Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Diana greets Alfred and Martha Kent with a kiss on either cheek. They run through pleasantries on the way to the Wayne Manor sitting room, and before Diana knows it, she's been talking for nearly an hour about the small things in life.

Eventually, she sets her cup of tea aside and looks at her best friends' parents more seriously. "As much as I enjoy your company, I would like to know why you requested my presence."

Alfred and Martha exchange a look. Diana isn't sure if it's a good thing or not, but she assumes the latter.

"Princess," Alfred addresses her formally, a habit she tried to break but the man is nothing if not persistent. "Would you agree that, for all of his good work, Master Bruce would most benefit from a vacation?"

That sounds...fair. Good, in fact. Diana can't remember the last time she saw Bruce not covered in bruises or nursing a broken bone. He's been pushing himself more lately and it's driven over half of the Justice League to file genuine complaints.

"A vacation sounds lovely." Diana smiles, already prepared to convince Bruce of the very same thing.

"And I think Clark could do the same," Martha adds. "He never takes time for himself outside of being Superman and his reporting job. He may be invulnerable, but his mind can get restless like anyone else. So, if it's not too much..."

Again, the two share a look.

Alfred pulls out a manila folder from seemingly nowhere. "Knowing Master Bruce and Mister Kent, I believe it would be best we bring the idea to them in...disguise." He says it like it's a piece of young gossip.

"You have my interest." Diana takes the folder and flips through the pages.

"It's quite simple," Alfred says. "A new drug lord has made his attempts at joining the grander rings. Mr. Adam West and his accomplice, Miss Lynda Carter, are attempting to escape into The Dominican Republic via the Honeymoon Cruises line. It would be in our best interest if two of your best heroes could-"

"-go undercover to stop them."

Silence fills the meeting room. Diana stands at its head with the file spread across the table, hands on her hips.

"Why doesn't Arthur just send dolphins to stop the cruise ship and nab the criminals?" Hal yawns. "That seems way easier than trying to enter under disguises."

"He called off because of that oil spill," John Stewart reminds his fellow Green Lantern. "Besides, he'd still need to find the two drug lords among the ship's guests and crew. It says West and Carter had plastic surgery to hide their faces."

J'onn pulls the file closer to himself. "That will prove the most difficult. These criminals may be trapped within the boat until they arrive to their escape location, but there could be thousands aboard. We will need Batman's detective skills, I'm afraid."

"Hm..."

Diana has to bite back a grin. She'll have to thank J'onn for that later.

"I mean, he's paying for it anyway," Flash laughs. "He might as well be the one to go, right? Not that I wouldn't mind an all-expenses-paid retreat on the open blue!"

Hawkgirl frowns. "I feel like we're missing something here. I mean, isn't this a honeymoon cruise? We can't just send one of us, right? It'll look suspicious."

All eyes turn to Bruce, who stares ahead with a glare. It deepens when everyone starts talking at once.

"I can!" Flash nearly jumps from his seat. "I'm great at fake dating!"

"I guess I could, if the mission required it." Hal sighs a little too hard.

"No one would question us together on a cruise," Green Arrow shrugs.

"I mean, if it would help-" Clark starts quietly.

Diana takes back the file sharply and the room falls quiet again in seconds. She arranges the papers neatly back into their folder and tucks it under her arm. "Superman and Batman will go. Both are some of our best detectives and if anything goes wrong, Superman could fly the entire ship to safety." She glances at her friends but both men look completely neutral.

No, wait. There's a slight pink dusting to Clark's cheeks. And no doubt Bruce's heart has picked up slightly.

But of course, only Clark would be able to hear it.

"That settles it," Diana says. "Anything else?"

Nothing but dejected frowns and bored stares.

"Good. Meeting dismissed."

The heroes leave at a leisurely pace, but Diana pays it little mind. She focuses more on ensuring Bruce cannot, in any possible way, trace this back to Alfred and Martha before he's gone on his vacation. But given the pure details and the edited pictures of their 'crime lords', she can't see how anyone would suspect it to be fake. For Gods sake, these false criminals have entire family lines!

Diana turns at the feeling of eyes on her.

Bruce and Clark stand side-by-side.

"The file." Diana offers it as if it were any other, but Bruce doesn't take it immediately.

Dread starts to pool in her stomach. How?!

"There's, ah, something Bruce and I were concerned about." Clark shuffles in place awkwardly. "He thought it may bring too much attention to us if we went undercover as a gay couple."

Oh. Diana fights back a sigh of relief. "I see. Is there anyone else you think should come, then?" She's already got the two of them on board -no pun intended- so it wouldn't hurt for a couple other members to get the rest as well.

"For simplicity's sake," Bruce starts. "You'll come with me and Clark can ask Lois. Hawkgirl would be hard to disguise, Dinah would prefer Oliver went as well, and Zatanna-"

Diana holds up a hand before Bruce can list every single other option. "I'm glad to come along. And assuming Lois is as well, there should be no issue with it."

Lois already knows about most of the League's identities. A famous reporter as good as Lois Lane has come in handy more times than Diana can count. Mishaps with costumes or simple bad publicity -which happens often, in Flash's case- are quickly swept under the rug with Lois on their team.

Oh, it sounds like a blessing from the Gods. A two-week cruise on Bruce's dime. Nothing but sunny days and relaxation. No real drug lords or alien invasions to worry about.

She simply cannot wait.

"We drop off the luggage at seven fifteen, security will take forty-eight minutes -or ninety-three, depending on how many kids there are- and then we check into our rooms once the ship departs."

Diana...doesn't regret agreeing to go. She just regrets being friends with Bruce.

"Does everyone have their tickets on hand? I can hold them if you want."

And Clark.

"We're adults, Smallville. We can handle carrying our own tickets." Lois gives her friend a jab in his ribs. He doesn't react, already focused on helping Bruce find an acceptable parking spot.

"Tell me again why Alfred couldn't drop us off?" Diana knows, but she still can't quite understand the logic.

"Because," Bruce talks to her like she's one of his kids. It's impossibly frustrating. "He needs to be ready in case Signal calls the Batmobile for backup."

”Bat-up?” Lois snorts. The comment is ignored.

Right. As if Bruce Wayne's butler driving the Batmobile to aid one of Gotham's many vigilantes wouldn't be suspicious at all.

"You have adult children too, Bruce." Diana reminds.

"Yes. And they're both grounded from so much as touching it for the next two years."

Clark mutters, "You know, they still drive it when they think you aren't looking."

Bruce's answer comes in the form of a deepening frown and white knuckles against his steering wheel.

The next twenty minutes are filled with tense cooperation. Bruce drops them off to hand off their luggage while he parks the car, then they all gather in the security line where the cruise ship is parked. Or, anchored. It's a long process and Diana has never been fond of allowing strangers to look through her belongings, no matter how non-magical they may be.

Their disguises, as minimal as they are, pass easily through the metal detectors and uniformed workers. Clark and Lois have gone as themselves, aside from Clark's need-less glasses and slouching. Diana has done little more. She's dressed to fit in among the rich women around her. The armor will be missed, but even she can see when loose flannels and sunhats are preferred over her bracelets and lasso.

And Bruce, being who he is, has gone as none of his previous identities. He grew out as much of a mustache as he could in the short time Alfred gave them. His hair is unusually messy and his natural waves are no longer forced back. His papers have been forged with the name Bruce Prince, something Diana rolled her eyes at upon first seeing it. And to top it all off, he's brought a dark wood cane for his 'injured' leg -a wound from his younger years as a police sheriff, apparently.

Eventually, they make it through to a clearing between the end of security and the actual entrance to the ship. It'll be another hour or so before any guests are allowed on.

And then it's nothing but relaxation and sunny skies.

"You think we'll find our guys early?" Lois half-whispers. "They could be in this exact room and we don't know it yet. I could go snooping around if you want. Slip a few IDs, maybe stumble across some unauthorized weapons?"

Oh, no. When did Lois get filled in on the 'mission'?

"Unlikely," Clark whispers back. "Security's too tight. If there's ever a time they'll be cautious, it's now."

"A girl can hope," Lois shrugs.

"We'll wait a few days before doing any real investigating," Bruce pretends to be reading the cruise's brochure. "But be on the lookout regardless."

Like a vision sent to her by the Gods, Diana can see the next two weeks turning into a constant battle against the stubborn will of her friends. There is no relaxing, no breath of fresh air between desperate attempts at stopping them from breaking into every single room for clues.

It's a nightmare she must stop from coming to pass.

Diana stands sharply, startling all three of her friends. She doesn't give them time to question it before she's blurting out, "Lois! Do you have any tampons or pads?"

Lois blinks up at her. "Uh, yeah. Just give me a sec-"

"You'll have to join me, I'm afraid!" Diana is already grabbing the woman by her shoulders and steering her towards the bathrooms. "I'm still unfamiliar with how the applicators work! Verbal instructions should do me good!"

"I guess-"

She lets Lois pull away once they're safe behind the locked door. She's about to speak but remembers Clark can still hear them.

"Here. What day are you on? I have a few for heavy flow, but most are regular-"

Diana interrupts Lois for the third time by grabbing out her phone and typing the truth of this mission. She waits for Lois to read it, look up in shock, then stop herself from also shouting her response.

Lois types furiously as Diana pretends to open the tampon offered to her.

So theres no criminils?!11!

"How do I put it in?" Diana speaks to no one as she types her response.

No. It was a clever plan crafted by their guardians.

"Just put it in and press on the bottom part!" Lois furrows her brows in concentration.

You made bruce pay for his own vaccation! Thats hilarious!

Well, she didn't make him, per say, but that detail isn't important.

Let them learn this on their own. They'll catch on eventually.

And in the meantime we all get to enjoy a lucurious cruise!

Lois gives her a wicked smile. "Perfect!"

Diana pockets her phone, glad this was cleared up. "I appreciate your help tremendously, Lois."

The two of them walk back out of the bathroom as if nothing happened. Lois sits back down with a casual, "move, Big Guy," and Diana pulls her purse over her shoulder again.

The boys don't suspect a thing.

A voice welcomes them to the Honeymoon Cruises line as crew workers start allowing guests to line up in front of the gangway. Everyone stands in pairs, each partner with their new spouse. Clark and Lois lock elbows as they wait near the front of the line. Diana and Bruce are five couples back with their fingers interlocked. It's affectionate enough to pass, but not uncomfortably close. She's grateful Bruce isn't taking this role as seriously as he does everything else.

Like passing into another realm, Diana holds her breath as they clear the door and step into the lobby of the ship. Warm lights fill the brilliant room. The carpets are all patterned in complex, yet easily ignored swirls of red and brown. A massive glass art piece hangs from the middle of it all, sunrays reflecting off each crystal to cast rainbows across the walls. It all sways just slightly with the crest of the waves.

"Welcome to my world's luxury, Princess." She can hear Bruce's smirk in his voice.

Compared to a throne and the power of her people, this is nothing more than material wealth on display. Yet, Diana can't help but admire it for what it is.

With a breath tasting of salt, Diana gestures before them. "Lead the way, Dearest."

Chapter Text

When Clark came to Lois about an undercover mission, Lois wasn't expecting this.

She can handle fake dating, so long as everyone is mature about it. She can dress up, dye her hair, or even kiss up to a few snobby douches if she has to. Extreme measures are needed sometimes, she knows; and in all honesty, she's been trying to get Clark more involved anyway. Yes, being Superman is a workload in itself, but he wouldn't keep up his reporting job if he didn't feel capable.

Well, maybe he would. He's never been good at knowing his own limits, funny enough.

Returning to her previous point, Lois has seen many different Justice League missions and investigations in her time. But what she's stumbled into has both proven a complete waste of her time and skills, and a front-row seat to watching Clark's love life spiral into chaos.

"You only got us one room?! You're a billionaire!" Lois stands with her hands on her hips. She knows Bruce Wayne better than Batman, but no matter the identity, this is an absolute disgrace to his reputation.

One room for four people? Four people that are, in fact, not dating each other, let alone married! Honestly, what good is all that wealth and influence if he doesn't use it every so often?!

Clark opens his mouth to smooth things over, but Lois holds up her hand to stop him. His jaw closes with a snap.

Bruce doesn't look at her when he responds, too busy putting away his million-dollar shirts. "It's all I could get on such short notice. I'm sure we can find a suitable arrangement."

There are two beds, thankfully. Two queen beds fit for a couple each. A relatively thin couple, not built with the mass and height Clark is.

"Fine. Diana and I share. I'm not sleeping next to either of you." Lois points to Clark and Bruce. "I'm not falling out of bed because you lot take steroids."

Diana's voice holds laughter as she looks back from the open balcony. "I'm taller than both of them."

"I don't have problems with the vertical dimensions, Princess," Lois says.

"Fine." Bruce huffs, as if he's the one putting up with nonsense. "We'll..." He glances at Clark. "figure something out. But in the meantime, I want to establish some rules."

Diana rolls her eyes from afar and Clark visibly bites his cheek. Oh joy.

"First, any information you find on West and Carter must be shared. If someone learns something, we all need to know."

That seems fair, considering there isn't really an Adam West and Lynda Carter aboard. Who knows what 'clues' the boys will find before they realize it was a setup.

"Second, we will be cut off from any real service, so use your League-issued communicators if absolutely necessary. Also, don't trust the ship's wifi. It's always risky at best."

Typically paranoid Batman, but Lois can handle being off her phone for two weeks. Probably.

"And Lastly," Bruce's eyes narrow. "I have a ten thousand dollar budget for this mission. All food is pre-paid, but extras are not. Please stay within the limits."

He...he can't be serious. "How is it possible to even spend that much within two weeks?" Lois gasps. She could have a fancy cocktail with every single meal and still not scratch the surface of that budget.

"Bruce," Clark lays a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I appreciate the preparation, but we've seen far worse. If anything, I think this will be one of our easiest missions yet! Open air and excellent food? It beats Warworld by a long shot."

Bruce grumbles in his Batman way and Lois decides she's seen enough. Be careful and don't get arrested. Easy.

"Well, if that's all, I'm heading to the pool. Join me if you want." Lois grabs her flip-flops, sunglasses, and a pack of sunscreen.

Jimmy's going to be so upset when they get back.

Despite the mushy couples and entitled old people, Lois is already thoroughly enjoying her first expensive drink and an outdoor showing of the Titanic, ironically.

The others have joined her after whatever League business they had left over. Bruce is across the deck, hiding away in the shade with his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned halfway down. He looks like he's sleeping, but Lois catches the way his eyes remain on the pool.

In said pool, Clark and Diana talk animatedly about who knows what. Their dark hair drips down tanned and bronze shoulders. A warrior's strength and a farmer's build make them stand out against the average rich person, but they don't seem to mind.

It is hilarious to watch the few looks of jealousy, though. If only they knew.

"Can I sit here, Ma'am?" An old, soft voice pulls Lois' attention. She pulls her sunglasses down her nose and looks up to see a grey-haired woman gesturing to the chair beside her.

"Go ahead," Lois sits back again.

She only gets maybe a minute of silence.

"You know, I do love seeing the young couples on these trips. Ever since my husband died, I've been so lonely. But folks like you and that young lady remind me of the good years we had together."

Lois is about to flat-out ignore her, but she pauses at the 'you and that young lady' bit.

"Which lady?" Lois asks, confused.

The old woman stops layering sunscreen over her spotted skin to look at Lois properly. "Oh, are you not with that woman over there? The one with the gorgeous hair?" She points out to the pool.

At Diana.

"Her? No, she's just my friend. I'm here with the guy next to her." Lois also points, even if it's kind of pointless when so many bodies are moving around.

Strangely, the old woman looks concerned. "Him? I thought he was with..." She looks away from the pool and at Bruce. Lois knows it's Bruce because no one has bothered to sit next to a pale vampire who looks already drunk out of his mind, despite being sober -a skill she had no idea was possible until properly meeting him.

