Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"What the fuck?"

Selina felt that those three words were enough to describe her whole relationship with Bruce Wayne. First as Batman, then as Bruce.

She had thought there may be something between them. Luckily it had passed, and in its place a weird friendship had developed. Which might make some people turn up their noses since she was a thief and he was a vigilante. But Bruce hasn't been so uptight lately and as long as Selina didn't  kill and steal, they were fine.

Still, what the heck?

"Oh, Brucie is growing up," Harley said, all too pleased.

She was upright on the bed, while Pamela sat on the other side trimming her nails, seemingly ignoring the ongoing conversation.

Fuck house arrest for both of them. Why had she accepted? Oh yeah, they were friends.

Bruce hoped that with her, Pamela and Harley could direct their impulses towards more correct forms of fighting for their principles, without involving innocent people. 

So far it  had’t gone great, but at least Harley had dumped her clown ex, for good this time, so it was a win.

(Probably more thanks to Pamela than her, but details.)

"Let me get this straight…you, mister, I don't look anyone in the face and if you talk to me for more than five minutes I'll start crying, you want….I can't believe I'm about to say it…learn how to seduce a man."

"Exactly," Bruce replied, as he petted one of Selina's cats.

"Just…why?"

"Who cares?" Harley broke in.

"He finally wants to step outside his boundaries! You have my respect!"

"It's not about going outside my boundaries. It's about planetary security."

"Really?" Selina said, half joking.

"Superman is powerful enough to destroy the planet. I have to find how to stop him."

This knocked Harley over, and Pamela finally stopped pretending not to pay attention.

Selina didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or slap him on the head, "Do you want to seduce Superman?!"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To discover his weaknesses and use them against him when his powers drive him insane."

"Wow, talking about trust issues," was Harley's comment.

"I like to be prepared," Bruce said.

"What did the boy scout do to make you fear that he might become world dictator at the slightest provocation?"

The man pouted adorable, and grumbled. Selina still wasn't an expert at translating each other's mumbling but she swore it was something like he smiles too much, and I don't trust him, he's got something to hide.

Harley said, "Isn't Superman having a relationship with that reporter? Lois Lane?"

"She is General Lane's daughter. A close relationship is not advisable."

"She seems to know him well. Why don't you ask her?"

"She wouldn't answer me, so as not to betray him. Everyone says he's a hero."

"And you obviously don't believe it," Selina suspected.

"No."

"What makes you think he might be interested in men?" Selina asked him.

Harley laughed, "Cupcake, no completely straight man would wear pants that tight."

"Same conclusion I came to."

Oh good. The fate of the world was entrusted to a pair of tight trousers.

"Besides, I've done some research on him, and I might be his type. At least physically. What I lack is the ability to seduce him to lower his defenses and believe me harmless."

"Ability you think we have?" Selina asked, not sure whether to feel offended or not.

"Gotham is very sexist," Bruce said.

"You did your best to manipulate men who thought they knew better."

Pamela smiled, "I'm liking this one."

“I told you Brucie's one of the good ones,” Harley genuinely smiled as she said it.

"And he's a weirdo, like us."

Selina wanted to moan. This is what happens when you make friends with strange vigilantes. She said, "So Superman has a thing for brunettes. Good to know. Have you thought about what to do in case your brilliant plan fails?"

"It won't fail," he said confidently.

"You don't know," she insisted, trying to give him some common sense. A futile undertaking, it was Bruce she was talking to.

"Superman is overconfident. He will fall into the net."

"Definitely not dressed like that honey," Harley commented, taking a long look to Bruce.

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"You look like a creepy stalker," Selina said. Army jacket, hat, scarf to cover her face and mascara for her eyes. Bruce was a walking fashion insult. They're definitely going to have to fix his wardrobe, make him wear things that flatter his body and…

Oh god, she was totally on board with that plan, right?

“This vest will make his eyes pop.”

“He has to go to a gala, Harley. He can't go around half naked."

 “Pam! I thought you were on my side!”

“I'm just saying we should go for something sober. Elegant and refined.”

“Boring. Look at this, it's pink!”

“The next thing you want to do is put a blonde wig on him and call him Barbie?”

“It could make things fun.”

Selina put away that horrible glitter vest Harley had gotten, for the sake of everyone's eyes and good taste.

There was no one in the boutique except them, and she had a well-founded suspicion that it was because Bruce had bribed the owner to let them be alone and avoid prying eyes.

They will have to work on this: it was unthinkable to plan to seduce someone when you hated the very idea of being looked at.

She was going to undermine the very basis of seduction.

She looked around for Bruce, who was standing next to a mannequin, looking very focused, as if he were facing an enemy.

Yeah, no. It wasn't good.

She left the two lovebirds discussing the merits of the color pink and walked over to Bruce. She walked up behind him, “You know, all of this becomes useless if you don't listen to us.”

Bruce had the decency to look embarrassed, “They seemed so happy. I didn't want to ruin their fun.”

“Ruin their fun?”

“I don't understand much about these things.”

She smiled at him, “That's why we're here. To teach you. Or, at least, to give you the right tips to get you the man.”

“I don't understand why there's so much pressure for clothes.”

“Darling, you know how that fancy costume you wore at night is an armor? “

He nodded, Selina continued, “Think clothes are a weapon too. It's how you wear them that makes the difference. “

“Like you did at the club.”

Selina nodded. It wasn't an entirely hopeless case. She said, “You have to make a hell of a first impression. As soon as they see you, everyone will have to say wow, that's why Wayne was hiding. You understand?"

“No, but I'll try.”

It was a good start.

Selina gently took his arm and Bruce let her guide him. She took him to see some very tight black waists. Bruce grimaced and she giggled, “Don't make that face. You can't go naked, but we still have to show off your skills."

“My skills?”

She gave him a significant look. Of course, dressed as he was now, Bruce looked like a disturbing homeless person, but despite this, you could see that under the rubbish he insisted on wearing, there was the body of a Greek god.

“All that training didn't just make you a weapon, dear. "

“You're sexy, and the high society ladies will all want a piece of you. Maybe not just the ladies.”

She had to suppress a laugh at the look of pure terror on Bruce's face. Fighting against serial killers and crazy clowns? No problem.

Being a socialite? God save him.

“I don't want…ladies I mean…”

Selina reassured him, “You only have eyes for the super boy scout, I get it. Their loss.”

“I don't have eyes for him. I…"

She interrupted, “You don't trust him, you think he's a future dictator, blah blah blah. Already heard it. Now undress and put this on.”

"Why?"

“To see how it looks on you, and maybe teach you how to move.”

She didn't wait for an answer, and she put everything she had gotten for him into his arms. Bruce had now resigned himself to his fate, and went to the dressing room.

He emerged less than five minutes later, the same creased trousers but with a black turtleneck that he clutched around his forearms.

Selina looked at him with satisfaction. Black wasn't an original choice, but it was Bruce's color. She asked him, “How are you feeling?”

"Strange. I don't like the fabric.”

"What do you want to say?"

“It tingles.”

Selina had checked, and was sure it didn't sting. However she didn't want Bruce to feel uncomfortable, she wouldn't be good for her plan.

She sighed, “Go change.”

She would like to say that it was easier afterwards. That would be a lie. Bruce wasn't one for shopping, he found fault with everything he wore, and he kept scoffing, as if he were a high school student on his first day of school.

The I'm weak and pathetic, protect me strategy worked sometimes, especially with those with the savior complex, and Superman definitely seemed like someone with the savior complex.

She had to take that into consideration.

But what's the point? There was no point in thinking about seduction strategies when they were still stuck on the dresses for the gala.

Even Bruce was starting to get impatient, “Nothing's good. How can I look normal if I want to get out of my skin?”

“Do you want to look for something else?”

“You already know that I will choose the things that are most…comfortable for me. “

“Darling, clothes have to be comfortable too,” Selina reminded him.

“If you don't feel comfortable, everyone will see it. Superman will see it. And we don't want that."

The man ran a hand through his hair (he'll need a new cut, his bangs covered his eyes, which was a real shame), "I'm sorry, I'm no help."

“We can try again.”

"How long? The gala is in four days. And I'm… me,” he said, almost mumbling as he rubbed his sleeves. The shirt may be a mess, but it didn't matter. If that was to make Bruce feel at ease, so be it.

“Being yourself is a problem,” Selina admitted.

“However, even weaknesses can become strengths.”

She nodded to him as if asking for permission, and he agreed. She touched his arm, comfortingly, “We can do this. If we don't find anything here, we can have a custom made suit for you. With all the money you have, they'll make you one in the blink of an eye.”

Bruce grimaced, “I'd rather not have any strangers touch me.”

"Honey…"

“Selina, my scars. Someone might notice them. And ask questions.”

They both knew that there was no need to undress to take measurements, and that he was using every excuse he could think of.

Of course, a tailor-made suit would have solved many problems, but it would have given too much of the impression that he wanted to say I'm better than you, I'm a rich guy and I'm capricious.

If Lois Lane was Big Blue's type, they needed to carefully curate Bruce's image.

At that moment, Harley arrived with something in her arms, “Hey! Look what Pam and I chose!”

Thank God, there was nothing pink in there. The first thing Bruce did was touch. He looked satisfied, “It's soft. “

“This shouldn't cause you any triggers,” Harley smiled at him.

“Come on, Brucie. Try it on and show us how it fits."

Bruce did, and when he came out, he was wearing long black silk pants, a white shirt (maybe a little too sheer, but with the jacket no one would have noticed), and jacket made of the same material as the pants.

Pamela nodded with satisfaction, "He's fine."

“Um…wait a minute though…”

Harley walked over to Bruce, and unbuttoned his top three buttons, leaving his shirt open to see a generous slice of his chest.

"It is necessary?"

“Brucie, your tittles are a national treasure! It would be a crime not to show at least a little of it!”

“Still, it's a charity gala… won't I be a little too exposed?”

Selina laughed, “My dear, that's exactly the point. You are the honey, and he is the bee that he wants a piece of you."

Bruce's contrite expression made her laugh, but one thing was done. Maybe that wet cat will be able to seduce more than one person at the gala.

“You still haven't told us why this gala is important.”

“Superman will be there.”

“Will he be a guest?”

“No, he will be there for work.”

"Work?"

“Yes, he is a journalist.”

“Do you know Superman's secret identity?!”

“Yes, didn't I tell you?”

"No!"

"My bad."

"Okay, girls. Computers?"

"Ready!"

"Earphones?"

"Turn on!"

Selina smiled and stood in front of the screen, with Pamela and Harley behind her.

This part was almost funny, it almost felt like a spy movie.

It was the most logical solution. Bruce was good at pretending to be a functioning human being for a few hours.

What he couldn't do was flirt. Oh, there was potential, she admitted to herself. But he was too direct, too rude.

Years of isolation had rusted what little social skills he had, and Selina didn't feel like throwing him into the middle of the jungle without at least her guidance. That's why they had set up all that, as if they were secret agents.

Pamela was just there for show.

"Okay, Bruce. Be natural and gentle."

"Which one? I can't do both."

Harley chuckled, "Go straight to the target. Don't bother with these old bears."

"It'll be a miracle if they don't try to surround him," Pamela commented.

"We sent a peony among climbing plants."

"Excuse me? Peony? Brucie here is much more beautiful than an ordinary peony."

"Then he'll have more parasites on him," the redhead said.

From experience, Selina knew she was right. Harley said, "What do we know about Big Blue anyway? What are his powers?"

"He is powerful enough to destroy the world with a sneeze," Selina replied, while Bruce stiffly returned the mayor's salute.

"Honey, we talked about it. You have to be more relaxed. Try being friendly to someone else…someone who isn't married and…no, Mrs. Drake isn't exactly free, she's a harpy, get away from her…"

Harley distracted her, "I know that. But what if he also has super hearing or something?"

Selina opened her mouth to respond, but she quickly closed it again. That was a very good question, actually.

"There's no risk," Bruce replied.

"The signal emits short waves that are difficult for any device to pick up. If your hearing works like this, you will only hear garbled bits and won't understand much."

"Bruce, focus. Don't talk about this around the other guests," Selina reprimanded him.

“They don't pay attention to me.”

Pamela scoffed, "Somehow, I doubt it."

One of the guests approached: he was a man old enough to see his gray temples, and not even the facelift he had had could save him from the signs of aging.

The man smiled, "Ah, the famous Bruce Wayne. What a wonderful surprise. It's delightful apparition."

Harley pretended to vomit as Selina suggested, “Try what we told you on him. Let's see if you a seducer."

“Were you an actor?” Bruce said first.

"What, sorry?" the man asked, confused.

"You remind me of Paul Newman. Were you by any chance his stunt double?"

Selina ran her hand over her face, while Harley laughed.

"Oh my God! Brucie just told him he's old!"

The man gave a small smile, "I was too young when Newman made his films."

"And yet, the physical structure is similar. You wouldn't have noticed the difference."

Harley couldn't stop laughing, Pamela was smiling, which for her was equivalent to bursting out laughing. Selina wanted to change the channel and escape that train wreck.

"Ah, but I've never been an actor," the old man said."

"I was a producer, yes, in fact I asked your mother to act for me. I almost saw Martha when you walked in..."

Bruce didn't stay to listen any further than he had to say, and moved away. Selina immediately told him, "You can't just leave a conversation! At least make him finish talking."

"He's here," Bruce replied, walking towards a group consisting of Mayor Reál, Mr. Drake, and two reporters.

One of them was Lois Lane, very petite but combative in her white suit. Next to her was a mountain of a boy with square glasses and a tweed suit so ugly it made her eyes bleed.

He was tall, and hunched over to appear less threatening.

It didn't look like much  but Bruce was aiming for him.

"Wait...is he Superman?!" Selina was incredulous. Shouldn't Superman be more...well, notable?

"Reporters from the Daily Planet, I presume. I'm Bruce Wayne," Bruce introduced himself, not once looking at Lois Lane but only at the one with her.

"I own your newspaper."

"Nice way to break the ice," Pamela commented.

"Let them know that you are their boss and that you can fire them. They will definitely love you."

The sarcasm went over Bruce's head, and he continued ,"I hope the Planet sent only the best."

Selina bet that Mayor Reál and Mr. Drake were experiencing second-hand embarrassment like her.

Miss Lane said piqued, "Of course Perry sent the best. The occasion was important."

What a liar. The Gotham-Metropolis Friendship Gala was just another social event, far beneath the articles Lane usually wrote. It was clear that she would have preferred to tear her hair out rather than write about the latest dress bought by this Metropolis star or how Lex Luthor had faked an illness again so as not to come, but sent his secretary as a proof of good will.

All useless things for someone who wanted to denounce the corruption of large companies and the relations between the police and the mafia. Given the type, it was no surprise that Superman always found himself having to save her.

"Lois Lane and Clark Kent," Bruce said, as if he were reading a note.

"Top of the class. Your latest article got a lot of buzz, Mr. Kent."

Kent was blushing, "I…ah…that wasn't even my best article."

"You got straight to the point without beating around the bush. It was very clear and well developed."

"Mhm, yeah, your using of the English language is sexy, mr. Kent," Harley joked.

Selina had very little desire to joke. She said, "What are you doing? The guy's good, but you look like a creepy fan! Make up for it by saying something flirty. Let him know you're interested without saying it directly."

"Ask him if he's good at using his tongue for other things, too," Harley suggested.

It wasn't a bad idea, if she had been there instead of Bruce. Selina didn't have time to stop him, before Bruce said, "It must be sad to use your linguistic skills just for this."

"Um…I don't understand, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce, don't say what Harley said. If you do, you'll just be creepy!"

"Hey! That was a great idea! Brucie can do it!"

Selina scoffed, "What would you think if Bruce suddenly spoke to you like that?"

"Duh, it's Bruce Wayne. He's rich, a molestation charge or two if he can afford it."

Bruce wasn't doing or saying anything though. He was panicking.

Selina couldn't see anything else but she would bet that at that moment Bruce looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

They had given him too much input all at once.

Shit, shit, shit!

Harley was the first to say, "Hey, Brucie. It's okay. You're doing great. Unfortunately, you can't escape to a quieter place. Just listen to my voice, okay?"

There was a low grunt, and Harley took that as an affirmative response. She continued, "Clark has a tie. Do you see it?"

More grunting, and she said, "Focus on that. It's really ugly, isn't it? I hate it. You do too, don't you? Even if he is Superman, he really has shitty taste."

It seemed to be working. Harley was great.

Too bad Kent was about to ruin everything. He placed a hand on Bruce's arm, concerned, "Mr. Wayne, are you okay?"

The real surprise was that Bruce didn't chase him away, like he had done to Selina the first time she touched him without asking first. Instead,  Bruce told him, "You're hot."

They were all speechless. Pamela asked, "Does this count as an attempt at flirtation or is he just saying that his hand is warm?"

"Well…it's pretty unclear."

It was still progress. Selina thought it would be worse. She was ready to give Bruce further directions when there was the sound of a gunshot and several men poured into the room.

Of all the times there could be a heist, did it have to be this one?

The worst thing was something else. The one who had raided with at least twenty men was Bane.

Fuck.

Bane was a new player on Gotham's crime scene. He was a monster of a man who, unfortunately, in addition to superhuman strength due to a drug, was also intelligent.

The smart ones were the worst, because they were the hardest to catch. Batman had miraculously survived their first fight and only because he had found a way to disconnect the tube that gave him the drug. Bane had had a fit and left.

Months had passed, and here he was, at the Gotham-Metropolis friendship gala, fully intending to do something memorable.

Bruce knew this, and anticipated it.

"Take me as a hostage, leave the others alone."

"You're an idiot."

There was no response, but that didn't make Selina give up, “Are you aware that you're the dumbest man I've ever met? And I worked in a bar where the men were slimy. You're a fucking idiot, Bruce Thomas Wayne."

On the screen, she saw where Bane had dragged her friend into to hold him hostage, waiting for WE to pay the ransom.

It was some kind of warehouse, but there was no detail that could help her figure out where he was.

Bane had been quick enough to put a bag on Bruce's head, so he had no idea how far they'd come.

He had been careful not to harm his precious hostage, one who could only be worth millions if returned in good condition.

Bane wouldn't hurt Bruce a hair, and it was this knowledge that didn't drive her mad. Harley wasn't taking it as well.

"Pam, come on..."

"I told you, my powers don't work like that."

“Are you telling me that with all the plants in Gotham…”

“Gotham has no plants,” the redhead corrected her.

“This city is a hellhole, nature is dying, plastic is everywhere, and you expect there to be enough plants to track it?”

After a moment of silence, Harley replied, "Duh, there are houseplants."

It was a sign of how much Pamela liked her that Harley was still alive after saying it.

Meanwhile, Selina continued to direct her righteous anger towards those who deserved it, “You always have to be a hero, don't you? Even when you're not wearing your stupid cowl."

“It's not that,” Bruce finally said, taking advantage of the momentary distraction of one of Bane's minions.

“I don't want to put myself in danger.”

“Then why are you in this situation?!”

“You told me that Superman has a savior complex. Men always fall for those they have to save."

Selina blinked, “That's why you did it?! Is that what you understood?”

“I appreciated your suggestion.”

“Bruce, you don't even know if Superman will come to save you!”

“He will,” he said confidently.

“If he wants to prentend to be a hero, he won't pass up the opportunity to save the famous billionaire Bruce Wayne. If he, on the other hand, is a good person who intends to help, he won't hesitate. Any way you look at it, I win.”

Except that wasn't the case. Except Bruce was a hostage of some shitty drug addict, locked up somewhere, and Harley was freaking out to get out of the house and go save him, house arrest be damned.

It was a crazy plan, probably crazier than trying to seduce the damn Superman.

“I'll be fine,” he tried to soothe her in his classic awkward way.

Selina snorted, “If Big Blue isn't there in an hour, to hell with everything. We will come."

"Remember the house arrest."

“Do you think Harley cares?”

"No."

She smiled faintly, "At least you have some sense left."

"An hour. That will be enough.”

It was madness. Superman didn't know Gotham. There was no way he could find out where Bruce was during that time.

Selina will curse Bruce for life for putting her in the position of worrying about him. The minion was within earshot again, and it was no longer safe for Bruce to speak.

Pamela told her, “People say Superman can fly.”

“And that he is invulnerable.”

“How strong is he, though?” Harley asked again the right question.

“It's not like we know much about him. Can he beat Bane?”

“Probably yes,” Selian said, hating the uncertainty.

Half an hour passed without anything happening. Harley was impatient, and so was Selina. Pamela remained calm, but her eyes were unnaturally green.

"Ok, I go."

“We don't know where he is,” Selina reminded her.

“I'll go to every damn warehouse in Gotham and…”

She was interrupted by the sounds of gunshots. Selina felt her blood run cold, terrible scenarios forming in her mind.

Bane freaked out.
One of his minions is a traitor.
There are leadership problems at the worst possible time.

She couldn't be blamed for immediately thinking the worst. She lived in Gotham, for heaven's sake. She had seen a lot of shit. There was no way things were going to go well.

But Superman burst into the room, dazzling in red and blue, and the idiot minions shot him. It had no effect and one punch was enough to knock him down.

When he saw Bruce, Superman immediately came to him, "Mr. Wayne, are you okay?"

“Now that you're here, yes.”

Selina groaned. Really, Bruce? Do you really want to try flirting now? This will give him the reputation of a playboy. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, now that she thought about it.

No one would have linked Bruce Wayne to Batman so easily if there was a clear separation between the two.

Unlike his civilian self, Superman didn't blush. He smiled hugely (maybe she understood why he had so many fans), and untied Bruce.

The silence wasn't awkward like at the gala. Bruce asked,”How did you find me? Where is Bane?”

To an outsider, they might have seemed like common hostage questions. But Selina knew what Bruce was really trying to know: she wanted to know if Superman could easily defeat Bane and by what means he found him.

Know your enemy, in short.

Superman pursed his lips, "Bane's not a problem."

“Where is he?”

“I took care of him.”

“He's definitely strong,” Selina thought.

Batman had problems against Bane because he was human. Superman was something else. Something potentially worse, if not held back and… fuck, she was starting to sound like Bruce now.

Selina was starting to understand though why he was so paranoid about Superman. If he'd had trouble with Bane, how could Bruce hope to stand a chance against a literal god?

"How did you find me?"

Superman looked embarrassed, and for a moment he looked like Clark Kent. He regained control, “Don't worry. You are safe now.”

“I would like to know how, to thank you adequately. Or…would you prefer another kind of thank you?”

“Smooth,” Harley commented.

“He learned something.”

Meanwhile Superman was saying, “No need to thank me, Mr. Wayne. Do you want me to take you home?”

“Shouldn't you wait for the police first?”

"It is not needed. I took care of everyone. Furthermore, there is plenty of evidence of their involvement at the gala. They won't get away with it."

Definitely not from Gotham. The optimistic mentality of Metropolis didn't make him see the risks of leaving minions and their boss unattended. Or maybe he was just too sure of his powers.

Well, the arrogant are always the first to fall.
Bruce wasn't taking kindly to having to leave Bane alone: he was hesitant to accept Superman's offer.

Somehow, Superman understood this, “You don't need to fret. He really is in control."

"I didn't say anything."

“It's just that your heart…” he trailed off, not continuing.

Selina found this interesting, “Bruce, insist on asking him this. It can be useful."

Bruce agreed, “What does my heart have to do with it?”

“I…I might have memorized your heartbeat.”

Wow. This was…something, definitely.

Superman was quick to say, “I swear, it happened by accident. I was trying to find you and…I recognized your heartbeat.”

“Does it sound different from the others?”

“Partly yes. You are a strange man, Mr. Wayne. I cannot understand you, but…"

Bane's scream shook everything. The drug was supposed to give him some regenerative power. Superman wasn't expecting this, which confirmed Selina's first opinion. Too much confidence in his power.

"Stay here. I'll take care of him."

He flew away, ready for round two.

Bruce asked, “Selina, do you think I managed to hook him?”

“Mhm…he knows your heartbeat, he finds you interesting, he doesn't understand you, and he finds something in you that attracts him…we can tell there's something cooking.”

“Good. And now?"

Selina smiled a smile that made her look like a cartoon cat, "Now the best begins."

