especially if no one’s made any escapes from Arkham.”

“No reported escape attempts, failed or otherwise,” Alfred chimes in. “It would seem the Wayne Industries test products are keeping everyone in their cells.”

“Using both the billionaire and the vigilante to keep Gotham safe,” Clark says with a knowing smile. He gets a wink, a swift kiss, and Bruce climbs into the Batmobile. It roars to life and peels out of the cave, leaving an echo behind.

“I’m assuming you’re staying another night?” Alfred asks, a faint smile playing at his lips. Clark ducks his head.

“Is that okay?”

“Master Kent please. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

XxX

Watching Batman work through the cctv footage is alarming for Clark. He knows Bruce isn’t bulletproof like he his, has seen every scar on his body, and it worries him when the goons open fire. Alfred, as observant as Bruce, smiles at his worried expression.

“Master Wayne, despite his best efforts, has always made it home. Going in yourself would be unwise.”

“I understand. Gotham’s his home,” Clark agrees. “That doesn’t mean I can’t worry.”

“Perhaps there will be a need for a wider range of crime detection, if you’re sure that you wish to stay?” Alfred asks. Clark looks at him, the realization that this is as close to a parental test for Bruce dawning on him. He smiles and nods.

“I think you’re going to have to get used to seeing me around here.” His words bring a proud smile to Alfred’s face.

XxX

Unfortunately for them both, Clark does have to go back to Metropolis for work. It’s not fair to leave the still sleeping Bruce behind, but he dresses swiftly and runs across the states to make it. Once he’s outside the Planet he slows down and fixes his hair, not wanting anything out of place. He pushes his glasses up his nose and steps inside to the waiting elevator.

“You!” Lois immediately hisses when she sees him. Clark raises an eyebrow at her. “Bruce Wayne? Really?”

“Hi to you too Lois,” he responds. She waves off his pleasantries and levels him a look.

“I went by your apartment yesterday and you weren’t home.”

“I spent the weekend with Bruce,” he explains softly, well aware of the other reporters listening in. She frowns at him, worry written across her face.

“He’s not exactly stable boyfriend material Clark,” she says in a warning voice. Clark can’t help but smile at that.

“He doesn’t like the term, finding it too juvenile. We’re dating. Officially, exclusively, and seriously.” The whispers of conversation die off around them and Clark looks at the wide eyes of at least twenty of his colleagues. He chuckles self consciously and looks at the floor.

“Clark,” another colleague singsongs his name as she walks past him, “there’s some flowers on your desk.”

Curious, he goes over and spies the beautiful red roses already waiting on him. He can’t help but smile as he grabs the card hidden delicately in the leaves. The thick card stock is embossed with a very fancy W and he would roll his eyes at it, but he can’t stop smiling.

‘I miss you already. -Bruce’

XXX