"They came out of the same room," The old woman continues, clearly thrown off. "And they look at each other like...Oh, well I suppose it's none of my business." She's gone pink in the face.

Lois sits up to look at Bruce again. Then Clark. Then Bruce.

That bastard is checking Clark out! It's so obvious now that it's been pointed out to her, especially as Diana leaves the pool to dry off and his eyes still remain on Clark. He might as well be drooling for god's sake.

And, yes, she can't fully blame him. Clark is wearing the very tight spedo gifted him at last year's secret santa at the Planet. The bright red garment hugs his body almost painfully, with the Superman crest stretched across the ass. Lois laughed her head off when he opened it.

Now, an opportunity has been placed in her lap. Lois can stick to the script and wave this off as nothing more than a silly misunderstanding and move on from this literal stranger.

...Or, she could play into it, because this is a vacation and there's nothing to lose and endless entertainment to gain.

"You know, it's funny you mention them." Lois waits for the old woman to look at her again. "They used to be a thing, a few months back. Engaged and everything. They booked this cruise before everything fell apart but even if they've fallen out of love, my friend, Clark, didn't want to waste the vacation time. Sadly, we're still stuck sharing a room with his old flame and the girl he's pretending he loves."

The old woman gasps.

"I feel bad, honestly. They keep looking at each other, and I just know that if Clark's parents approved of his relationship with another man, they'd be celebrating their honeymoon."

Lois knows Ma and Pa Kent would never be so bigoted, but she'd rather slander their names than bring Bruce's parents into this. She'll apologize if they ever find out, which is highly unlikely.

"Oh, bless them..." The woman sounds close to tears, a hand placed over her chest. "And they broke up just for that?"

"Well, there was a whole argument too. Bruce, hawaiian shirt over there, wanted to stay together and marry in secret, but Clark just couldn't do it. They said some nasty stuff, from what I heard." Lois clicks her tongue. "I just hope they can settle things by the end of this."

"Those poor souls..."

There's another stretch of silence. Eventually, Lois figures the conversation is done and her fun has been had. She sits back again to watch the movie, only for a shadow to cast over her from behind.

"Hey, Lois!" Clark beams, a towel -dwarfed by his wide shoulders- wrapped around his torso. "Care to sit in the hot tub with me? Diana's getting lunch."

God, the old woman stares at Clark.

"I'm fine, Clark, thanks. But you could probably convince Bruce to get in with you." She says it just to see the woman try to cover her surprise in her hands.

Clark's smile falters when he looks over the deck. "Uh, I don't know." His eyes shine with something very interesting, but it's gone before Lois can look at it further. "Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind."

And with that Clark is throwing off his towel and settling into the hot tub.

"My word, it's worse than I thought." The woman sighs.

Lois smiles to herself and takes a long sip of her drink. This, she needed.

By the time dinner rolls around, Lois has fully enjoyed the pleasures of the top deck. She's come down from the buzz of her cocktails. The last thing they need is her being tipsy for the start of whatever super fancy dinner this cruise has in store for them.

"We should've gone first." Lois hears Clark grumble from beyond the room's bathroom door.

"Oh, shut it, Kent! We're almost done!" She shouts back as she carefully applies the last of her mascara.

She's dressed in a simple dark blue dress that reaches to her knees. With black pantyhose, sharp heels, and a silver necklace, she looks ready to go to one of Bruce's big galas. Her hair is brushed to the side, leaving her face open and exposed, just like she does during interviews. It's a psychological thing, Lois is sure. It gets people talking more openly when they can see her properly.

And, sometimes, it gets them off-topic, but that's not the point of tonight.

Diana, beside her, has brough a white Amazonian drape that's tied around her hips and shoulder. The end trails by her ankle, just barely above the ground. She looks exactly like the Goddess she is and more. It leaves a jealous little bubble in Lois' stomach, but it's easily ignored. Surely Bruce will act as a fine 'date' for her, even if Lois could do it better.

"Are you-"

Lois pulls the bathroom door open with a cruel smile, cutting Clark off. "Done! Now get ready, Boys. We don't have all day."

Clark huffs at her as he passes and Lois smacks his shoulder with a roll of her eyes.

Unsurprisingly, the boys do take less time and they're out in less than an hour.

"Do they teach kids how to groom themselves in Kansas, or is it just you?" Bruce grumbles as he attempts to do something with Clark's curls.

Clark bats him off with clear annoyance. "I look fine, Ma, thanks for asking." That gets Bruce to stop, at least.

Clark, for once, is wearing something that actually fits him. It's not snug by any means, but the cuffs land just right around his wrists and the lack of a suit jacket shows his vest is buttoned close to his chest and stomach.

Bruce, on the other hand, is wearing expensive everything and has, again, styled himself to look as close to a mob boss as possible without actually crossing the line. He has a little white rose in his suit pocket that is likely his identity's staple or something along those lines. It's definitely a stretch from playboy Brucie Wayne.

Together, the four of them leave the room and head down to the cruise's restaurants. From there, the two pairs split off, leaving Lois and Clark alone.

The restaurant itself is lovely. Dim lighting and a warm atmosphere that gives plenty of romantic intonations to the hundreds of couples likely eating here tonight. Already, Lois can see a few of them gazing at each other like love-sick puppies while their food is prepared. A few others chat happily, but the live jazz band does well to hide any conversations from prying ears.

A host guides them through the sea of tables and Lois feels Clark's hand tighten on hers.

"Three people have metal bone replacements and only one is in the face. I can't see anything else unusual." Clark mutters low in her ear.

Lois pretends to giggle at what he said as she considers this. The plastic surgeries may not have bone-deep changes, then. They can check out that last option further but-

Then, she quickly remembers that the mission is fake and whoever he's searching for isn't here.

"We'll keep looking," is all Lois supplies. If the investigation stays this subtle for the next few days, then it'll be easy to manage.

She just has to hope Clark doesn't use any other methods as their 'deadline' comes closer.

"Oh, I know you!" A familiar voice calls out to Lois and she stops. The elderly woman from before is waving at her with a broad grin. "Come sit with me, would you? If you don't mind."

Clark gives Lois a look of surprised confusion but Lois ignores him in favor of settling down at the wide table the woman has taken for herself. Two plates are set in front of her and the chair beside her, but the other five are empty.

Hopefully, this will save them from any need for fake flirting.

"Hello, again." Lois greets easily. "I don't believe I got your name last time, Ms..."

"Phyllis Coates, but you can just call me Phyllis."

"I'm Lois and this is Clark," Lois places a hand on Clark's shoulder, letting the touch linger for longer than she typically would. "Clark, do you remember her? She sat next to me at the pool."

His smile is genuinely apologetic as he shakes his head. "I'm afraid not, Ma'am."

The woman -Phyllis, places a hand over her heart. "Oh, it's no bother to me. I don't like to stand out much anyway. In fact, I was just waiting for my- Oh, here she is!"

From the right, a uniformed woman sits beside Phyllis, where the extra plate is set. She's younger than Phyllis, but not by more than maybe ten or twenty years. Grey streaks lead up into her bun, coupled with ashy brown. She has a very severe face and frown lines around her lips and eyebrows, but her smile is convincing when she offers her hand to both of them.

"A pleasure. I wasn't aware we were having guests." She glances at Phyllis.

"Oh, just a few friends I've met."

The conversation is left there for the time being. Crew members come along to give Lois and Clark their plates and menus. Lois only opens it once Phyllis has done the same.

She recognizes very little on this menu, which means this is way above her pay grade. She eyes the swordfish, then decides on something with more substance instead. As nice as it may be, she'd like more than a few bites worth of food tonight.

"So," Phyllis picks up again, "Where did you two meet?"

Before Clark can open his mouth, Lois is setting her menu aside and dominating the conversation. "Oh, we were childhood friends." She didn't bother telling Clark about her little story earlier, mostly because she thought she'd never see this woman again. But for tonight, she can steer the topic how she needs to get by. After that, Phyllis gives a passing greeting, but little more.

"And how long have you known Bruce, if you don't mind me asking."

Lois' grips the edges of the menu tightly.

"Bruce?" Clark blinks. "I...wasn't aware you knew him."

"Lois told me a few things and I was just curious about the two of you. I don't mean to overstep, if feelings are still hurt." A sadness crosses into Phyllis' gaze.

Clark, again, looks completely lost, but he recovers quickly. "No, no, we're fine. We're on, uh, good terms now."

Phyllis' entire face lights up. "Oh, that's very good! Amy," She gestures to the younger woman. "Why don't we invite them over too? Lets see if I can remember..." She's looking out at the restaurant, eyes scanning.

Lois, too, scans the room. She spots them at the same time as Phyllis.

"There! With the gorgeous woman in white, you see? See if they wouldn't mind joinging us, would you?"

Amy nods, then gestures to one of the servers with a nod and hand gesture. Lois watches with building dread as the same server stops at Diana's table, points to them, then clears the empty plates as he escorts the pair.

Both of them give Lois a look and she fights the urge to groan. Why are old people so friendly?

"-Diana, and this is Bruce."

Lois tunes back into the conversation after she's schooled her panic.

"Yes, I've heard! I was just asking Clark where you two met."

Bruce and Clark are sitting with Diana between them, but they still exchange a long glance before Bruce easily picks up where Clark can't. "On the field. We met often before I became sheriff."

"A firefighter!" Clark nods along.

Phyllis looks like she could melt. "That's so lovely. So so..."

When the silence gets unbearable, Clark continues. "I left my farm home in Kansas to pursue my dream of...fires. It may not pay much but it's an honest living."

"Kansas, you say?" Phyllis recovers with a cough. "That does make sense. So many people from there are just so stuck in the past. Leave it where it is, I say."

Clark nods along slowly.

Before Phyllis can give more away, Lois steps back in. "Amy, was it?" She addresses the other woman, who has stayed dead silent. "Are you a crew member?" She gestures to the uniform nearly identical to that of the cruise's crew.

"Oh, this is my daughter, Amy West," Phyllis says. "She's not much of a speaker, despite being the events director, hm?" The mother shakes her daughter's arm in tease. Said daughter grimaces.

"I prefer not to prattle on like my mother," Amy sits up straighter, somehow. "But yes, I'm the events director for this cruise. I manage the scheduled entertainment and its organizers. It takes more work and dedication than most would think."

Phyllis smiles at them like she's sharing a secret. "You should've heard her months ago. She was going on and on about inviting Aquaman! He declined, sadly, but it would've been quite the spectacle."

Lois nearly snorts. She can't imagine Aquaman agreeing to sit on a cruise ship and entertain millionaires for a paycheck.

"Is your husband also a part of the event crew, Amy?" Bruce asks. "It would fit the theme of the cruise, I imagine."

Amy's lip twitches. Either to frown or smile, Lois can't tell. "No, my husband doesn't have the organizational skills I do. He's much better suited for the art auctions we'll be having on Sunday."

"You mean those paintings in the lobby are up for auction?" Clark's eyes go wide. "They must fetch a high price! They're all so beautiful."

Amy does smile this time. "They are. We collect them from only the best."

Conversation dies and returns in waves. Their food is ordered and arrives quicker than Lois thought possible, but it tastes like she's died and slipped into heaven. Despite proper dinner etiquette, she asks to try Clark and Diana's meals, and the request is returned. Bruce gives them looks from his side of the table, but Lois can't much care when she's tasting free -for her- food this good.

Dessert rolls around and Lois moans at her Tiramisu, Clark's black forest slice, and Diana's lemon lavender cake.

By the time they've gives their farewells to Phyllis and Amy, Lois is full and ready for a good night's sleep.

She flops down on her bed as soon as they return to the room. Diana laughs and flops beside her.

"I'd say tonight was a success, all things considered." Bruce talks like he's giving a verbal report.

"Everything was so good and Phyllis seemed very kind." Clark agrees.

Lois kicks off her heels and tosses her necklace to the floor beside them. "I don't think I'll ever go back to my own cooking."

"It won't stay this good the whole time," Bruce says. "They eventually run low on ingredients and the fruit starts to go bad, so get it while you can. After that, you'll look forward to shore trips more and more."

"I think I hear this little squeaking thing in my ear," Lois mimes plucking something out of it. "Oh, it's a cynical little bat."

Clark frowns. "Be nice, Lois. He's right. Besides, as nice as this is, we still have a mission."

Diana sits up and Lois watches her hair pull from the bed like thick, black water. "Why don't you two compare notes while Lois and I get ready for bed? I'm sure you noticed more than we did. I will admit, I was quite captured by the food and environment as well."

"Fine. There should be a private office we can use." Bruce leaves the room and Clark stumbles to follow after him, having already taken off his dress shoes.

Once they're both gone, Lois shares a knowing look with Diana.

"You want to know what I really told Phyllis?" Lois smirks.

Diana falls back onto the bed. "Spare me no detail."

Chapter Text

Bruce slips through the halls like a shadow. Not a sound escapes him as he passes crew workers deck by deck. He's Three levels below where guests are allowed and still needs to go down another two before he makes it to the staff bunks.

He stops dead as a door swings open.

"What a bitch," A crew member says to another in Portuguese. They both walk out carrying armfuls of dirty towels.

"That's what I thought! Who drops their drink and blames it on me? And she didn't even bother looking down! Just snapped her fingers at me!"

Bruce uses their low blindspots to crouch down low. They pass without seeing him and he moves down the hall faster than before. One foot barely lands before he shifts his weight to the other. The staircase is easy work as he swings from the top railing and lands again on the next deck down.

Strangely, it reminds Bruce of his early years as Gotham's Dark Knight. Before he had six children and a Justice League to manage. It was just him and Alfred, pulling off case after case as the Rogues grew by the day. Eventually, Clark joined the tight number of confidents and it became a near-constant safety net, having someone like him always listening. Now, things are both more and less complicated.

There were far fewer gadgets, only the utility belt now hidden under Bruce's jacket. Back then, he thought himself overprepared with ten different pockets of smoke bombs, lock-picking tools, and anything else he could possibly think of. All of that just to end up underprepared for the schemes thrown at him.

Then again, who could predict needing shark repellent?

"David," A younger woman steps out from the elevator, ending Bruce's inappropriately timed nostalgia trip. He flattens against the wall and hopes she's more occupied by her phone call than looking around.

She steps out of the elevator, pauses to adjust the phone on her shoulder, then takes another. "No, I already said I got it." She pulls a key from her uniform. "You're making things harder than they need to be, Man. Just...No! No, just wait for me there-" With that, she's walking the opposite direction down the hall. Bruce follows her carefully until he can escape down the next flight of stairs.

That was sloppy of him. He knows better than to get distracted during a mission, but something about the setting makes reaching for his focus nearly impossible. He's already enjoyed far too much sun and alcohol than he should've.

A dry voice, not unlike Alfred's, plays in his mind. "Perhaps you've worked your brilliant mind too hard. A break would do you well."

But that's just it. He can't. Gotham needs him, and when it doesn't, his kids need him. Or the Justice League, or his friends, or anyone else. Bruce is always needed for something and even a few days in recovery can feel like letting all of his hard work slip away like sand. He knows it isn't sustainable, he's learned that lesson time and time again, but what else can he do?

There are drug lords on the loose and he needs to stop them. There is no 'ifs' or 'buts' about it. If Diana thought this was important enough to become League business, that he'll treat it with the utmost care.

The hall ahead is lined with doors on either side, not unlike the guest halls are. Each door has a name attached to the door, as well as the standard lock system. Bruce passes along each name, reading them down in alphabetical order, until he stops at the one he's looking for.

Amy West.

Bruce pulls the outer casing off of the lock and connects a wire from its chip into his phone, just like he practiced with his own room's lock. Within minutes, Bruce reprograms the lock to respond to his guest key, scans the card, then returns the lock to its original state.

The cabin itself is just big enough to fit the essentials of living. A one-person bed, desk, dresser, and bathroom. Bruce checks the bed first, then the dresser and bathroom. When no evidence shows itself, he stations at the desk. The drawers are filled with documents, contacts and lists, but none of it seems out of the ordinary for an events directer.