Chapter Text

From Bruce's diary: what I know about Superman so far:

1. Superman has a thing for brunettes ( Lois Lane.)

2. Anyone can notice that the glasses he is wearing are fake.

3. His only covering is his glasses. How do people not notice this? Is this another power?

4. He is from Kansas. (note to self, investigate the Kents and family history, there may be others like him.)

6. He tends to bond with adrenaline junkies.

7. Easily manipulated (?)

8. Superman is powerful. Invulnerable? Virtually Immortal? Immune to bombs.

Luckily Alfred didn't read Bruce's diary, otherwise, he would have had a heart attack from that last note. It was true that the fact that Superman was invulnerable was well known. But Bruce had seen it first hand, thanks to a bomb he stole from terrorists and threw at Superman.

How did it happen? Eh, funny story. Things went more or less like this…

“This is necessary?”

Bruce fidgeted with his tie, the silk smooth beneath Selina's lingering fingers. Her breath was hot against his ear as she leaned in close, voice dropping low and sultry.

"Relax, Bruce. Keep it simple - ask him to lunch, compliment the food, and let him do the talking."
Bruce nodded, eyes drifting to the window where Metropolis' skyline beckoned beyond the horizon. Metropolis was so different from Gotham. He was happier, for one thing. Brighter, more cared for. He did not doubt that criminals were hiding under the facade of the happiest city in America, but Metropolis in general lacked that feeling of abandonment and sadness that Gotham always carried with it.

He shouldn't be in Metropolis. His place was Gotham. Gotham, which without him had no protection, was left in disarray, with criminals who would have taken advantage of his absence and...

"Bruce?"

He blinked, turning back to Selina. "Right, lunch. I can do that."

Selina smiled, patting his chest. "That's the spirit. Now go get him, tiger."

Bruce took a deep breath and walked into the Daily Planet bullpen, Clark's warm smile greeting him from across the room. It was time to focus - Gotham could wait for a few days.

Bruce strode up to Clark's desk, back straight and smile plastered on his face. This was just another business meeting, another Wayne Enterprises deal - he could do this.
Too bad Bruce hated going to those too and often deserted them. Oh well, he'll find something to say.

"Good morning, Mr.Kent! It's wonderful to see the Daily Planet offices. I must say, your paper's sales numbers are quite impressive for its market share and demographic."

A throat cleared sharply behind Bruce. He turned to find an older man glaring at him, arms crossed over his chest.

"Who are you?" the man asked gruffly.

"I'm Bruce Wayne." He extended his hand which the man pointedly didn’t take.

"Perry White. I'm the editor-in-chief here. Now what exactly are you implying about my paper's numbers?"

"Oh, well-" Bruce's mind scrambled. Selina had told him to find something to say to break the ice (or something like that, he wasn't sure if he was listening to her or if he was humming I'm not okay in his mind). He had chosen the wrong thing to say.

Before he could dig himself deeper, Lois Lane appeared at Perry's side, laying a hand on his arm.

"Perry, I'm sure Mr. Wayne meant no harm. He probably appreciates that our focus on hard-hitting journalism helps sell papers, even with competition from those tabloid rags in Gotham."

Perry harrumphed but seemed to relax slightly.

"Yes, that's it exactly!" Bruce said with relief. "Your investigative work is brilliant. I'm sure your crime reporting alone boosts circulation."

Lois smiled. "Well, we do strive for excellence here at the Daily Planet."

She shot Bruce a knowing look and he felt himself stand a bit straighter. Maybe he could do this after all.
No, he couldn’t. Lois Lane hated him. Perry White hated him. Probably, Clark thought Bruce was a weirdo.

While he was in a downward spiral, Selina chimed in, "Oh, Mr. Wayne is often tactless, but he thinks very highly of the work of the Daily Planet."

"He does, otherwise he'd fire everyone, wouldn't he?" the smile Lois Lane smiled made her look like a shark. But Selina was a cat and cats weren't afraid of anything,

"Firing is the last thing on his mind. He's interested in learning more. Maybe someone would be kind enough to give him a guided tour today..." Selina looked at Bruce, raising her eyebrows. It was the signal. Bruce coughed, "I would appreciate Mr. Kent showing me how you work here."

"Clark? Why?" Lois Lane seemed surprised as she asked it.

"Because he is a planetary threat that needs to be kept under control."

Too bad he couldn't say it. So Bruce placed his hand on Clark's desk and looked at him, "I'm a fan of his work.”

He should be batting his eyelashes coquettishly, but Bruce just stared at the other man, committing every telling detail to memory. He didn't see Selina's slight anxiety, nor Lois Lane's scepticism. There was only Clark Kent. Clark didn't flinch under his gaze.

He smiled warmly at Bruce, "Do you want a tour? I'd be happy to show you around."

Bruce's heart leapt. Time alone with Clark!  Precisely as planned.

"That would be perfect, thank you."

As they walked away, Bruce heard Selina's voice behind him, already working her charms on Lois.

"That brooch is exquisite, darling. Is it an heirloom?"

He smiled to himself. Selina could handle the reporters. Now his focus needed to be Clark.

As they entered the bullpen, Clark launched into an enthusiastic overview of the paper's history and operations. Bruce tried to listen and was tempted to correct him several times. However, Selina and Harley had told him that no one liked to be corrected. Some people wanted to think they were the best at what they did, and being shown otherwise didn't increase favorability. Playing silly helped.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that last part," Bruce admitted.

"It's just...you're excellent at what you do. I'd love to learn more about your work. Maybe over lunch sometime?"
Ah! See, Selina? He listened now and then!

Clark's eyes widened in surprise, then crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "I'd like that, Mr. Wayne."

“Bruce.”

“What?”

“You can call me Bruce.”

Being called by your first name was a sign of emotional closeness, right? It should make Clark Kent feel more comfortable. Instead, Bruce must have done something wrong if the other said to him, "Ah, we're at work. I'd rather not."

"Oh, I see..."

"But I'd like to go to lunch! Especially because there are five minutes left until my lunch break."

At least something was going right. Maybe Clark was just too polite to refuse, or maybe he thought that the social power imbalance between them forced him to accept a lunch invitation even if he didn’t want to.

Um, Bruce will have to try to make lunch enjoyable. He'll have to make him talk. Clark seemed to enjoy chatting.

Clark led Bruce down a hallway lined with framed front pages documenting the Daily Planet's biggest scoops. Bruce's eyes scanned each headline, feigning interest.

As they passed by a large potted plant in the entrance hall, something caught Bruce's eye. Was that a wire? He slowed his pace and peered closer. Hidden among the leaves and stems was a small black device unmistakably out of place.

Bruce's blood ran cold. Years of training kicked in as his senses heightened. A bomb.

Who was stupid enough to leave a bomb so in plain sight? Only an idiot wouldn't have noticed. Clark hadn't seemed like an idiot to him, but he hadn't noticed. Was everyone in Metropolis so careless? Was this why no one had yet discovered Superman's secret identity? It was an interesting theory but he had to prove it later.

Bruce had to get Clark away first to deal with the bomb. He didn't want Superman to realize that the weird billionaire who had taken an interest in him was too competent. He would start asking questions and Bruce wasn't ready to deal with that. So he said, "Don't you forget something?"

"Um?"

"Where do you have your jacket?"

"Ah, oh...today is a beautiful day. It's very hot,” Clark said.

"No, it's not," Bruce denied.

"I wouldn't want you to get cold."

Clark hesitated. He was probably thinking about whether or not it was a risk to his secret to go around town dressed too lightly. Bruce played on that doubt. It wasn't even that cold, but someone with Clark's powers would probably be unlikely to realize that.

"Well...maybe you are right..."

"Take your time. I can wait here."

"Are you sure?"

"It's okay, don't worry."

It was a lame excuse even for him, but Superman's powers were useful in this case. If Clark didn't know how a normal human acted, he probably would have thought Bruce's insistence on wearing the jacket was normal. At least, he hoped that was the case and he wouldn't start to suspect Bruce.

Clark finally left, leaving him alone with the bomb. Bruce wasted no time and checked. It was a rudimentary bomb, perhaps made in a basement with instructions found on the internet. It won't be difficult to neutralize it.

"Hey there," said a gruff voice.

Bruce turned to see a security guard approaching. The name tag on his uniform read Mike.

"Everything okay over here?" Mike asked. His eyes were cold, calculating.

“He isn’t a security guard,” Bruce was sure of it.

Before Bruce could react, Mike's hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him in place. With his other hand, Mike discreetly pressed something small and metal against Bruce's ribs.

Mike prodded Bruce forward, steering him toward a side corridor away from the bustle of the main hall.

Bruce's mind raced, calculating variables, and assessing options. He just needed an opening, a split-second distraction. If he could get the jump on Mike, disarm him before he triggered the bomb...

They turned the corner into the empty hallway. Mike increased the pressure of the gun against Bruce's side.

"Not one word, Mr. Wayne," he hissed. "You're coming with me."
It seemed like it was fate that whenever Bruce had to deal with Clark, there would at least be an attempt on his life. This will increase his chances of success with seduction, won't it?

Selina laughed, her voice echoing down the halls of the Daily Planet. She was thoroughly enjoying her conversation with Lois and Jimmy, oblivious to the danger Bruce now found himself in.

"So there I was, face to face with the Bengal tiger, with nothing but my whip and wits to protect me," Selina regaled them with another tale from her adventures.
Lois and Jimmy were enraptured, hanging on her every word. Selina smiled, relishing the attention. 

"How on earth did you get out of that one?" Jimmy asked eagerly.

"Well, just as the tiger was about to pounce..." Selina trailed off dramatically.

Clark arrived at that moment, and looked at them in amazement, “What am I missing?”

“Miss Kyle is telling us about her trip to Bengal,” Jimmy said, his eyes full of wonder.

Selina smiled. He didn't need to know that she had never been beyond Michigan. The tiger story was true: it was a gift made by Joker when he found out where Harley lived while under house arrest.

That first week had been stressful. Then when Pamela also moved, the assassination attempts were significantly reduced. Selina suspected it was because the toxins Pamela created were more effective than whatever shit Joker produced, and the bastard clown knew it.

Oh, the bastard hadn't given up. He had more on his plate. But as soon as he tries something, he will find a pissed-off Mother Nature who was just waiting for the right moment to take him out.

“Working for a billionaire sure is interesting,” Lois added, and Selina bit back a laugh.

You have no idea, woman.

Speaking of her billionaire misanthrope, where was he? She looked at Clark Kent questioningly, and he, feeling questioned, replied, “Ah, I'm here to get my jacket. Mr. Wayne is waiting for me downstairs..."

He froze, a slight crease on his forehead. He was worried, from what Selina could see.

“I have to go, see you later,” and with that, he ran off. Selina swore she saw him open his shirt as he left.

Selina had a bad feeling.

“Bruce, I swear to God, if you get kidnapped again, I will call Alfred.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Lois asked her, noticing that she was distracted.

Selina forced a smile. The good part of that mess was that at least Superman was there to fix whatever mess Bruce was in.

“What had I come to… ah, right. The tiger. Anyway, that bastard was tough..."

To be honest, Bruce's main concern was that he was dealing with an organized group with a specific objective. He hated improvisation, and not knowing how many people he had to deal with was disheartening, to say the least.

Luckily for him, his current captors were, kindly put, incompetent.

“You kidnapped Bruce fucking Wayne?!” shouted a dark-skinned man dressed in black and wearing gloves. He seemed to be the boss. The other, Mike, cringed under his reproaches.

"I had to! He had seen the bomb!”

“Then you could have exploded it, you piece of ass! Don't bring him here!”

“Ah…I hadn't thought of that…”

The boss looked like he was about to strangle him, and Bruce certainly didn't want to blame him. Mike, or whatever his name was, had acted without thinking, taking an important hostage. A person whose absence will surely be noticed, and then there will be a lot of people around looking for him.

Not a smart move.

While the two argued, he fumbled with the rope with which he had been tied. Very cliché, but it was all that the two pseudo-terrorists had at their disposal, in that dilapidated van behind the Daily Planet.

Mike and his boss were sitting in the front, while Bruce was in the back, with another bomb in front of him. This was even more rudimentary than the Daily Planet one, with the difference however that there was a timer on it.

“We have to leave. Now."

“But we have to plant the other bomb…” Mike tried to say but was immediately silenced.

“We'll put it somewhere else. The one at the Daily Planet... I don't know, we'll blow it up when the police arrive for Wayne. What the fuck did you make, Bill..."

“No names!”

He heard the sound of a slap, “Idiot! We will kill him. He's one of the bastard capitalists who ruined our lives!”

"Oh…"

“Now turn it on and let's go.”

“Should I turn it on?” Bill asked, confused. 

“Yes, Bill. Turn it on!"

There was a click, then screams so loud you thought an ambulance was passing. The boss started hitting Bill, “You idiot! You lit the bomb!”

“You said turn it on!”

“The car! I said the car, you dumb son of…”

The timer showed two minutes. He had to hurry. Bruce freed himself from the rope, but unfortunately, the boss saw him in the rearview mirror.

“Holy shit…he broke free! Bill…no, shit. You think about the bomb, I'll deal with mister nepotism."

Instinctively, Bruce took the bomb and kicked the door of the van. He opened it and went out. The timer showed one minute before it exploded.

The alley was empty, but he didn't want to risk the lives of the two criminals. While he was thinking, time was of the essence, Superman landed in front of him.

"Mr. Wayne, trouble seems to follow you wherever you go," the hero said, with a winking smile.

Bruce looked at the timer nervously. Thirty seconds. Damn.

“You're invulnerable, right?” he asked him.

Superman blinked, “Yes, I am.”

"Well. Because I'm about to blow you up.”

“Huh?”

There was no time to explain, nor to understand why Superman was blushing so much. He threw the bomb at him and ran. The last thing he heard was shit, Superman, from Bill and his boss.

Then, the explosion.

Selina heard the explosion. Everyone at the Daily Planet heard it. But strangely no one panicked. Jimmy grabbed his camera, “Come on, Lois. Superman has to be here.”

“Give me a moment…sorry, Miss Kyle. Work calls.”

They left, Jimmy almost running over Perry White. The man seemed too used to something like this to seem even a little angry.

He lit a cigar, and turned to Selina, “I called 911. Unlike some, I still act like a normal human being when a bomb goes off.”

And she'll have to check that Bruce isn't somehow responsible for the said explosion. When she told him she would teach him how to blow up a man, she didn't mean it that way!

Bruce was dirty and half deaf in one ear from the noise, but other than that, he was fine. Superman had his costume broken in several places, and pieces of metal on his chest. But other than the dirt, he was fine.

The two criminals, however, were behind the van, too scared to move.

Superman frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, but gasped, “Mr. Wayne! You're bleeding!”

Bruce touched his forehead. When he withdrew his hand, it was smeared red.

Eh, Bruce must have hit something after he fell to the ground. Bruce was about to tell him she was fine but stopped. What did normal people do when they were involved in potentially fatal and health-damaging accidents?

Shock, panic, fear…ah, and they asked to go to hospital.

“Could you take me to the hospital? I think I'm a little confused,” Bruce said, hoping he had the best-panicked citizen voice in his repertoire.

Superman was still staring at him, so maybe he hadn't said it right. Should he have initiated contact?

Harley had shown him the covers of some romance novels in which the damsel leaned on the hero. Should Bruce have done the same?

It was a good idea, if only to check closely to see if Superman had any signs of injury or if his skin was free of scars.

However, Superman beat him to the punch.

“I'll take you to the hospital…can I…um…you're not afraid of heights, right?”

"No. “

“Um…well…then…I can…”

Oh, so it was a proposal to be flown bridal style. Rather uncomfortable, but it was an opportunity to get closer to the hero, and he would take it.

"Okay.”

Superman then picked him up and flew away. Bruce put his arms around Superman's neck and hoped the other would interpret it as a gesture of trust.

He had his face against the hero's chest. There were no injuries, although his heart was beating very fast.

It was a reassuring heartbeat. 

 Lois and Jimmy arrived late when Superman was airlifting a man. Lois immediately recognized the person in the hero's arms.

“Isn't that Bruce Wayne?” she asked. It was Bruce Wayne! Was he injured by the explosion? 

“Dunno, it's not clear…”

Lois rolled her eyes, “Jimmy, the glasses.”

The photographer looked offended, “Hey! I can see very well!"

“You need glasses, not Smallville.”

“We know that Clark's glasses…”

She stepped on his foot, making him curse. She pulled him close and whispered in his ear, “He trusted us with his secret. Don't shout it at everyone!”

“But there's no one there!” Jimmy said. 

“You never know,” Lois replied, and let him go.

Well, she was happy to see that there wasn't much damage, but she would have at least wanted to report on whatever had happened.

Assassination attempt? Terrorists? Accident? Who knew?! Clark owed her so much…

While upset about missing a scoop, she heard Jimmy say, “Of course, Mr. Wayne is down on his luck. This is the second time he's gotten involved in dangerous stuff.”

“Uh uh…”

“He has worse luck than you. Is this a brunette thing?”

Lois was about to scoff when something hit her. Bruce Wayne was a magnet for trouble. He was a social misfit with unclear ideas about interacting with others. He was weird, he was cute, and he ended up in bigger situations than he was.

Oh shit! He was Clark's type.

Lois grabbed Jimmy's shoulders, "I got it!"

Jimmy looked at her confused, “Um…what did you get?”

“He has a crush!” the woman smiled, looking like a crazy person. 

“Huh? Who?"

Lois raised a finger towards the sky, where Clark had been. Jimmy took a little too long to understand. When he did, he looked horrified, “A crush? For Wayne?! It's like saying he likes Lex Luthor!”

“Oh, come on. Wayne is not a future dictator with daddy issues to fill Kansas. Plus, he has much nicer hair than Luthor.”

Jimmy looked exasperated, “I'm serious! He might want to dominate the world!”

“The only thing Wayne needs to master is his anxiety, and he's not even doing that well.”

“Still, he might be hiding something.”

Lois laughed, “Mr. Wayne is a millionaire. He's hiding something. Have you ever met a billionaire without skeletons in the closet?”

“You can't approve this!”

“Jimmy, I'm Clark's ex, not his mother.”

Jimmy snapped, “Then let's call Ma Kent and tell her…I don't know…her son's type is going to get him killed.”

"Hey! I was his type.”

“And your father almost got him killed. Your point?”

Why did Jimmy always have to be so dramatic? Lois said, “My point, our friend has a crush. And we will help him."

“Why?!”

Lois smiled, “Because it'll be fun! Where's your adventurous spirit, Jimmy?”

"You are crazy."

“They often told me this. Do you know where Miss Kyle is? I'd like to give her my number..."

Chapter Text

“Wait…Bruce threw a bomb at him?!” Harley blurted out in disbelief.

Selina rolled her eyes. She had recently returned to Gotham, the rest of her trip to Metropolis was spent in the hospital because Bruce had suffered a mild head injury after the incident with the pseudo terrorists.

Those two idiots weren't even that great, the bomb they had planted at the Daily Planet would never have exploded because the detonator was missing, and they had left so many traces that, in the unlikely event that everything had gone smoothly, the police would have caught them immediately.

She guessed that not everyone could be a criminal mastermind. Lucky for Metropolis, and also for those two, since the sentence will be much lighter than if they had actually killed people.

"Yeah...he is a fucking idiot. But at least Superman is interested now," she said, feeding the cats. Pamela snorted, as Harley was losing her shit. Even they didn't imagine that Bruce's crazy plan would pay off, but here they are, talking about how Superman has already been hooked. And she also had a pretty solid source to assure her that the hero wasn't disinterested: Lois Lane.

Nice person, Lois. And very smart. Like a good journalist, she probed the ground looking for leads, without giving anything away.

Too bad that Selina was also good at what she did, and she had immediately understood what she was doing: she was a friend trying to understand what kind of cruch her colleague/former romantic interest/friend was.

“Does Bruce know?” Harley asked, clutching a hyena-shaped stuffed animal to her chest.

“Of course he knows. He said soon I will be able to move on to the next phase.”

“Hasn't he already moved on to the next stage? He blew the man up!”

Selina couldn't help but laugh, “The other next phase. Find out Superman's weaknesses."

“He already knows one,” Pamela pointed out. "Himself. If Superman were to lose control, all he had to do was say his name and he would calm down."

“Ohh, romantic!”

“And very unlikely,” Selina added. “Although he would be very comfortable. Since when are you a romantic, Pam?”

The redhead shrugged, “Men are weak. It's not romanticism, it's awareness of it.”

“But imagine, the most dangerous being in the world, melting because the love of his life asked him to stop…”

Selina raised an eyebrow, “Love of his life? Aren't we going too fast?"

Harley smiled, “We're in Gotham. Crazier things have happened.”

“Don't listen to her, she's writing a Batman fan fiction and needs material,” Pamela said, unable to hide a fond smile as she said it.

Not a romantic one horn. This was the same woman who, if Harley asked her, would go get the moon and bring it back to her.

“Why you writing Batman fan fiction?” Selina asked.

“I was bored,” Harley said. “Not everyone can go to Metropolis posing as a billionaire's secretary.”

“Touché,” she admitted. Then she finally got the full implications of what her friend had said, "People write Batman and Superman fanfiction?!"

"A few at the moment," Harley replied. "The BatCat is still going strong. You're lucky, you're the favorite. Better you than, urgh, Batjoker."

"Superman and Batman have never met," Selina noted.

"Better! There are expectations! Symbols to consider! Superman is the sun and has found the moon of him, Batman does not believe in goodness until he sees his personal god..."

"All things that wouldn't happen in real life if Superman met Batman," Pamela finished Harley's rant, getting a tongue-lashing in response. Selina dropped the matter.

Gotham had never seen Superman, too busy with Metropolis and Lex Luthor to even care about the literal Hellmouth.

He will never meet Bruce in the mask.

Of course what happened a few days later? Superman met Batman on the roof of an abandoned building in Gotham Harbor.

Someone up there was laughing at Selina.

"Superman," Batman grunted at the most powerful being on the planet as he hovered above him like an angel of God.

He was trying to look annoyed, but inside he was going crazy. How the hell had Superman found Bruce? Above all, what was he doing in Gotham?

Everyone knew that Superman was mostly in Metropolis!

“Maybe he's discovered the truth,” his traitorous mind supplied for him.

“He knows I deceived him and now he wants to face me. I don't have a plan, but I can take advantage of the surprise effect for a tactical retreat..."

“So… you're Batman,” the other said, completely unaware of the spiral he'd thrown Brucr into. Bruce looked at him, realizing that there was no trace of anger or betrayal on Superman's face. There was just genuine curiosity.

“You're far from Metropolis,” Bruce forced himself to say, as the other landed in front of him. Superman was a bad fit for Gotham. He had too much color in him.

“Ah, yeah…about that…did you happen to hear anything around?”

“Hear around?”

“You know, about trafficking and stuff…”

He frowned (not that it showed in the mask), and grunted, “Have you come to meddle in the affairs of my city?”

Okay, maybe he was a little too territorial. But he had no doubt that if Superman interfered, he could do in one night what Bruce took months to do. It wouldn't have been enough, though.

There needed to be a system, you couldn't just bring people to the police station and expect them to be convicted.

There was a need for incontrovertible evidence that would not be discredited by lawyers. From his observations of Superman's work, he didn't. That's why Lex Luthor was still free to act. There was no evidence linking him to the robot attacks in the city of Metropolis, nor that he was a psychopath with obvious father figure issues.

Superman looked embarrassed, “What? No, absolutely no! I would never…that is, me…unless you want a hand.”

“I don't want any help,” Bruce replied curtly. He had better things to do than stand there and talk to the supposed hero.

“I didn't mean… oh, it's not going the way I imagined.”

"Clearly."

“No, seriously…I had prepared a speech, I had even practiced it with…I had practiced,” congratulations for almost putting Lois Lane in danger. Because it was obvious who he had this supposed talk with, and everyone knew about Superman's past history with the reporter. Bruce continued to listen to him talk, “…but you see, it's the first time I've met someone like me, so…”

"Someone like you?"

“Another hero,” Superman said.
“I know there's that archer in Star City, and in Central City there's someone with super speed...and I bet there are many more! But I've never met them..."

“You came here,” Bruce repeated. "Why?"

“Straight to the point huh…mhm, here, I know for a fact that a person who hates me is working for someone else who wants me dead and…how shall I say…they will use the port of Gotham for the delivery of something dangerous. Probably. I'm not sure about this part..."

“Something dangerous for you?” Bruce asked, suddenly interested.

“Dangerous for a lot of people, ” Superman pointed out, without giving away a hint that he could harm him. Then he wasn't so naive.

This was a problem for his plans, but Bruce will just have to adapt to the new discovery.

“Why would Lex Luthor use Gotham Harbor for delivery?"

"How do you know…"

“I know how to do my job,” he interrupted. The subtext was clear. Unlike you, I know how to gather key evidence to get a criminal arrested.

