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Terra-Earth, the largest population of higher life forms two galaxies over, has sent a partnership of their intergalactic delegates to the planet of Htumb. The arrival of the pair has been highly anticipated by information networks across the continent for weeks now, since Htumb’s most advanced race, the Zartak, sent a probe to the Earthling’s planetary system. Of course life exists outside of their microcosm, but finding it tends to be the hard part—and coming into contact with another sentient species? The odds are not in the Zartax’ favor.
The universe (multiverse?) is infinitely expansive and has exited/will exist for an inconceivable amount of time. Running into other intelligent life forms, in the same corner of the universe, in the same fraction of time, is truly a near-impossible feat. And better yet, for an already remarkably diverse species, the two delegates that have arrived on Htumb are a particular odd pair.
It seems that, besides the regular militaries held by countries across their planet, an additional ‘militia’ has been formed by notable figures who possess unnatural abilities. And the two figures which Terra-Earth chose to represent themselves with are in fact a set of these ‘super’ individuals. The Zartak have wrangled videographic footage of their feats in times of war and in times of peace. Needless to say, the entire nation is buzzing.
High above the capital city of Alzalan, the Batman and the Superman’s ship begins its descent into the bountiful courtyards of the Grand Chambers where they will be received. Throughout the city the rooftops are lined with families focused on the action and within the walls of the Chambers all are adorned in celebratory regalia and the guards weapons are shined to bright and neat points.
Azeeil is a cultural anthropologist as well as a trusted chaperone. Appointed by the Council, she has overseen the arrangements for the two’s comfortable stay. From watching them fight side by side, and the short clips in existence of them interacting while unaware of the presence of a recording device, Azeeil and her fellow scientists came to the easy conclusion that they are a bonded pair. Which is only further confirmed by the obvious showing of sexual dimorphism which the Zartak similarly have! Yet another incredible connection between two species who evolved completely separated from one another.
Zartex, in a comparison made to be understandable to the inhabitants of Terra-Earth, are bird-like. By the human Imperial system of measurement, they are typically between four and five feet, bipedal with shorter fore-limbs for grabbing, and feathered tails that fan out behind them as they walk. This feature on the male sex is typically larger and more colorful, as opposed to the females which remain darker, and more neutral in tone. By this assumption of sexual dimorphism, the Superman and the Batman make perfect sense!
It seems as though the translators are working well for the Earthlings; Azeeil will have to send Dais high praise for such. Some things certainly don’t transfer over perfectly, likely the friendly clicking interspersed between pleasantries, but they only look mildly confused. Quickly, Azeeil slips forward in the crowd and sweeps downwards into a show of respect before the two and in her best English, says, “Greetings!”
The Batman is quick to study her, just as she studies them. ‘You are our…’ the use of her mother-tongue from this foreigner is completely unexpected—she learned their language and didn’t expect any reciprocation—“translator,” is said by the Batman in English. So not fluent by any means, but nor is Azeeil.
She eagerly chirps, which has been echoed by everyone else gathered within earshot of the low-toned Batman. ‘Translator’ she echoes in their language, Xirxes. The Batman nods. “Yes. While our technology allows you to understand us, we were not able to make it work the other way. We are very sorry for this.”
The Batman makes a low noise, maybe skeptical although the nuances of emotion in non-spoken conversation eludes Azeeil. However their colorful partner does not react similarly which is reassuring. The Superman steps forward, closer to his partner, and splays a large hand onto the other’s dark back.
“That’s alright,” he explains, “and the efforts you have taken to make us comfortable are greatly appreciated. We’re grateful.”
”Of course. We are honored to have such an important couple visiting.” Azeeil turns herself around and motions for the onlookers to make a path for their guests. “My name is Azeeil, and if you would follow me down this way, I will show you to the rooms we have prepared for you.”
—
“We are honored to have such an important couple visiting.”
Superman’s smile freezes. Couple? He shoots a glance at Batman, whose eyes have narrowed slightly but whose expression remains otherwise impassive. The Zartak around them—small, feathered beings with colorful plumage and gleaming attire—look up at the pair with wide, curious eyes. Superman can hear the low hum of clicks and trills running through the crowd while the translation device does little to convey the concept behind the noises. The noises sound happy though, so he’ll assume they are until told otherwise.