A schedule for every single event and guest star over the next two weeks: a magician later tonight, standup comedy on Thursday, musicals, singing. Bruce copies down the list, just so he can have them for the investigation, but none strike him as odd or familiar. And with no pictures, he has no way of knowing who might've had plastic surgery and who hasn't.

There are requests too. A staff member asked for time off tomorrow due to food poisoning. Another needed a new key for their door. Maintenance requests and many more from actual guests. It's all here, but this isn't what he needs.

There is no reference to someone who may be leaving the ship while they're stationed in the Dominican Republic. Nowhere can Bruce see secret compartments or files about this drug trade. There's just...nothing.

Footsteps alert Bruce that someone's coming.

An alto, bored voice tells him it's Amy West.

"Shit," Bruce returns the desk to how it was before as his eyes scan for a quick escape. There's a window, but it's bolted shut and too close to the water for him to swing with his grapple. So, he goes to the air vents. They're large enough for him to just squeeze inside, but he'll have to be careful of getting stuck. Any wrong move could get him trapped.

His fingers flip open the fourth pocket of his belt, where the screwdriver is. He reaches in as the footsteps get closer, her voice coming in more muffled than a distant sound.

He's running out of-

His pocket is empty.

Bruce tries the next one, but that's empty too.

"Shit!" Bruce opens every single clasp on his belt, only to find it's been completely emptied. How? How?

"Clark, I need a lift! Now!" Bruce hisses through his teeth in lue of whispering. In seconds, Clark appears at the window and rips it clean out of the socket. There's damage, but it's preferable to Amy finding them snooping through her cabin. There's no way she could possibly connect this back to them.

"What happened? Was it-"

"Sh!" Bruce slaps a hand over Clark's mouth, then nods pointedly at the approaching footsteps.

Clark nods once, then lifts Bruce off the floor and pulls them both out of the cabin. Sea water splashes at their legs, instantly soaking Bruce's pants through. He waits for Clark to weld the window back in place with his head vision, then they're both floating up to their room balcony. The only reason they aren't spotted is due to the early hour and careful manuvering.

Bruce sits on the lawn chair with a sigh, the rustling wind making its attempts at drying him.

"So? What happened?" Clark repeats, his brows creased with concern.

"Nothing. I couldn't find a single thing on Amy before she came back." Defeat sounds bitter on Bruce's tongue.

Clark's expression morphs into one of contemplation. "Hm...and you're sure she didn't stash it away somewhere else?"

"Unless it's on a device I don't know about, I'm sure."

Only the wind breaks their silence.

"Maybe...Hm." Clark begins floating in circles, his way of pacing. "Maybe she really is clean and the last name is a coincidence."

"Or, maybe I wasn't subtle enough during dinner and she destroyed the evidence."

Clark stops with a hand on his chin. "Either way, this is a stopping point for Amy West until we get something concrete. But, I do have another lead to follow." Bruce waits for him to continue. "I saw someone with a metal jaw replacement at dinner. If I saw them again, I would probably recognize them. Then, it's just a rinse and repeat method until we find the real Adam West and Lydna Carter."

It's a long shot, but Bruce has nothing better to offer. "Fine. We'll spread out. There's a magic show later today in the auditorium. If the crowd is large enough, we may find them there."

"Oh, good thinking." Clark smiles and it floods Bruce with genuine comfort. "And while we're searching for our Metal Jaw, we can try to hack our way into the wifi and see if our criminals are using that."

Another good idea.

"Then our plan's set." Bruce turns to look through the balcony door at the girls who are still sleeping soundly. When Bruce shook them for the stealth mission this morning, Lois glared at him and Diana waved them off with a yawn. He'd rather wait until they're up to fill them in than make another risk on his life.

Without thinking, Bruce covers a yawn of his own.

Clark chuckles. "It's past your bedtime, isn't it."

Bruce scowls at him, even though it's true.

It earns him a richer laugh and it does things to Bruce's stomach. "Come on. We can afford a few hours of rest before we're on the hunt again."

He goes to argue but decides against it. Rest...would be nice, actually.

Sliding the balcony door open as quietly as possible -Diana still groans at the rustle of wind that throws curls into her face- Bruce and Clark settle back into their shared bed. They lay back-to-back, facing the opposite ends of the room.

The contact is warm and welcome. That, paired with the rising sun, Bruce can do little to fight the sleep he's needed.

When Bruce shares their plans going forward, Diana agrees readily. Now, they stand together with their arms linked as they head into the auditorium for this supposed magic show.

Bruce has never liked magic shows. Correction, he hasn't liked them since becoming Batman. Too many times has he woken up surrounded by water and his entire body chained. The Joker especially got a kick out of watching him perform escapist tricks until they moved onto something closer to their modern dynamic.

But given they aren't in Gotham and this was Bruce's idea to start with, he really has no choice but to sit through it and endure.

They step through the main doors into a wide auditorium, roughly the size of the one at Gotham High. Voices echo against the curtained walls as guests settle down where they're directed by the crew members. This isn't typically an assigned seat show, but given its magic and their pick of volunteers has to be rigged from the start, Bruce finds nothing suspicious about it.

"This is nothing like the theaters on Themyscira," Diana mutters. "It feels so...inclosed. And it smells like wood varnish."

"The acoustics are worse too," Bruce says. What he wouldn't give to view an authentic Greek play by the Amazons.

A crew member comes to escort them down the rows. Bruce lets Diana take in the scenery as he instead scans for any signs of Amy West or...well, anything that catches his eye. He can't much see the Metal Jaw -he hates that Clark has him using that name now- but he watches regardless.

"Right here," they stop near the front row at the end. Sitting beside the two open seats are Clark and Lois.

Bruce settles down beside Clark with a flash of irritation. "I suppose word has gotten out that we're a group."

"That's what we get for letting Lois make friends." Clark gives said woman a jesting glare. She snubs her nose at him.

This is fine. It's fine. They're all sharing a room, so it was only a matter of time before people connected some dots. So long as they don't stand out too much, nothing should go amiss. They're just a group of friends. That's it.

"I feel like my chair is rocking. Is yours making this sound?" Clark shuffles in his chair, resulting in a slight clicking noise.

Bruce looks down to see its welding has come undone near the floor. "It's just old. You'll be fine."

Before Bruce can sit up properly, Clark leans down to whisper in his ear. The feeling of hot breath sends a shiver down his spine. "Nothing yet, but I'll tell you if I find Metal Jaw."

A curt nod and Bruce sits up again. He fixes his hair with one hand and grabs Diana's with his other. When she turns to look at him, he simply smiles, then stares ahead at the empty stage. They have to keep up some appearances.

Finally and dreadfully, the lights dim and chatter slows to a halt. As vibrant music echoes from the speakers, the spotlights flash in colors over the opening curtains. A voice plays out above it all.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for The Mystical, Magical Galifianakis!"

A magician comes walking out as the music ups in volume. He smiles and waves, soaking in the attention of the roaring crowd before he has yet to do anything.

Bruce stands corrected. The moment he steps into the center of the stage; he does a full spin, and his entire outfit changes from blue to red, then to yellow. Knowing it's all a play of angles and lighting somehow makes it more impressive.

Not that real magic is any walk in the park. There's a reason he doesn't dare touch it with a fifty-foot pole.

The magician is loud and exuberant as he presents his tricks. It starts with cards, as most of them do. Then, he does a few 'removed' finger tricks that get the crowd on edge. There's a thing with sand, an Oreo trick, and another card one.

"Now, since I hath proven myself," the magician's body changes. He's not nervous but close to it. Tense, maybe? A more impressive trick is coming up, then. "I shall do what none other hath done! For this miracle, I must asketh for a chosen guest! One pooowerful in the arts of love and romance!"

The spotlights flash across the room as a tremolo plays in the music. It's a tactic to get the audience anxious, even though he's obviously going to choose one of his disguised assistants-

"You there! I see your power!"

The light stops.

Right. Over. Bruce.

"No..." He groans quietly, but Diana and Clark are already pushing him out of his chair.

"But not just you! Bring your lovely woman along with you, for fate shall decide your match!"

Taking his cane in hand, Bruce begrudgingly walks up to the stage. Thankfully, Diana is in much better spirits about being chosen, even if his last statement made no sense.

God, they're probably going to make him lie down in a box and get sawed in half. Or he'll get swords pierced through his body while the magician cackles about the smell of blood.

They step on stage and Diana wraps her arm around his waist. Either to steady him or make them seem closer, he isn't sure, but the gesture is appreciated regardless.

"I see your cane, Sir, so I ask little of you but your faith," The magician holds out his hands like he's talking them down from attacking him. "So, if you would..."

"Diana."

"Diana! A strong name! Yes, Mrs. Diana! Come right this way and sit just so- perfect!"

They have Diana in a wooden chair in the middle of the stage. She isn't held down or locked up, but Bruce still can't help but grip his cane tighter.

The Joker is going to smash a piano over her head.

"I shall place this curtain over thine head-"

The Madhatter has already hypnotized the entire audience. He's going to make them jump off the ship one by one until Batman complies.

"Lovely! Now wait there as I work my magic!"

A riddle is going to appear above their heads. If he doesn't answer all three correctly, then Diana will be nothing but bone and gore. Just like- like Jas-

"Ready, Bruce?" Diana's voice comes from under the massive sheet thrown over her head. It's grounding.

"Ready, Darling!" Bruce swallows.

The magician counts down with the audience from ten very, painfully slow. He draws out the last two numbers with a flash of his fake wand, a broad smile on his face. Then, as they've finished it off, he rips the cloth from Diana's head and-

"Clark?!"

Sitting exactly where Diana just was is now Clark. He looks up at Bruce with a little wave.

Bruce's head snaps to their seats. Next to Lois, Diana also waves.

What?

The crowd goes wild. They're cheering and clapping and whistling in joy of the trick. The...the magic? Bruce doesn't know anymore. One moment he was fighting off the scent of iron and now, he's watching as the magician takes Clark's hand and bows with him.

Bruce can't help but clap as well. He's never been so surprised in his life.

"Give it up for the lovers of the evening!"

Bruce pauses. "Lovers?" He asks the magician, but they're quickly moving on.

"Here, Young Man! As a gift to your hus- uh, your friend!" The magician hands the fake wand off to Clark. Once it's passed, the white top explodes into a bundle of beautiful flowers. Clark turns and hands it over to Bruce with a shy smile.

The crowd coos, for some reason.

"That is all for tonight, my lovelies! See me again at five o'clock Saturday! I shall perform a few more delicious miracles at the buffet station!"

Everything passes in a haze. Bruce barely remembers to fake a limp as he walks back to the girls, who await them with shining smiles and laughter. As a group, they retreat to their room. No one can stop talking about the show.

"That was brilliant!" Diana's loud, booming laughter fills their small room. "Never before have I been so eager to help in a trick! That man may not be a match for the Gods, but he's quite the performer!"

"I almost shat myself when that guy came up from the floor!" Lois snorts.

Clark's laugh is loud like a thunderstorm. It rolls on in waves as he holds his sides. "I almost stomped on his head! I had no idea that was a trap door!"

Bruce shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. "Wait, wait. How did he do it?"

They all start talking at once, stop, then Clark begins again. "So, when they put that cloth over Diana, there was a plastic mannequin already in there. So, Diana opened the trap door below the seat, put the mannequin where she was sitting, then crawled under the stage to where I was sitting. Of course, I had already crawled under there too, right after you two went up on stage, so it was a fast change for me. The longest part was getting her back into my seat."

"...huh."

"You should've seen his face!" Clark turns back to the girls. "His eyes were so wide! Who knew a simple magician could pull one over Batman?!"

"I know, right-"

Bruce holds up a hand to stop them again. "Alright, the show was impressive, but we weren't there for fun." He catches Lois giving him a look, but he ignores it. "Clark, did you see our suspect?"

Clark's face falls into a serious, more gentle smile. "Yes, I did! It's a forty, maybe fifty-year-old woman. Super blonde hair and a lead wedding ring with rubies. I memorized her heartbeat." Clark's eyes narrow as he stares down at nothing. Or, wait. He's looking through the ship's floors. "Room...F46? Maybe 45."

"Perfect." This is far more than he could've hoped for tonight and all of it is thanks to Clark.

He feels the urge to say it, to thank Clark for focusing past all the excitement on what really matters but the words stick to his tongue. He swallows them down as the conversation shifts back to the show.

They have to get ready for dinner, Bruce knows. The girls will take longer to get ready, so he should really get started now if he wants to ensure there's time for him to properly dress.

Yet, he can't stop watching the way Clark retells the story time and time again. He watches those unnaturally blue eyes shine, those perfect teeth open and close around every word. He watches Clark's hands wave around, nearly hitting someone a few times.

Whatever emotion settles in the bed of Bruce's heart is wrapped up tight and shoved to the side.

Chapter Text

Clark has never eaten so much fruit in his life.

His breakfast tray is filled with little cups of cubed watermelon, honeydew, and cantalope. Another cup full of grapes sits beside it, with a third housing sliced strawberries. He has a muffin, for his grains -and a little bit of sugar from the chocolate chips. Scrambled eggs and a slice of bacon complete the meal in all of his food groups, with tomato juice on the side.

Not that he needs all of his food groups. Not the way humans do. He doesn't need the right vitamins and minerals when he soaks in all his nutrients from the warm sun shining down on him. But, he likes to keep the habit regardless. It helps him feel like he's put actual thought into his meals, instead of chomping down on whatever he can get his hands on, like he did as a teen.

That's when he found out he can digest solid metal.

"You missing your mother's eggs yet?" Lois asks through a mouthful of toast.

Yesterday, Lois had been all over the breakfast buffet. She tried everything they had to offer and then some, but it seems she's already settled on her usual breakfast. Toast and coffee.

At least she's added some protein this time.

"I don't think anyone could beat my ma's eggs," Clark says. He can already smell them if he focuses enough. Bacon grease left over in the pan and seven large eggs sizzling over the gas stove. She'd add a little smoked paprika and Velveeta cheese too.

Diana sits down beside them with a meal that dwarfs Clark's by three times. He's starting to feel bad for the ship's cooks.

"Ooh, did they just put out more pancakes? I may have to-" Clark stops dead when he sees Diana's sour expression.

Lois catches it a moment later. "Hey, you good? Looks like someone pissed in your apple juice."

Clark winces at her very bold statement, but Diana's scowl falls ever so slightly as she begins sorting her utensils. She stops again to stare at Clark in the eyes, very clearly upset.

"Go talk to Bruce, would you? He has gotten on my nerves."

"Bruce?" Clark follows that familiar heartbeat from the buffet area, where Bruce should be, to their cabin. He sees the man huffing and pacing through the walls. "Uh, sure, Diana. I can-"

When he goes to stand, Diana pulls him back down in his seat. "No, eat first. It's not worth losing a meal over."

Clark does as he's told. He lets the concern float to the back of his mind as he works with Lois to cheer Diana up again. By the time he's finished his fruit cups, eggs, and an extra helping of pancakes, Clark sets his tray to be washed and waves at the girls on his way back to the cabin. Diana gives him an apologetic look, but she doesn't stop him again.

Oh joy.

Bruce only stops pacing once he hears Clark opening the door. Immediately, Bruce snaps to him and stands with his arms crossed. A cold scowl lands on the far wall beside Clark's head.

Okay, so he's not mad at Clark specifically. Hopefully, this isn't just some fight between him and Diana. He doesn't feel like playing middle-man to arguements right now.

"Bruce, what-"

"If you're here to tell me to calm down, then I don't want to hear it."

Okay, so they're starting like this.

With a sigh, Clark moves to sit on the nearest bed. "Bruce, I don't know what you're upset about. Can we start there?"