Superman didn't seem to get it. He smiled that insufferable smile of his that would light up Crime Alley for days, “You're the first person I don't have to argue with when I say Luthor is bad news.”

“Luthor is a powerful man.”

“And he hates me.”

“You have many enemies.”

“You have no idea,” he said, and Bruce wanted to tell him that yes, he had an idea, and that Batman could be considered a potential enemy, if Superman were to one day prove to be a threat. He didn't say it out loud, because he also knew when not to ruin a moment, and Superman continued, “This is your city. I was wondering if you had heard or seen anything that might relate to this delivery.”

"No."

"Are you sure?"

“Are you really asking me that?”

“Well, it's just…maybe little things or…”

"Let's get this straight," Bruce growled angrily, making him flinch. “If I ever heard anything about Lex Luthor and his plans for Gotham Harbor, I would not only hijack the delivery, but I would have everyone involved arrested.”

“Ah, I don't think you could…”

“Just because you are incompetent doesn't mean others are.”

Only after Bruce said it did he realize that he sounded offensive. But honestly? He didn't care. Batman wasn't supposed to be on Superman's good side. Bruce Wayne yes.

So Bruce threw himself off the building, gliding towards the ground and immediately hiding in the shadows. Superman didn't follow him.

“So, he is the man who could become my son-in-law.”

As soon as he returned to the cave, Bruce took off his contact lenses and went to the computer to analyze his encounter with Superman.

Alfred had limped in, carrying a tray of food for Bruce.

The man snorted, “You should be my father for that.”

“Ah, my bad, I forget. Anyway, is it him?”

“I have no romantic interest in him.”

“But you're trying to make him believe it,” the butler pointed out, leaning on the desk. Bruce didn't dignify him with an answer. His attention was entirely on the screen.

Superman left too much of Clark Kent when he interacted with people. Was it because he didn't want to appear as a threat? But Batman wasn't a civilian. There was no need to act in front of him.

He hadn't had all those doubts when he interacted with Bruce Wayne. He didn't understand it.

“Why was he here?” Alfred asked, as Bruce flashed back to the moment Superman put his hand in his hair out of nervousness at being faced with Gotham's bat.

“He said that Lex Luthor could use the port of Gotham for the delivery of a dangerous material.”

Alfred inspired, “Radioactive material?”

“It's probably not dangerous to normal humans.”

"Probably?"

“Superman hasn't been willing to share important details,” he replied, annoyed. He preferred that Alfred not ask him so many questions while he was busy observing. “He didn't trust me.”

“After dealing with your charming personality? I wonder why."

Bruce didn't give him a response to that, "I told him I would stop Luthor's plans before they could harm anyone. If there were, which I doubt."

“Did you say it like that or…”

“I told him he was incompetent.”

Alfred sighed heavily, “Bruce, you can't insult people. We have already talked about it."

“I don't see why I should ignore incompetence,” he retorted.

“First of all, maybe it could be you who didn't do your job well,” at that, Bruce snorted. No error. He had his sources. If he hadn't known anything until then, it was because there was no shipment arriving that required his attention. “ Secondly, it's Superman. You know what he is capable of. You can't provoke him for the sake of it. As much as you like to forget it, you're only human, Bruce.”

"I know I'm human. That's why I have to find his weak points", he thought. Because no matter how much he worked, trained, went beyond the limits of his body, Bruce was aware of his mortality.

But he wasn't afraid of Superman. Superman was also just a man. He just had to find out what his weak point was. And everyone had one.

“He wouldn't hurt me.”

“What if you pushed him a little too much? What if you had said something that set him off? You can't control other people's reactions."

Bruce chose to ignore him, in favor of investigating. Recognizing that he wouldn't get much else, Alfred decided to leave. After all, there was a need for at least one responsible adult to take care of the tedious chores of running a household.

“Remember to eat, Bruce.”

“Mhm.”

They both knew the plate would remain intact.

Later, his phone rang. It was an unknown number. At first, Bruce thought about ignoring it, like he did with work calls.

But the phone kept ringing, and as much as he was tempted to turn it off and focus on more important things, he forced himself to answer, "Hello?"

On the other end a familiar female voice, “Mr. Wayne? This is Lois Lane. Your secretary gave me the number.”

He had to imagine that Selina had something to do with it. He made an effort to be socially acceptable, “Good evening, Miss Lane.”

"Good evening? It's nine in the morning."

Had he stayed awake that long? He hadn't realized it. He forced himself to say, “Ah, I was…at a party at the Iceberg Lounge. I'm afraid I'm not very clear..."

Please believe it, please believe it, please believe it, please believe it, please believe it...

Lois Lane fortunately believed the obvious lie, “Life for you billionaires must be…interesting.”

Looking around, in a cave with only the company of bats, his suit and advanced technology, Bruce said, "Yes, it is."

“Anyway, I know I might seem prying…but Miss Kyle told me it wouldn't be a problem…”

“I appreciate your call, Miss Lane,” he assured her. "How can I help you?"

“See, I know you're a fan of my friend Clark.”

"I am. His use of the English language is noteworthy.”

Apparently it was one of those things he didn't have to say, as Miss Lane seemed embarrassed as she said, "Yeah, the use of language...anyway, there's this event happening in Gotham next week that we'd like to attend to the Fashion Week.”

Selina had once spoken of it to him as the criminal version of Milan Fashion Week.

Almost all the designers were either on the payroll of some mafia family or were related to criminals.

Bruce had never gone, even though, not too casually, Alfred slipped the invitation onto the dining room table. Another of the things he should go to to show Gotham that he was an adult well adjusted to life and not a cryptid hiding in a natural cave under his house. Alfred's words.

“I didn't know Gotham Fashion Week was a topic for Metropolis' Daily Planet.”

“In fact, that's not what we want to come for. Among the guests there is someone of... let's say, our expertise. This would be the perfect opportunity to observe him without arousing suspicion, and you know, ask a few questions... Lex for sure would love it..."

Hmm, so Lex Luthor will be there. Perhaps the suspicious merchandise Superman feared will be brought in through the parade clothes. Which is ridiculous, of course…

What if it wasn't ridiculous? A simple plan: who would go and check innocuous things like the models' luggage? Or the personal things of the stylists present? Madness to think that there was anything to control at Fashion Week, despite the less than crystalline reputation of the participants… he needed to make some controls. 

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Ah…come as my guests. I'll give you access to the VIP section.”

"Really? Thank you…"

Bruce ended the call while she was talking, and went back to the computer, to check everything related to Fashion Week: guests, designers, everything.

If Superman was right, and he wasn't, he won't stop hearing I told you so from Alfred for the next few years.

Lois looked at the phone in surprise. Jimmy walked past her, “Hey, are you okay?”

“That brat hung up on me!”

"Who?"

“Bruce Wayne!”

Jimmy's eyes widened, "Did you call Wayne?!"

Lois raised an eyebrow, “Of course, I told you I'd take action.”

“Lois, you know I adore you…what the fuck! The guy is a celebrity!”

"So?"

"So?! It's a big deal!”

Lois dismissed her concern, “Clark likes him. Knowing him, he won't do anything because he doesn't think he can love anyone or shit like that."

“But Bruce Wayne…”

“A brat like him could help loosen Clark up a little,” Lois cut in. “I told you, Wayne is his type.”

"This is madness! It will end badly, very badly! It will be a train wreck, an eruption of cosmic proportions..."

Lois rolled her eyes and went back to work. Sometimes Jimmy was such a drama kid.

It was afternoon when Selina heard someone tapping on the window. Not at the door, at the window. When she saw Bruce, in full Batman mode, she knew something big was coming.

“Lex Luthor is dealing something and he's going to use Fashion Week as a cover,” was the first thing he said to her after she opened the window.

He entered without much ceremony, narrowly avoiding the cats. Selina put her hands on her hips, “Hi Selina, I see you looking radiant today. How are you? Wait a minute… Lex Luthor what?”

Bruce lowered his hood, his eyeliner loosened along his cheeks. He looked like a madman. Well, crazier than usual. How long had he not slept?

“Lex Luthor is planning something. And I never would have known if he hadn't told me about the plan and..."

“Hey, slow down for a second,” the woman said, putting her hands forward to make him calm down. “What plan? What are you talking about?"

“I don't have all the elements, but at this Fashion Week Lex Luthor will for the first time be the patron of young stylists who didn't have the means to present their work.”

“It seems like any other way to launder money,” she said.

"But that is not all! I found…found some emails in which Luthor's secretary asked for maximum attention for a briefcase with essential materials for one of the stylist. The email said it contained millions of dollars' worth of fine silk, but that doesn't add up. There are no receipts for payment of any silk in the records, nor even black payments. Why so much attention for a briefcase? There must be something inside that is essential for it to get to Gotham..."

Selina wasn't understanding anything, Bruce was stumbling over his words and almost fell to the ground. If she sees a syringe of adrenaline in the man's hand, she will break his hand.

Luckily it wasn't necessary.

From her room, Harley's head emerged, “Ouch, Brucie. Have you come to check on us for the commissioner?”

Bruce turned, “I passed before the patrol."

"How cute of you..."

"Also, I'm going to Gotham Fashion Week.”

The scream Harley made drowned out the police sirens that were passing by at the time.

So, here's the thing. Bruce was tired. He hadn't slept in almost two days, and he carried on out of pure spite.

He was aware that his theories were purely theoretical, without a shadow of foundation, and probably unorthodox.

But he had connected the dots. Once he did, he couldn't unsee. Superman was right. Lex Luthor was planning to use Gotham for his plans.

Not the port, it would have been too risky, not only because Batman could have intervened but because of all the other criminals there 

Bruce couldn't let him do it under his nose.

So, he had a lot to think about, he was tired, and his senses weren't at their best. And he was stubborn in stopping the robbers who had robbed the bank.

It couldn't end well.

He had seen two men, and had neutralized them. He hadn't noticed the third accomplice.

The robber shot him, and Bruce braced himself for the pain. But he wasn't hit.

Superman stood in front of him, appearing out of nowhere.

The robber turned pale and dropped the weapon. He tried to escape, but Superman's punch knocked him to the ground.

As if he hadn't just solved a potentially life-threatening situation, Superman told him, "Well, I have a theory about how Luthor is going to get..."

“Fashion Week.”

Superman blinked, surprised. Bruce took the opportunity to speak, “Luthor will take advantage of Fashion Week for his plan. The thing you are looking for is probably contained in a briefcase that no one, for any reason, should open."

“How did you find out?”

“I know how to do my job… and I take suggestions,” he added, albeit through gritted teeth. To think that if Superman hadn't warned him he would never have known anything irritated him.

“I heard some bits of conversation, but I didn't know where to look. I had thought of the port as the most logical solution, but I was wrong"

"Mph."

Superman smiled, " You discovered everything in a short time!”

He felt warmth in the face of that almost childish enthusiasm. He gulped, “I told you, I know how to do my job.”

“We could do it together.”

“What?”

“Stop Luthor. We could work together.”

What the fucking hell. Bruce pulled out his grappling hook. He raised his arm, “I work alone.”

"But…"

He didn't give Superman time to say anything else. He walks away, leaving Superman to take credit for stopping the robbery. He didn't care.

If Bruce saw him smile with such confidence, he didn't know what he would do.

No, he knew. He would punch Superman. 

It would hurt, but it would be satisfying.

He will single-handedly stop Lex Luthor. He will go to the event just for that.

Mhm, who knows why, Bruce felt he had forgotten something...

It was after Bruce had slept at least two hours that he remembered something.

He had agreed to go to the Fashion Week with Clark and Lois.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Here's the thing about carefully crafted plans: they weren't immune to failure.

Lex Luthor thought he was the smartest of the smart, setting up a complicated operation to get his secret weapon to Gotham, of all places, so he could catch Superman by surprise.

But what a mind like Luthor's couldn't understand was the intervention of Fate.

When making a plan, you always need to make sure you have a backup plan. Because the unexpected was just around the corner.

Yes, even for you who will one day create a new world order. Now you are just a man and the wheel of Fortune turns for you too.

And this is how a certain briefcase doesn't reach its destination. It's not the only one: other things were lost too.

Someone in security has been bribed, and it's not even an unusual occurrence, this is Gotham. 

The briefcase was now in the hands of someone else who would not have expected such a lucky break, and who intended to use it to his advantage.

The wheel of Fortune turns for everyone, Mr. Luthor...and today won't be your lucky day.

Bruce had come to pick her up to accompany her to the fashion show. Harley and Pamela couldn't come, but they will be able to see everything through Selina. It was better than nothing, and they would definitely have more fun than her.

But as soon as she saw Bruce, her insides felt tight enough to need a bath.

"Absolutely not."

Bruce frowned, “What? I thought wearing makeup was cool and fashionable.”

Selina had to resist the urge to tear out her hair, “It is! But you look more like a panda who woke up after a near overdose.”

“Pandas are cute.”

“But you're fucking creepy,” Pamela said, and with a nod she reached out a leaf from one of the plants on the windowsill to wipe Bruce's face.

Selina was infinitely grateful, because if she had had to look at him in the face any longer, Selina would have vomited. 

When she finished, Bruce's face was a mess of black and foundation, but it was watchable. More or less.

Harley tried to look on the bright side, “You could say you're starting a new trend. Davie Bowie did it.”

“Bowie was a legend. Bruce is lucky if anyone outside of Gotham recognizes him."

“I worked hard for this,” he said, proud of something he should be ashamed of.

God, what a disaster. They were two hours away from their date with Clark and Lois to attend the first Fashion Week show, and they were nowhere near ready!

And to think that Bruce would also have the physique to be on stage instead of many models.

Selina had no doubt that if Clark had him shirtless, he would abandon all pretense of modesty to climb on top of him like a monkey.

What Bruce lacked was attitude. Security. And a general understanding of what he could do with his body that didn't require blood and violence.

It was sad to think about, but Selina had no time for sadness. There was an urgent need for a restyling before the show.

She had to make that wet cat into a sexy wet cat. God only knew what effect it had on men to see a total mess who was sexy and in (supposed) need of protection.

“We have an hour and a half,” she said, grabbing Bruce's arm and dragging him onto the couch. “Harley, I need makeup remover. Pamela, lipstick, blush and mascara.”

“Do you also want a little special help?” the woman asked her.

Selina thought about it. It wouldn't hurt to have one of Ivy's pollen, but Bruce was adamant, “I don't need any special help. I can do it."

"As you say."

“Besides, I don't want to seduce Clark. I want to find the briefcase and find out what's in it.”

Harley smiled, “So you didn't dress sexy for him?”

“It's my disguise. I have to blend in with the crowd.”

None of them believed him.

Gotham Fashion Week was wild. Everywhere Lois turned, she saw models in bright dresses, stylists and designers on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and guests who looked like they had stepped out of a runaway circus.

Even if in Gotham perhaps there was no point in talking about a circus, it was still halfway between a freak show and a goth meeting.

Beside her, Clark was stiff, his gaze going from side to side, and alert as if someone was screaming for help.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked him.

Clark pursed his lips, and murmured a half-hearted yes. How he thought he was convincing was a mystery. Lois had never met someone who lied as badly as Clark.

Except for the things that really mattered.

Although technically, Clark wasn't lying. He hid the truth. He was much better at that.

Showing so much stress at that time was an alarming sign. She straightened his tie and whispered in his ear, “Is it close?”

“No, but there are so many people…it's noisy,” he admitted.

“I thought you were getting good at controlling your super hearing.”

“Not when I'm in a crowd.”

Lois had toyed with the idea of buying him some ear muffs, but they would have been of little use against enhanced hearing like Clark's.

Lois put her hands on his shoulders, “It'll be fine. Focus on one thought and one thought only. As long as it's not about Bruce Wayne naked, because then we're going to have problems."

“Lois!” he scolded her, but he was smiling as he said it. “I don't think about Mr. Wayne naked.”

“From the way you look at him, one wouldn't think so.”

He shook his head, “It's not like that. He's so weird."

“Glad you noticed.”

“He threw a bomb at me, Lois. A bomb."

"I heard it."

“And he didn't bat an eye. Who would hold a bomb in their hand without batting an eyelid?” Clark said, and a normal person, in his place, would be sincerely afraid for the mental health of someone who had so nonchalantly held a bomb as if it were a rugby ball.

But Lois knew Clark, and she saw how he tried and failed not to smile. Clark was interested. Wayne had just enough nonsense and zero self-preservation to keep Superman on his toes.

“Dunno Clark, from what I hear, this is quite the crush.”

Clark shook his head so fast she was surprised he didn't snap, “Heavens, no. He is…we are nothing. I barely know him.”

“You saved him twice,” she reminded him.

“I save people. It's what I do."

“But you don't think about other people after saving them,” Lois noted. “Wayne is different, isn't he? He has that something…yes, that something that attracts you to him, even if you don't know what it is.”

“It's not just him though…”

“Not just him what?”

“I don't think only about him.”

She raised an eyebrow. This was new. Curiosity was getting the better of her, and she was about to ask him more, when Selina and Mr. Wayne finally arrived.

And wow, Selina looked amazing in her tight sheath dress, sunglasses, shiny black lipstick, breakfast at Tiffany's hair and pearl necklace. But Wayne…God help Clark, because Wayne was walking sex.

As soon as he arrived, it was as if someone had pressed mute on the remote control. She didn't fly a fly, her gaze fixed on the couple.

Especially on Mr. Wayne. The man was wearing very tight jeans, wet-look hair, eyeliner that made his eyes stand out and a deliberately tight leather jacket to make his arms stand out.

Clark was gaping at him, and honestly, same here. Wayne was a danger to people's sanity.

It was lucky that he had lived like a recluse up until that point, because there was no way the internet would have survived its thirst for this man.

“Have you been waiting for us long?” Selina asked when she saw them.

Lois denied, “Oh, not at all. We arrived recently. Isn't that right, Clark?”

Clark showed no signs of life. Brain death, unfortunately. Lois giggled nervously and nudged him. It hurt her more than it hurt him, but at least Clark seemed to remember that he had to interact with other human beings.

He coughed, “Ah, yeah… only about ten minutes.”

“I hope there were no problems,” Mr. Wayne said, enunciating the words. Did he take them for stupid or what? But since Clark continued to have his mouth open like a boiled fish, perhaps his assessment of them wasn't entirely without reason.

“Not at all, Mr. Wayne.”

“Clark, I told you to call me Bruce. Don't be formal,”

“You're right, Mr. Wayne.”

Lois was tempted to slap something. Possibly, Clark's big empty head. He was giving you a green flag! The most elusive man in all of New Jersey! Professionalism be damned! Take advantage of it, idiot!

Unfortunately, Clark's powers didn't include reading minds, and so he stared at Mr. Wayne with a twinkle in his eye, a thirst that was just waiting to be satisfied. If only he had given himself the chance to do it.

“I expected more confusion,” Wayne said. "It's pretty silent, don't you think?”
“It's silent because you're here, you big idiot,” Lois thought.

There was no way the man was so unaware of what he looked like. However, Selina's pained expression next to him meant that yes, it was possible.

Even the secretary must have noticed who everyone was staring at. Lois bet those pants showed off a perfect ass like a marble statue.

God Clark, if you don't eat this man, someone else will. Probably Selina. She was a woman of good taste, and she had an advantage, she was already working together. Beware the patient woman.

“The best is yet to come, boss,” Selina said, and she pushed him forward, toward Clark.

“It's the first time you've come to an event like this.”

"Is the first time? Really? I would never have said that,” she said, while Clark next to her just nodded. Damn dude, don't make her do it all.

Mr. Wayne shrugged, “I feel out of place. Not comfortable during events like this.”

Lois gave him a long look. Out of place? Seriously? Wayne should walk the runway and show the world his assets, which didn't involve WE or anything he inherited from his parents.

She hoped Clark would say something.

Unfortunately for her, someone else thought it was a good idea to get into a conversation he had nothing to do with.

“Ah, Bruce Wayne. So it's true what they say, you've come out of your isolation.”

Clark abandoned his puppy love expression and frowned, Selina bit her lip and Lois felt her hands itch very badly with the desire to hit an idiot.

Too bad the idiot in question was Lex Luthor, and he had a bodygurd with him as big as a closet. Not that she was afraid, but the gorilla would make it difficult to get close.

Luthor wore an ivory suit, with a red brocade tie that referred to his idea of wanting to be master of the world.

Upon his arrival, the spell cast by Bruce Wayne was broken, and the previous excitement returned. Lex acted like he owned the place, all confidence and little substance.

Lois and Clark were ignored, badly moved by Luthor's gorilla, while the man stood in front of Mr. Wayne.

He held out his hand, “It's a pleasure to meet the famous heir to the Wayne fortune.”

Wayne didn't take his hand. He looked at him, look as if to say who is this cockroach that dared to come near me (ok, Lois added that), and asked, “Who are you?”

Luthor's expression of pure amazement made her lose her composure. Lois laughed.

Said by others it would be a provocation. But Mr. Wayne had said it so sincerely that it made you wonder whether he was telling the truth or not.

“Very funny, Mr. Wayne.”

"I am not joking. I asked you who you are. You didn't introduce yourself,” the man pointed out stiffly. “You don't approach someone by assuming they know you. It's rude."

Selina had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, while Lois had to control her giggling. Christ, if she wasn't afraid Clark would disintegrate her, she'd kiss Wayne herself.

“Our parents were business partners,” Luthor revealed, a pale imitation of Darth Vader with young Luke.

Mr. Wayne didn't bat an eye, “But I don't remember ever meeting you.”

“Yes, but…”

“My father had many businnes partners. Is your last name Fox by any chance?”

“No,” the man said through gritted teeth. “I am the son of Lionel Luthor.”

"Which of the two?"

Ohhhh, this is going to piss Lex off. He hated being reminded of Lionel Luthor's favorite son. Also because it was very likely that he had killed him. Unfortunately without proof you couldn't accuse him, but damn, for all that money and to give a middle finger to Luthor Senior, Lex definitely would have done it.

“The living one.”

“It doesn't really answer my question.”

“You would know if you hadn't refused to interact with society,” Lex replied, sharply.

Mr. Wayne was unfazed, “Even when my interactions were at a minimum, I kept myself informed on important facts.”

Sub- text, you're not even worth five seconds of my attention.

Judging by Luthor's blush, he understood this too. Through gritted teeth he said, “Then it's time for you to upgrade. I am Alexander Joseph Luthor, current CEO of LE and the richest man in America.”

“Second richest man in America,” Wayne corrected him. “Looks like I'm in first place.”

"Not for long."

“Indeed, it appears that Oliver Queen is well on his way to doing so.”

Not even in second place. He had placed him in third place. Luthor hated not being first, which explained his obsession with taking down Superman.

This and the fact that he was a billionaire who believed he could conquer the world, but Elon Musk had already set the example and he had decided he wanted to conquer Mars instead.

Much more profitable.

Tired of dealing with the adult version of a Despicable Me minion, Mr. Wayne walked past Luthor and went to Clark. He put himself under the reporter's arm and said, “I'm sure we'll have a chance to see each other later. Now we would like to go and take our seats. I assume you will be behind us.”

Bruce Wayne 1 – Lex Luthor 0.

Wayne had no chill. He dragged Clark with him, his back to them, and walked away, leaving behind an idiot still waiting for his handshake.

When Luthor finally recovered, he brought his hand down, clenching his jaw so hard it was a miracle something didn't break. Between his teeth he said something, maybe stupid idiot or something.

Joke on you, Luthor. The one who was made fun of by a stupid idiot is you.

Luthor left without any mention of her and Selina, considered less than nothing, and the gorilla stomped after him.

With them left, Selina laughed. She laughed loud enough that one of her assistants looked at her sideways, wondering if she had lost her mind.

“That man will be the death of me,” she said, having finished laughing. “He will have an enemy for life.”

“Well, what difference does it make one more?”

"You are right. How long do you think we can leave them alone before one of them sets fire to something?”

“Mhm…one hour.”

Selina smiled, showing off a pair of adorable dimples, “How much faith you have in those two idiots, Miss Lane.”

“What can I say, Miss Kyle. I have faith that men also have an active neuron.”

The two started laughing heartily. Two minutes had already passed without anyone being kidnapped (yet) and without any hostage situation. It was good.

Lex was up for bloodshed. Of Bruce Wayne's blood, above all. How had he dared? He will make them pay for the disrespect.

His bodyguard made his way through the models as he went backstage. He could do it, he had the pass. Furthermore, his money had enabled a good part of that court of miracles.