And beside him, Batman’s silence says everything: Don’t correct them. Just roll with it.
Superman takes a breath, his cape shifting as he adjusts his stance slightly. “We’re, uh, happy to be here,” he says, careful to keep his tone neutral. The Zartak all chirp in response, their feathered tails fanning out behind them in what he assumes is approval. The speckled brown translator then introduces herself as Azeeil, and asks them to follow her back into their quarters.
Batman says that the material the palace they have landed in is most similar to selenite. The roofs, in turn, look like they are made out of smooth metal that is likely less water soluble and more similar to tin or silver. The monochromatic nature of the building palette is disrupted however by the minute changes in the color of the rock, from the millions and millions of years it must have taken to form; later by layer. And with the warm yellow sun shining in through the translucent walls too, the place is ethereal.
Selfishly, he hopes that Batman can see the nuance of color and hue changes too. He can see a lot more colors than the human eye can when in this light, but Batman, Bruce, is one of the few people who Superman believes might understand his awe. How else could someone stand to live in Gotham their entire life if they never took the time to appreciate life with fresh eyes? Without thinking about it, he’s closed in on his companion. His companion, in turn, has allowed it.
Their polite guide, Azeeil, tilts her head slightly when they come to a stop before a door. This hall is mostly empty except for a set of guards stationed on both ends. Superman taps four of his fingers onto Batman’s shoulder to tell him such. Batman nods. And Azeel, feathers fluffing, studies them.
“Your bond has been a source of great intrigue for us,” she says, her voice lilting with curiosity. “Such partnerships are not seen so frequently in our culture. To find that you share such a connection is remarkable.”
Superman glances at Batman again, but he remains unaffected, his expression giving away nothing. Maybe Superman is the one misunderstanding here? Afterall, it’s definitely not the first time that aliens have misunderstood their partnership—though usually, it’s Superman’s physical strength or Batman’s genius that draws attention and not… this? This is different. And much more embarrassing. Nobody wants to be told by an entire planet that a workplace crush is so obvious.
Batman inclines his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge her. “We’ve been through a lot together,” he says, his tone clipped but polite. Okay, so it’s definitely Kal who is misunderstanding things, alright. Oops, let’s not tell Batman.
The Zartak takes it as confirmation to her own theory and merrily clicks. Azeeil steps forward again, her bright eyes gleaming as she takes in both of them. “I have watched the way you protect each other,” she says. “The footage we have seen shows a bond that transcends mere partnership. Such devotion, such care—to see such love and empathy from a species outside of our galaxy is truly a marvel.”
Superman feels his face heat up as he nods slowly, swallowing the awkward laugh that threatens to escape. “Well, we take our... partnership seriously,” he says carefully, choosing his words as diplomatically as possible. “It’s important to us.”
Azeeil’s feathers puff up further, clearly pleased by his response. She proceeded to let out a melodic series of clicks. “It is as we thought. This will be wonderful news for my colleagues.”
Superman doesn’t quite know what to think of that… but it seems like a nice enough sentiment. If he understands correctly, Earth is the first sentient life that the Zartak have come across. Of course such notable aspects of a culture and society are important. “Come in,” Azeeil says, sweeping her arms toward a grand set of doors leading further into the Chambers. “Your quarters have been prepared, and we have ensured that all your needs will be met. You should find everything to your satisfaction.”
Superman walks in step with Batman, their caped shoulders brushing lightly against each other. This tension between them is familiar, yet now charged with an unexpected extra layer. Is it unprofessional that Superman feels like they have led the Zartak on? Because they clearly believe they are witnessing something far more intimate than a simple diplomatic visit. And surely Batman realizes this too? Whatever, he won’t do anything if Batman doesn’t do anything—and Azeeil looks like she’s about to leave them to be anyways.
Then, Batman’s voice is then in his ear, so low only he could catch it. Like he can read Kal’s mind. “They’re not going to drop this.”
Okay, he’s not going crazy. Superman nods, glancing sideways at their concierge and then back before she notices. Batman’s jaw tightens, but he stays silent as they follow Azeeil through the intricately carved door.