The scowl deepens. "I assumed Diana would fill you in, but I guess it's not a surprise. She obviously has other priorities." Clark doesn't answer that, leaving Bruce to fill him in himself. "We're arriving at the Bahamas in a few hours. It's the perfect opportunity to sneak into Metal Jaw's room undisturbed and find exactly what we need. We've already lost five days but Diana wants to waste another by going to the beach!"

Clark rubs his neck, trying to figure out the best way to approach this. "Bruce, I see where you're coming from, I really do, but-"

"What, you agree with her?" Bruce is already fuming again. "I can handle Lois treating this mission like a free vacation, but you and Diana are League members. You should know better."

Oh, now Clark is getting annoyed.

"Bruce, stop. We aren't disregarding the mission-"

"Diana is!"

"Will you let me speak?!" Clark snaps. Bruce crosses his arms, silent. "I know this is important stuff and we don't have forever, but you have to realize this is our first time on a cruise. I don't blame them for wanting to enjoy it a little."

Much to Clark's dismay, Bruce only grinds his foot metaphorically deeper into the ground. "Do you know how much information I've gotten from those two? Nothing. Neither Diana or Lois have found a single thing about our targets. You know what they have done? Bought seventeen drinks and five accessories between them."

"I can ask them to tone down the spending."

"This isn't about spending!" Bruce growls. "It's about wasting my time!"

Clark has to back away from the argument for a moment-

"And you agree with them." Bruce pulls him right back in.

"Yes, I agree!" Clark is careful not to activate his heat vision with how hard he's glaring. "I say we all go to the Bahamas and relax! We can swim a little, check out the shops along the coast, and relax!"

"Relax, while we miss our best chance at finding our criminals? How does that make any sense, Kent?!"

"It's one shore leave!"

"It's our only shore for the next three days!"

Clark throws his hands up. "You want a solution, fine! I will investigate Metal Jaw while you and the girls go to the beach! Then, once I'm sure I've done what I can, I'll join you for the rest of the leave!"

Bruce's scowl falters. "Clark, you don't need-"

"No, I will, because the girls deserve some time to themselves and you need to unwind!"

He's leaving, now. Bruce follows him a step but no further. Clark turns to him once he's opened the door. "Pack your shit. I'll see you when we dock."

"Clark-"

He doesn't stay to listen.

When he meets them at the line to disembark, Diana is in higher spirits and Bruce is brooding.

"We'll save you a spot," Lois promises with a raise of the extra beach towel. He really appreciates it.

"Thanks, Lois. I shouldn't be long."

Diana takes one of his hands into hers. "Are you sure you don't want someone with you? It wouldn't be right to leave you alone."

Clark squeezes her fingers between his, then lets go. "I'm sure. You just have fun, alright?"

Bruce doesn't look at him when Clark steps close enough to whisper in his ear, a hand on his shoulder. "Let them enjoy it. And I better not see you pouting when I get back." There's a bite to his tone that lingers from their argument. He backs away when Bruce doesn't respond.

"Bye, Clark! We'll see you!" Lois and Diana wave to him as he goes. He gives his best smile, ignoring the odd looks from others in the line, then heads back to his cabin until most of the guests have left the ship.

It takes thirty minutes or so. Clark listens to the way countless heartbeats and footsteps spread out over the island's shore. They gather around the kiosks first, then further into the beach. Other cruise ships have stopped as well, making the number of guests near overwhelming, but the workers on the beach are prepared for it. There's another lunch area set up for their Honeymoon Cruises, as well as cucumber water dispensers near the docks.

Clark turns his focus from the people outside to those within. He looks through the floor at room F46. It's empty.

In no time, Clark rides the elevator down and walks along the hall until he's in front of the door. He has Bruce's room-hacking program up on Bruce's phone, but it appears unneeded when he sees a cleaning crew member just leaving the room with a bundle of dirty sheets. He uses his super speed to slip in just before the door can close.

The room is a near exact copy of the one he shares, aside from the single bed and mirrored layout. An x-ray sweep shows him nothing but a typical guest's luggage. Clothes for one in the dresser provided. Toiletries in the bathroom, a wet bathing suit hung up on the shower rod to dry. A bible under the pillow-

Wait, why under the pillow?

Clark lifts the pillow and snatches the bible from underneath. He flips through the pages and only needs to go so far before a gaping hole appears in the center. Inside the pocket is a small engagement box with a ring.

Odd. Very odd.

The box and ring aren't special by any means. A tinkstum ring with polished darkwood along the edges. It's honestly a beautiful ring. He wouldn't mind getting something like this, when he gets engaged.

If. If he gets engaged.

Nothing else is within the bible, so Clark returns it to its place under the pillow and fluffs it to make it look like it was never touched at all.

The last thing Clark can possibly think of is the lead safe tucked away in the closet. So, he kneels down before the safe and starts listening closely for the sound of clicking as he turns the knob.

His focus lapses and he hears the bumbumbum of Bruce's heart way out on the beach. It's calm and slow, as always.

Clark's own heart picks up with a flash of anger. He gets that this mission is important, but Bruce is acting as if this is any other undercover mission. They're on a cruise for Rao's sake! This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for all of them. And yes, he can already think of Bruce's grumbled replies.

"You can fly to the Bahamas any time you want."

But this is different! He doesn't just want to fly to the Bahamas, he's here on an expensive cruise! That changes the experience!

"Cruise or not, the mission comes first. You know this, Clark."

Yeah, he does. He knows this is League business and he really should be focused, but what's the honest harm in a little fun? Bruce could certainly use it.

"I don't have fun."

Yeah, sure. His kids would certainly agree.

Click.

Click? Oh! Yes, the safe.

Clark pulls the safe open and stops breathing entirely at the stash of fentanyl patches inside. He pulls out bags of the patches, then sniffs them to ensure they are exactly as labeled. Oh golly, this is bad! So much worse than he thought!

But he can't just take them. Metal Jaw would notice their stash mission and then tensions would rise. So, Clark carefully returns the bags to the safe, takes as many pictures as he can on Bruce's phone, then locks the safe again. He stands, a little light-hearted at finding exactly what they needed.

Okay, maybe Bruce was right about this being a golden opportunity, but it certainly didn't require all of them. Clark got the job done perfectly fine by himself.

With nothing else to really do until they find their second criminal. This room clearly only houses one of the two, so they'll need to follow this trail a little ways further before any arrests can be made.

Clark steps out onto the balcony and flies off the ship into the water. He zooms through the ocean in his swim trunks and flip-flops, the shirt already discarded before he investigated F46.

He passes a spread of coral reefs on his way to the beach. Clark can't help but smile at the bright green vines and purple coral. Schools of fish avoid him as they dip in and out of little crevices. A blue plant nearly brushes his knee, but Clark is quick to avoid the contact. Someone at the Daily Planet once wrote a piece about coral reefs and their deaths. It was a very important detail not to touch it.

So, Clark simply looks as he passes by.

This, here, is one of Clark's favorite parts of being Kryptonian. He can experience things a human can't. He can dive deep into the ocean and see the wonders that lie below. He can fly through space with no mind to the lack of pressure or atmosphere. He can go nearly anywhere he wants, so long as he abides by the laws of space travel. Anywhere in and out of the world.

Anywhere but home.

Clark listens for Bruce's heart again as a homing beacon. He closes in once he spots Lois' green innertube and pulls her legs down under for just a second.

She splashes and fights him until he's bringing them both back to the surface.

"Clark!" She shouts in anger, a fist hitting his shoulder over and over. "Urg! I can't believe you!"

Diana splashes over to them. "Welcome back," She says with a laugh in her voice.

Clark smiles back in kind, more than enjoying the attempts Lois makes at getting him back. "Everyone having fun without me?"

"Most of us," Diana peeks back at the beach, where Bruce is absolutely sulking. He's under the shade of a purchased umbrella with his arms crossed over his chest. By all means, he could be sleeping, but a peek through his sunglasses proved that wrong. He's glaring right at them.

For the love of Rao...

"Forget him." Clark eventually says. "We have, what, three hours until we need to be back on the ship? I'm not wasting another minute." He sinks under the water again and lifts Diana by her hips, throwing her completely out of the water and over a good few feet, where she splashes down again.

She doesn't resurface when two strong hands grab Clark's ankles and yank him down as well.

They fight-swim until Lois complains about feeling hungry. Clark's cheek hurt from laughing so hard, so he volunteers to get them all lunches as a little break before they're right back at it again. He wants to see just how hard he can throw Diana without giving away his powers.

Clark steps out of the water in slow steps. Droplets roll down his skin in stripes and sand collects on his feet as he steps into it. The sand is finer than any lake Clark's been to. He almost wants to lay down in it and soak up the heat.

The closer he gets to Bruce, the more his good spirits slip away. His smile dampens, then disappears completely by the time he grabs the extra towel to dry off at least a little.

It isn't fair. Bruce can be so damn hot, sitting here in the shade with his chesthair out and his thighs spread open, but he always has to act so -so right! The great Batman can do no wrong. He knows everything always, no matter how smart you think you are. And if he sees a problem in something, his way is the only one that makes sense. No exceptions.

It really makes Clark question why he loves the jerk so much.

"I'm getting lunch. You want some?" Clark asks in a very fragile attempt at peace. He knows Bruce won't throw the first bone. He never does.

Bruce huffs. "Cheap, old hotdogs? Sounds like the start of an epidemic."

Clark stops himself from ripping the towel in half. "You know what? Get your own damn lunch," He snaps. The sand makes it difficult to stomp away.

Several people quickly start walking again when he looks up. The stares go ignored. He knows it's childish of him to argue like this in such a public place, but he deserves to lose his temper ever so often, damn it! Especially when Bruce is so...ugh!

Clark focuses on letting it go as he grabs three plates of hotdogs, watermelon, and a cookie for each of them. By the time they've eaten and returned to the water, Clark is too distracted to stew on Bruce. At least, until they get back to the ship.

It's well past dinner and Clark sits upright in his bed as he listens to Lois and Diana take turns untying the braids they got done on shore. It was fifteen bucks each, a steep price for a few minutes of labor. And to then take it out so soon feels like a complete waste.

Then again, Clark is being overly pessimistic at the moment.

"Oh! Your hair is wavy now!" Diana beams as he holds Lois' shoulder-length strands in her fingers.

"Can't say it did much for you." Lois does the same to Diana's curls.

Rao, Clark wishes he could sit and feel Bruce's hair. He wants to run his fingers through those dark strands and admire how he's chosen to wear it over the cruise. They could look at each other the way they always do; like they've always known each other, sometimes more than they know themselves. He trusts Bruce...

A glance through the layers of the ship shows him Bruce is still sitting at the indoor bar. Alone. Nursing the same exact drink he started with.

With a sigh, Clark stands from the bed. "I'll be back," He tells the girls without stopping.

"Okay!" Lois barely acknowledges him.

"Have Hera's strength, Kal." Diana gives him a warrior's salute and it actually helps lift the crushing frustration.

All the way to the bar, Clark is preparing what he'll say. He needs to be direct, but not too direct. Play at the humor of it, if any can be found. Be honest first and foremost. Bruce won't respond well if he senses Clark is watering down or lightening his true feelings on the matter. Which will prove to be the greatest challenge of all.

All of his planning goes straight out the window when Clark sits down.

"I'm not going to apologize," Bruce speaks first. "But...maybe I've been too uptight."

Clark looks at him, unamused. That's one of Bruce's best not-apologies yet. He should get a medal.

"This is important, though. You do know that, right? You know that not solving this will only make things spread?"

"I know," Clark's voice comes out as a sigh. "But do you know why Diana and I feel so strongly about our side?"

There's a very long pause. "We're from different tax brackets," Bruce mutters eventually.

"Yes, but there's more to it." Clark shifts closer, a hand coming to also circle the shot glass. His fingers tingle where they brush Bruce's bare skin. "We're tired, Bruce. We've been solving case after case for months now. I've been rushing between my two jobs and Diana's got literal God- uh, 'you know what's, on her hands." He risks a glance around the bar, suddenly anxious of eavesdroppers.

"I know." Bruce doesn't move his hand away. If anything, he too gets closer. "I...I do know."

Their knees knock together. "Alright, let me ask you this. What if we solve the mission early? Will you still pull us out of the cruise?"

"I don't see why we'd stay, but..." Bruce bites at the dry skin on his lip, eyes wandering under his lashes. "But suppose we do. I guess there wouldn't be too much harm in getting my money's worth."

A smile pull at Clark's lips. He knew they could find a middle ground. "Then we'll settle this argument here. We keep working on this case but maybe a little fun can be had too. It sounds like a tempting deal to me." He offers his hand with a shrug.

Bruce takes it in a firm grip, but he doesn't shake yet. "Mission first, play second. Agreed?"

"Perfectly."

They shake on it and settle back into their respective seats. After Bruce has finished the last of his drink, Clark passes the waterproof phone.

Bruce lifts it and scrolls through the pictures Clark took in F46. "Jesus..."

"Mission first, Bruce. Then play. Just like I promised."

"Yeah, I suppose you did." Bruce pockets it as he stands. He slaps a random sum of bills on the counter then guides them out of the bar. "I'll apologize to Diana tomorrow. I'm too tired to do that again."

Clark genuinely laughs this time. "Beating people half to death doesn't exhaust you, but admitting fault does? No wonder you've run through so many Rob -uh, birds."

"Nice catch," Bruce snickers sarcastically. "And here I thought the speedo would give us away."

Clark blinks, stopping in the middle of the hall. "What's wrong with my swim trunks? Bruce?"

He doesn't get a reply.

Chapter Text

Diana considers revealing the truth of their vacation several times. Both Clark and Bruce take their roles as heroes very seriously, and to watch them chase a ghost? Her guilt seems to weigh heavier and heavier with each passing day.

She almost lets it slip during her argument with Bruce. He was so upset with her and Diana with him -even though he had every reason and she truly didn't. The words, "none of this is real to begin with," nearly left the tip of her tongue, where it's been caged up. But she didn't say it, and both boys remain oblivious.

The itch hits her again when Bruce comes to apologize.

"I don't believe my point was wrong, but I went about it in a...a hurtful way." Bruce looks at her, but their eyes don't meet. Diana can't bear it.

"Bruce, you don't-"

"I do," He interrupts. "I should know better than to communicate with my team like that. If it were Robin, I would've been disappointed."

Diana bites her lip.

"And I already told Clark that I would not only allow you and Lois more time to enjoy the cruise, but I would try to as well."

That, Diana doesn't expect. "You'll enjoy it? How so?"

The tension in Bruce's jaw seems to ease. "I'll relax. Maybe do some on-board activities. I'll be attending the auction tonight, but that's for the case."

Like a golden star falling upon her, Diana sees the opportunity dance within her grasp. She snatches it up before he can say another thing. "Why don't I go instead?"

"Diana, you don't have to-"

"You were right in asking me to take a more active role in this case! I would like to make my own amends in doing just that!" She makes it known she won't be deterred in the raise of her brows and the press of her lips.

Bruce, thankfully, relents.

"Alright. I can give you a brief report on what I'm looking for."

Holding back a sigh of relief, Diana takes his hand and shakes it graciously. "Thank you for trusting me with this, Bruce."

Now, some poor, disabled woman won't be hounded by Batman himself. And who knows? Perhaps one of the fine art pieces will catch her eye.

"And he just accepted it?" Lois lifts her sunglasses in her surprise. She's laid out on a beach chair near the pool, a piña colada in the other hand. Her swimwear is quite beautiful as it hugs Lois' best features just perfectly. Even if Diana has had to act as a guardian, warding off unwanted gazes from her friend. "Huh. Who knew the guy could be reasoned with."

"I was surprised too," Diana agrees. "He's usually more...hm, strict?" Ever since the start of the Justice League, Batman has always been insistent everything happens under his watch and by his rules. Of course, it helps that his rules act as their main line of security, but even so, the act can seem a little obsessive. Especially to newer members.

Lois sits back again. "It was good you didn't tell him, though."

Diana blinks at her. "How did you know I was pondering that?"