Even though he was there for a very specific purpose, his mind returned to a single, obsessive thought.

"Who does he think he is? He didn't work to have what he has. He is the only heir, no one has ever questioned his rights..."

“Um…Mr. Luthor?” someone dared to approach him.

"What do you want?" the man snapped.

The poor girl who had dared to approach him trembled, placing the tablet in front of her as a sort of defense. It was quite pathetic to be honest.

Lex coughed, regaining his composure, “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“I-I understand…”

"What do you need?"

Smile, Lex. You have to make these plebeians believe that you are approachable and kind. He wears a mask, make yourself loved and they will be in your power.

The girl found the courage to say, “I'm sorry to inform you that some things didn't arrive…”

He felt his blood run cold in his veins. It couldn't be. It would have been too convenient, too lazy a coincidence to be true.

Forcing herself to remain calm, Lex asked, “What, exactly?"

She checked the tablet, “So…some clothes designed by Lea Mara, some jewelry, a briefcase…”

“A briefcase? What briefcase?”

She blanched, probably sensing that he wouldn't like the answer, "The briefcase for O'Hara, Mr. Luthor."

The world around him disappeared. No sound reached his ears except his father's voice. This is what happens when you make plans that are too complicated, Alexander. That's why you'll never do anything noteworthy.

O'Hara was perfect as cover. She was a nobody, a ghetto girl who thought she had talent. Who would have ever thought of going through her stuff?

Yet, someone had done it.

"How is it possible? You assured me there would be no accidents,” Lex said through clenched teeth, while his mind chanted failure, failure, you're a failure as father  said kept repeating on loop like a bad children's chant.

"I don't know. But it could be a delay. These things happen and…I will call security for more information."

He smiled at her, but it was the smile of a snake before it pounced on her prey.

"Marvelous. So what are you still doing here?"

"I…"

“Do your job!” he snapped, making her run away. He ran a hand over his forehead and promptly his bodygourd placed a chair next to him. Lex sat on it, hearing an unpleasant crack. He didn't want to look. But something liquid was sliding down his legs, and one of the models put her hand in front of his mouth.

“My god, that's where the black paint went!”

Black paint? Who the hell uses black paint at a fashion show?! Were you one of the environmentalists who wanted to send a message to the powerful on Earth about pollution? Congratulations, message arrived loud and clear.

Lex didn't even want to look at the mess forming at his feet. He closed his eyes, and turning to that idiot who will soon lose his job, he said, "You... you didn't even check where I was sitting."

“I thought you needed to sit down right away…”

“I didn't pay you to think! Idiot!"

He immediately stood up, but as soon as he took a step, he slipped, falling on his back to the ground. 

Lex saw black. Not because he hit his head but because there was paint everywhere. The can was half overturned on the chair but, as if pushed by an invisible hand, it rolled forward, until it fell on his face, right on his nose.

His scream was so loud it was impossible for Clark not to hear it. And he smiled.

Danger escaped?

No, because the person who had bribed security had now taken the briefcase to one of his contacts.

David Cain was a man who wasn't supposed to be in Gotham that day, but he was in town because of his daughter: the girl had run away again, and her trail had led him to Gotham.

He had to wait for her to pick her up and take her home.

What he didn't expect was that something of value would be brought to him, and an idea crossed his mind.

He didn't know what to do with that stuff. But Ra's Al Ghoul does.

Fate worked strangely. If David Cain's contact had remained longer, he would have noticed a malnourished little girl staring at him. 

He hadn't, and the little girl had headed into the place full of lights, attracted by the colours she had never seen in her short life.

Her father was on the other side of Gotham, and he wouldn't find her.

Someone else would have found Cassandra.

"A little girl?"

Two dark-haired men had seen her. They were dangerous, she knew they were, she could see it.

They were more dangerous than her father.

When the one with the glasses approached her, she did the most sensible thing: she bit his hand.

"Clark!"

Chapter Text

Bruce preferred when no one was talking. It was easy to concentrate, even though his skin felt raw and his hands itched, like when he was waiting for an attack.

Then Lex Luthor had appeared and things had made sense.

Now everything was too noisy: a constant coming and going of people, chatter, excitement about the imminent fashion show.

He really should take a seat with Clark, and walk away from all of this.

But he was here to play a role, and he had to stick to the script. Even if it was physically painful.

He noticed that Clark was smiling, "Are you having fun?"

“Oh, um…I just heard something funny from…someone in security, I think.”

"What did he say?"

" He said that Lex Luthor is a total loser.”

Bruce didn't doubt that someone had said it.

Lex Luthor was an issuferable bastard. 

He smiled, “Whoever said it, he was right.”

Clark smiled, and scratched his head with his free hand, "First with him, you were…"

"Irresponsible? Stupid?"

“Amazing,” the man said. “I've never seen anyone put Luthor in his place like that.”

Bruce shrugged, ignoring the heat he felt at the compliment, “He annoyed me. I don't like it when people come near me without permission."

“Me neither.”

“So am I bothering you? I didn't ask your permission."

The reporter blushed with an adorable color, and stammered, “N-no, it's okay! You're not invasive and… it's cute in a way… not in the sense that you're cute… that is, you're not ugly…”

Bruce wasn't even listening to him. He was analyzing him.

“Inability to articulate coherent speech, sweating, stammering, looking from one point to another and social embarrassment. Signs of an interest that can be triggered at any time.”

He was satisfied that he had learned what Pamela and Selina had told him before coming. The two women were right when they said that men were extremely simple organisms.

Bruce had a plan. He allegedly made the other man lose his composure by sitting on his lap during the show, moving in such a way as to keep the bladder area alert. He will not be able to remain indifferent, and then...

He froze. Clark stopped with him, and worriedly asked, "Mr. Wayne, are you okay?"

“I saw a cat.”

“What?”

“I saw a cat,” he repeated, louder this time. He pulled away from Clark. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Bruce ran, following the shadow he had seen among the shiny clothes. It wasn't a good idea to leave everything like this, especially when Luthor's briefcase wasn't in his possession yet. But Bruce had strong instincts, and he trusted them.

He had to retrace the shadow, whoever he was.

“Mr. Wayne! Wait!"

Bruce didn't stop, however, and the reporter had no choice but to follow him.

Given his tendency to get into trouble, who was to guarantee that Mr. Wayne wouldn't be kidnapped by an alien cat?

Clark hadn't met any yet, but they might exist, with the sole purpose of kidnapping rich (and sexy) Earth billionaires.

“I will fire you all!” Lex screamed, holding an ice pack to his nose. His useless bodyguard was resigned to his fate.

The others didn't even pay him any attention, except the assistant who had brought him the unfortunate news.

Here, she will be the first to be fired, and Lex will make sure that she will never find a job in the fashion world again.

Incapable. Everyone!

“Mr. Luthor, I'm sorry about this incident…”

“Darling, don't listen to him,” one model said.

“He can't do anything. It's just an empty threat."

"You do not know who I am!"

“Do you own a fashion magazine?” the model asked him with an elegant raised eyebrow.

"No, but…"

“Are you from Gotham?”

“No, neither, but…”

"But nothing. Here the surname Luthor counts for nothing. If you were a Wayne or a Maroni, things would be different. But it's only you, so..."

Lex hissed like a snake. How dare that worthless idiot insult him? One of the richest men in the world!

He approached her threateningly, “I am a Luthor. And I have the power to make your life difficult.”

The model wasn't scared. She laughed, “Damn, who knows what that must be like a hard life.”

"You…"

He didn't have a chance to formulate a new series of threats before someone forcefully pushed him away, making him stagger backwards.

“Who was… Bruce Wayne…” he growled, as if he were cursing someone. The Wayne heir had just kicked him out of his way like Lex was a sack of potatoes!

“I'll think about you later! Don't think I forgot about your insults! I'll buy your company! I'll buy Wayne Manor! I'll buy everything you ever get your hands on and..."

He didn't finish the sentence because he ended up on his face, pushed by a supernatural force. The impact caused blood to bleed from his nose and mouth, and when he lifted his head he was such a mess that no one would be able to tell he was a human being.

Although doubts about his actual belonging to the human race had been there for a while, if we were to believe a couple of conspiracy blogs in which it was claimed that he belonged to the Reptilian race.

“Who…what the hell was?” he screamed. "Who was?!"

“Fuck if I know,” the model said. She then turned to the young assistant, “Honey, call a hospital."

“I don't need a hospital!” Lex blurted out, trying to get up and slipping due to the blood.

Not even his bodyguard had time to avoid another fall.

Lex screamed in frustration. That was the worst day of his life!

“Do you think those two are making out?” Lois asked as she and Selina went to sit down.

“Is your friend willing to take the first step?” Selina asked, not-so-carelessly stepping on the foot of one of the guests. She didn't feel guilty. The guy was about to put his hands on her and Lois's bottom. Selina had just reminded him of his place.

The other woman snorted, “Why would Clark make the first move? Mr. Wayne seems to know what he wants."

“A boy wants to be wooed,” Selina retorted.

Lois gave a delightful giggle, “Is the rich boy old fashioned? I would never have said it."

“You wouldn't say many things about him.”

“Yeah, in fact I had no idea that he was interested in men…”

Selina shrugged, “He had a very strict upbringing and only recently came out as bisexual.”

Alfred seemed like a good guy to her, but certainly not the best one to ask questions about why guys were hot too. Though she had to give him more credit considering how much he had to put up with Bruce.

Lois accepted the explanation. She then asked, “And what does he think of Superman?”

“Superman?”

“You in Gotham have Batman, we have Superman.”

Selina smiled, “I know, I'm surprised you ask about Superman.”

“Oh, you know…curiosity. Now it seems like everyone has to have an opinion on something.”

Nice save there. Lois Lane lived up to her reputation. But Selina certainly couldn't tell her oh Bruce is a first rate paranoid and is convinced that Superman is secretly evil or something.

There it was necessary to maintain a certain image.

“He enjoyed flying with Superman Airlines, and he would probably repeat the experience at the first opportunity.”

“Because of the arms,” Lois said.

“Because of the arms,” Seliana agreed. “He couldn't stop singing them to me. They were so toned Selina. They could have broken me in two and I would have thanked him.”

“Very interesting,” the reporter said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Who knows what her brilliant head was working up at that moment.

Selina didn't investigate. What she had to do was direct Lois towards the conclusion she wanted.

They finally took their seats. The chairs next to them were still empty. She smiled.

Who knows how much fun Bruce was having at that moment...

The race was over. The shadow was trapped. Bruce had prepared for a fight. What he wasn't prepared for was finding himself faced with a little girl trying to hide among glitter and colorful clothes.

A small, malnourished, and injured child, if the bandages on her hands were any indication.

Bruce saw red. Someone had hurt a child in his city. Bruce will find whoever was responsible, and he will make them pay.

But not now. Now she had a little girl to comfort.

“A little girl?” he heard Clark say.

Bruce frowned. He didn't realize he was being followed. Had the journalist used his powers? Very irresponsible, with so many people present.

“Maybe he has a power that allows him to prevent other people from noticing his powers. Or maybe it's a device in the glasses. At the first opportunity, I have to check.”

Immersed in his thoughts, he didn't realize that the journalist had come forward, perhaps thinking of giving the girl a hand.

Bad idea, because the sudden movement startled her and she bit Clark on his hand.

There were no screams, Clark looked more surprised than anything else. Remembering that he was not alone, the man said, “Ahhh…it hurts.”

He sucked at pretending. Superman was invulnerable, and the teeth of a maybe six-year-old girl certainly couldn't hurt him.

"It's your fault," he said, trying to keep the Batman tone from his voice. There was a victim there who needed Batman, not the useless Bruce Wayne. Unfortunately for her, he could only be Bruce at the moment. He had to do the best he could with what he had." You scared her."

Clark looked like a big puppy feeling guilty about being scolded.

“I'm sorry…I…”

“Do we have to take you to the hospital?” Bruce asked. 

"No! I mean…it doesn't even hurt that bad…but I don't know how to get her to come off.”

Yes, that seemed like a problem. Bruce had experience with victims, and the girl would continue to bite until the threat, real or otherwise, was over.

He relaxed his posture, and slowly approached her.

"HI. I'm Bruce."

The little girl's eyes were small and sharp. She was studying him. Well, he had her attention. Bruce continued, “I don't know how you got here, but we can help you. Can you tell us your name?”

She didn't answer him. She looked at him without blinking, cautious as a cat. Bruce was patient. He tried to smile, “You're not in trouble. We won't take you back to your…family. Did they hurt you?”

Still nothing. Just a fixed gaze from whoever she was observing, but she didn't understand.

Bruce thought about trying another language. Perhaps the girl was a victim of human trafficking. He tried Mandarin, “What's your name?”

Nothing. He tried Thai, Japanese, and a dialect he had wanted to forget. She didn't react to any of these languages.

Bruce was out of options. Clark hadn't said a word, simply observing the scene, not even making an effort to pretend to be in pain.

Was Bruce showing himself to be too capable? Was that the problem? Did Superman not like overly competent people? Was that why it hadn't worked out with Lois Lane?

Before his mind spiraled, he told himself, Focus on the girl.

The priority was her at that moment. Bruce opened his arms. If words weren't helpful, perhaps actions would be.

He relaxed as much as possible, and tried to convey the message to her, I'm a safe person, you don't have to fear me, I'm here to help you.

He had no idea what he was doing. He was pretty sure he was making an idiot of himself. But she miraculously pulled away from Clark's hand, and took tentative steps towards Bruce.

Bruce didn't move an inch. He wanted her to know that he was there for her. When the little girl was in his arms, he hugged her carefully.

He would have walked away if he sensed discomfort. But she stretched out her thin arms to imitate Bruce.

She was hugging him back. She didn't understand who Bruce was or what he wanted from her. But she trusted him. He didn't know by what miracle a little girl thought that something as broken as him was trustworthy, but there he was, as his heart melted and he decided that no one would hurt that little girl in any way again.

“Should we call the police?” Clark asked, no bite marks on his hand. “Maybe her family is looking for her.”

“Mhm…no, no police.”

“But Mr. Wayne, what if she had been kidnapped?”

"If that were the case Batman would have taken care of it," he said stubbornly. The journalist's expression was surprised, but he immediately tried to recover, "He can't know everything, though."

“If not him, then Superman. Don't you trust Superman?”

It was a low blow, but at least Clark didn't counter that. Bruce reached for his phone and typed a message. Then he turned to Clark, “I need you to call an Uber.”

“An Uber? Why?"

“I'm taking her home, of course.”

“Huh?!”

Cassandra didn't understand what the man with the panda eyes had said to her.

The words were something she won't possess for a while yet.

But he wouldn't hurt her. He was good. He was kind. He would tear apart anyone who dared touch her.

Cassandra knew all this, even without the words, and she had chosen to follow him.

The hug was very nice. It made her feel safe.

She didn't know what love was, because she had been denied it for a long time.

She was about to find out.

The fashion show had begun, and there was no sign of Bruce. Selina forced herself to remain seated, telling herself that everything was fine. Bruce was just on a mission to seduce Superman. 

Maybe now he was giving a real blow job with no kidnappers involved.

The phone vibrated. She took it and almost threw the object to the ground.

I'm leaving. I have a little girl with me. She is mine now, I guess.

Bruce, seriously. What the fuck?! 

Chapter Text

Selina had rushed out of the fashion show as soon as she received the message.

She apologized to Lois, reassured her that no one's life was in danger, and left, calling a taxi and asking to be taken to Wayne Tower.

The man laughed but stopped as soon as Selina put money under his nose.

Whoever said that money wasn't the engine of the world was an idiot.

However, she had immediately gone to Bruce, passing a very flushed Clark Kent who almost knocked her over.

She had no idea what had happened to make him that colour, but she hadn't stopped him from asking.

Instead, she had gone to the source of the problem, finding an unamused Alfred and the little girl.

The little girl had stared at her with eyes as black as obsidian and seemed to be able to read her soul.

Selina had a staring contest with her. And she lost because the brat didn't even seem to need to blink.

When she finally looked away from her, she swore she saw her smile in satisfaction.
What a brat.

She was cute, Selina had to admit it, especially with Bruce's pyjamas on her, really too big for her, which made her look both awkward and adorable at the same time.

“Have you two already met?” Bruce asked, walking in as he put on a t-shirt, covering a divine body with the equivalent of a tarp. What a waste.

Selina had taken a long look, and if Clark had seen what she had seen, she didn't understand what stopped him from jumping on Bruce.

Apart from the decency and judgmental looks of the butler pseudo-father figure.

“Now you have kidnapped a little girl…”

“I didn't kidnap her,” Bruce corrected her, dark sunglasses and messy hair. He was wearing an MCR t-shirt two sizes too big, with a blood stain on the side, and decidedly less fashionable than the outfit he had shown off an hour earlier. “I took her out of a difficult situation and assisted.”

“You could have taken her to the hospital.”

“She would have run away and then I wouldn't have been able to find her again.”

“Bruce… it's a little girl,” Selina said slowly as if the concept might have gone over that obnoxiously large head.

She was a small and delightful child, for goodness sake, but still a little girl... and it was scary to be a little girl in a city like Gotham, with no one to rely on, and dangers everywhere.

Shit. She was starting to see his point.
“Besides, I think she doesn't understand words.”

“Is she mute?” Selina asked. 

“No, I mean…she doesn't understand the words. She knows no language.”

Selina's eyes widened in disbelief. She looked at the girl as she now paid attention to her hands, oblivious to everything that was happening around her.

Or maybe not because she was careless: she didn't understand what they were saying.

Selina gulped, “How did you come to this conclusion?”

“She responds better to body language than to any language I've tried with her. I had hypothesized possible Asian origins, but she didn't seem to recognize any language... she knows body language very well. She trusted me because she saw I wasn't a threat, not because of anything I told her."

Selina needed a solid minute to digest what she had just heard.

She said, “So some crazy guy raised a little girl… without teaching her to talk?”

“So it seems.”

She thought that living in Gotham had accustomed her to all the horror that mankind could offer. She was wrong. The city could still offer her ever-new horrors, depths of depravity never before imagined.

"Another reason not to take her to the hospital," Bruce continued to speak, anger dripping like venom from her words. “Whoever did this to her could be looking for her. She is safer here.”

“So you're going to keep her?”

“Until we find safe accommodation for her.”

Meanwhile, the girl had gotten tired of doing nothing, and she had approached Bruce, clinging to the man's leg like a koala.

Bruce's first instinct was to stroke her head, and she melted into his touch as if she craved more. And Bruce was more than willing to pamper her more.

Yeah, like hell that girl is going to leave. She had imprinted on Bruce like a duckling.

“And Clark?”

“What about him?” Bruce asked, head tilted.

“I saw him go out. What did you do to him?”

“Nothing. He drove me home and left after staring at me with her… I don't understand why.”

“Maybe he has daddy kink.”

“What?”

“Forget it,” Selina told him. She didn't have the energy to explain the jargon to him. “Have you picked a name for her yet?”

“It didn't seem important to me…”

“Bruce! She needs a name!”

"Why? She wouldn't even know it was hers."

“We certainly can't call her the little girl all the time!” she pointed out.

Bruce seemed to think about it, then said, “Martha?”

“Nope, you won't name her after your mother, it's too sad…”

“I have no good ideas…Selina?”

“Yeah?”

“No, I mean…what if I called her Selina?”

She was speechless at the suggestion, and she didn't know what to say. Alfred decided to interject at that moment, “Cassandra.”

Bruce and Selina stared at him. The butler explained, “She has no voice, she doesn't know the words. She is like Priam's daughter. Cassandra.”

Selina had no idea who this Cassandra was or who Priam was. Not everyone had an English college education.

She had noticed, however, that the little girl seemed to have perked up at the mention of Cassandra as if she had recognized the word.

Bruce muttered, “Cassandra… it might be fine. What do you think about it?"

“Well, it seems fitting. Cassandra Wayne.”

Bruce didn't correct her to that. He liked the sound of it too.

When she returned to the hotel, Lois found Clark in the lobby, sitting wild-eyed. She approached carefully, “Smallville, are you okay? What happened?"

Selina had told her that there had been an unexpected event, specifying that no one had died, which hadn't reassured her at all.

After a while, bored and without good company, she decided to leave too.

Lex Luthor was in no condition to do interviews and Clark was nowhere to be found.

A total waste of time, and Perry will want her head if she doesn't write a decent article.

“I want to make him pregnant,” Clark moaned in response, surprising her.

“What?” Lois asked, confused.

The man put his face in his hands, “God, Lois. I want him to have my babies so bad. It's normal? Or is it because I'm an alien? I'm so confused…"

Wisely, Lois chose not to ask any further questions.

Cassandra had fallen asleep. It was painful to see how thin she was. Alfred had told him that when he had put her pyjamas on, he had seen scars.

It was wrong. A child should never, under any circumstances, have scars. His hands felt itchy.

He wanted to go out and find the bastard who hurt her. However, one question haunted him.

Were there others? Was Cassandra a victim of trafficking along with other children?

“Master Bruce…”

“Alfred, what am I doing?” he asked his father in all but the name.

The man stood in the doorway of the room, observing with an emotion-filled look, “It seems you have entered the scary world of fatherhood. Congratulations, Master Bruce. Even though I didn't expect it to happen this way.”

“I'm not her father,” he denied, as Cassandra's face scrunched up in her sleep. He moved a lock of her hair, and as if by magic, the little girl's face relaxed.

It was as if she knew Bruce was with her. As if she knew he would protect her.

“I already told Selina. She will stay here until I find her a safe place."

“Are you ready to let her go?” the butler asked rhetorically. Bruce didn't answer, which in itself was enough of an answer to Alfred's question.

“Master Bruce, you should rest.”

“I have to go out on patrol. I have to investigate. Maybe there are other children like her. I wouldn't forgive myself if I couldn't save them."

Alfred sadly said, “You can't save everyone.”

“I have to try. I swore it on my parents' grave. I would have protected Gotham. I would have given hope to the city. It doesn't seem like I'm doing a good job.”

The butler said, “You saved Miss Cassandra. You're doing so much, Master Bruce. “

"Not enough. Never enough."

For a while, neither of them said anything. Then Alfred commented, “You can't keep her from the public.”

“I could try.”

After all, hadn't he been hidden from the public gaze for so long?

“How many saw you take her home?” the British man asked him. The question made his blood run cold.

There were so many journalists. He and Clark had used a service exit, but there was that Uber driver who had seen them. If he had recognized him, he would speak. Not to mention the people at the tower who had seen him with Cassandra...

“I don't know…” he admitted. “I could see hacking into some magazine editors' computers…”

“Master Bruce, don't make your life difficult. Do you want me to contact the lawyers?"

"Now?"

Alfred smiled at him, “They're paid to answer at any time. Their job is to handle problems.”

“I don't want Cassandra to be involved in a media circus.”

“She will be. With all the journalists around…and speaking of journalists…is Master Kent Superman?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“I recognize the possible threat he would pose to Gotham and the planet,” was his evasive response.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, “That's not an answer. Are you afraid of him?”

“I fear what he might do if he loses control. I saw how he managed to defeat Bane. For him, it was a normal fight. For me, he wasn't."

He took a break. It was never easy to speak for him, to verbalize his thoughts. They made more sense in his mind anyway.

“I almost died against Bane,” Bruce admitted reluctantly. “He didn't have any difficulties. If I ever found myself fighting him, I would certainly lose. I have to have a way to counter it, Alfred. Do you understand?"

“To me, Master Kent seemed like a good young man who wanted to help,” Alfred said.

He is like you remained implicit.

Bruce grimaced, "The intentions are good, but who guarantees that he will never use his powers for evil?"

“Some might say the same about you, Master Bruce. With your talents, you would be a dangerous villain.”

“I'm still human, Alfred. If I ever lost control, Superman could deal with me permanently. “

Alfred made a strange expression, “So you trust him to deal with you if you ever get off track?”

"I didn't say this."

“I know what you said, Master Bruce. You rely heavily on the judgment of a so-called threat. How come?"

He pursed his lips but refused to speak. He didn't see the point in answering something so obvious.

Alfred on the other hand smiled as if he had managed to show his point. Which was silly, given that he hadn't proven anything.

“You should call him and thank him for the trouble. Few would have agreed to participate in a kidnapping without asking questions.”

“I already thanked him,” Bruce replied, defensively.

“A dinner invitation would be a better way to express gratitude.”

“A dinner invitation? Why should I…"

“He will come the day after tomorrow, at eight in the evening.”

At Bruce's confused look, Alfred explained, “Before Master Kent left, I took the liberty of extending him an invitation from you. It's very in line with the character you want to play, don't you think?”