Inside is a lavish suite, composed of multiple large rooms, filled with exotic furniture and decorations and fluttering curtains. The sun lights up the walls in a way that makes Superman miss his fortress up in the arctic, and the breeze is just warm enough in the cool room. It’s very nice, pleasant even. And Azeeil leads them in and shows them their commodities while taking a moment to flaunt her knowledge of human wants and needs. But Superman’s eyes land on one detail in particular: a single bed in the center of the room. That’s closer to the size of the bed in his apartment than anything Bruce Wayne has even thought about.
He blinks, then glances at Batman, who—unsurprisingly—gives no outward reaction, though Superman can tell he’s already cataloging every piece of unfamiliar technology in the room. The Zartak ambassador watches them with anticipation, clearly waiting for some sign of approval.
“I hope the suite is to your liking.” She pauses, head tilting as she considers her words. She must notice Kal’s staring. “I do now realize that the sleeping accommodations are rather tight… I did not realize you would both be so large.” Azeeil has a sheepish look in her eyes. “But should you require anything further—anything—please do not hesitate to ask!”
Superman opens his mouth to respond, but Batman beats him to it. Stepping forward with his usual calm precision. “Thank you,” he says smoothly, offering a curt nod. “Your hospitality is appreciated.”
Azeeil’s feathers fluff with obvious delight. “We have Council robe designs for both of you ready as well. We hope you will allow us to have them fit to you, so you can wear them for our ceremonies.” The word ’ceremonies’ has Superman raising a single eyebrow in Batman’s direction, who shrugs, unbothered. Which is surprising, because their team has not had the best of luck with foreign ‘ceremonies’ on different worlds.
“I will be in the room right down the hall we just walked through; the little door on the side.” She bows, “But otherwise, I will collect you for the evening meal in an hour’s time,” and exits the room. Leaving Batman and Superman alone in their massive honeymoon suite.
For a moment, a really long moment, neither of them speaks. Superman stares at the bed, then at Batman, but he’s already moving on to start inspecting the walls for surveillance devices. The silence stretches on, heavy with all the things left unsaid.
Finally, Superman breaks it with a soft chuckle. “Well, there’s always… that.”
Batman shoots him a look, but there’s a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “Welcome to diplomacy,” he mutters, moving to the far side of the room to continue his inspection.
Superman sighs, somewhere between frustrated and tickled. “You didn’t actually correct them.”
“I am aware,” Batman replies without looking up, his voice dry. “And I don’t intend to unless that makes you uncomfortable. We are in unknown territory here, Kal. They’re less likely to split us up like this.”
Superman runs a hand through his hair, glancing at the single bed in the center of the room, then back at Batman. “I… guess you’re right about that.” He nods slowly, chewing over the logic. It makes sense, even if it’s awkward. “So yeah, that works with me then.”
For a moment, they fall into silence again, the only sound in the room the soft hum of alien technology and Batman’s quiet movements as he checks every corner for spying devices. Superman watches him for a second longer than necessary.
That’s how he notices the slight twitch of Batman’s lips—the closest thing to a smile Superman will get out of him right now—and sue hi;, he’s a romantic through-and-through. Kal’s voice is softer when he speaks again, the weight of his words carrying more than just their immediate situation. “You know… I’m glad it’s you that they think… I don’t know, I'm glad they think—it's us. That I’m—with you—“
Batman pauses in his inspection, his back still turned. For a beat, he doesn’t respond, and Superman wonders if he’s pushed too far. But then, Batman straightens, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He turns, his sharp blue eyes meeting Superman’s, and for once, the walls between them seem to lower.
“I know,” Batman murmurs, his voice unusually gentle. And he doesn’t say anything else, but they have known one another for long enough that the slight twitch of his lips as he continues his sweep of the room is answer enough.
When they step off the transporter pad and into the Watchtower, both Superman and Batman are still decked out in the ceremonial robes of Htumb, which are... quite a sight. The robes are elaborate, designed to mimic the bright, feathered tails of the Zartak. Superman’s attire, however, is by far the most eye-catching. His robe is vibrant and patterned in swirling colors, with a high collar and a plunging neckline that shows off more of his chest than he’s really comfortable with. The deep vee exposes his well-defined torso, and a long train sweeps behind him, which mimics the colorful plumage of a bird of paradise.