The journalist takes a long sip of her drink. "I can read bodies, Princess. It's part of my job. And your body," She flashes Diana a look. "is just screaming 'guilty'."

Diana had no idea she was so obvious. Heat crosses her face and she tries twice to compose herself. "Right. Apolo-"

"Don't." Lois stops her with a kinder expression. "I mean it. It's best the boys don't know yet. Bruce has just agreed to start relaxing and Clark's drive is slowing down. Telling them will just make everyone upset again and risk getting us all kicked from the cruise."

She does have a point, Diana must admit. She can only imagine Bruce's anger if- when he finds out. He'll be upset about the waste of his time and resources. But until then, Diana can carry this guilt. Especially if it's for the betterment of them all.

"So," Lois starts again as she lowers her sunglasses. "If Bruce isn't going to that auction, then what's he gonna do?"

"I...don't know," Diana says. "He didn't mention looking forward to any events. Should we suggest something?"

A stranger -a younger man with a flat nose- turns to join the conversation before Lois can respond. "You're talking about Bruce and Clark from the magic show?"

Diana exchanges a look with Lois. Then, both of them stare at the stranger.

"...Yes," Lois says, eventually.

"Well," The stranger continues. "They could always come to bachata class!"

Another glance at Lois shows that she's just as confused as Diana is. "Bachata?" Diana asks.

"It's like salsa but slower. Good for someone with a leg injury." The stranger's smile widens.

Salsa? "The food?" Diana questions.

Lois snorts. "The dance. It's Latin, I think. Super sexy and romantic and way less boring than the waltz."

"Starts an hour after the auction!" The stranger grins. "I've gone with my wife a few times and we love it!"

"I don't know," Diana frowns. "Is this not a two-person dance? An odd-numbered group could make this uncomfortable."

The stranger scrambles to answer. "No, no! It's -uh- there's a three-way version too!" They seem to be sweating a little. Diana can't quite understand their stress.

"Or," Lois' lips turn up in a playfully mischievous smirk. "I could always accompany Diana to the auction. I'd love to blow some money on art."

"Perfect!" The stranger agrees eagerly. "Then your odd number will be fixed!"

Diana looks between the two of them as something unspoken seems to form. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" She's asking Lois mostly.

"Oh, Princess," Lois says, "I'm certain."

Presenting this information to the boys is a careful game that Diana is most skilled in. Each question and argument is easily explained away by this or that excuse. This, she doesn't feel guilty about.

Why are they signed up for the bachata classes? It's an excellent way to keep them moving while on a crowded ship.

Why isn't Lois joining them, as Clark's fake partner? Easy. Diana needs her investigative skills at the auction.

Are they really supposed to go, just the two of them, to learn a dance reputed as sensual and romantic? Yes. They are.

"Diana, I really don't know-"

"Clark." Diana holds her friend's hands between her own. "I need to know you two will manage yourselves. If I worry for you, I can't focus on Metal Jaw."

He swallows. "I suppose we can handle it since you already signed us up-"

"Perfect. Now, Lois and I will be staying late for dinner once the auction is over. Don't bother waiting up for us." Diana gathers her shawl as she joins Lois at the door. "Do have fun."

Bruce frowns. "Remember your budget, Diana. And please, refrain from buying everything at auction."

"I can behave, Bruce." She waves him off, already closing the door behind her. "Enjoy your bachata!"

She can't help but laugh once they're -mostly- out of earshot. Lois joins in with a sweet giggle.

The auction room is just as elegant as the rest of the ship. Red walls with gold trims and carved patterns along the ceiling. The red is disrupted by likely hundreds of paintings scattered across the entirety of the room. At the very front is a single podium, where the auctioneer stands. She's already calling out prices to the large group before her, her hands gesturing to the small painting to her left of a little girl in a forest.

It sells at four hundred dollars, then they move on to the next painting.

Diana takes it all in slowly. She grabs a glass of champagne off a server's tray, then sits back to examine each painting available. Most seem like modern adaptations of popular masterpieces, while others clearly depict powerful messages.

But high on the right wall, nearly lost among the larger, more colorful paintings, is an artwork of a tanned woman dressed in Greek robes and armor. Her sash flows behind her in a spray of purple, but her spear shines a vibrant red against the pale whites and yellows. Despite the violent act, the warrior's face is beautiful and relaxed. This is her livelihood, it tells Diana. This is her nature.

It pulls Diana's heart with a quick flutter. It looks...so much like her mother. Strong and soft. Brave and nurturing. A leader of Amazons.

"Is that our 'Metal Jaw'?" Lois asks, pulling Diana from the painting. Lois points to a middle-aged woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun. The same woman Clark pointed out to her days prior. "She doesn't seem very suspicious," Lois remarks with a note of humor.

"The boys will want us to gather information," Diana says. "Perhaps we can watch what painting she bids for? I would rather avoid another argument over priorities and our mission."

Lois smiles up at her with a raise of her own glass. "And in the meantime, we'll enjoy ourselves to some free champagne."

"Indeed," Diana returns the gesture.

Pieces go by seemingly in a blur. Diana can't keep track of them as they are set up for display, auctioned, and then replaced with another. The number of small, red checks under each piece grows by the minute. Soon, more than half of the room has been auctioned. She dearly hopes Lois has kept track of Metal Jaw's actions because Diana certainly hasn't.

She's much more focused on looking at the tan woman.

The way the warrior holds her spear is almost correct. Ares would lecture her on proper finger placement and raising her elbow, but for someone who has likely never even seen the weapon, it's a remarkable depiction.

And the look in her eyes. It's so...the words can't quite describe this feeling. The woman knows the weight of her actions, yet she is not deterred. She still kills.

Diana gasps when the painting is lifted off of the wall. She tracks it with eyes of a hawk until it's set at the head of the room, beside the auctioneer.

"The Huntress, by M. Elise Robbie. Starting at two thousand!"

Diana's frozen. She can battle any kind of aberration or monster with her bare fists, but here and now, Diana can't bring herself to move. Her lips are stuck hanging agape, eyes only on that woman's face. She wants to rise above the bidders around her, to claim such a masterpiece for herself, but she can't bring the words out.

Shame takes her like the grip of her lasso. Who is she to own something so beautiful? To own at all? Diana is a Goddess, an Amazon. What use is some painting to her? What good would it do, hanging where only she would admire?

"Four thousand!" Lois raises her arm high.

The room goes silent.

Diana stares down at her.

"Four thousand, going once! Twice! Sold!" A red check marks the painting sold and it's taken to the back by crew members.

The room falls away as Diana watches Lois lower her arm again and return the gaze with nothing more than a wink.

"...Why?" Diana gasps. "How did you..."

"I noticed you looking and figured we might as well spend some of Bruce's budget." Lois shrugs as if it's nothing at all.

"But..." Diana can't find an argument. She's lost in the deep brown of Lois' eyes and the soft curve of her features as her cheeks begin to heat up.

The expression starts to fall as Lois' joy visibly dampens. "Hey, if you really didn't want it-"

Diana cuts her off with a powerful hug. She's careful not to crush, but any bruising can't be blamed when Diana's heart is leaping and laughter bubbles out like the sea foam of Themyscira's beach. "Thank you!" She kisses Lois' cheek with a hard press.

If Lois was red before, she is now ten shades brighter. "Haha, it's nothing!" She ducks her head but her expression radiates light despite her hiding.

"You are a gift from the Gods, Miss Lane! A creature of beauty hand-crafted by aphrodite herself-"

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Lois pulls away in attempts to compose herself. Diana struggles to do the same. "Let's grab your painting and...uh, sit somewhere. Dinner? You hungry? Yeah, dinner's a good...good idea."

Diana nods, finally concentrating on what's important. "Right. I believe I saw them take it to the back. I'm sure we can ask to retrieve it early."

The two of them cross to the back of the room, soft 'excuse me's exchanged as they do. When they get to the door leading to some kind of storage area, Diana sees no crew member in sight. She waits for one minute, then two, then five. When no one shows, she decides to step past herself.

"Wait, you can't-"

"I'm only grabbing what I own, Lois." Diana reasons. "There should be no-"

"What are you doing back here?!"

It appears she was wrong. Two crew members immediately back away from the painting they're touching when Diana and Lois step into the room. They look frantic, their hands quick to cover whatever it is they're doing.

"So sorry! My friend just wanted her painting back! Is there a chance we can retrieve it?"

Diana looks closer at the painting they're holding. It depicts an Italian-looking water fountain in the rays of morning light, water glistening down into a green garden. But the two are stationed behind the canvas, where they're taping something. At least, it appears as if they're taping something, from the roll beside their feet.

"Yes!" One of the two -a young man with thick curls- jumps into action. He looks through them with a careful eye. "Which one?"

"Huntress, by M. Robbie?"

Diana shifts to get a better view of the back of the canvas, but the second crew member -a similarly aged woman with just as curly, blonde hair- turns it away with a glare. Diana catches sight of her nametag and commits it to memory. Carmen B.

"Here it is!" The boy returns and Lois takes it between her arms. His name is David M. She'll remember that. "Now, please leave! This area is ship crew only!"

"Already leaving. Thank you." Lois nods in thanks, then pulls Diana along as best she can with a painting in her arms.

Diana goes along reluctantly. How odd...

"Come on, Princess. Let's put this where it won't get hurt." Lois huffs as she walks it out of the auction room and to the elevators. She sets it down with a sigh. "Huh. She kind of looks like you."

Diana also looks at the painting, the odd crew members now gone from her mind, for the moment. She smiles, reminded of the beauty of it. "It reminds me of my mother."

Lois whistles. "Your mom looks like this?"

"It's the expression she wears. My mother often looks the same."

"Ah." Lois nods silently. "You'll have to tell me stories over dinner."

"Yes," Diana agrees as the warm feeling returns, more subdued this time. "I will."

Chapter Text

Clark is nervous and Bruce can't place exactly why. It started when Diana announced she had signed them up for bachata classes, something he was not aware of until just over an hour before its start. And while he would have preferred she at least tell him earlier, it's not like he's against the idea of dancing classes.

"Why aren't you upset about this?" Clark asks as they walk to their destination. His shoulders are practically covering his ears with how tense he is. "We can't do this! We have a cover story to uphold! What will everyone think when we come as just the two of us? When we dance together?"

Is that the issue Clark has? He doesn't want to dance with Bruce?

"We won't," Bruce says simply. "There will be other people for us to partner with for the duration of the class. No one teaches dance without odd numbers in mind."

Like the flip of a coin -dammit, Harvey- Clark relaxes. "Oh, good," Clark breathes. "Ah, no offense, Bruce. I just...uh, I'm not sure if us dancing would-"

"I get it." Bruce cuts in without meaning to. The reaction surprises him. Why does the thought of Clark not wanting to dance with him...ache?

Bruce is quick to shove it aside. Ignore it. It doesn't matter. "We can't afford to be compromised, even if Diana's leading at the moment."

"Right. Yeah."

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

As soon as they step into the room, the two dance instructors -both dressed in bright red formalwear- turn to watch them. The gaze doesn't last long, but it's strangely intense and Bruce does notice a few lingering peeks before the class officially begins.

It's odd, but not enough evidence to justify Bruce looping them in as suspects of drug trafficking.

The female instructor claps her hands twice, gathering their attention. "Alright, alright! Let's spread out on the dance floor, lovely couples! Stand in front of the tape squares! If you can't find one, come to the front of follow along."

Couples shuffle through the room, dividing from their pairs but never straying far. Bruce tries to stay close to Clark, but there's little he can do when everyone else is rushing to stand on their squares. He ends up directly behind Clark, in the very back row. It'll work, especially with his cane set against the wall a foot or so away.

"Hello, Honeymoon Cruises!" The male instructor stands beside the other, their hands locked together tightly. "I am George and this is my wife Susan. We've been dancing the bachata in the Dominican Republic for-"

He goes on about their career and the history of the dance. It's tidbits he already looked up before coming to the class. George and Susan do well as dance instructors and their son, Xolo, typically stays on the ship with them during long cruises. They were married five years ago and are still going strong in their love for dance and teaching. Susan studied chemistry in college before switching careers. George won an award for dance in California and worked at the bachata camp upon its opening, where he met Susan.

It's all detailed in their social media. Bruce took notes, just in case.

"Now, for what you're all here for," Susan separates from her husband to stand in front of her designated tape square. It's divided into nine squares, all of which barely fit her two feet. "First, I'm going to show you a few variations of three-steps you'll need for this dance. First, is the Cross Back. Also known as Cruzado Atrás."

Susan shuffles over the squares in smooth, swaying motions. Her hips move elegantly with every step she takes, her hands naturally adjusting to accommodate every imbalance. Her feet go from right to left and front to back.

"Do it with me!"

They go slower this time, which Bruce is thankful for. He has little trouble in memorizing the simple steps and attempting to loosen his movements each time he attempts.

But Clark, on the other hand, struggles. His steps are stiff and lean too heavily forward. Clark never looks up from his feet as he stumbles to place his feet into each square.

"Loosen-" Bruce steps forward to help.

"Do you need-"

Bruce stops dead as the person to Clark's right does the same. She stops, looks at Bruce in embarrassment, then quickly backs out at the same time Bruce does.

"No, no, you should help him!" She insists.

"It's fine, you seem to have a better handle-"

"No, go ahead!"

Bruce stops when Clark waves his hands to dismiss them. "I'm alright, thanks! I just need to get more used to it."

"...If you're sure." Bruce steps back to his own square. As if they were waiting, the instructors continue with the next style.

This one is simpler than the last. It's a series of two-steps to either side. Again, the way of hips makes the transition more natural. Clark gathers this one faster and Bruce has to look away when he genuinely starts getting into it.

"Alright, now let's add some music! A lot of this dance is based on feeling, so feel free to mix up some moves of your own using these three-steps!"

The music, a specific genre of Latin dance song, is mostly led by maracas, bangos, and guitar. It has a smoother sound to it, more romantic lyrics. The energy usually found in salsa music is all but gone with the absence of piano.

Clark throws some of his Kansas square-dance into it and Bruce has to stop himself from laughing. It strangely fits, less in a bachata way and in a very...Clark way. His heels stomp harder than they should for the smooth dance, but the grin he throws back is worth any awkwardness.

"Let's correct some posture! Remember to keep your knees loose, arms above your waist, and your hips moving! Sway, sway, like the water!" George demonstrates the proper way to move as Susan goes around helping those who need it.

She, of course, lands on Clark second.

"Like this," Susan holds Clark by the waist and Bruce nearly chokes. He can't hear the rest of what the instructor says against the rush of blood in his ears and the pounding in his chest. He feels hot and his stomach rolls dangerously when Susan pulls Clark a little closer.

Bruce turns away to sit the rest of this out, his hands already gripping his 'injured' leg.

"Bruce? Are you okay?"

He doesn't expect Clark to notice immediately.

"Fine. Just...keep going." The words are difficult to spit out against the growing lump in his throat.

Bruce sits. He breathes in, holds it, then hisses it out again. What the hell is this? Bruce has defused bombs with a steadier heart than now. He trained hard to control his body exactly how he needs. Every breath, every movement is controlled. He owns his body, he moves it. Yet, Bruce can do little against the physical pain blooming in his chest. It starts to ease when he sees Clark is alone once again.

"Now, let's partner up!" Susan announces. "We'll show simple ways to use what we learned, then I'll go help anyone who's missing their partner."

Bruce looks on in dread as Susan and George do their three-steps together, bodies almost uncomfortably close. She spins, he pulls her in for a kiss, then they separate.

She finds Clark again. The only person alone. Bruce's fingers turn white against his wooden cane and the feeling is back two-fold.

He watches them with eyes that burn. It's a miracle he isn't the one with heat vision because the pair would be nothing more than a pile of burnt flesh at this point. Bruce's lips curl down as Susan lets Clark hold her hands above their heads. It morphs into a proper hold, tight around Susan's waist, and the movement of their hips is properly inappropriate now. There is nothing innocent about it. Nothing cute or sweet about the way Clark smiles at her, the way her hands slide down his arm when she spins-

Jealousy, Bruce realizes all too late. This disgusting, dark feeling is jealousy.