“I didn't feel like you were okay with my plan.”

“No, but I'm interested in a closer look at the threat to the security of the planet,” the Englishman replied. “I could have an unbiased opinion that would help, don't you think?”

Bruce snorted, “I think it's just an excuse for me to socialize.”

“Doesn't this fit your plan?”

"It fits…"

"Well. I can't wait to get to know Master Kent better. He seems like a young man of sound principles… someone like that would do you good.”

He didn't ask him in what sense he meant it.

Meanwhile, somewhere, in a place in the mountains of Pakistan

Nyssa looked at her sister with a frown, "You know that's crazy, don't you?"

"I know. You told me that before.”

“It seems like I haven't said it enough. If our father finds out..."

“I risk the pit. I know, sister. You don't need to remind me."

It was just the two of them in Nyssa's room. Ra's had entrusted an important mission to Nyssa, trusting her abilities to deal with David Cain.

Whatever the killer had, it had to be worth bothering the Demon's Head.

Nyssa didn't find it suspicious that he was asking her for the mission.

Ra's had great faith in her abilities. However, as soon as she knew where the meeting would take place, she understood why he had decided to send her and not Talia, his favourite daughter.

Gotham was the city where too great a threat to Talia's loyalty to their family lay.

Meanwhile, her sister played with a lock of hair, a nervous habit that emerged on rare occasions of high stress.

“Talia…you don't have to do this.”

"You don't understand. I cannot do anything else."

"Why?"

Talia pressed her lips into a thin line, “The League is no place for a child. Damian isn't walking yet, yet our father is eager to start his training. And I can't..."

“You could take care of his training. You could teach him, keep him safe. There is no need to send him away.”

"It is. You may not understand me, Nyssa, but Damian is not like us. He's different."

"Different? What does it mean?" the woman asked, confused.

“He is like his father. He is not the perfect heir that our father wants. And if he notices..."

Talia didn't need to finish the sentence. Nyssa knew full well what Ra's did to substandard products.

It didn't matter that Damian was just a baby. Ra's would not tolerate any flaw in his perfect genetics.

He ran a hand through his hair, “If you want to continue with this plan of yours, I'll help you. I don't want to end up in the pit too.”

"Thanks, sister."

Chapter Text

"What are you doing?"

The men froze. One of them coughed, “Lady Nyssa, sorry to bother you, but the Demon Head has ordered us to search the entire base for Lady Talia and her son."

“In my plane too?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. On the outside, she was the picture of calm, but on the inside, she was cursing all her ancestors and anyone who had allowed Ra's to find the Lazarus Pit.

Ra's had already noticed Talia's absence. Not so much because of affection for her - which perhaps existed - but because together with Talia, his possible heir had also disappeared.
And if there was one thing her father couldn't tolerate, it was his legacy at risk.

“Your plane is a possible escape route.”

“You know, right, that I have an important mission to carry out? I can't waste time."

“We are aware of it – the man said – It won't take long. We must obey the orders of the Head Demon.”

Ergo, it didn't matter how much they might be afraid of Nyssa: they were much more afraid of Ra's.

With a wave of his hand, she invited them to come up. Nyssa closed the door and waited. Ten minutes later, the door opened again, and corpses were already rolling.

He turned his head, "You're losing your touch, sister."

Talia wiped the blood from her cheek, "You try killing six people without waking baby."

“It could have been a good lesson for Damian.”

“He would have been an easy target. I didn't want any distractions,” she said, annoyed.

“Help me hide them. If anyone found them, we'd have the whole League on us."

“Father already knows you are missing.”

“He doesn't know where I am. I have to use all the advantages I have.”

“I know a safe place…”

Talia interrupted, “No, sister. I decided to go to Gotham and that's what I'm going to do. I won't change my mind."

"Then? Will you stay with him?” Nyssa asked her, provocatively.

"No."

"No?" she repeated, surprised.

“I have a lot to make up for,” Talia admitted. “And a son that I hid from him. I could stay in their lives…but I don't know if he'll want me back. Besides, I have plans that I fear my beloved would not approve of."

"What plans?"

A long pause, and then Talia said, "Tell me, sister: what would you think about a takeover of the League?"

A few days later, Gotham

"She is so cute!" Harley exclaimed, hugging Cassandra tightly as if with a stuffed animal.

The little girl didn't appear particularly annoyed, but rather confused as to why a stranger was cuddling her.

Even though she probably didn't even know what her cuddles were.

Selina didn't even want to think about it. If she ever got her hands on who had denied her even the most basic care, to hell with Bruce, she would throw someone off a tower.

Cassandra looked towards Bruce, who smiled at her. Perhaps from this, she understood that she did not have to fear sudden attacks and she allowed Harley to hug her tightly, without making a sound.

Pamela, who knew as much about children as Harley knew about plants, stood at a safe distance, "So, you brought the little girl...has anyone seen you?"

“I took care of it.”

Selina put some milk in her cats' bowls, and without even looking up at him she said, "Did you deal with it in the sense of only using back roads or jumping across rooftops with a little girl?"

Bruce didn't answer. Harley yelled shocked, “Brucie! It was irresponsible!”

“Cassandra is very light,” the man defended himself. “Every now and then she imitated me.”

“You let a whole little girl do parkour in Gotham?” Selina asked, hoping she had misunderstood.

“Only under my supervision,” Bruce assured as if that were the problem.

Gods in heaven, if Cassandra is going to make it to adulthood, she's going to need two criminals in rehab and a kleptomaniac thief.

She placed the milk on her counter, ignoring her meows of protest, “Do you have a cover story for her yet?”

“Her mother was abusing her and as soon as I found out I alerted my lawyers to get custody of her.”

“Bruce, Cassandra is six years old.”

“And?”

“You weren't even in Gotham at the time!” Selina reminded him. “Journalists will understand this.”

“Journalists don't know everything. The mother was a tourist who was in trouble in Bangkok, I helped her, and out of gratitude, we spent a night together. We separated, but a short time later she discovered she was pregnant. With no idea who her father was, she raised Cassandra alone, but she wasn't capable of it. Cassandra then ran away from her and accidentally ended up at the fashion show where I was too, and after a medical exam I discovered that she was mine.”

Pamela nodded, half impressed, “Leaving aside the obvious patriarchal myth of the inadequate mother and the saviour father, one can almost believe it. No one will ask too many questions if you pay the right people.”

“As long as CPS stays away from her, I'll consider it a victory,” Bruce said. They all shuddered at the mention of CPS. Pamela and Selina had been in the system, and Harley had worked with social workers for a while. They all knew how much he sucked.

Pamela herself had toyed with the idea of massacring some of her former social workers, especially Magda, who had looked at a poor single mother and, instead of helping her, had taken her daughter away from her and had made her feel so inadequate as to push her to suicide.

She hadn't done it because, while she was in Arkham, that witch had died, killed by a parent from whom she had taken his child without right.

She would have liked to do it herself, but at least there was one less asshole in the world.

“CPS wouldn't know how to deal with a girl like her,” Harley said confidently. "Who knows how much nonsense they would say! Oh no, she's retarded, poor thing, we can't do anything, we don't have the funds to deal with this situation, better to leave her in the middle of the street or sell her to someone..."

“She'd run away at the first chance,” Bruce said confidently. “And no one could catch her.”

"Even you?" Pamela asked him.

“Even me,” he said with a smile, as if it were something to be proud of. Selina was increasingly convinced that everything was crazy.

“Well, lucky for you, single dads are going strong this year,” Harley commented. “You're too young to be a dilf, but I bet Superman is already drooling. “

“I won't use Cassandra to seduce Superman,” the man said adamantly. The line was to use the children for his messed-up plans. Good to know.

“You won't have to use her,” the other explained. “You'll just have to show up with her every now and then, act like a dad…you know, the normal stuff.”

Good luck talking about normality with him.
Bruce still had the expression of someone who wasn't at all happy with what he was talking about. Selina chimed in, “Do you already have an outfit in mind for your date?”

“His date?"

" With Superman."

"Do you have a date with Superman?” Harley nearly screamed, Cassandra squirming a little in her arms.

“Alfred invited him to dinner to thank him for taking me home. He thinks it's a good way to get to know him better.”

“And to put poison on his plate?”

“It would be murder. I don't kill."

“Brucie, it's for science! Just think, maybe the poison won't have any effect on Superman!"

Selina recognized the expression she was making. She was actually thinking about it!

She said, "Before you poison someone, do you know what you should do when you are alone?"

"I need to socialize and have a conversation," Bruce repeated, gritting his teeth. The idea of talking to another person was evidently low on the list of things he wanted to do.
Unfortunately for him, he had gotten himself into that situation, and not only did he have to socialize, he had to be charming.

Something told her that either he would scar the poor guy for life, or Clark would double him over on the first available horizontal surface.

“Act stupid,” Harley added. “Brainy people like to explain things, it makes them feel important.”

“Wear little clothing,” Pamela said in turn. “And a lot of perfume. You have to be irresistible.”

“Not too scantily clad. I doubt Alfred would let you welcome your guest wearing only an apron. That only works in manga, and doujinshi.”

“So I have to be stupid, make him feel important, wear lots of perfume and few clothes…”

Selina pointed out. “You also have to be charming.”

“I can't be stupid and charming.”

“My dear, you can be both and totally catch the prey. You can do it too."

“Mhm…I preferred poison. For me."

Selina giggled, “Don't think about walking out now, Bruce. Now that you're on the dance floor, let's dance."

It was less than an hour away from his almost-date (is it a date when the butler asks you to come to dinner?), and Clark was standing in front of the mirror, with no idea what he was doing.

It could be the title of the film dedicated to his life.

“Do you think it's too much…I don't know…could I give the wrong impression?” he asked again.

Lois meanwhile was lying in bed, chatting on the phone with Selina, “I don't know, Clark. What impression do you want to give?”

"Professional. But not as if I wanted to take advantage of his generosity to interview him.”

“He wants you in his bed. You don't have to worry about him misunderstanding your intentions.”

Clark blushed, “Mr. Wayne is…he's just very interested in my work.”

“To your work and what's under your clothes. Tell me, did you remember to take off your costume? You can't tell him you're a sadomasochist if he sees the big S on your chest."

Clark almost lost control of his laser vision. He muttered, “You just said a reason why there can't be anything. If he finds out who I am, he'll go crazy."

"You do not know. You don't know him."

"Precisely! I don't know him at all! Like, what's his favourite colour? Has he ever gone to the stadium? Is he vegan? He…"

"Mr. Wayne is super interested in you," Lois said, sitting up, her phone set aside momentarily. “You could just have fun. Not everything has to be serious, Smallville.”

“I can't, Lois…I'm just…I'm not human. I can't afford to..."

“You can't afford what? To live?” Lois got up from the bed, walked over to Clark and they both looked at each other in the mirror,

“That's a coward's excuse. Is Superman a coward?”

"No but…"

“Shut up, the grown-ups are speaking. You're denying yourself life. One-night stands are part of the things that all of us irresponsible adults do at least once in our lives. You don't have to tell him who you are, and he doesn't have to tell you everything about himself. You are two grown men who find each other's company enjoyable. If the evening ends well, even better! Life's too short to stay hidden, Clark. Don't let your fear decide for you."

“What if I hurt him?”

“It's not going to happen,” Lois said.

"You do not know."

“You didn't ever hurt me.”

“Urgh, that's different.”

“Why? Because I'm a woman and he's a man? This is sexist, Kent.”

Clark laughed, “You know, I don't think my ex should be giving me dating advice.”

“That never stopped you, I think.”

“I'm a good friend, I swear.”

“I know,” Lois took off his tie. “And as a good friend, I want to tell you: go there and knock him out, champ. When will you ever have dinner with a billionaire again?”

“Especially a billionaire who doesn't want to kill me.”

"If Lex ever manages to kill you one day, you'll regret fuck I could have fucked Bruce Wayne and I didn't."

“Why do you assume that…”

A look from Lois silenced him. She said, “Don't ask stupid questions. Do you have any other existential doubts to resolve?”

“Well, now that you make me think about it…”

“Oh man, it's getting late,” she interrupted, pushing him towards the door. “We don't want to let the hot stuff get cold, right? Enjoy the evening and don't come back before two in the morning!”

“But Lois…”

She gave him a good luck kiss on the cheek, then closed the door in his face. Clark knocked, “Lois! My wallet is still inside! How do I pay for the taxi? Lois!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of Gotham, Alfred was arranging the dining room. Bruce walked in, “There was no need to make things so big. I don't want to give the impression that I'm throwing my wealth in his face."

“Master Bruce, it was I who prepared this room for your parents' first date. I know what I'm doing,” the butler said with a frown, continuing his work.

“And don't worry about the young lady. She is happily playing with one of the two hundred stuffed animals you bought her today.”

“I didn't get two hundred. There would have been too many to carry.”

“Forgive me, but it was hard to count them all when you saw a ball of stuffed animals walking around the house.”

“Cassandra liked them,” Bruce said. “I didn't want her to choose which one to get.”

“You must learn to be more severe, Master Bruce.”

“Why should I be strict?” he asked, cocking his head like a puppy.

Alfred sighed, “Master Bruce, you know that parents must also know how to say no, don't you?”

“You never did.”

“Look how well it went: you're a vigilante who disguises himself as a bat and I'm helping you seduce the most powerful being on the planet,” the butler replied, wincing slightly at the veiled admission that he had been a father to his protégé.

“I'm doing what is necessary.”

“I just hope you wouldn't scare the poor boy too much. He doesn't deserve to be treated like a bomb."

"You don't know him."

“Not even you,” Alfred pointed out.

Bruce opened his mouth to reply when there was a knock on the door. Without looking up, Alfred said, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go open it. Do you or don't you want to enchant our guest?”

Bruce obeyed. On the way, he adjusted the black silk shirt Selina had chosen and wondered once again if he looked like a clown.

Pamela had said to dress minimally, but he missed the comfort of his extra large t-shirt.
"It's for the good of the world," Bruce repeated to himself. “This is necessary.”

With these thoughts in mind, he opened the door, with his best imitation of a smile. But the smile quickly faded from his face.

There was no Clark Kent on the other side.

“Talia…”

Chapter Text

The baby was squirming, and Bruce tried to move him into a position that was comfortable for him. He couldn't, and the baby wrinkled his face, ready to cry.
Bruce panicked.

“Please don't cry,” he started to say. “What can I do to keep you from crying?”

“My beloved, as smart as Damian is, he still can't speak,” Talia said, a hint of amusement in her voice. They were in the living room, Alfred's presence reassuring in the background. The butler wasn't saying a word, just observing.

He must have understood who Talia was to Bruce, even after the hasty way Bruce had introduced them. And then, one look at Damian was enough to understand.

The baby, except for his eyes and skin color, was like Bruce at the same age. Probably more picky.

“I thought you had an abortion. You told me our baby didn't make it,” he thought at the sight of Damian. But it didn't add up, almost four years had passed since their last meeting, and it couldn't be their child...

“You're still wondering how he's here, aren't you?” Thalia said, immediately understanding the thoughts swirling in his head.

“You will understand why I have questions. How old is Damian?”

“He's one year old.”

“I guess he's a miracle of League technology.”

“Sort of,” the woman admitted. “I didn't lie to you. I aborted. My body couldn't carry a pregnancy. And when you abandoned me..."

“I asked you to come with me,” he interrupted, keeping his tone low so as not to irritate Damian further. “You told me your first loyalty was to the League.”

“You could have stayed.”

"I could not. I took an oath.”

“I respect that,” she nodded. “But after a long time, aren't you tired?”

“Gotham needs me.”

"Me too. Don't I count?”

Damian chose that moment to start crying, perhaps sensing the tension between his parents. Bruce panicked, and Talia advised him, “You should get up. He likes movement.”

"You could…"

“He has to get used to you,” she refused, and Bruce tried to swallow his frustration and did as the woman advised. He paced around the room, and the movement seemed to start to calm Damian down.

He asked, “You haven't finished your story.”

“Well, after you left, I started doing some research. I wanted to have our baby, and I still had some of your DNA. My father helped me, providing me with the necessary means.”

“Out of the goodness of his heart I guess,” Bruce croaked, receiving a glare from the woman.

“He had his own interests, but he wanted to see me happy.”

“Two birds with one stone,” he commented.

“If it weren't for him, Damian wouldn't be here,” Talia reminded him.

“However, you are here because you are afraid of him.”

“I'm scared for Damian,” Talia admitted. “I had my own plans. I would train him, teach him everything he needed, and then when he was ready, I would send him to you to complete his training."

“I don't train soldiers.”

“But you will need a successor. Do you think you'll live forever? Then who will protect your precious city?” she scoffed. At least she had had the delicacy not to say that she wanted their son to rule the world. Although it had definitely been on her mind, two or three times.

“I hope I do well enough that there won't be a need of another Batman,” he replied, and Talia looked at him as if he were the poor deluded one. He continued, “What messed up your plans?”

“Damian is like you.”

"I see. He looks like me."

“No, Bruce. He's like you,” Talia repeated. “Do you remember the only thing my father scolded you for? It's a shame he's not perfect. He could have been one of my best soldier. But he is difective. ”

He stiffened. Ableist nonsense aside, he could only imagine what Ra's would do upon realizing he had a possible flawed heir.

"How do you know it?"

“My beloved, I am his mother. I know. Damian can't learn goodbye gestures or head shakes, he doesn't crawl, he doesn't look at moving things, he is unusually stiff or unusually atonic..."

“You've done your research,” he commented, holding Damian a little tighter, as if to protect him from a horde of ninja who, he was sure, would sooner or later break in. He wasn't paranoid: he was aware of what Talia's presence there meant.

“I have my contacts,” she said proudly. “I needed to be sure. “

“Then you came here.”

“The safest place for Damian is with you.”

“I'm cursed,” Bruce thought. “Whoever I love either dies or gets hurt. I am not emotionally competent. He will die staying next to me. “

Instead, he said, “What about you? Where is the safest place for you?”

Part of him wanted Talia to stay. The first time it didn't go well. But maybe, maybe this time…

The expression she made gave no room for any self-delusion, “I'm sorry, Bruce. Nyssa and I will have a lot to do. The League is my home. And if I have to fight my father to defend it and what it represents for me."

“You love your father.”

“Yes, I do,” Talia nodded. “But I know that his leadership is more bad than good for the League... and for me. Nyssa and I have already discussed the details. As soon as she finishes the negotiation with David Cain, we will begin to gather forces loyal to us. It will be a long battle, and it could take years. “

"I could…"

“You won't  interfere,” she was adamant. “Our methods are different. You would leave too many of my enemies alive. And I don't want to make you choose between me and your morality again."

Bruce slumped his shoulders. That was a great point.

Another thing Talia said caught his attention, “I won't interfere. But can I ask you something?"

"What do you want to know?"

“What business do Nyssa and David Cain have?”

Talia let out a snort, “Obviously you focus on that. Don't worry, no risk of destruction for your precious city. To be honest, it seems like Cain has something my father wants.”

“What is?”

"I don't know. Father said something about a means of bending a god to his will. Considering that he funds many archaeologists to find ancient artifacts to increase his power, I'm not surprised that there is something that..."

Bruce didn't listen to her anymore. His mind focused on an item capable of bending a god.

David Cain was not an archaeologist, but he had something that Ra's wanted and that he had the world searching for. It wasn't worth a look.

Lost in his thought, he almost missed Talia getting up.

“Are you leaving already?” he asked, trying not to sound pathetic.

Talia smiled sadly, “I've held back too long already.”

“You could stay the night. “

“So you can find a way to keep me in a cage?”

“Never,” he denied firmly, making her laugh.

“But you want me here.”

"Yes."

“It wouldn't work.”

The rational part of his mind had told him this several times. However, he had thought, if not for him, then at least for Damian, she would stay.

Talia, however, had her own plans to carry out, and there was nothing Bruce could have done to stop her. She kissed Damian's head, and she lingered a few steps away from Bruce's lips.

There was no kiss, just the ghost of one.

 He watched her leave, along with what ifs and dreams of a future they could have together.

Bruce didn't have a chance to get depressed, however: Damian started crying like a howler monkey again.

Dear god.

Clark could do it. He was ready, super ready, really ready, very prepared to…

Who was he kidding? He felt like he was about to faint.

“It's just a dinner. Very intimate, very private, and anything could happen...but it wouldn't be safe, because I'm an alien and I wouldn't want to hurt him...not that I actually want to, but the possibility..."

He was silent when the elevator opened and a woman with amber skin, dark green eyes, dressed in a black tracksuit came out. She didn't give him a second glance, but something about her caught Clark's attention. He wasn't sure what, though.
Lois would have teased him (a little greedy, huh Smallville?) but Clark hadn't been attracted by the woman's beauty.

There was something about her, something that he usually associated with people like Luthor.

He decided not to linger too long, and got into the elevator.

Damian was crying. Bruce tried to calm him down, pacing as Talia had suggested, but it wasn't working.

“Do you hate me already? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take you away from your mother...she'll come back. One day. I don't know when, but she'll be back. Then if you want you can go with her, and you can forget me. But calm down now, you can't cry all night...or can you?”

Damian had only been with him for half an hour, and he had already made a mess. Could he do worse than this? He shouldn't push his luck too much.

Walking, he went towards the entrance, where he saw Alfred standing at the door talking to someone. He narrowed his eyes, “Mr. Kent?”

The reporter brightened when he saw him, but something in his expression changed when he saw Damian too. Alfred said, “I'm sorry Mr. Kent, there was a last minute development and I couldn't let you know.”

“You…you have a baby,” the man said, very intelligently.

"Yes. Damian. It's his name."

Damian punched him in the face, and Bruce sighed and muttered, “Shh, baby. It's okay. You don't have to worry. I am here. I won't hurt you."

Alfred was probably canceling the date.

Because it was obvious that no one in their right mind would stay and deal with an unsexy situation, as Selina would say. His plans with Superman will have to wait.

(And the ones with David Cain too. He couldn't leave Damian like that, or pass the buck to Alfred. It didn't seem right)

The other man however coughed, “I…uhm…do you want a hand?”

“How much experience do you have with young children?”

“My mother helped the neighbors with her children and I was often with her.”

Martha Kent, Bruce's mind remembered for him. He had done his research, to understand where Superman could have come from.

Martha and Jonathan Kent seemed normal on the surface. But who could say that they hadn't hidden their abilities better than their son? Maybe they were waiting for the right moment to gather their forces and attack all together, bending the Earth to their dominion and...

“Mr. Wayne?” Superman's warm voice roused him, and Bruce weighed his options.

He didn't have much chance to do so because Alfred was quick to take the hint, “We would be very pleased, Mr. Kent. Please come in. Sorry again for the situation.”

“No…um…no need to apologize. I have to apologize because of last time."

“Nonsense. Master Bruce did it all himself with Miss Cassandra. You are not at fault."

“Oh, so her name is Cassandra? It's very cute.”

Before Bruce could speak, Damian let out a high-pitched sound that hurt his ear.

Superman grimaced (were newborn cries his weakness?) and approached.

He was tempted to back away, but he couldn't let the other man know that he knew full well who he was. Superman awkwardly stretched out his arms, “May I?”

It took him longer than it should have to realize that he was asking to hold Damian. He pursed his lips, "I'd rather do it myself."

“I thought…uhm…I saw you in trouble.”

“Just tell me what to do,” he growled, courtesy cast aside because he was going to let that weapon of mass destruction pick up his son. What if he crushed Damian's head? Superman's hands were obnoxiously large, and Damian would definitely get crushed and…

“I advise the two sir to go to the living room,” Alfred interjected. “It would be more convenient for you and young master Damian.”

“Um…okay.”

"Yeah, Alfred," Bruce nodded reluctantly.
Satisfied. Alfred closed the door, and limped towards him. He leaned into Bruce and whispered, "Don't screw this up and be nice."

He was grateful that he hadn't said more: with his developed hearing, Superman could have heard everything, unmasking them.

But there was one thing that worried him.
“Will you leave us alone?” he asked  in a low voice.

Alfred just smiled. Oh, dammit Alfred.

“It wasn't in the program.”

“Sometimes, you have to improvise. “

He was a little too pleased as he said this. Bruce bet he was having fun at his expense. Was it some sort of punishment? Karma?
It didn't matter. He really needed help. And it could have been an opportunity to see how much Superman knew how to carry on with his good guy act.

Alfred accompanied them, and Superman had the courage to ask, "Where did you find him?"

“He's the one who found me.”

“What?”