And just like that, Bruce can't be mad. He can't hold onto any hatred toward a woman simply teaching Clark a dance. It's not her fault Clark gets to hold her like that, or that the only reason she's there instead of with George is because Lois slipped away with Diana. And would it really change anything, if it were Lois? Bruce would still be here, alone.

The lyrics of the song aren't lost on Bruce.

"And I don't want to continue like this
Being with her and thinking of you
The same is happening to me
I can't stop thinking of you
On the days I wake with you on my mind
I call him by your name
And I don't want to continue like this
Being with her and thinking of you."

What would it be like, to feel Clark like that? They've touched before, but never in this context. Never more than Batman and Superman. Maybe as friends, when Clark lifts him up and flies him through the air, but it's always been professional. Bruce has kept it professional.

And yet, he still wonders. Clark is warm, that much is a proven fact. He would be warm like this too. Possibly smoldering hot. How would it change Bruce, to have that hand press against the small of his back? To have Clark's legs frame his own as they move in sync to the music? Would it rewrite the very being of who Bruce is? Or would he be left cold after the fact, always yearning to have a taste of it again?

"How stupid, how crazy, are you and I
being with others but loving each other
How stupid, how crazy, are you and I
Being with others but still loving each other?"

In that moment, Bruce wishes he were a woman. Maybe then, it could've been just him and Clark. Maybe it always would've been them.

"Is your left alright?"

Bruce doesn't look at George. He can't bring himself to, when Clark's so clearly enjoying himself with the man's wife.

"...It seems a shame to learn the basics just to miss out on the best part," George continues. "If you'd like, I could dance with you for a little while. We'll go as slow as you need."

He doesn't need to go slow, he needs Clark pressed against his front like they were made to be together.

"Yeah," Bruce's body speaks in disconnect to his mind. "I'd like that."

Just as he promised, George is slow as he helps Bruce to stand. It's not romantic or sensual or anything at all but kind. A gesture made to someone struggling. And like the pathetic thing he is, Bruce takes it like a starving dog. He laps at the gentle way George holds him upright while avoiding pressure on his 'bad' leg. He soaks up the attention of a complete stranger, pretending it's someone else.

"You've caught on well," George tells him with an encouraging nod. The man is gracious enough to not get too close. He keeps a good distance between them, a reminder than he is just a teacher and nothing more, even in this moment. His hands stay respectfully on Bruce's side, only enough pressure to stabilize.

"I attribute it more to your skill than my own," Only long nights of entertaining Gotham's elite while high on painkillers keeps Bruce from openly displaying his misery. He has an easy, practiced smile. It's not the bravado of Brucie, nor the hardness of Batman. A subtle in-between, carefully crafted to uphold appearances.

A light tap on George's shoulder pulls them apart. Susan takes her husband back with a grin and spins away, leaving Bruce with-

Clark takes Bruce's hands near-painfully. His grip is stone against Bruce's soft flesh, but it quickly relaxes as they step into rhythm together, just as he did with George.

The surprise doesn't wear off as quickly. Bruce is left shocked as Clark sways with him, his legs framed around Bruce's. Clark's hand shifts to Bruce's waist, pressing them closer inch by inch until they're touching. Bruce can feel him everywhere like this. In their locked fingers, at the dip of his side, the flush of his cheek against Clark's dress shirt.

If they were to fall out of sync, they would be grinding on each other; and nothing has ever been both so terrifying and so thrilling.

He's with Clark. Clark is warm and right here and holding him so very tight. The way a partner might.

But when Bruce pulls away just enough to meet his eyes, all he sees is anger.

"Clark?" Any joy at getting what he wanted, what he yearned for, sours like a rotten corpse.

Clark lets go of him in an instant. "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

Bruce rubs his hands together to ward off the cold that swarms him. "No. I'm fine." He looks down, unable to bear Clark's expression another moment.

"Sorry, I'm...gonna go check in. Diana and Lois should be done by now." Clark pulls away another few inches, then steps out of the room when Bruce doesn't answer.

He doesn't mention the fact Diana said not to wait on them, that they'd be grabbing dinner afterward. He also doesn't comment on the desperate plea that nearly breaks past his lips. Clark slips away from him, leaving something much worse than nothing in his stead. Emptiness has never felt so wrong. Absence has never been so heavy.

It's like coming home to a big house without his parents to fill it. Like putting on the mask, knowing Jason wouldn't be joining him.

Bruce sits until the class is dismissed. He then walks straight to his cabin and closes himself away, hoping to fall asleep before the others return. He can't bear facing them, not like this.

He thinks of calling home, but the thought is dismissed quickly. Alfred is likely busy keeping the kids civil and said kids have little need to hear from him this close to patrol. Dick wouldn't want to hear from him, and neither would Jason, so Bruce pockets his phone and sets up on the armchair.

God, why tonight? Why now? Could this not have waited until they weren't trapped together on a damn cruise? Did he have to realize this little development in the middle of a bachata dance class?

And with someone so clearly upset by dancing with Bruce. He could explain it away, pretend it was something Susan did, or just a bad case of staying up past his bedtime, but Bruce knows. He knows Clark didn't want to dance before they even started. Why would he steal the night for his own selfish needs?

Bruce pulls a spare blanket around his shoulders and positions himself most comfortably in the armchair. He'll wake up sore, but it's a price he'll pay to avoid sleeping next to Clark.

Even if it means spending the rest of the cruise in this very chair.

Despite all the anguish and heartache of the night, Bruce does allow himself to sigh with the knowledge that he...he loves Clark. He is in love with Clark Kent.

And only he will ever know.

Bruce wakes to a vibration against his thigh. He jumps from the armchair and gets into a defensive stance within the second, heart beating hard and fast against his ribs. He swallows, mind still firing on all cylinders when he realizes it's just his phone.

By the time Bruce fishes it out and winces at the bright screen the call has ended. A single missed call fills his lock screen. From Alfred.

Immediately, his heart is picking up again. What could Alfred need at one in the morning?

Alfred picks up on the second ring.

"Hello, Master Bru-"

"What's wrong?" Bruce nearly shouts before Alfred can finish his greeting.

"Nothing's the matter, Master Bruce. I simply wanted to check in on your mission." Alfred's voice acts as a natural soothing agent, each word easing Bruce's muscles until he's no longer itching to act.

Alright, a check-in. That's...normal. Perfectly normal for Alfred to call him. The kids are fine and Gotham hasn't blown up during his leave. It's all...fine.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting your sleep."

It's only then Bruce thinks to check if the others have returned to the cabin. With a sigh of relief, he confirms that the beds are empty.

"No, no, this is a good -a good time," Bruce yawns. He ventures into the bathroom and winces again when the light flips on. Why is everything so bright? "Uh, what did you want?"

"...A check-in, Master Bruce. Tell me how your mission has gone thus far," Alfred answers, ever patient.

Bruce sits back on the toilet lid, his mind slow to regain the details. "We found one of the suspects, but the other's still evading us. Diana will have more info in the morning. Or, later today. We're close to finishing this up."

Alfred goes quiet long enough to make Bruce question if he's been hung up on. "I find that very unlikely, considering your criminals don't exist."

Bruce blinks, then furrows his brow. "What?" Is he missing something? Sleep fades faster now, leaving a pit in his stomach.

"Master Bruce, there is no Mr. Adam West and Ms. Lynda Carter. They're fabrications for a larger scheme constructed by myself. You see, you've been working so very hard lately and I honestly worried-"

"You set this up," It dawns on Bruce all at once. The very serious undercover mission for Bruce specifically. A mission on a cruise line, touching some of Bruce's favorite places to visit in the summer. Two weeks with no contact. Just him.

He and Clark. Diana knows, obviously. She's the one who opened the mission. Lois likely does as well, given her unusually laid-back nature all vacation. But Bruce was the one who insisted they join. Only he and Clark were assigned.

"Why Clark?" Bruce snaps, even if he tries to reel in his anger. "I expect this towards me, but why drag Clark into this too?"

"His mother shared my feelings. I figured two birds with one stone..."

They're friends? Bruce knew Alfred and Martha Kent shared recipes every so often, and they invited Alfred -and the entire Wayne family- over for Thanksgiving, but genuine friends? Close enough to discuss their worries for him and Clark?

To set up this entire fake mission?

"I'm disappointed," Bruce says at last. "This is a complete waste of our time! We could be helping the League with real missions, instead of-"

"That is quite the point, Master Bruce. I've heard your snappish attitude has become an increasing issue as of late. And I'm sure the criminals of Gotham will spend less time in hospitals once you've fully rested."

He wants to stay angry. Bruce wants to shout how this breaches his trust with Alfred, how he dragged Diana of all people into this scheme, how it's an entirely inappropriate use of the League's budget-

But the emotion slips away and Bruce is left feeling tired. Annoyed, yes, but mostly tired.

"...I take it you're the one who cleared out my utility belt?" Bruce sighs.

"I did. I do hope that hasn't gotten you into trouble."

"Nearly," Bruce glares at nothing. Then, he leans back, his head resting against the back wall. "It's pointless to call it off now. We might as well stay the rest of the cruise. But I need to know you won't be doing this again. I need to trust that every mission run past the League is authentic and of real concern."

"I wouldn't need such extreme measures if you would learn to regulate yourself, Master Bruce," Alfred says.

Bruce doesn't back off. "Promise me, Alfred. This won't happen again."

A noise passes through the receiver, but it's difficult to tell whether it's a sigh or cough. "Alright. It will not happen again. You have my word."

"Thank you." He can trust Alfred's word. That alone is comforting enough.

A lul stretches between them, tense but not quite heated. Bruce mostly listens to the sound of Alfred going about his task, whatever it is. There are a few clicks and a tap that sounds like a drinking glass. Dishes, maybe?

It hits him again like a title wave and Bruce is spewing words before he can stop himself. "Alfred, I think I like Clark. And not in the way Batman is supposed to like a fellow hero. I..." He swallows. "I want him. I want to be with him. I want to wash his hair when he's tired and make a fuss about the wrinkles in his cape before he goes off to safe people.

"He'll be right there, in the manor or whatever home we've called our own. The light will hit his face just right to make it appear as if he's glowing. He'll turn from his task and just...look at me. Like he loves me. And I'll love him just as much."

"...Oh dear," Is all Alfred says.

Bruce's chest is heavy with the pure weight of this new feeling. It touches the parts of his heart he's left to rot for decades, the parts that feel like childhood and loving parents. The parts he so tentatively shared with Dick and Jason before...

Before he decided it would never happen again.

"I can't," Bruce fights to keep his voice steady. "I can't do this, Alfred."

Whatever shock Alfred was grappling with must have faded. "Nonsense! You like Mr. Kent quite a bit, it seems. I don't see why that can't come to light."

"We're coworkers." Bruce groans.

"And dating among League members has never been discouraged. In fact, it seems to have done quite a few of your 'coworkers' well."

Bruce glares at the groat building up along the bathroom tiles. "He can't leave Metropolis and I can't leave Gotham."

"A good thing the cities lie so close together, hm?"

"He's Kryptonian!"

"If you've decided to become a xenophobe now, I believe there's a new conversation to be had."

Bruce wants to stomp and shout like his teenage son. He wants to scream in frustration and cry for the time before that stupid bachata class. Instead, he breathes out slowly and controls his temper with an iron fist. Batman is above tantrums.

"There is no future down this line, Alfred. There's no use in fantasies and wishes when reality is set in stone." It'll be hard, Bruce knows. He loathes the journey forward more than his confrontations with Bane, but it must be done. He'll keep his distance and use his years in mental training to ensure this little vine gets cut off as quickly as possible.

It's for the best.

"Master Bruce, have you not yet considered the possibility of Mr. Kent reciprocating your feelings?"

He has, but never in conscious thought. He hasn't dared to let it get that close to genuine curiosity. "If Clark liked me and wanted a relationship, he would've made the feeling known." Clark may be kind to a fault but he isn't as shy as he acts. Clark is passionate and he's never been in the habit of letting those passions lie quietly. He's a reporter, a Kansas farm boy, and a founder of the Justice League. His word holds value and by God does Clark know how to use it.

That's why, when Alfred tries to argue, Bruce counters without a doubt in his mind. "He's had every opportunity over this cruise to confess but hasn't. The feelings don't exist, Alfred. I would know if they did."

Bruce is the one who can't handle continuing to share a bed. He's the one who can't keep his lustful eyes off of Clark's body. He's the one who sat in seething jealousy while Clark danced with the class instructor. Clark has been nothing but a good friend and seeing anything past that would be a disservice to them both.

"I see," Alfred sighs. "Seeing as I can't change your mind, I will bid you a good night and a relaxing vacation."

"Good night, Alfred," Bruce says a little too evenly. "Tell the kids to behave. And that I'll get them souvenirs."

"I will, Master Bruce. Please...please take care of yourself."

Bruce hangs up and tucks his phone away. He sits in the bathroom for another ten minutes, then migrates to the armchair again. By the time he's wrapped up and shutting his eyes to sleep, the cabin door swings open and his roommates come shuffling in. Their voices are slurred and drunken as they chat loudly, then suddenly lower to a whisper.

"S'rry, Bruce," Lois pats his shoulder on her way into the bathroom. "We'll be quieeeet!"

"Ssh!" Diana hisses after her, her sandals held in one hand while the other barely keeps a half-full glass from spilling. "He's trying to sleep!"

Bruce starts counting back from one hundred.

A third figure stops in front of him. Only years of training keep his heart from immediately picking up.

Clark doesn't touch him. He doesn't leave either. The man just stands there, a massive shadow over Bruce's cramped form until the girls stumble back from the bathroom and flopping into their shared bed. Only then does Clark step away, the creak of mattress springs following after.

The romantic part of Bruce's mind cries in agony. Why didn't Clark lift him from the armchair and carry him to bed? Why didn't he insist it'll be bad for Bruce's neck to sleep like that? Why, why, why-

Bruce shoves that voice away and refuses to acknowledge the muffled ache.

"G'night, Bruce!" Lois mock whispers.

"Sleep well," Diana adds.

Clark says nothing.

Bruce sought the pull of sleep so desperately.

Chapter Text

Something is happening on this cruise, Lois knows. There may not be a couple of drug lords with plastic surgery, but something isn't right. Those crew workers with Diana's painting were hiding something big; and after just three days left of their vacation, Lois is sick enough of relaxing to jump at the chance for some action.

It starts with research. Lois looks through every piece of evidence Bruce and Clark have gathered thus far not directly supported by the 'case'. It's not much to go off of, but seven pictures of illegal Fentanyl patches prove she isn't just going stir-crazy.

Then, Lois starts snooping. She waits by room F46 until their 'Metal Jaw' leaves to break into that safe again. Thankfully, her helpful assistant makes quick work of the door.

"Are you sure the cruise owners won't be upset about my breaking this?" Diana holds the safe between her two hands, as if it weighs nothing at all. Lois has never been envious of Superman's strength, but something about Diana's display makes something hot turn in Lois' stomach.

Or maybe that's simple arousal and she's overthinking it.

"Bruce can pay for it," Lois shrugs. "Besides, if we catch these crooks, I'm sure they'll be thanking us for breaking their safe."

Diana raises a brow at her, unconvinced.

Lois sighs. "Fine. If you're so against breaking a little safe, then find another way to open it."

And that she does. Diana stares at the metal lock until she finds whatever it is she was looking for. A second later, Diana rattles the thing violently until it's door rattles right from its hinges.

Lois stares at the fallen door in awe.

"These safes certainly aren't state-of-the-art. They're held together by nothing but screws, and loose ones at that." Diana sets the now-opened safe on the cabin desk, frowning. "And it also appears the drugs are gone."

"What?!" Lois leans close -she appreciates the way Diana's breast presses against her shoulder in the process- to look for herself. Just as the goddess said, the Fentanyl is gone. "Shit! Well, where could it be?! That stash didn't look too easy to hide!"

How is this possible?! Clark's been keeping a close eye on this room all week! The only people coming in and out have been Metal Jaw and the crew-

The crew.

"That's it!" Lois snaps her fingers. She whips around to smile up at Diana, who's already brightening with interest. "The crew took it! Whoever's been on cleaning duty for this hall must be in on the scheme. They took the patches, hid them in the laundry or something, then...who knows? But we need to track it."

Diana's smile widens with confidence as she grabs her golden lasso from under her tucked shirt. "I believe it's time to draw a confession."

"-my cat's name is husky and I once gutted a slug."

A headache threatens to bloom right along Lois' temple. She watches Diana interrogate the ship's third laundry assistant with no more success than the others.

"You haven't seen anything unusual at all through the duration of the cruise? Nothing?" Diana insists, sounding just as desperate as Lois feels.

"There are some suspicious stains but that's not weird for Honeymoon Cruises. Honestly, it'd be weirder without them."

Diana unwinds the lasso with a sigh. "Then I apologize for our interruption. Go about your day, Good Citizen."

The crew member nods slowly, stars in their eyes. "Will do, Wonder Woman!"

The two women step out of the room and close the swinging door. Lois rubs at her arm. "Sorry about making you blow your cover for nothing. I really thought this would lead somewhere."

Somehow, Diana finds the patience to keep her confidence. "I don't believe it was a complete waste, Lois. We know that the patches never crossed into the laundry, which means it's being stored elsewhere. Where, I cannot begin to guess."

Where is the question. Where could someone store patches like that? Maybe another guest's safe. They could be passing it between rooms, in case Metal Jaw happens to use the safe for herself. But that would also run the risk of leaving traces in several rooms. They can't afford to be detected.

"This lead may be dry, but I still have another to follow," Lois says at last, switching gears. "Remember those crew members with that painting?"

"I do," Diana says. "They were taping something to the back."

"We need to find which painting that was. If we looked in the auction room again, do you think you could recognize it?"

Diana places her fists on either hip. "I guarantee it! And then we could find who bought it."

"Exactly!"

Diana flies the two of them back to the guest levels, just the same way she got them below. The hold is gentle but warm and enclosed. Even for the short flight, Lois finds herself pressing further into Diana. Who else can say they get to catch a ride with an immortal god?

Bruce does, Lois notes to herself. Two average -mostly in her case- humans with their flying buddies.

It's just Lois' luck that hers is so much prettier. Full offense to Clark.

Speaking of-

"Lois!" Clark smiles a little too eagerly. He hasn't left their shared room all day, claiming he's more comfortable reading here than going out and doing things.

It's a lie, Lois knows. She watches the way he and Bruce have danced around each other all cruise. It came at a head a few days prior, though. Something happened at their bachata class that no one is talking about; and now, both men refuse to remain in the same bed, let alone sleep together.

In Lois' humble opinion, it's childish and unprofessional for Justice League members.

In her less humble opinion, she would absolutely act the same way if she were in a homoerotic situation with Diana.

Diana being a random choice for example. Not at all intentional.

"Hey, Clark. I thought you were going to swim with stingrays today." They've been docked at Puerto Rico for the back ten hours. Lois has seen the shops along the coast but found no real interest in staying ashore. Not when she has something much more important to handle.

Clark looks anywhere but at her. Oh, joy. "Well, I was going to, but Bruce was going too and...well, I don't want to force him out of it just because I'm there-"

God, it's been the same excuses. Always "I don't want to bother Bruce," And "But Bruce might be there". Nothing she said as pushed Clark to cross whatever invisible wall divides them.

And given it's still an issue, Diana hasn't had any more luck.

"Clark, you're being dumb," Lois says as she passes to gather a few tools from her suitcase. All the things she brought for their fake case that turned into a real case, even if it's not related at all to the previous one.

"Lois, I can't-"

"You're friends. Be a man and go talk to him. You're not five."

Diana steps in before Clark answers. "Kal, this is unlike you. You know Bruce can be evasive but it's never stopped you before. If you just talked to him-"

"I already did." Clark's bed creaks dangerously when he sits.

Lois looks up, notebook in hand. "What? When?" Why is she never filled in on these things?

"This morning," Clark rumbles. "I apologized for hurting him at the class and he said he wants to forget about it. Then he left to go drink more."

"And?" Lois presses. "Usually you're more persistent when he's upset."

"But I don't want to bother him about this. It's my fault he got hurt and is avoiding me. I'm the one who got jealous and- and messing everything up!" Clark's head falls into his hands with a groan. "Rao, I couldn't control myself! It was terrifying! I almost crushed him!"

Ah, so that's the real issue here. Clark is scared of himself, so he's been isolating. Whether as some sort of punishment or not, Lois can't say, but she knows this isn't new for him. She and Jimmy have tried hard to make Clark feel less alien with them but there's only so much one can do when you're friends with a Kryptonian super man.

Diana and Lois sit on either side of him. Clark doesn't look up from where he's hunched.

"Kal, you are not dangerous," Diana pulls his hands away from his face to hold them in her strong arms. "You do very well to control yourself. Even I stand in awe at your discipline."

Lois tries for humor. "She's right, you know. I break twice as many pencils and mugs as you do."

Clark doesn't smile, but he does look slightly less miserable. It's all she could hope for.

"And Bruce knows this too." Diana reminds him. "It's why he trusts you the way he does. No other hero is as close to his kids or is allowed free access to the Batcave. You have his utmost respect."

"And," Lois adds. "If he thinks that one little slip-up rewrites everything he knows about you, then he's dumber than...than Toyman!"

Clark covers his laugh. "Toyman isn't dumb, Lois."

"Okay, then dumber than Perry."

It earns her a pout and that is a win in Lois' book.

Especially when it gets his shoulders to straighten.

"I just...I don't want to pressure Bruce for answers when I'm the reason he's upset to begin with."

"He said he wanted to forget it, though," Lois says. "If he's still holding this against you, then that's unfair on his part, not yours. You aren't to blame for everything, Clark. Stop acting like you are."

After letting out a heavy, icy sigh -Lois ignores the chills that roll up her shoulders- Clark nods once. "Okay. I'll...I'll talk to him. But later."

"Today," Diana commands.

"Tonight?" Clark winces.

The princess backs off, seeming to accept that compromise. "Tonight, but no later than midnight. You two are unbearable like this."

"Okay, okay. Tonight."

Lois and Diana stand again. "Now, be a good boy and find something to do that won't make you spiral again. Us girls have some very important business to take care of."

Clark gives her a look. "Business? Where are you going?"

"Well, someone has to catch these drug lords and it certainly isn't you boys." Clark frowns again but Lois stops him quickly. "Don't feel bad. You did your part while we were wasting away in the sun. Now, you get to sit back while we wrap things up. Right, Diana?"

Diana laughs loud and bold. Lois can't help but swoon a little. "In a way of speaking, yes." She looks back to Clark, her eyes softening. "But do relax, Kal. We have things handled."

"...If you say so." He sighs again.

"Go get a massage or something," Lois calls out on their way through the door. "We'll see you later."

"Good luck!" Clark calls back. "Tell me if you need anything!"

"We won't!" And with that, Lois is racing down to the auction room, Diana right by her side.

The room hasn't changed much from when they were last here. Paintings still line every wall near completely. Little red marks show every one of them have been sold off to whoever guest fancied them, with a few exceptions -like Diana's. The Autioneer's podium is gone, as well as the crowds of people.

"Alright, Princess." Lois nods to the walls. "Which one was it."

They stand for several long minutes, just looking at the different paintings. Lois never paid much mind to them during the auction. She was more concerned with Diana: the way that woman stared longingly at her own painting, how she wore the emotion as readily as she wore confidence and strength. Lois will be honest, it's not the first thing she thought of when considering a two-week vacation with Wonder Woman.

A woman on par to Clark's strength was a given. Someone touched by godly power Lois may never fully understand, was also obvious. But seeing Diana as more than just Wonder Woman, as a person more than a figure, surprised Lois.

And now that she sees it, there's no going back. There will never be a moment where Lois can see Diana, see the person she's gotten to know over the course of this cruise, and not know the depths of her soul.

Okay, maybe not her soul, but Lois feels a connection to her. Something uniquely personal. She just hopes that once this is all said and done, once they go back to their original lives, Lois won't have to do it without Diana in her life.

"There," Diana points and Lois snaps back to herself. "I recognize the fountain."

Right. Their investigation.

The pair of them stand several feet below the painting. Before Lois can even suggest a solution, Diana is floating up and pulling it gently from the wall. She lands again at Lois' side, the canvas already turning to show the back.

And nothing's there. Not anymore.

Lois touches the back side of the canvas with a careful hand. Her fingertip sticks to whatever residue is left over. "Someone definitely taped something to the back of this. How much do you want to bet it was those patches?"

Diana hums as she too touches the old tape. "They've already moved it again." She lifts the painting again and turns it back to the art side. Just as Lois was about to suggest, she checks who bought it.

"Thomas Welling," Lois mutters. "I don't recognize the name."

"But perhaps someone else may have that information," Diana sets the painting back against the wall as they step away from it, pondering. "Do you believe your elderly friend could give us his room number?"

Her elderly friend? "...Oh! You mean Phyllis?" Lois realizes. "Hm, I can't say for sure. Phyllis did seem the social type, but I'm not sure if she had access to crew documents. Her daughter did, though. Amy, was it?"

"Perhaps she could be persuaded?" Diana touches her lasso again, eyebrows raised.

But Lois shakes her head. "I think my people skills are more suited for this part. Give me a minute or two and I'll get us Mr. Welling's room number."

"By all means," Diana gestures before them.

"Lois!" Phyllis pulls Lois into a rocking hug. She endures for pleasantries sake. "It's been so long. How has your vacation gone? Are the boys being good?" The old woman's eyes flash.

"See, Phyllis, that's exactly what I came to talk to you about," Lois sighs. Diana has stationed a few beach chairs away from them, within earshot but not intruding on Lois' own personal magic. "You see, the boys have been really tense lately. I was wondering if you could help us...ease it?"

Phyllis' eyes go wide. "Oh, of course! Anything, Dear!"

Perfect. "You see, I've been trying to get this specific book from Thomas Welling, have you met him?"

"Oh, of course I have!" Phyllis smiles. "He's a very nice young man. Gorgeous hair, that one. And a strong jaw too. I didn't know you knew him."

"Yes, well," Lois continues, "Tom has this book about love advice he was going to let me borrow. Thing is, he's away on shore and I haven't been able to find him. The book is just on his nightstand and if I could slip in and leave a note..."

Phyllis frowns. "I don't know, Lois. It's against cruise regulations to hand out guest room keys like this. I'd have to talk to Amy."

"And I get that," Lois quickly gathers the woman's attention again. "But there's only a few days left until Clark's back and Kansas and they're never seeing each other again. I just...I really need this book. Clark's my best friend and I don't know what I'll do if he lets himself fall away from Bruce like this."

Just as she planned, Lois had Phyllis' heart in her hands. She twists and turns it however she needs to get the right answer.

"Oh, I suppose if Tom already said you could borrow it-"

"I owe you the world, Phyllis! Thank you so much!" Lois gathers their hands together in gratitude.

In the next minute, Lois has Welling's room key in her hand and she's walking back to the guest cabins with Diana at her side.

"That was amazing, Lois. Though, I do feel bad for lying to that woman. She seems genuinely kind."

"It's for the mission," Lois answers seriously. "I don't like manipulating people and I try to avoid it for my job, but this is needed. We'll just have to make it up to her."

Diana gives her a look. "How so?"

"By actually getting Clark and Bruce together."

This time, Diana's eyes widen. "Are you serious? After everything that's happened recently, I doubt we'll be successful in making them talk at all. What makes you so sure they'll date?"

Lois stops in front of Welling's cabin door and smirks up at Diana. "Oh, I have my ways."

She opens the door with a swipe of the card.

Two figures stop dead in the dim room. Lois runs to tackle them before she can think to question it. "Stop! We caught you!"

"Shit!" The smaller figure -the woman crew member from the painting- jumps out of the way just as Lois grabs at her. Her accomplice grabs the tapped-up fentanyl from the open safe and shoves it into their cleaning trolley.

A golden lasso loops around the boy and holds him from running.

The woman sprints for the balcony door. Wind fills the room as she scrambles to jump off the side of the cruise ship. Lois follows after, nothing but adrenaline fueling her forward. She grabs the crew member's shirt and yanks her back onto the balcony with a thud. Lois tries to pin her to the ground, but she's overtaken much easier than should be possible for such a small woman. Fists fly and the few that land hit hard.

Lois's blood turns to ice when she hears the click of a gun. The barrel raises after a particularly hard punch to Lois' face. The woman holds it to her chest, something dark in her eyes. "You fucker-"

"Lois!" Diana calls forward, but it's too late. The gun is going off and Lois' ears ring painfully. Her every muscle tenses up, clenching to accommodate the pain of a bullet.

A pain that never comes.

"What..." Lois opens her eyes again to see Diana wrestling the woman onto her stomach. She ties the opposite end of the lasso around her wrists and yanks the woman up roughly to join the other.

Lois' heart pounds loudly in her chest. Over time, it turns from the fear of getting shot to the bliss of being saved.

"Are you alright?" Diana asks, a hand offered to her. Lois takes it once she's gotten control of her body again.

"Thanks," Lois breathes. "That was..." Terrifying? An extremely close call? Nearly the end of Lois' life? Hotter than anything she's ever seen before? Yeah, all of that.

Diana doesn't let go of her as she rounds on the criminals again, her lips twisting with anger. "Now, it's time you answer for your wrongs. Was it you two who smuggled these drugs onto the ship?"

"Yes," both say in unison.

"And was it you who stashed them away to keep them hidden?"

"Yes," They say again.

"Why? What purpose did you have for this pathetic game?" Diana sneers.

The boy answers. "We..." He grits his teeth but his fight against the truth is futile. "Our boss. He paid us to keep it hidden until we arrived in the Dominican Republic. There, we would bring it to him for our second payment."

Huh. What a coincidence.

"And who is your boss?"

They try to clamp their mouths shut. The lasso shines and the words come spilling out like a flood. "Mr. Napier! He sells things like this all the time! We smuggled for him before and he paid us well!" The girl gasps."

Diana nods in satisfaction. "Then you'll share his fate. The Justice League will be notified of his presence immediately. And you two," the lasso tightens. "will be spending the rest of this cruise in a holding cell until proper justice is served."

With that, Diana leaves them tied up to the bedpost. She and Lois leave the room open after calling for security.

"Are you alright?" Diana repeats once they're alone. Her voice is soft. "I worried for you, Lois. If I had been any slower, they would've taken your life."

Lois' mouth goes dry when she tries to respond. She's used to getting saved by Superman, but somehow that feels entirely different. It's expected while living in Metropolis. You call and Superman comes, especially when he's your best friend. Lois isn't a stranger to dangerous situations.

But here? It's like Diana's strung the starts themselves for Lois alone.

That's why Lois blames the adrenaline when she leans up and kisses Diana's lips. The woman starts, but before Lois can apologize for not asking first, the kiss returns in full force. Strong hands cup Lois' head, fingers tangled in her hair, as Diana kisses Lois with a burning passion.

It's perfect. The press of Diana's body, the desperate, gentle way she's held. Nothing could be better than this moment.

Nothing will ever be as satisfying.

"I think..." Diana whispers against her lips, "I think I like you, Miss Lane."

Lois can't help but laugh. Then, she steals another long kiss. "I think I like you too, Princess."

Chapter Text

Clark is going to do it. He's going to talk to Bruce.

As a grown adult, one capable of holding this entire cruise ship on his smallest finger, it should be a given. Clark and Bruce are butting heads, so he needs to have a conversation. They did this before already, right? So how hard can it be?