“His mother brought him to me. She thought it was for the best. She doesn't feel like she can take care of him  now."

It was a harmless lie. He felt bad for Talia, but it was better than saying this child was created without my knowledge, and her mother is now about to go to war with a seven hundred year old immortal for control of a cult.

Not as far-fetched as a demi-god who disguised himself as a hero, but close.

He almost expected more questions – curiosity, professional deformation, desire to look for weaknesses in him – but the man didn't ask anything else.

It was a bit of a surprise. Not entirely unwelcome. He wasn't sure he could talk about his relationship with Talia without having a mental breakdown.

"I have to check on Miss Cassandra," Alfred told him as soon as they were in the living room. “I wouldn't want the noise to have woken her up. It's so hard to get her to sleep."

Why was he looking at him when he said that?

After his blatant apology, Alfred took his leave, leaving the three of them alone. It was a surreal sight: Bruce, his son and a super-powered being trying to pose as a human, shifting from foot to foot, seemingly embarrassed.

“We should sit down,” Superman suggested.

“His mother told me that he calmed down like that.”

"It does not seem…"

“Being the person who raised him until now, I tended to believe her.”

“You're right… but… um… since he's in a new and unfamiliar environment, he might be scared. Maybe a song..."

“I don't think we're in a Disney movie.”

“You can't know if you don't try.”

“I'm not good at singing,” Bruce said.

“We could do it together.”

“It sounds like…” he was about to say it was stupid, but Damian moaned louder, and he couldn't bear to hear his baby like that.

He slumped his shoulders, “Okay. Let's try it.”

Superman coughed, “You…do you know You are my sunshine? It's my mom's favorite and it honestly works wonders.”

“I remember the refrain."

“Well…then…The other night dear, as I lay sleeping/ Oh I dreamed I held you in my arms/ When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken/ Do you know that I hung my/ Oh my head and I cried…"

It was so stupid…Superman's voice was low, calm, a pat on the head. But it couldn't be enough to… Damian was sniffing at him, but he stopped.

And he seemed curious.

Crap. Maybe this could work.

Bruce swallowed and started singing too, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine/ you make me happy when skies are gray/ You'll never never know, how much I love you/ But don't you to take my sunshine away.”

Superman smiled stupidly, and it had to be a fake smile, because no one could be that happy and be able to show it.

They continued to sing, two very different tones, a discordant melody that nevertheless worked. Damian calmed down, eyes half closed, as if he were about to fall asleep.

It was a miracle. Maybe he had to add some power related to Superman's voice to Superman's powers.

His brain barely registered that he had sung too, but he filed it away for later.

“Mom was right. Children love to hear singing.”

“Only if someone has a voice like yours,” Bruce muttered.

Superman blushed, but Bruce only noticed one fact. He was unaware of his own powers.

“You're similar,” he told him, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, he's mine.”

“No, I meant…”

Bruce glared at him, “Maybe it's best to keep your voice down. He's about to fall asleep."

“Yeah, you're right…the crib is calling him.”

Bruce paled. The other noticed him and asked, “Is something wrong?”

"I have nothing."

“What?”

“This place is not childproof. There is nothing. Maybe I should see if there are any of my old things but..."

“Wait, are you telling me you don't have a crib for him?” Superman repeated, confused.

“I think there must be one from when I was little. I'll have to ask Alfred to check..."

“There's no need.”

“Mhm?”

Superman stood up, and smiled, "I'll take care of it."

Chapter Text

David Cain was a piece of shit. Unfortunately, he was a useful piece of shit, and Nyssa had to complete the mission for her father so as not to arouse suspicion before the inevitable stab in the back.

No hard feelings, but Talia was right: the League was moving away from its original ideals, and was drifting, following Ra's' narcissistic personality.

It was time for a new phase to begin, and if there could be two demon heads instead of one, so much the better. One will have to prevent the other from trespassing and being enticed by power.

She'll take his precautions – her family it's not a family you trust blindly – and she knew Talia will take her precautions to make their alliance work.

But first the negotiations with Cain had to go well.

“You're late, lady Nyssa,” the man said by way of greeting, and Nyssa had to fight the urge to pull out her dagger and slit his throat right there in some random dark, dirty alley.

It would have been a fitting end for a man like him.

“I'm coming from the other side of the world. Be thankful that it took me a few days and not months.”

"You're nervous."

“You imagine things.”

“I don't have that vivid an imagination,” he replied. "Are you in a hurry?"

“I want to know what you made my father bother about. And it has to be worth it.”

Without saying a word, Davin Cain showed her a briefcase: he opened it, and inside was a large, shiny green stone.

Okay, Nyssa had to admit: it seemed pretty important.

When he closed it, Nyssa asked, “What is it? Crystallized water from a Lazarus pit?”

"No, it's a special stone to bend a god,” was the reply.

"Which one? Last time I checked, there are a lot of them.”

“One who wears bright colors and has a big S on his chest.”

“He looks like a clown,” she said.

“He is powerful. And your father would want him to serve him.”

“And will this serve his purpose?” she asked, interest multiplied. Perhaps she and Talia could use it, and be able to quickly dispatch Ra's.

Her idea seemed very good to her, and she couldn't help but smile. Although her mind was focused on other thoughts, she didn't miss the fact that Cain had pulled out her gun.

Instinctively she disarmed him, and she took the gun.

“You don't usually try to kill your client,” Nyssa said, her tone dry.

“Luckily, the client isn't you.”

“What…”

“The Demon Head called me. He added a new order to me in addition to giving him the briefcase as soon as possible: kill his traitor daughters."

"Daughters?"

David Cain grunted, "Do you think he's so naïve that he doesn't know who helped lady Talia escape?"

She thinned his lips. She had done everything to leave no evidence of her involvement. Who knows how much, however, was due to legitimate suspicions and how much to pure paranoia.

Ra's saw enemies everywhere, and for once he may have been right.

“It wouldn't do any good to deny it, would it?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Your father's orders are clear.”

“I imagined it was like this. Oh well, I'll just have to be the one to kill you first.”

The man growled, “I want to see you try.”

Nyssa shot him, but Cain dodged the shot, and pulled out another gun. It was a fight with no holds barred, where both opponents gave free rein to their strength.

In the chaos, David Cain lost his briefcase, but neither he nor Nyssa noticed, too busy ti worry about it.

However, someone noticed: a shadow slipped into the darkness and grabbed the briefcase, taking it away, leaving David Cain and Nyssa Al Ghoul to their fight.

Hours will pass before the winner notices anything, and the briefcase will already be in someone else's hand.

“You were quick,” Bruce commented, as Clark carried the old crib found in the attic into Bruce's bedroom.

Clark chuckled, “I just got lucky, I guess. It wasn't difficult."

“Um…it was very dark in the attic, and I'm sure the light isn't working. How did you do?"

The alien gulped, “I…er…stumbled over it.”

Bruce stared at him, and Clark prayed with all his heart that he wouldn't ask him any more questions, because he sucked at lying to someone he liked, and he was realizing that Mr. Wayne definitely fell into that category.

Luckily for him, the other man believed him.
Clark was still convincing as a liar!

(Meanwhile, Bruce was adding night vision and the ability to orient himself to his mental list of Superman powers.)

“You can put it here,” Bruce said, pointing to a spot near the bed. Clark obeyed promptly, taking care not to accidentally destroy the crib…or the floor. The latter would be a little difficult to explain.

Bruce took a long look at the crib, then said, “It doesn't look safe.”

“Maybe it's a little dusty but…”

“Dust is bad for such young kid,” the other interrupted, his expression focused as if he were remembering something he had read.

“I could clean it,” Clark offered.

“What if the structure isn't solid?” and ok, that was a good point. Clark checked the structure for cracks or weaknesses, but the cradle was safe. Of course, a lot of dust had to be removed, but there was no risk of it collapsing as soon as Bruce put down his son.

“From experience, I can tell you that it is safe. It just needs to be cleaned, then the baby will be able to sleep in it peacefully without accidents.”

“Mhm.”

It was clear he didn't believe him, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Clark said, “Um…maybe we should ask your butler or…”

“Alfred will surely know what to do,” Bruce nodded. “He has more experience than us. Meanwhile…"

The child chose that moment to wake up, moaning. And Bruce looked panicked.
“Oh no, we woke him up didn't we? Did we speak too loudly?”

“No… he… I think he needs to be changed.”

At that point, Clark also panicked, “Changed? Oh…er…do you have diapers or…”

“I have nothing,” the man admitted. “His mother brought him to me with very little notice. I don't know…"

“I'll go get something!”

Mr. Wayne looked at him with wide eyes, “Now? It's late."

“I'm sure there are shops open 24 hours a day and…”

“You don't understand,” Bruce said. “It's late, and Gotham isn't safe at night.”

Clark felt his heart warm. It was sweet how the man was worried about him! Too bad he couldn't tell him he was practically invulnerable! He was making him worry.

(“If a thief tries to attack him and Batman doesn't intervene, he might wonder. Or he might stumble upon a common crime and intervene, and then the city would know that Superman is here, and everyone would start to believe in him and think of Batman as a threat , which is completely untrue and..."
In short, it is clear what Bruce's thoughts actually were.)

“I'm used to danger. I work with Lois Lane,” Clark said with a smile, and that made Bruce hesitate more.

“The danger Miss Lane faces is of a different kind.”

“I'm a tough guy anyway, you shouldn't worry.”

“But…”

The baby's wail grew louder, and Bruce relented, “Hurry up, don't get involved in anything, and if anyone wants your wallet, give it to them without fuss. I will repay you for everything."

"There's no need…"

"I'll pay you back for everything," Bruce insisted, and well, that didn't sound like something he was going to change his mind about anytime soon. Clark then reassured him, “I'll be there and back in five minutes! Both of you hang in there!”

He didn't fly away, he was aware of the secret identities to keep, thank you very much. But he'll do anything to get back before someone (Bruce) has a nervous breakdown.

“Maybe he could give me a kiss to thank me…”

Clark blushed to the roots of his hair. He would like to say that he immediately discarded the thought, but he thought about it. 

“He will use his powers to fly and buy diapers.”

Bruce was sure of this. And if he were to be honest, with Damian crying and demanding attention and his anxiety rising, he might not even care about Superman on the loose in his city.

Not too much, at least.

He patted his son's back, “Sshh… Superman went to buy essentials, five minutes and he'll be here. He's fast, you know? Much more than a normal human being. I don't know if he is a human, an experiment or something else, I should study him more closely..."

If it hadn't been for the phone vibrating, he probably would have continued talking, annoying poor Damian more than ever, who wanted a damn diaper change and his mom, dammit.

Bruce could only give him one of those things.

When he painfully took out his phone, he saw a message notification from Selina.
 

Selina
I have something that will drive you crazy 😁

Honestly, he felt a strange sensation, like trouble was coming. It was just paranoia…or wasn't it?

When Talia found her sister, Nyssa had a bullet wound in her shoulder that she had bandaged by tearing off the end of her shirt, a black eye, and she could barely stand.

She asked her, “Where's Cain?”

"Died."

“What? Nyssa, you..."

“He had orders from our father to kill us – the woman interrupted her, running a hand through her hair – Ra's knows everything.”

“This complicates everything."

“We will have to go to Lady Shiva. You're friends, right?" Nyssa said.

“I'm not sure she wouldn't sell us to our father,” Thalia admitted. “She has always been loyal to the League.”

“She will help us because I killed Cain. It will only please her, given their past history.”

Talia had her doubts, but it was a doable plan. She thought their paths would diverge, with Nyssa acting as a spy within the League and gathering support for their cause, but Ra's paranoia preceded them. Plans will have to change.

“Do you even have what you came for?” she asked. Once they reached that point,they  might as well take away from Ra's the object of his desires as well.

Who knows, it might come in handy later.
Nyssa put on an expression she didn't like, and very slowly Talia asked, “Sister, you have what you came for, don't you?”

“I might…have lost it during my fight against Cain.”

"You mean someone stole it from under your nose.”

“I wouldn't say it like that…”

Talia sighed, “It can't have disappeared into thin air. Someone stole it and you didn't realize it."

“I was a little busy, but yeah, blame me too.”

“We don't have time for this. We have to leave before our father sends someone else to kill us.”

“And the briefcase?” Nyssa asked.

“It's lost now. At least not even Ra's will get what he wanted,” Talia said, with a  sick glee in her voice.

They had suffered losses, but Ra's couldn't rejoice. It was a result, however partial.
However, there was one thing she couldn't help but wonder: what happened to the briefcase?

She supposed it wasn't meant to be their, but she would have liked to meet the thief and compliment them.

It wasn't everyone's job to do it under the noses of two master assassins.

“Welcome back,” Pamela greeted Selina, as she watered a plant.

Harley was lying on a couch reading a B-grade romance (the only improvement over the usual stuff she read was that it wasn't a straight romance but a lesbian one, and one of the main characters on the cover had thick red hair. But it was definitely not a signal for someone, at all!)

Selina had an extremely satisfied expression.

Pamela noticed, “What did you steal?”

The other woman didn't even think about denying it. She showed them a briefcase and opened it. The green stone was bright enough to attract even Harley's attention.

Pamela asked, “What is this?”

Selina's smile grew wider as she said, "The likely solution to Bruce's problems."

Chapter Text

It was quite easy to find a shop that was still open. Sure, Clark literally had to fly, but he was justified: it was an emergency! 

Bruce  – Mr. Wayne, he corrected himself – looked so tired, on the verge of having a breakdown. He must have had a rough night, and the least Clark could do was find him some diapers and other baby supplies. 

(Surely his mind wasn't imagining scenarios where they shopped for their kids together, not at all, he wasn't a pervert)

When he entered, a black man with rasta hair behind the counter looked at him warily. 

Clark tried to cringe, and asked, “Um…where can I get diapers and baby powder and…”

“At the back. There are cameras here,  so don't make nothing too strange,” the young man added, one hand dangerously close to his belt, where he probably had a weapon.

It wasn't a necessary addition, but Clark felt like Gotham had rules that he couldn't yet understand.

He went at the back, and found himself unsure what to get. There were so many brands of diapers! Which one should he take?

Panicked, he called Lois. Luckily for him, she quickly replied, "I'm not going to pretend there's an emergency to make you run away from your date, Smallville."

“Lois! What is the best brand of diapers?”

“What?”

"Diapers. Which ones should I get?”

“And you're asking me because I'm a woman? Wow, I didn't think you were misogynistic!”

He groaned, “Don't joke, I'm panicking! You have a cousin with babies, right?”

“I keep away from those little demons, you know.”

“But you helped your cousin with the shopping! Surely you know what needs to be taken!”

“Well, baby powder, wet wipes, and for diapers, see if you can find Pampers or Huggies…”

“I think I saw Pampers up there somewhere,” he said, spotting them shortly after. Why did they put it so high? He doubted that people could fly, and Clark was lucky to be tall.

"Here they are!"

“Good for you, Smallville. Now, why do you need diapers? Did you get lucky and your alien genes produced the miracle of life?”

"No!" he exclaimed, red with embarrassment (especially because he still liked the idea). “Mr. Wayne's ex left a baby on his doorstep, and he wasn't expecting it.”

He heard a whistle from the other end, “Who would have thought! The Prince of Gotham is not as innocent a lamb as he seems.”

“I'm sure he had serious intentions and…”

“There is no need to defend your prince with drawn swords with me. I'm just saying, maybe this mysterious ex could come back..."

“She won't,” he said, with more confidence than even he expected.

“How can you say that?”

“Mr.Wayne never said she would come back… I think…”

He felt the sweat slowly break down as his stomach crumpled. If it was a possibility, Mr. Wayne would have said so, right?

Mr. Wayne's words came back to him. She thought it was the best thing. She doesn't feel capable of caring for him now.

Now she didn't feel sure she could take care of her son. But in the future? Will she change her mind? Will she want her son back? Will she want her ex back? 

It was obvious that Mr. Wayne cared about these woman, so what was Clark doing there?

He didn't want to be anyone's replacement, not again: it had happened with Lana, and look how it turned out.

Meanwhile, Lois, probably realizing he was going into a downward spiral, said, “Hey, she's backing away. Now you have to be the parent who stepped up.”

“It's a little early for…”

“Smallville, up until a few days ago you wanted to get him pregnant. Don't pretend that this little guy's presence won't make you act like a fool."

He kept quiet, because deep down he knew it was true. She continued, “Well, they say to win over a single parent, you have to impress her kids first. You are definitely on the right track.”

“I don't know, Lois…I'm feeling a little out of my element…”

"Do you like him?"

Too much, he thought, butshe said, "We've had this conversation before."

“Ugh, how evasive you are. Look, you won't mess anything up. If things don't work out, you can always be the wonderful uncle who spoils his nephews and teaches them how to leave the house without their parents noticing and takes them home after paying the bail at the station."

“Did your uncle pay your bail?”

“My aunt,” the woman clarified, and she continued, “What I'm trying to say, you can always be a part of his life, even if things don't go your way. Which I doubt, but hey, who am I compared to the All American Boy?”

“Lois…thank you.”

"Forget about it. And remember, get the meat and fruit baby food. The vegetable ones suck. I know, I've tasted them.”

“Have you tried the baby food?”

“I had to babysit a howler monkey that she refused to eat, and I had to show that it was good stuff. I spat it all out, and  I had to agree with her.”

“You worry me.”

“Said the one who has enough enemies to fill a theater.”

“I don't have many enemies…” he muttered, while at the same time, with his super hearing, he heard that another person had arrived, and he shouted hands up, this is a robbery. 

He acted instinctively, “I have to go now. A robber just entered."

He didn't hear what Lois had to say, and he hung up. He was about to go, but first, he grabbed the pack of Pampers diapers. 

He opened his shirt, and he was embarrassed to see that his super suit wasn't there underneath him.

Oh yeah, he didn't set it up because he thought his date might go very, very well...

Dang. He will have to improvise. 

Maybe if he used speed to disarm the robber... no camera would be able to capture what exactly was happening. He was sure of it, he had seen it in the first The Incredibles.

“Yes, I can do that,” Clark thought, and when he saw the mugger, he decided that nonviolence was the best course of action. 

The guy looked like a drug addict, his hands were shaking, and his balaclava was only half on, leaving his mouth open. He yelled, “Put the money on the counter, damn it! I don't have all night..."

Yes, time was short, and Clark decided he couldn't waste time. He disarmed the robber (to a normal person, it looked like a strong gust of wind had passed nearby, and was easily explained by the shop door still being open) and he destroyed the gun, crumpling it with one hand.

The robber stared at his suddenly empty hand with his mouth open, while the guy at the counter decided now was a good time to pull out his gun, and say, “There are two ways this thing can end. I'll shoot you, or you leave without making a mess."

Luckily the robber chose the second option and fled like hell. As soon as he was sure he was gone, the black man snorted, lowered his weapon and scratched his head with his free hand, "That idiot of Willis Todd. It's the third time this month.”

Clark popped out from behind one of the shelves, and adjusted his glasses, "If you know who he is, why don't you report him?"

The other made a contemptuous noise, " As if the police would have time for me! It's more useful that damn bat than all the damn police in this city. And if he doesn't get there in time…well, there's a reason I have this old lady with me all the time.”

“Speaking of the bat…do you mean Batman, right?”

"Who else?"

“How is he?”

The boy shrugged, “A weirdo, but he helped the city during the flood, and he put a lot of corrupt cops in jail. I have no idea who the guy is, but he's doing his fucking job."

“I didn't think he was popular.”

“He's not, not really. But you know what they say, he's the hero this city deserves. Gotham is fucking crazy, man. If you stay longer, you will understand.”

Clark felt embarrassed, "Is it so obvious that I'm not from around here?"

“You have no idea,” he said. “I bet this was your first armed robbery.”

"Not exactly. I'm a journalist, I often end up in risky situations,” and well, in a way it was true, and it wasn't as if Metropolis was all rainbows and smiles. Not long ago they tried to blow up the place where he worked. 

“Well, you're out of luck. And you're in the worst city ever. By the end of your little vacation here, I foresee at least two robbery attempts, one attempt to sell you drugs…and be careful what they offer you at the bar, you're just the type weirdos like.”

Not knowing what to say to this, Clark simply continued with his shopping, and when he paid, the clerk told him, "Good luck! I hope you will return to your home in one piece. It would be a shame for a new father to never return because of this city.”

Clark stammered, "I'm not…I'm actually just a friend and…"

“Then good luck becoming good friends with the new mother. Or the new dad. I'm open-minded,” and with that, he began cleaning his gun, waiting for the next idiot to try to rob him.

Clark was speechless. Gotham was definitely something else. 

Alfred knew how to babyproof the crib, as Bruce had predicted. 

However, he seemed not to be happy that Superman went to get things for Damian.

“I could have done it,” he said, as he tended to the crib. “It's rude for a guest to deal with these things.”

“He insisted,” he repeated for the umpteenth time, pacing back and forth to keep Damian calm. “Besides, it wouldn't have been safe for you.”

“Do I need to remind you who taught you how to throw the first punch?”

Despite himself, Bruce smiled at the memory, “I could never. But you know I hate knowing that if things got bad, I couldn't intervene."

“Normal reaction for a control freak,” the butler commented, while Bruce muttered that he wasn't a control freak. 

After a few moments of silence, Alfred added, "Do you still think he's a threat?"

“Alfred…”

“I find it difficult to distrust a young man who sings a lullaby and offers to fetch basic necessities for a child. He is a good person."

“It could all be a facade.”

“Does he need it now?”

“Yes, if he wants to get in my pants.”

Alfred grimaced, Bruce didn't know if it was from the reminder of the plan or from the vulgarity of the words. He said, “There are limits to what one is willing to do out of pure lust. Have you thought that his motives could be other?

“Aren't you too old to be sentimental?”

“I'm a realist, sir. And I don't want you to ruin one of the few possible genuine relationships you could have."

Before he could reply, there was a knock on the door.

Alfred answered the door, and when he returned, Superman was loaded with children's things.

Even Bruce was surprised, “I thought you were just getting some diapers.”

“Um yes, but then Lois told me that children also need other things, so…”

“Does Miss Lane know about Damian?” he asked, his heart pounding. The woman was a shark, she won't hesitate to publish the scoop first, and he wasn't ready to protect Damian from Ra's (he would have spent every drop of blood to prevent that man from getting his hands on his child.)

“Don't be afraid, she'll keep Daminaz's existence a secret, until you're ready…”

“It might take time.”

“Um…maybe it's better. I imagine the paparazzi would harass him.”

"Probably," Bruce countered, though his main concern wasn't the paparazzi, but bloodthirsty ninjas.

Meanwhile Alfred was staring at him with that look. The one to say do you see that I'm right? He is a good person.

He won't give him a response of any kind, he will ignore it and not think about how something inside him felt touched by everything that Kent - Superman, he was Superman, he had to remember - had done for him and Damian. 

Luckily, Damian reminded everyone that he was very irritated, and that he needed an urgent change. 

While he was busy, Alfred took advantage of this, “Tonight's date went differently than expected.”

“Um…those things can happen,” and no, Bruce doubted it was an everyday thing for the ex-love of your life to come back with a baby created from your DNA in the lab, but he was trying to figure out how to put a diaper without starting a germ war, so he couldn't exactly say.

"Do you plan to stay in Gotham?”

“A few days, then I'll go back to Metropolis. Lois and I have a backlog of work  and I wouldn't want Perry to fire us. “

Unlikely, given the shortage of capable journalists, and when he said it, the other man blushed, and stammered, "Thank you Mr. Wayne, you shouldn't have said that..."

“Bruce,” he corrected, impulsively.

“What?”

“We can even use our names after an evening like that. Don't you think?"

“I'd like that, Bruce. As long as you call me Clark.”

“Of course, Clark…” and while the name felt false under his tongue, the reporter looked like he was about to catch fire.

Alfred took matters into his own hands,” Since you will be staying a little longer, you might want to reschedule your dinner. It would be a shame to leave without doing things right.”

That was a dig at him, wasn't it?

“If Bruce is okay with it…”

“I would be very pleased, Clark,” he said, and by now Damian was perfectly clean. 

“Would tomorrow night be okay?”

“Y-yes…”

It was perfect, and he could also understand whether the contents of the briefcase Selina found were really useful for his purposes.

He had always been good at experiments. 

It was all planned, and Bruce was confident...

Too bad he hadn't considered an alien invasion.

Chapter Text

“Bruce…what the hell?”

She had a curious sense of deja vu at saying that, which Selina promptly put aside.

Harley meanwhile was making faces at a rather indifferent Damian, while Pamela showed Cassandra some of her plants.

No one was sure how much the little girl understood, but Pamela hated the useless chatter but loved her plants.

Coincidentally, Cassandra didn't speak and seemed fascinated by plants and what Pamela could do.

The perfect combo.

She ran a hand over her forehead, “Let's recap. An ex of yours, who also happens to be the daughter of a cult leader, came over last night, brought you a baby she created without your knowledge, told you she was going to overthrow his father, and then left. All this after making you feel guilty about your life choices and without admitting that it was a pretty shitty move to use your DNA without your consent.”

“You summed it up perfectly,” Bruce nodded, taking a glass of milk meant for one of the cats and not him.

Selina promptly took it out of his hand and placed it on the table. She said, “And you're not freaking out? Do you have a son!"

“I went crazy yesterday,” the man admitted. “But this morning I read on the internet that a new parent must be self-controlled so as not to create trauma in children.”

“As a trained psychologist, this is both true and very stupid,” Harley interjected. “It is inevitable to make mistakes, the secret is to learn.”

“Thanks, Harley. But having my DNA, he is already fucked up.”

“The DNA was taken without permission. Have we forgotten about this?” Selina asked.

Bruce shrugged, “It was a risk I had considered. I thought that one day Ra's would create a flawless clone of me and make him his heir. Talia was ahead of her time.”

“Damian is not a clone. He is a child."

“A child who was supposed to become heir to the League of Assassins, but because of me, he is defective.”

Selina grimaced. “What ableist bullshit!”

“You can't expect progressivism from a man over five hundred years old.”

“Five hundred years? Are you joking?"

Bruce denied with a nod, “Ra's has found a way to cheat death through what he calls the Lazarus Pits. Thanks to them, he can recover from anything, greatly extending his life, but damaging his sanity."

“Not that there was much before,” she muttered.

“True,” Bruce admitted. – After five hundred years, however, his mind is dangerously close to collapse. He can't continue much longer. So he either finds an heir, which is difficult, given his impossible standards and his eugenic fixation, or he will have to steal a body to inhabit.”

Selina felt the need for something to drink. Something alcoholic, preferably. 

“How did you end up in the League of Assassins?” she found herself asking.

"I got lost."

“Lost?”

Bruce nodded, “I wanted to go to a temple high in the Himalayas, inhabited by the last descendants of a lost civilization. But I found myself in Pakistan, somehow.”

"How?!"

“In my defence, I had several broken ribs, a head injury and hadn't slept in several days.”

Somehow, she wasn't surprised. She said, "Do you think your ex will be able to get rid of her old man?"

“She has a good chance.”

“I didn't ask for this.”

She saw him hesitate, "Ra's has many resources, and he has over five hundred years of experience. Talia and his sister are his best students but he taught them everything they know. They will have to be willing to break the mould if they want to gain the upper hand..."

“And you doubt they are capable of doing it.”

“Yes, although Talia's motivations may be very strong.”

Selina glanced at Damian, “There's nothing a mother wouldn't do for her child.”

She thought back to her mother, who agreed to continue working for Falcone even though it was humiliating for her, to give her daughter a roof over her head and food to eat.

In the end, she was killed, and even though Selina didn't like Talia, Selina hoped that this time the story would end differently, and that Damian might one day meet again his mother. 

But if she tries to train him or make him a crazy ninja, she and Selina will have a lot to talk about.

“Yesterday you wrote to me that you found something important.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, she returned her attention to Bruce, “Yes, a briefcase. I took it while two guys were trying to kill each other."

“Are you sure they didn't see you?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, “Bruce. After all this time, do you still have doubts about my abilities?”

“You're right, I apologize,” he said. “What's in the briefcase?”

“I'll show you.”

Selina got up and went to get her briefcase. She placed it on the table in front of Bruce. She put a hand on her hip, "Well, open it."

“It has a combination,” he noted.

“Found it with any luck after seeing theirs on this side,” she said, showing LexCorp written on the back of the briefcase. 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, “Is this the briefcase Luthor lost?”

“It seems so. And since the purpose of his miserable life, besides world domination, is to kill Superman, whatever is in here, it could be what you're looking for."

“I don't want to kill Clark.”

She looked at him amused, “Clark?”

Bruce gulped, “He asked me to call him by his name. It was an involuntary reflection.”

“Sure, as you say, honey.”

Her blush deepened, “Talia told me that her sister had come to Gotham for something Ra's wanted. An object capable of bending a god to Ra's will.”

“Do you think those two I saw…”

“Yes, I think they were Nyssa, Talia's sister, and David Cain. Cain probably must have known about the rebellion and tried to kill Nyssa.”

“Well, I hope she kicked his ass,” Selina said sincerely. “So, this Cain somehow manages to come into possession of the briefcase of Luthor, Superman's known enemy, who must know his nemesis perfectly, without having to resort to complicated seduction plans.”

The dig made him more skittish. “Luthor may have made a lucky guess.”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

"The combination?"

"Very simple. Luthor's birth date. It was Harley's idea to try that one. She said that Luthor is a pathological narcissist and that therefore using his date of birth as a combination was the most logical thing for someone like him."

“He could have used any other important date for him,” he pointed out.

“Thanks to his Wikipedia page, we had an idea of what other dates to use,” Selina said.

“We got lucky. Maybe it could come in handy in the future if you want to hack something of Luthor.”

He doubted that a paranoid man like Lex Luthor would be stupid enough to use the same combination for everything, but she never knew.

Maybe he thought he was the smartest of all and that there was no need for elaborate passwords. A typical mistake of men like him. Bruce will have to look into this when he has more time.

The precedence now was for what the briefcase contained. Bruce put the combination and opened it. He raised an eyebrow, "That's a stone."

"Yep."

“A stone,” he said again, failing to hide his disappointment. What could a stone, large enough to fit in his closed fist, do to one of the strongest beings on the planet?

But Luthor and Ra's wanted what was contained here, Ra's had said that it was able to bend a god to his will...

“I'll take it with me,” he said, closing the case. “I'll have it tested.”

"Good luck. Don't let Damian put it in his mouth.”

“I'm not completely irresponsible.”

“How much do you bet that Cassandra and Damian will follow Batman one day?” Selina asked him.

The thought of her made him shiver. She didn't want children involved in her crusade. He was wrong. 

What if he couldn't protect them? What if a Rouge thought to use them against him? What if they were kidnapped to try to blackmail Batman? And if…

His phone vibrated, bringing him back to reality. 

It was a message from Clark Superman.

 Selina giggled, “Did Mr. Kent write to you?”

"Yes. He confirmed the appointment for lunch tomorrow. Then he will leave."

“You know, you might as well not go,” she said lightly, too lightly to tell the truth.  – You got what you wanted, you don't need to pretend.”

"It's not for sure. It's better to keep investigating.”

“You have no personal interest in the matter. Like, what's in Mr. Kent's pants.”

"Not."

Selina's smile made her look like one of her cats, "My dear, to maintain a secret identity, you suck at lying."

He didn't dignify her with an answer.

“You know, you could ask for a transfer.”

Lois had said it like that, suddenly, almost making the phone fall out of his hands. Clark looked at her as if she'd grown a second head, "What did you say?"

“You could come work at the Gotham Gazette,” the woman continued. “Long distance relationships rarely work, but if you worked here, you might have an extra opportunity.”

“Lois, I'm not in a relationship with Bruce.”

“You wish you had it, though. Am I right?"

“Mhm…”

“Would you want him to put himself in danger so you could save him like the knight in shining armour that you are? And then try to see if mpreg is possible?”

“Lois!” he blurted out, red in the face.

“Hey, you're the one with weird kink, not me.”

“Why did I tell you that...”

“I'm your friend, I have the right to make fun of you. – she joked. – However, Perry could write you a letter of recommendation. That would be right, you're one of the best journalists on the Planet. You could do well here too.”

“Lois, come on. Metropolis is my city. I don't think I could ever do well in Gotham. And then…"

"Then?" she urged him.

Clark shrugged at her, “Gotham already has a hero. Batman. And he made it clear he doesn't like me."

“Only because he doesn't know you.”

“Maybe he believes what Luthor says. I am a threat to him, he will never trust me. If I came to live here, I couldn't help but intrude. Gotham is so messed up, and I couldn't ignore it."

“This is quite a problem…”

“Not to mention I don't want Batman to try to kill me every time he sees me.”

"Do not be silly. You're Superman. You are invulnerable to everything.”

Clark wanted to tell her that it wasn't true, and that 'it was a couple of things that could have killed him,' but luckily, a text from Bruce arrived.

Bruce
I booked the restaurant. See you tomorrow at noon.

“You're really in love,” Lois noted. “You smile like an idiot.”

“I like being with him.”

"Just this?" she asked.

“Lois…”

“Sorry, professional bias. Too many questions?"

“Too many questions,” he agreed. “Look, I wouldn't mind becoming friends with him. And if he wanted something more… very unlikely by the way… I think… well… I might agree… maybe… ”

“This slow burn is a snail.”

“This what?”

Lois waved him off, “Nothing. Do you want to see the photos they put on the internet of Lex Luthor?”

“I don't want to see that idiot strutting around in front of the cameras.”

“Oh, but these are not official photographs. Someone photographed him in compromising positions, and it has already become a Facebook meme.”

This convinced him to take a look. Anyone who could humiliate Lex Luthor in front of thousands of people was a hero to Clark.

It seemed that, for once, things were going well in Clark Joseph Kent's life.

Everything had to go to hell and his day was ruined by an alien invasion.

The invaders wanted him and had decided to send a message to all the broadcasters on the planet to summon him.

How the hell was that his life?

Bruce spent the entire afternoon in the cave, analyzing the stone fragment contained in Luthor's briefcase.

After hours of work, he growled in frustration. Behind him, Alfred said, “I guess it's not going well.”

“I can't find any matches,” he muttered, more to himself than to the butler. “It seems like it doesn't exist. But that's not possible."

“Maybe you should rest.”

“I can't,” Bruce said. “I have to understand what this is about. If that's really what it takes to render Superman harmless..."

“Are you going to use it against him? Without even waiting for him to do something wrong?” Alfred asked, and Bruce didn't need to look at his face to know that the man was disappointed.

"No. I will always carry it with me. You never know when it might be necessary, and…”

Suddenly, the computer screen went dark. It was a moment. Immediately, a being dressed in black armour appeared a shiny helmet that looked like a mirror.

He spoke in a robotic voice, “Earth dwellers. Don't worry, your planet is not in danger. We are here for one person only. We are rarity hunters for our master, and we are here to capture the last son of Krypton..."

Chapter Text

Clark was excited. He felt light as a feather, his heart was beating fast, a joy that was difficult to contain. 

He was so excited that he almost didn't notice Lois when she entered his room.

“Clark, what the hell! You're flying!”

He lowered his head and realized that the sensation of lightness he was experiencing was in fact not just a sensation, and that he was several feet off the ground.

He scratched his head, "I'm sorry, I was just thinking..."

“You were thinking of Wayne, I know. Honestly, if you refuse to fuck him after this…nevermind, that's not what I'm here for. Any problems?"

Clark frowned, “Luthor?”

It was a reasonable hypothesis. Usually, when Lois came to him with that expression on her face it was because Lex Luthor had once again sent someone to kill her, underestimating her because she was just a woman.

Well, Lois was also the daughter of a military man, and she knew how to punch pretty well. Many times, he didn't even need to intervene: Lois was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

"Unfortunately not. It would be simpler,” she said, and without another word, she turned on the television. 

Clark gasped as he saw an alien's face appear on the screen. 

“If this is a joke…”

"It isn't. These guys are real aliens. And they want you.”

“What?”

“Listen,” she told him, and Clark did.

The alien on the screen declared that they were there on behalf of a wealthy client who intended to collect all the rare species he could get his hands on, and that they had been paid handsomely to capture the most precious prey of all: Clark himself.

“We don't usually act this way,” the alien continued. “But we are aware that we are no match for a Kryptonian empowered by a yellow sun. For this reason we decided to opt for a more...abrupt solution, in a way. We will not leave this planet until the last son of Krypton turns himself in. If he doesn't do it within the next twelve Earth hours, we will start by destroying Gotham City and then the rest of the planet. If he tries to resist, we will do the same. The fate of this vapid corner of the galaxy is in your hands, Superman. Be careful what you do."

The screen went black again, and Clark felt a cold grip bite into his chest. 

“Was it live?” he asked, hoping it hadn't been too long since the ultimatum. 

“It seems so. The guy apparently has taken over Gotham City Hall and is holding hostages.”

Clark clenched his fists, “There was no need.”

“Looks like he wants to keep some human shields in case you want to get sneaky,” was what Lois said. Then she looked at him with concern, “What are you going to do?”

“I don't have much choice. You heard what he said. If I don't turn myself in, they will destroy Gotham and then the word. If I tried to fight, they would do the same.”

“Come on, you won't think of giving in. You are Superman, you are much more powerful than four idiots..."

“Lois,” he interrupted. “There are many of them, more organized and unscrupulous. They will kill people because of me. I can't allow it."

“You can't even give up like that!” the journalist protested.

“It wouldn't be about giving up. It would be choosing another place to fight.”

Lois's eyes widened, "I mean, would you like to get transported to their spaceship, away from Earth, and then kick their ass?"

"Something like that."

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, “This is a terrible idea. You know that's a bad idea, don't you?”

“Hey, they even admitted they weren't on my level. That's why they have hostages.”

“You want to go to space. You don't even know if you'll be able to breathe out there!”

“I could drive their spaceship…”

“Have you ever done this?”

He shook his head, “No, but I'm a quick learner. If my life is at stake..."

"Stupid. You know that's immensely stupid, don't you?”

“Do you see alternatives?”

As much as she tried, Lois had to admit defeat: she couldn't think of anything better. 

“You've never been to space, Smallville.”

“Well, actually yes, otherwise how would I have gotten to Earth?” he tried to joke, only getting a dirty look in response.

"You know what I mean!"

“Lois, I can't do nothing when innocent people could die. I have to do something."

"Why it had to be you?" she insisted.

“They want me… besides, it's not like there's anyone else,” he added, muttering to himself. 

But Lois heard him, “I want to help.”

"You cannot. You are…"

"I'm only human, I don't have cool powers like you, blah blah blah," Lois fumed. “But I won't let you die like an idiot.”

“I won't die. I'll just go away… for a while,” he said, hesitating at last. Lois was about to protest, but Clark was quicker, “You know you have to. I'm glad you want to help, but this is something only I can do. Please, if you came too, I wouldn't be able to stay calm and I would end up destroying the city myself."

"You wouldn't."

“If I see someone I care about in danger, there's little I wouldn't do,” he told her, seriously. 

Lois felt her eyes sting. She said, “Damn. You should have been that hot billionaire's baby daddy, not been a stupid martyr."

"I'm not his baby daddy..."

She tapped him on the shoulder, “Go save the world, Smallville. And if you die, I will find a way to resurrect you and kill you with my own hands.”

Clark smiled despite her, "I'll keep that in mind."

“Do you want to call your parents? They deserve to know."

Oh, damn. He was about to embark on a high-risk mission without even saying goodbye to mom and dad. What kind of son was he?

A terrible son, because he couldn't bring himself to call them and say what he had to. 

He swallowed, "Please, could you… please…"

“Do you want me to tell them?”

He nodded, “If I did it, I don't think I'd be able to do what was necessary afterwards. But if I'm about to throw myself into the darkness of space, it's for them too. I couldn't bear to let anything happen to my parents because I didn't do anything."

Lois thinned her lips, but she didn't protest. Instead she asked, "Is there anyone else you want me to call?"

Bruce Wayne, his traitorous mind provided. 

Bruce might be waiting for him, even though they barely knew each other. Bruce with whom they had saved a homeless little girl, with whom he had stayed awake to make Damian sleep.

He at least deserved an explanation, even if he didn't know who Clark really was.

“Maybe… no, just leave it alone. Maybe it's better that he doesn't know anything,” he finally said.

Clark was a nobody, and even if he never heard from me again, Bruce was fascinating, and he will definitely find someone. There was no need to burden him by letting him know that he might never come back. 

It wouldn't have been right. 

Lois, who knew him well, shook her head, "You really are an idiot, Clark Joseph Kent."

And this time, Clark said nothing to deny it.

As soon as the connection was cut, Bruce got up and went to put on his suit. Alfred followed him, dragging his leg.

“You can't really want to do it.”

“There are people being held hostage,” Bruce said, taking off his shirt. “The mayor, her staff… citizens of Gotham under my protection. I won't leave them there."

“Did you miss the part where there are literal aliens holding them hostage?” the butler asked rhetorically.

“It's impossible  to miss it,” he said, continuing to undress. “I had my own theories about Superman's origins. I never thought he could be an alien. This explains why he had no difficulty against Bane. He is not human."

He's much more human than I am, a part of his brain told him, but Bruce promptly silenced it. 

“Let him take care of everything,” Alfred almost begged. Bruce began to put on his suit, “We can't be sure he won't run away from danger. If I were him, I would do it.”

“I doubt he will, and I know you do too.”

“My main thought is to save those people,” he said stubbornly. Superman may decide, for who knows what reason, to surrender to those inter-galactic mercenaries, but Bruce will not leave the mayor and the others to the mercy of the aliens.

When they are no longer useful, who was to guarantee that they wouldn't kill them to make a point? No one, just as no one guaranteed that Superman would come before the twelve hours were up.

Once he finished putting on his costume, he applied his eyeliner and put on his cowl. Before taking the car, he passed by the green stone. 

He stood still as Alfred spoke, but he didn't listen, his mind going to possible scenarios and what ifs.

He decided to take it with him. 

He interrupted Alfred, “Hack the city hall surveillance system. You will be my eyes while I am there.”

“This is a very bad idea, Master Bruce.”

“I won't sit around doing nothing, not when Gotham needs me.”

“Master Bruce, remember, there are also young lady Cassandra and young master Damian.”

He hesitated slightly. Then he said, "I'll come back for them."

“Master Bruce…”

“I will,” he promised. “I will not risk my life needlessly. I won't be like..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but it was clear to both of them what he meant. I won't be another dead Wayne, not like my parents. You won't have to raise any more orphans because of an unavoidable tragedy. 

The words never came out easily, but Alfred understood. He always did.

With teary eyes, the man said, “You better come back home, Master Bruce. You promised."

"I will return."

Gotham was in chaos. It was to be expected: it wasn't every day that you had confirmation that aliens existed, and that your city was in danger of being razed to the ground.

The police had to work overtime to prevent the scum from looting the shops or panic causing those who could afford it to flee en masse.

It was hard, the roads were a hellish bedlam, you couldn't walk and Gordon was half tempted to turn on that damned signal and call his friend.

There was no need.

Because in the sky he was seen whizzing, in brilliant colors, hope for all, the object of the aliens' requests.

Everyone saw it. 

One guy came up and said, “Hey, it's Superman! We won't die!”

The crowd cheered, happy. Gordon would have liked to share that joy, but it was impossible. It was true that Superman's presence could only mean one thing, but that wouldn't stop those who were already intent on doing more damage or carrying out his criminal plans.

He sighed. Weren't ordinary criminals enough? Now aliens were involved too?

“The hostages are locked in the mayor's office.”

“Mhm.”

“There are two aliens on guard. They are armed. I don't recognize the technology.”

“Predictable.”

“Master Bruce…you still have time to…”

Batman cut off the call. He knew what the butler would say, and he couldn't risk being distracted. 

He was late to stop two robberies, an assassination attempt and the attack on a mini market.

He couldn't waste any more time.

On the outside, the city hall looked normal, no signs of aliens, but the police were in front of the building and were keeping people away.

The intervention of the army would have been necessary, but what could sick human beings have done against superior beings? Nothing. 

The best that could be done was to evacuate the mayor and the others and then…

“Lurking in dark alleys doesn't make you cooler, it just makes you seem creepier.” 

He didn't jump in fright at all. He turned and groaned when he saw Selina, Pamela, and Harley there. He turned to them "You two are under house arrest."

“Come on, Batsy. With an alien invasion, do you think people will notice if we violated the terms of our parole?” Harley asked him.

“Plus, everyone will be worried about the Arkham inmates. They won't know anything,” Pamela added.

“What are you doing here?”

“We'll help you, of course,” Harley said. “Did you think you could be a hero on your own?”

“I work alone.”

“Not today, pretty boy,” Selina said. “Don't think you can handle yourself with damn aliens.”

“Usually you don't care about the good of the city.”

“I actually don't care if the mayor dies,” Selina admitted. "I care about you. If a friend is about to do something stupid, you don't leave them alone. You accompany him and as soon as he goes to hell you tell him I told you so.

“How did you know I was coming here?” she asked.

“Love,” Selina and Harley said in unison, while Pamela rolled her eyes.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, “I don't love Superman.”

Selina smiled mischievously, “Oh, cutie. Who ever talked about Superman?”

“We were referring to your mission,” Harley added, mock-innocently. “We weren't implying that you came here to stop your man from turning himself in. No, that would be absurd."

“And out of place, during an alien invasion.”

Batman really didn't have time for that nonsense. If they wanted to help, they will have to follow his orders.

He was about to say this when a chorus of excited voices caught his attention.

Superman had arrived.

“Come to think of it,” Selina said. “We free the hostages. You stop Superman from getting killed.”

The craziest thing? Batman found himself agreeing to that plan.

Chapter Text

There were times Clark wondered if he was the only one of his kind. If there were other aliens out there in space, or if he was all alone.

Rationally, he knew that it was not possible that Earth was the only planet that could support life. The universe was so big, how was it possible that there were no other aliens?

As a child, he hoped to meet others like him. To feel less weird. 

Now, surrounded by large mercenaries who threatened Earth's security because some madman wanted him in his collection, he regretted ever wishing to meet other aliens.

“Ah, Kal-El, you have arrived,” the leader greeted him, sounding disappointed. Was he that eager to destroy the planet?

“I did my part. You do yours,” he said, ignoring the men behind him.

The leader nodded, “Of course. I gave my word, after all. But first…you know, there's one precaution I need to take. Not that I believe in your good faith, but business is business... and I don't want to risk you getting the nice idea of ​​attacking us in the middle of space."

Oh crap. He didn't like that tone. 

“I won't do anything,” he said.

"I know. But away from Earth we won't have much to threaten you with, right? Put this damn thing on or we'll start destroying shit."

God, why had he wanted to meet other aliens?

Selina had to admit, using air ducts seemed like an idea straight out of Die Hard (a film she denied ever having seen), but it was convenient. They couldn't walk around like nothing happened, not with aliens who looked like they came out of Call of Duty. Batman obviously had to take the hard way, because he was too big to fit in there, but Selina and the girls didn't have those problems.

“Pam, your  ass feels amazing, but please, move on.”

“Difficult, with the space we have,” Pamela said, just behind Selina.

“A little patience, we're almost there…”

“Where do we have to go?”

“To where the hostages are. Thanks to Alfred, we know they're in the meeting room. There are only two aliens on guard.”

“Good for us,” Pamela said sarcastically. 

“Hey, we may not have Big Blue's powers, but we have brains.”

“I'm sure the brain will serve us well against advanced alien technology.”

Selina couldn't blame her. Personally, she would have liked to avoid a direct confrontation. She cared about her life, and she wasn't ready for a big heroic sacrifice, thank you very much.

Therefore, their plan was all about stealth, patience and luck. Lots of luck.

She hoped that was enough. 

She heard Harley moan, and tried to turn her head as much as she could, "What's going on?"

"I don't know! Pam stopped!” 

“I saw something interesting,” the woman said. And she gestured to the side, where there was a grate. Selina had to do a lot of maneuvering to turn around and see what was affecting her friend.

In front of them, there were two armed aliens, guarding a door. She was right when she said they were almost there. 

It was almost time! 

However, what interested Pamela most was something else: a plant with large leaves, not exactly healthy, near one of the two alien minions. 

“Good, great. Do you think you can kill them with that?” she asked bluntly.

“No,” she replied. “Did you see those armor? There's no way I can crush them like some stupid male. However, there is one thing I can do.”

“And that would be?”

She couldn't see Pamela's expression, but she bet she was smiling as she said, "I'll manipolate them."

“How?” she asked, as Harley mumbled I love this woman.

Pamela said," I will exploit the spores of that plant. Aliens don't have anything that filters the air, which is very stupid if you ask me. They'll breathe in the spores, and then they'll do what I say. They will fight each other and kill each other with their own hands.” 

“Sorry, but shouldn't these usually be spores from plants that you have already modified?” 