Extremely, is the answer. This time, the fault is all Clark's. He was the one who got jealous, he's the one who hurt Bruce, and he's the one who can't let it go.

It's all because of these stupid, stupid emotions. The flutter in his chest whenever Bruce uses that growling voice during a case. Every single time he sees Bruce with his kids, being the best father he can to the rag-tag group he's come to call his family. It starts in Clark's chest and blooms like a flower in his heart. Love. True, pure, love.

He loves Bruce, has loved him ever since Dick was just a teen, and that is exactly why Clark lost control at the bachata class. Because he's so selfishly in love.

And although that may not change -Rao knows he's tried time and time again to put a stop to it- Clark can do what he must to regain Bruce's trust and friendship.

So, Clark wanders through the layers of the cruise ship, following the familiar beating of Bruce's heart. It echoes in his ear like it's his own; and with how well Clark knows it's rhythm, it might as well be.

Turning towards one of the bars on the lower guest levels, the sounds of music follow that heart beat. A song plays by it, the musician's voice smooth and elegant in a way that makes Clark pause. The music is live, Clark realizes a moment later.

He steps through the doorway and into the bar proper, curious at the performance set on the small, lit stage. Clark takes note of the audience -a group counting into the tens, maybe twenty at most.

The very next thing Clark notes is the person standing on that stage. The singer, whose voice eases him automatically. The rich timbre, like the crackle of firewood. Words, smooth and flowing into each other with a slight slur that doesn't ruin the song, but proves the singer may be a little ways past tipsy.

The singer...Bruce.

Clark nearly falls to his knees. He watches Bruce sway to the beat of 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder', the lyrics displayed on a screen beside him.

"Put your lips next to mine, Dear.
Won't you kiss me once, baby?
Just a kiss goodnight, maybe.
You and I will fall in love."

There's a certain sadness to it that pulls at Clark's chest. A sorrow fills those words, one that threatens to rattle him to pieces. Any conversation he planned for has been wiped clear from his mind. All that fills it now is Bruce's voice and the meaning to those words. Words he wishes -hopes- are for him.

"Put your head on my shoulder.
Whisper in my ear, baby.
Words I want to hear, tell me
Put your head on my- Clark!"

The microphone squeaks as Bruce jumps from the stage and races to Clark's side. He smells like expensive alcohol and cologne. It does funny things to him.

"Clark! Come sing with me!" Bruce pulls at his arm, nothing but mischievous grins and eager eyes.

"But it's my turn!" Someone from the audience complains. They're quickly shushed.

Clark resists Bruce's pulling. "Bruce," He says in a near whisper. "What have you been drinking?" He's usually able to handle his liquor. This isn't normal. Has he been drugged? If so-

"Macallan Fine and Rare. 19...97, I think?" Bruce looks off into the distance as he thinks. "No, 1996. Alfred never lets me drink it 'cause of the painkillers in my blood. But 's been exactly five days since I last took 'em and I'm thoroughly enjoying my scotch."

"...Right," Clark clears his throat. "How about we get you somewhere else-"

"Wait! I have a song to sing for you!" And just like that, Bruce breaks away from him and jumps back up onto the stage. The audience holds no reservations it seems, as they let him pick another song without complaint.

"Bruce, shouldn't you let someone else-"

"Clark!" Bruce's voice echoes through the room. "This is for you."

Clark fights the urge to fidget as he hears the music start up again and the lyrics flash over the screen in blue. Bruce holds the microphone up to his lips, eyes half-lidded and positively oozing lust.

Oh, Rao.

"All of my purple life,
I've been looking for a dame
That would wanna be my man
That was my intention, babe"

Cold washes over Clark as he watches the audience staring at the two of them. Then, he flashes hot at the very...risque lyrics. It's a shock, both the situation and knowing Bruce has chosen this for him. A sensual song, directed at Clark.

But he has to be overthinking this, right? Surely, Bruce doesn't...

"We can fuck until the dawn
Making love 'til cherry's gone
Erotic City, can't you see
Thoughts of pretty you and me,"

Okay, maybe he does. Maybe Bruce wants Clark physically and he's trying to express it by singing in front of a crowd of people. But he's also drunk and Clark can't put that fact aside.

So, as soon as Bruce has had his fill with the song, Clark gathers him from the stage and steers him out of the room. They walk several paces down the hall before either speaks again.

"Did you like it?" Bruce asks with a sly smile.

Clark fights for a neutral expression. "Let's go somewhere more private."

Bruce's face lights up, then darkens with that same look. "Oh, I'd like that very much, Mr. Kent. I'm sure the girls wouldn't mind us enjoying ourselves a little." Bruce's fingers trace Clark's sleeve, giving it a tug.

Heat rises up Clark's neck and he coughs to regain his composure. "Bruce, I didn't- that's not what I meant."

Never deterred, Bruce simply raises a brow. "A conference room, then?"

"No," Clark grimaces. "Nowhere with a bed, or desks, or chairs or...or walls. None of that!"

Bruce frowns. "That doesn't make any sense. And we aren't young enough to go at it on the floor-"

Clark stops them. He has Bruce by the shoulders, his fingers threatening to squeeze more than he should, but Clark takes a breath and reels in his strength. He looks at Bruce only once he's ready to.

"We aren't going to...to have sex, Bruce." Clark ignores the crestfallen reaction that earns him. "You are very drunk right now and I'm not. It wouldn't be right."

"I could buy you a few drinks," Bruce suggests, almost eagerly.

"That's not how that works and you know it. Just..." Clark lowers his eyes, suddenly unable to look at the other man. "Bruce, we need to talk about this when you're sober. Because if you like me as much as you think you do right now, then...well, we'll just have to talk."

Bruce's pout eases into something more akin to his natural frown. He's clearly more sober than he was a moment ago, but it's still a far cry from Batman. "Fine," Bruce nods. "Sorry about...all that."

Clark finds himself genuinely smiling. "It's okay, Bruce. You have a very nice singing voice."

This time, Clark is confident he's not imagining Bruce's blush. "I took lessons as a kid."

Clark hums as they start walking again. "That makes sense. Lois said I sing like a crow and Jimmed seems to agree."

"I'd have to hear it myself," Bruce says it with such confidence that Clark nearly takes him up on the offer. Nearly.

They'll go back to the room and settle down. Clark will watch over Bruce, make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit or anything. He'll take care of him. Then, once Bruce has what he needs to fight off the massive hangover, they'll talk.

"You seem surprisingly...fine." Clark blinks in awe as Bruce goes about his morning routine the same way he has the past two weeks.

Lois and Diana are curled up in each other's arms, which isn't new for the two, but there's definitely a wall crossed between them that Clark will definitely be pestering Lois about later.

"Have you ever fought Bane?" Bruce asks in a dry tone.

"Uh, no. No."

Bruce gives him a look. "I'll just say that a hangover is much preferred to how I wake up after a run-in with him."

"Fair enough," Clark mutters.

Another two minutes of silence has Clark shuffling in place. He hardly rested over the night, but his Kryptonian biology does what it can to refresh him from the morning sun. Bruce rested soundly and that's all he cares about.

Said man steps out of the bathroom dressed in a button-up and shorts. He beckons for Clark to follow as he steps out onto the balcony for a moment of privacy. After checking that Lois and Diana are still asleep, Clark joins him, closing the door behind him.

Again, they stand in silence, neither quite looking at the other.

"About last night-"

"Bruce I just want-"

Bruce slaps a hand over Clark's mouth, his eyes narrowing. Clark freezes in place.

"I'm talking first, okay?" He doesn't wait for Clark to nod. "Last night, I was... emboldened. I stupidly let myself get intoxicated and belted out my sorrows to a crowd of strangers who would never really know me. Not the way you do, at least. And after receiving such positive feedback, I turned that same need onto you. I'm sorry for coming onto you strongly and inappropriately. No matter my feelings, it's not your job to take care of my mess."

Clark's heart skips a beat. He pulls Bruce's hand from his lips and stares openly at the other man. "Your feelings? Bruce, are you being serious?"

"Yes. I wouldn't lie about something like that."

He certainly would and has, but Clark isn't about to argue that point right now. He has to grapple with the fact Bruce does like him as more than a coworker, more than a good friend.

"Alright," Clark collects himself. "Alright, alright. You like me. Like...really like. Romantic stuff."

Bruce's eyes narrow further. "Yes, I do."

Oh wow. "Alright. And that's why you weren't talking to me after bachata too, right? Because you like me?"

"...Yes."

This is so elementary yet it has Clark fighting off a grin. He grips at his own shirt with both hands. The sound of fabric tearing goes ignored.

"Clark, I promise this won't complicate our work-"

This time, Clark's the one silencing Bruce.

"My turn, Bats." Clark takes in the feeling of Bruce's lips on his skin -even if it's the palm of his hand- before he speaks. "I love you. I've loved you for years but I never wanted to burden you with that knowledge. I know how you are, I know you take responsibility for things that aren't yours to bear. But I do love you all the same. I love how smart you are, how you pick people apart with your mind. I love how much you're trying for your kids, even if it's not perfect. I love Batman and what he does for Gotham, even if it's so different from Superman. I love you, Bruce."

Slowly, Clark's hand moves back to his side.

"You..." For once, Bruce seems at a loss for words. "I never knew. I mean, I thought, sometimes, that you might like me. But I didn't think...God, Clark."

"To be fair, you didn't tell me either!" Clark defends.

"I didn't know until that bachata class!" Bruce groans.

"You- what?!" Clark suddenly feels like a fool. "You didn't-"

Bruce holds up a hand. "I didn't realize I loved you until then. I thought the feeling was...something else. Anything else."

Clark goes quiet. His fingers tingle and his mouth waters more than usual. He isn't sure what to say about all of this. Last night, Clark expected to have a semi-awkward conversation about letting this all go and never thinking about it again. But now...

"Do we..." Clark starts. "Do we kiss now?"

Bruce looks uncharacteristically flustered. "Do you want to kiss?"

After a moment to think it over, Clark nods. "Yes, please."

They remain on opposite sides of the balcony.

"I'll start," Bruce dares to step forward. His hands reach out, but stop just shy of touching. "You still want to, right?"

Clark nods.

"Okay," Bruce holds his face so gently, it's painful. Bruce's eyebrows furrow in concentration as he looks directly at Clark's lips. He leans in, pulls away with a frown, then tries again with another angle.

After the third try, Clark says, "Uh, Bruce? Do you need help?"

"No," Bruce snaps. "I know how to kiss, Clark."

"Just checking."

To prove his point, Bruce finally gives Clark a little peck. It's barely there, but the contact is enough to pull Clark out of his mind and into motion. He holds Bruce tight and kisses him properly, letting years of yearning seep into the touch.

He says 'I miss you when we're apart' with his lips. He tells Bruce of the mornings he lay awake, staring at Gotham's harbor. He recounts the moment of dread when he feared for Batman's life, when he feared for the man who would never become his lover.

He kisses Bruce, 'I've needed this far longer than I've known how to breathe'.

"I love you," Clark gasps as soon as they break away. "I love you so much."

"Thank you," Bruce's lips brush his, pulling him back into the depths of that love.

Lois hugs Phyllis goodbye as they exit the ship, luggage in hand. The cruise was the perfect getaway and Clark couldn't be happier he went along. It was a much-needed break from life. And now that it's done, Clark is ready as ever to get back to his city and the Planet respectively. He has more pressing matters to catch up on.

Some that involve getting to know Bruce as his lover, as well as a partner.

"I'll keep in touch!" Lois promises as she kisses the woman on either cheek. "And I never break a promise!" Lois returns to the group, her arm swinging over Diana's shoulder. "I can't wait to brag to the Planet about this. You think Jimmy will beg for pictures?" Lois throws a look back at Clark.

"Don't brag too much. This is still strictly League business."

It hits Clark, then, that this was a mission. And he completely forgot on their day out in the Dominican Republic. Dread rolls over him like kryptonite, making him nauseous.

"Wait!" He shouts. "What about Adam West and Lynda Carter?! We didn't catch them!"

Both girls exchange a wide-eyed look. Bruce's face becomes very serious.

"You two didn't tell him?" Bruce demands.

Diana blanches. "You knew?! How?!"

"Alfred! But I thought you told Clark!"

"Told me what?!" Clark cuts in. All three look at him with mixed sheepish expressions. Clark's fear turns into a simmering anger as he crosses his arms over his chest. "What do I not know about?"

Lois bites her lip. "Well...you see, this whole mission was kind of a...fake."

"What?!" Clark shouts. "And everyone knew but me?!"

Again, all three look away in shame.

All of the puzzle pieces finally lock together.

"That's why you two weren't concerned about the mission to begin with!" Clark accuses Lois and Diana. They make no arguments. "And that's why you risked that scotch! You knew this was just a forced vacation!" Bruce coughs into his hand.

He can't believe them. Two whole weeks and no one thought to mention this was all fake. He invaded several people's cabins for nothing!

Why didn't they just ask him to go on vacation? He wouldn't...okay, so he wouldn't have gone. But there was important work to do. What if the Darkseid came back, or Starro invaded? What if the League needed him?

"Clark," Lois touches his shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't mention anything, but you're a workaholic on your best days. You needed a break and your mother thought this was the best way to do it."

"My Ma?!" Her too? How many people were in on this?

"She and Alfred orchestrated this," Diana explains. "And I believe we've gotten much out of it. What's done is done and we're returning to duty as soon as we return to New Jersey."

Sometimes, Clark hates Diana's pragmatism.

"I just want an apology. Two weeks is a long time to have me strung up about something like this."

Diana's face softens. "I truly am sorry. To both of you," She turns to Bruce. "I won't repeat this in the future, you have my word."

"Thank you," Clark accepts the apology. He sets his frustration aside for the moment and sees it the way Diana -no, is Ma, saw it. He works day and night to keep Metropolis and the rest of the world safe. He was getting stuck in a rhythm and needed a break. And as his Ma knows, any suggestion to stop is quickly brushed aside. A false story, while dishonest, was a good motivator.

They pass back through security with no issue and the car is exactly where Bruce left it two weeks ago. They still have a long ride ahead of them, but Clark is determined to enjoy it. He listens to Diana's marveling over her painting and Lois' very obvious swooning. He looks through the little trinkets Bruce got for each kid and comments on how much they'll enjoy them.

This feels like a new chapter in the book of Clark Kent's life. One full of odd missteps and stumbling, but a chapter he'll get through by Bruce's side. Together.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Clark looks on at the busy roads of Florida. He wonders how Dick will take the news; how all of them will take it.

Maybe they should call ahead. Just in case.

"Welcome back," J'onn greets them at the next League meeting. "It will be good to have our trinity back."

"Hope you didn't enjoy swimming all day too much. Or get any cowl tan lines," Hal snarks. John hits his shoulder.

"What do you have for us, J'onn?" Diana asks, all business.

J'onn stands at the head of the table, a file in hand. "It seems your criminals were part of a much larger drug ring than we originally thought. Mr. Napier is a feared name in the underground and we will need to look into it further before it spreads."

"Drug busts aren't usually League business, though," Barry leans back in his chair. "Why don't we tip off the local authorities and let it run its course?"

"Because this particular ring can be tied back to seven others across the globe and they trade more than just drugs." J'onn presses a button on his remote and the projector casts an image behind him. It's not nearly as surprising as it should be, much to Clark's dismay.

"Kryptonite," Clark sighs. How do they keep getting this stuff? It's supposed to be a rare and alien mineral.

He'll blame Lex for it. In Clark's experience, almost everything is Lex's fault.

"They also have been noted to pass on human trafficking deals through the years. This is a very serious issue that cannot continue."

"So, what's the plan?"

J'onn once again looks down at his file. "I believe going undercover to infiltrate their ranks and acquire knowledge would be our best bet. They are too widespread to attack in one area and we still are not certain we can block off their escape routes. So, I would like to open a discussion of who would be best to send on this particular mission."

Oh no.