“What do you think a plant is doing in a place like this?” Pamela replied, amused. In fact, it seemed too convenient. 

The realization hit her like a truck, “Did you have a plant brought to city hall? Why?"

“Oh, just an old plan of mine, before I got arrested,” Pamela dismissed her. “There was a guy who wanted to destroy part of the park for his dirty business, and I wanted to take care of it. Batman then beat me to it, and it wasn't necessary to use it anymore. Until now."

She didn't know whether to be grateful for Pamela's plan gone awry, or to be terrified. She decided not to make moral judgments, and she said, “Okay, Pam. Surprise us.”

“Oh, I will. Prepare yourself. It will be a spectacle."

City Hall was full of aliens. Selina, Harley, and Pamela had hacked into the ventilation system, while Bruce had to rely on hiding in the shadows and studying his enemies.

The aliens appeared to be mostly non-organic, with no apparent weaknesses. They had enhanced hearing, sensitive to low-frequency sounds, an advantage she did not hesitate to use: she made a low-sequence whistle, like those for dogs, causing confusion in the aliens.

In this way, while the aliens covered their ears (or the point where he assumed their ears were), Bruce was able to continue his race, aim... to stop Superman before he handed himself over. 

It wasn't a rational decision. It would save him a lot of trouble if Superman left the planet. But Superman, no, Clark, was, as hard as it was for him to admit, a kind-hearted person.

Maybe it really was an elaborate setup, maybe he and those aliens were in cahoots, maybe, maybe… there were too many of them.

However, there was one thing he was sure of: he will not allow anyone to be sold like a piece of meat.

Not even Superman. Especially him.

(There were other, deeper reasons that he didn't even want to consider.)

He had to get to the roof as soon as possible.

He almost succeeded, when something heavy hit him from behind. He leaned forward. He instinctively reached for the utility belt, but was hit in the head again.

Before he lost consciousness, he heard a mechanical voice ask, “What do we do with him?”

“Let's take it to the boss. He will decide."

Becomes mayor, her mother had told her.

Gotham needs someone like you. Corruption? Mafia? Don't worry, you'll make it. And after the eleciton? Well, my dear, I'm not a damned seer!

Well, her mother was right when she said she was convinced that Bella could become mayor. Too bad she didn't take into account, serial killers, floods and now a damn alien invasion.

Could we talk about an alien invasion when technically they had only come to kidnap a person?  

“We're all going to die!” a secretary screamed hysterically, causing his headache to increase. Being locked in the meeting room with two aliens standing guard was certainly an experience.

It was the third person to scream, and Bella predicted that soon there would be another, then another and... we get it.

She rubbed her forehead, "No one is going to die, Miss Pierce."

She was obviously ignored, and although she was tempted to slap the secretary, she kept her urges to herself. It wouldn't be good for the general mood if the mayor himself went crazy over the situation.

She had to keep her nerve, at least until Superman arrived. If he had arrived. 

Bella would have liked to have more faith in the hero, especially someone who saved kittens and things like that. Unfortunately, she was a Gothamite, given to distrust by nature.

Surrender and hand yourself over to save lives? More likely to run away and never be seen again. The survival instinct was…

The door opened slowly, and there was a dead silence in the room.

Instinctively, she grabbed a stapler. There wasn't much she could do with it, but it was better than doing nothing.

However, it wasn't their alien guards who entered. There were three women, two well known in Gotham.

“You should be under house arrest,” she said, turning to Joker's former accomplice and Poison Ivy. 

The other woman, dressed in black and with a mask covering the upper part of her face, did not know her, although she seemed familiar.

“Today we are here to help the grumpy bat,” Harley Quinn exclaimed, happily, placing a baseball bat stained with dark liquid on her shoulder. 

“And you should thank us,” Poison Ivy added. “We are freeing you.”

She clenched her fist, and for a moment she feared for her life. But she heard a breaking sound coming from outside the door, and she wisely decided she didn't want to know more.

“Is Batman here?” she asked, and she finally felt optimistic. So optimistic that she decided to ignore the discomfort that the town vigilante thought it was a good idea to team up with two criminals. Even though said criminals were on the way to rehabilitation.

“Oh, he's taking care of the big boys. He will save Superman."

“How?”

"The power of love!" Harley Quinn said, making Poison Ivy sigh. There was a story underneath that statement, and she Bella wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.  

“Follow us out of here,” the woman in black said. Without you, the aliens will have no blackmail material.

“But Superman…”

"He is here. He will take care of this mess.”

How she could be so confident was beyond her. However, she didn't ask any questions. He wouldn't be smart, and he didn't want to miss an opportunity.

She wished Batman good luck. It was one thing to punch a killer clown. But an alien invasion? Dear Lord, have mercy on him. 

His head hurt. Regaining consciousness was painfully slow, and when he did, he was surrounded by aliens on the roof of City Hall, with Superman wearing some kind of crown and the leader of the aliens staring at him curiously. 

“I came here for the last son of Krypton. What do I do with any human?”

“Sir, he has surpassed our men,” said a voice behind him.

"We thought…"

“Bad habit that sooner or later you will have to break. We're not paid to bring back random Earthlings. You should have left it where you found it.”

"But…"

Tired of having to argue, the leader shot the still protesting subordinate, grazing Bruce's shoulder.

Only his training to endure pain allowed him not to make a sound, but his vision went dark.

It was as if he had magma on him. He felt a searing pain that made his jaw clench, as the leader continued, “As I was saying, he stays here. We don't get paid to bring a…honestly, I don't even know what you are. Are you an earthling or…nevermind. We will stick to the original plan. Tie him up and throw him somewhere.”

Superman behind him looked genuinely broken (hello to the theory of complicity), and the leader put a hand on his shoulder to push him forward. 

Why didn't he react? Did he fear for the lives of the hostages? He had to let him know there was nothing to worry about, but then he would risk Selina's life and the others. 

As he thought, he heard someone speak behind him, “We're lucky to have that inhibitor. I can't imagine what would happen with an angry Kryptonian and..."

“Zenith, shut up and help me tie him up.”

"Excuse me."

An inhibitor? He was referring to the crown, right? A useful tool, he had to admit.

However, even if he had revealed that the hostages were about to be freed, Superman was powerless at the moment, and neither of them would have been in any condition to fight against a dozen aliens.

He had to find an alternative solution. And immediately.

An idea came to him. It was crazy, probably stupid, and at the very least they would have laughed at him.

Alternatively, they would have killed him.

However, he had to try.

“Hey,” he croaked, feeling his throat burn. “You're mercenaries, right?”

The leader stopped, “If you want to make sure we don't destroy the planet, I'll tell you right now: we are not that kind of mercenaries. They paid us just to pick him up. The rest was a lever to attract him to us without too much fuss."

“If someone made you another offer, would you accept it?”

The leader was now much more curious, “Why are you asking?”

Now or never.

“I want to bid on the life of Kal-El of Krypton. “

Chapter Text

Clark blinked in disbelief.

Did Batman want to buy him? It was so absurd, it was almost funny. But he didn't want to laugh, and neither did the leader of the mercenaries.

“Do you think you can buy him? Don't be silly. We are expensive,” he told him, his voice full of pride of someone who had been doing this job for years.

“I'm not worried about money.”

"No? Who do you think you are?"

“Someone who can afford to  buy him,” the vigilante said, nodding at Clark. He didn't want to blush, but God, he was close.

“I highly doubt it, human.”

“Tell me how much your client paid,” Batman growled, the tone of someone used to being obeyed and who did something to Clark, even though it was definitely not the time.

“A billion credits,” the leader said, his chest puffing out. “As I was saying, our services are in high demand, and they are expensive.”

Clark had no idea how much a billion credits was, but he guessed it must be a large amount. 

Was there really anyone out there who wanted it that much? Unsettling.

Batman didn't seem the least bit fazed by that revelation. Instead, he asked, "How much is it worth in Earth money?"

The alien was taken aback, so Batman continued, “Can a billion credits be converted into this country's current currency? The planet does not have a single currency, so we must rely on that of the country you are trying to conquer."

“We are not invaders, we are here for work and…”

"How. Much." Batman asked again, and that was definitely the tone of someone who shouldn't be contradicted.

Even the leader was startled, even though he had an obvious physical and numerical advantage, but here is the effect that an ordinary human (perhaps) had on powerful alien beings.

“Hey, you,” the alien barked at one of his subordinates. “Bring me a pad. I will show this fly how much the goods are worth.”

Goods. 

He knew they were there because some rich guy had paid him, but feeling such a lack of empathy made his stomach clench.

Who knows how many other species they've done it with, he thought, resentfully. 

It wasn't right. The thought that people like that existed in the universe made his stomach turn. Someone should stop them. 

Why not him?

The thought, as it had come, disappeared almost instantly when Batman, pad in hand, smiled. A real smile that was strange but familiar.

“I'll offer you double,” the vigilante said, and the leader laughed.

He laughed for a long time, probably thinking it was a joke. Then he saw that Batman wasn't laughing, and said, "You're serious. Do you want to give me double…for him.”

"Yes."

“I want triple,” the alien said. “You also have to consider travel costs.”

"All right."

He saw a familiar flash of greed in his eyes. He was sure he would ask for more, but a look from Batman stopped him. 

“Well hell, the customer will be unhappy, but even he can't give me triple in such a short time. The Kryptonian will be all yours. There are some little things to take care of first..."

Bruce had sincerely thought that it would take a lot more money and more convincing to get the deal done.

He expected the gap between the two currencies to be much larger. 

Well, it turned out that a billion credits, on Earth, was equivalent to a little more than three dollars.

 When he found out, he found the hilarity of the situation so strong that he couldn't help but smile, which happened very rarely to him.

The mysterious buyer thought he was so powerful and rich, but on Earth he couldn't even do a full shopping spree, let alone an alien demigod. 

The leader of the aliens made him sign a lot of digital copies of sales deeds - which obviously he demanded were translated into English and read before signing anything - and then he made the payment with the pad.

Clean and regular. 

The alien checked everything again, seemed satisfied with the regularity of the operation, and shouted to those present, "Ok, half socks. We're going home. We did our job..."

“And what about…”

“Who cares about that. We got paid triple, idiot. What do you care about that asshole?”

The other made no further comments, probably keeping us alive, and the leader called the rest of his men back. 

A huge spaceship appeared above them – camouflage device? – and a tractor beam brought the mercenaries back to their ship.

The leader took the crown from Superman, then turned to him, “Well, the deal is done. You will never see us again on this damned planet...unless, of course, we are asked to. In that case, however, I will come to you first to see if we can come to an agreement..."

“I don't make deals more than once,” he said sharply. 

The alien sneered, perhaps thinking they were just empty threats. They weren't, but it was good to be underestimated from time to time. 

A light illuminated the alien, and he too was about to be transported to the spaceship.

It was done. There was nothing left to worry about…

“Until next time…Bruce Wayne…”

…except for that. How did he know who he was? Then, he remembered: he had to take a sample of his DNA while he signed up to ''buy'' Superman. 

The aliens knew who he was. His identity was compromised.

But strangely, that wasn't his main concern. He turned to Superman, lips pressed into a thin line. 

Oh shit. Holy fucking shit. He won't be killed by an alien invasion. He will be killed by a pissed off alien. 

“Selina said she would end up like this…” he thought, even though the two of them probably meant things other than Superman will blow you up. 

Now he was about to find out. 

“Until next time…Bruce Wayne…”

Bruce Wayne.

Bruce…Wayne.

Bruce…Wayne…

The spaceship took off again in a triumph of lights and noise, but all he could think about was that Batman was Bruce fucking Wayne. 

His heart leapt into his throat. Of course, why hadn't he thought of it before? He wanted to blame the impending slavery of a rich asshole and the fact that he was giving away his freedom, but he was an investigative journalist, he should have connected the dots first.

I mean, who had enough money to have a double identity? Or to be able to buy another person?

He didn't know how to feel about that last part, but he owed it. He had saved his life, and he hadn't hesitated, even when he didn't know how much money he would have to put up.

Yes, money wasn't a problem for billionaires, but he didn't even know how much the other guy had paid, or what kind of currency there was in space. 

He took a step forward, while Bruce stepped back, shoulders stiff. The other man's heart was pounding, and he looked ready for a fight.

Clark was confused. Why was he so upset? He had just saved him, after all. Obviously he didn't want to fight.

But then he remembered that the alien leader had tactlessly revealed something fundamental about the other man, his secret identity, and he thought about how he would have felt if he had found himself in such a disadvantaged situation.

Of course Bruce thought badly of him, he didn't know who he was. And well, after what he had done for him, Clark thought it was only right that he revealed who he was. 

He put his hands forward,”Look, you don't have to think...you're a hero, and I know you care about your secret identity...that's why I would never use it against you...of course, the first time we met you were quite asshole…but I won't use this information against you…I… Bruce, I know you. I'm...I'm Clark..."

He was feeling sick. It was worse than when he told Lois. Why was it worse? Why was Bruce Batman? 

Why did he like him?

He liked Lois too.

This time it's different, a voice told him in his mind. He is like you, he chose to use his abilities to protect his city. You are kindred souls, you may never be alone again.

That's what was making him paranoid, what was making his heart beat faster, what was giving him anxiety.

He had found someone like him. And he wanted him to trust Clark (he wanted other things too, some less confusing than others, but best not to dwell on those).

The silence was going on too long, and he felt nervous, wondering where he had gone wrong. 

"I knew it."

The answer came like lightning. Batman – Bruce – had his fists clenched, staring straight ahead. Clark thought he heard wrong, "What did you say?"

“I already knew that,” the other man said, his voice neutral. 

“I did something to…”

"No."

He wasn't saying anything else, while another sensation was making its way through him: anxiety. 

“How long?” 

“Why do you want to know?”

Clark grimaced, “I want to know if you decided to approach me because you knew who I am, or you found out along the way…I think I deserve it, don't you think?”

“What would you do if you didn't like the answer?” he asked him, cautiously. 

“You're really asking me that? Who do you take me for…” he trailed off, frowning harshly. “You believe Lex Luthor, don't you? You think I'm a monster you need to stop."

The rebuttal didn't come, and Clark had to close his eyes to keep from doing something stupid. Like, cry.

“So it was all a lie?” he asked. 

“I did what was necessary.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, and after he did, Batman instinctively assumed a stance that reminded him of a lion tamer at the circus. 

In that scenario, he was the monster. He always had been.

Just when he thought he could have a sincere connection with someone...

“Well. It was good, while it lasted.”

Batman brought a hand to his belt. A quick movement, but he didn't miss it. Did he want to fight?  Clark saved him the trouble: he flew away. 

He didn't want to deal with that shit.

Bruce should have been relieved that Superman was gone. There would be no need to fight, nor to reveal that he now possessed the only thing (supposedly) capable of weakening the alien.

However, he felt a sense of loss as he watched him go, away from Gotham, away from him.

Why didn't I try to lie to him?, he thought. 

The answer was obvious: Clark would have understood immediately, and it would have been worse.

(And no, it wasn't because he wanted to tell the truth, he wasn't stupid).

Sooner or later it had to end. He had his weapon against Superman, the hero was in his debt, and the world would be safe.

So why did he feel like he was nine years old again and back in that alley?

"Batman!"

He turned around. Selina and the others had arrived. Selina looked around, “Where are the aliens?”

“They're gone.”

“And Superman?”

“He is safe.”

“Well…then why aren't you kissing while an alien spaceship explodes and you've finally figured out how to get your shit together?” Harley asked.

He grimaced, “That only happens in the movies, Harley. Not in reality.”

"Hey! It could happen..."

Selina shushed her, “Old bat, what happened?”

“He knows.”

“What?"

“He knows who I am. He knows what I did."

“Oh,” Harley breathed. “It didn't go well, did it?”

“He is gone. I don't think he will come back."

“Oh, Brucie…I'm sorry.”

He tilted her head, “Why? The plan succeeded.”

Selina approached him, and she did two unexpected things: she slapped him, and then she hugged him.

Harley also joined in on the embrace, while Pamela remained on the sidelines.

“Why did you slap me?” he asked her.

“Because you're an emotionally constipated idiot.”

“And the hug?”

“Because you are suffering and you don't know it.”

“I'm fine,” he replied, but somehow, it sounded unconvincing even to him. 

“Denial phase,” Harley said. 

“I didn't expect it to last this long.”

“Men are stupid,” Pamela said, and both Harley and Selina agreed with her. Batman wanted to reply, but his gaze returned to the sky, in search of a figure that had now disappeared.

The first thing Lois did when she saw Clark flying into the room was to throw all the pillows she had at hand at him. 

“You…sacrificial idiot…bastard…do you know what you put me through? Asshole…you little…”

She wasn't even sure how long she yelled at him, but eventually, she calmed down and hugged him, crying all the tears she had been holding back until then.

“Shh… it's okay, I'm safe,” the idiot reassured her, and she sniffed at him.

“How did you do it? Did you kick some alien ass?”

The man stiffened, and replied, “I'd rather not talk about it. Not now.”

"But…"

“No, Lois. Not now. I just want to go home..."

From the tone he used, she knew he wasn't talking about Metropolis. 

“Okay,” she said. “We're leaving today. Do you want to call someone first or..."

“No,” he replied, his voice so small she barely heard him. “There's no need to call anyone.”

“Bruce?”

Clark tensed, and Lois thought that she, somehow, had said the wrong thing.

“Lois, I'll tell you everything, I promise…but right now I really don't want to stay in this city another minute.”

At that point, feeling him so broken, she Lois didn't have the courage to deny him. In the end, she will be able to make him tell everything. But now, what Clark needed was a friend. And she was there for him.  

“We have to do something,” Selina said, returning from one of her late-night walks around Gotham. 

Hey, she was an upstanding citizen now, but that didn't mean she didn't occasionally go snooping around who she knew was a rich bastard who deserved a visit from her.

This time she didn't get anything, but she had witnessed a fight between Penguin and Batman, and she understood that the situation had gone on too long. 

It had been almost two weeks since the alien invasion and since Superman had flown away without trying to contact his whatever Bruce was to him, and seeing Bruce lovesick, and worst of all, not being aware of it, was becoming too much.

Cassandra and Damian were receiving extra doses of healing, while Gotham's criminals had become the Bat's favorite punching bags.

Batman's patrols had become more bloody, many preferred to surrender rather than risk ending up in hospital.

It seemed like the only way for Bruce to express his emotional problems was through his fists. Certainly not the healthiest method, but considering that he believed that becoming a vigilante could solve the problems of his city, his judgment couldn't be trusted too much.

“These are the consequences of his actions,” Harley said, stretching. There was a strange animal at the foot of the chair she was sitting in, and Selina really, really didn't want to know how it got to them.  “The first step to healing is accepting the consequences and moving on.”

“Yeah no, no therapy here. First, it's about Bruce. Second, if we don't do something, he's going to end up killing someone, and I don't want to deal with any more angst."

“A fuck would solve everything.”

Harley and Selina turned, Pamela a few steps away from them with a cat nestled on her, “What is it? Can't I give my opinion?"

“No no, we agree with you,” Selina quickly said. “We didn't think you would say that.”

Pamela shrugged, “Sooner or later someone had to do it. Bruce needs Superman's dick..."

“And love,” Harley added. “Let's not forget that!”

“Especially the dick,” Pamela said. “He blew all his chances, and he still thinks he was making the whole show for his mission. He didn't realize that he stopped being fiction from the moment he really started to know the man behind the hero."

“Go make him understand, though,” Harley sighed, resigned like every shipper faced with the impossibility of seeing their ship endgame. “Mister J is more likely to come to his senses before Bruce admits he has human feelings!”

“Not to mention that, even if he admitted it, Superman's trust is now lost. Nothing he says will convince him to pick up where they left off."

Selina looked contemplative, “Well, here it is clear that they need to meet again, preferably in costume. Bruce is more sincere when he wears a mask."

“Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth,” Pamela recited, taking up a phrase read who knows where. 

“How could it be done? Superman has every reason not to want to return to Gotham."

“Unless someone he really trusts convinces him to do it.” 

Unless someone he trusts convinces him, huh? At that, Selina smiled. She had come up with a wonderful idea. 

Two nights later…

Bruce had gone out on patrol with a fresh bullet wound – a gift from Harvey  – and several broken ribs. He hadn't told Alfred, so as not to risk being told that he was reckless, etc. etc.

All things he already knew. But he had to go out. Gotham could not remain unprotected, not even for a night. 

(This is the noble reason. The less noble one, but closer to the truth, was that he was in the mood to beat the shit out of people so as not to think about that feeling of emptiness that he had been feeling for two weeks now)

Up until now he had been unlucky: it seemed like a quiet night, one of those in which the world holds its breath, waiting for something. 

He too was waiting for something to happen, on the roof of a building, hoping that he would soon be able to take action, so as not to think and leave the possibility to his mind to set up scenarios, what ifs in which he would have to question himself, make a analysis of his actions and ask himself if it was worth it…

“You're here.”

Suddenly, he raised his head, to find himself looking, like a celestial apparition, at Superman who was looking at him without particular emotions.

The alien landed softly in front of him, keeping a safe distance, as if, of the two, he was the one who was more at risk.

And isn't that right? After all, you never told him the truth.

Had he ever said how much he hated the way his mind worked?

“How did you find me?” he asked, managing to keep his hands still and not near his belt, where he still held the strange green rock.

“Your heartbeat,” came the answer, simple and direct. “Once I memorized it, I couldn't forget it. You're pretty loud, you know?”

There followed a long moment of silence in which Batman wondered how he could hide the sound of his heartbeat from prying ears, when Superman asked him, "Are you at least sorry?

“I did what I thought was necessary,” he said through gritted teeth, receiving a snort in response. “You were an unknown quantity.”

“And you didn't think you could do your investigation any other way?”

“What other way?”

“I don't know, maybe some traditional investigations without trying to sleep with me,” was the reply, raw sadness underneath. “There was no need to earn my trust and then…”

“It was necessary.”

“Are you saying this to yourself or to me?” Superman asked him, annoyed.

He let out a low growl. He pulled out his grappling hook and, before jumping down, said, "I don't have time for this."

He was promptly caught by Superman, who held him by the arm as if he were a very aggressive and dangerous stray cat.

“Leave me,” he growled.

"No."

“Do you want to fight?”

The other rolled his eyes, “Of course you immediately think of that. No, I'm trying to be an adult and talk. Even though I would have preferred to stay in Kansas for a year, eat ice cream and listen to sad songs. But Miss Kyle contacted Lois, told her things that convinced her to talk to me, even though, and I quote, you are a gigantic idiot who deserves to get your ass kicked.”

“Of course Selina did…” he muttered to himself. It only seemed right that she would step in after he had forced her to participate in a plan that she had said, from the first moment, was madness. “What did she tell you?”

“She said you're emotionally stunted, you feel guilty but you can't express it like a normal person, and so you engage in dangerous things to avoid having to deal with your emotional problems. Lois says that's the minimum for what you did.”

"And you?"

“So it's true?”

“I'm not confirming anything,” he growled. “I asked you what you thought.”

“I think you have broken ribs and a fresh wound, you shouldn't be out at this hour. Yet, you are doing it. I don't know if it's a sense of duty or a need to distract yourself, but you have a problem.” 

“I don't have a problem.”

“But you're hurt. And you still left. Do you need to hit people that badly?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but he quickly closed it again, because he realized the answer was a damn yes.

Superman must have known, so he just sighed and led them back to the roof. Now they were a little closer than before,” Look, I don't know why I let Lois convince me…or why she let Miss Kyle convince me, really. I would have preferred to pretend that Gotham, and therefore you, didn't exist. But here I am, because they told me you're an idiot who's hurting himself because you don't know any other way to deal with his problems, and I… care too much."

His heart decided that this was the perfect moment to make a leap, resulting in a probable tachycardia attack.

“How can you be real?”

Superman raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You're so… good,” he spat the word out in disbelief. “How can you be real? You have all that power, and you don't want to use it for yourself. I watched you, and I tried to convince myself that it was all a trick to deceive people..."

“Have you changed your mind now?” the other asked him, with what seemed like hope in his voice.

“I don't know,” he admitted. “If you are a good person, and you want to make a difference…I probably misjudged you.”

“And you hate making mistakes.”

“Mhm.”

They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity (it was just dramatic, not even a minute passed), when Superman finally said, "Shall we go somewhere else...to talk?"

His throat felt dry as he nodded. How a single word could hold the promise of so many things was beyond him.

Maybe he was imagining it, but finally, he no longer felt like he was empty.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Let's talk.”