Batman, in contrast, wears a more muted version of a similar robe—still bright by his standards but darker, with deep reds and subtle golds. His train is shorter, the pattern less intricate but still undeniably regal; expensive. His outfit is a deliberate nod to the Zartax’ idea of sexual dimorphism, which turns out to be very similar to those of bird species on Earth. The male is flashier, while the female is sleek. To the Zartak, Batman’s role as the more muted and darker figure meant he was the female of the pair.
Superman tugs at his collar, clearly uncomfortable with how exposed he is. “You know, we could’ve changed first,” he mutters as they walk.
Batman, ever the pragmatist, doesn’t even break stride. “We were already running late,” he replies flatly, surveying the Watchtower corridors as if expecting an ambush.
“And besides,” Batman adds, a slight edge of amusement in his tone, “the team already knows that you’re the flashy one.”
Superman huffs but doesn’t respond, his cheeks turning a little redder under the scrutiny.
As they approach the Justice League meeting room, Superman leans in, lowering his voice. “You understood what they were saying about us, didn’t you? The whole time?”
Batman’s lips quirk ever so slightly. “I did.”
Superman groans. “And you didn’t correct them?”
Batman’s eyes flick toward him, blue and sharp, but he doesn’t stop walking. “We were in a delicate situation. Their assumptions worked in our favor. I saw no reason to correct them.”
Superman opens his mouth, ready to protest, but the doors to the meeting room slide open before he can get a word out. Inside, the rest of the Justice League sit waiting with low conversation occurring. But as soon as they catch sight of the two, the room falls into a stunned silence.
Flash is the first to react, snorting loudly before bursting into full-on laughter. “Oh my god—what are you two wearing? Did you get lost at a space disco?”
Superman tries to hide his embarrassment, pulling at the deep V of his robe as if that will somehow make it less revealing. “They’re ceremonial robes,” he says, though his voice lacks its usual confidence.
Green Lantern shakes his head, eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t know, man. Bats looks like he’s going to a royal ball, and you… You look like you’re trying to seduce an entire planet.”
Wonder Woman’s eyes flicker with amusement as she stands and approaches them, taking in every detail of their outfits. “Ceremonial robes, you say? Very... unique.” She eyes Superman’s deep neckline and the dramatic contrast between his colorful attire and Batman’s more subdued yet still striking outfit.
Superman rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling warm under the collar. “It’s... complicated.”
“Oh, it’s not that complicated,” Batman cuts in, his voice dry as ever. “They thought we were a bonded pair. I saw no need to correct them.”
Wonder Woman smirks. “A bonded pair?”
Superman groans inwardly as Flash starts snickering again, and Batman isn’t fazed in the slightest. “They believe we're bonded. And their species has sexually dimorphic traits, which they believe we shared,” Batman explains coolly, eyes cutting briefly to Superman’s.
He continues, “And they assumed that I—being the less colorful of the two of us—was female.”
The room goes silent for a beat before Green Lantern coughs to hide his laugh. “What? They thought you were—”
Superman runs a hand through his hair, his face heating up. “It’s not like we had much of a choice in the wardrobe.”
Wonder Woman glances between them, her lips twitching with a suppressed smile. “So... Batman was the one in charge, then?”
“Obviously,” Flash chimes in, and he loses it again, laughing so hard he has to grip the table for support. “Oh, this is amazing.”
Superman shifts awkwardly, suddenly feeling very exposed in the shimmering robe. “Look, it wasn’t that big a deal. They just assumed... things.”
Flash gasps between fits of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. “Things? You mean like, ‘Oh look, it’s Pretty Mister Superman and his Dominating Mistress Batman?’”
Superman sighs, his face now a permanent shade of crimson. Batman has no trouble replying though. “Yes. That.”
At this, the entire room erupts in laughter. Batman, however, remains perfectly still, watching them all with that same unwavering, calculating gaze until finally he speaks. His voice returning to its normal low rumble. “I assure you, their misunderstanding was advantageous.”
Superman narrows his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Yeah, whatever you say,” he quietly mumbles, although his partner knows it’s in good nature.
Wonder Woman shakes her head, chuckling softly. “Well, I believe it is safe to say this was a majorly successful mission. I doubt our friends in Htumb will forget about our dear delegates anytime soon.”
Batman just glances back at Superman, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as they settle into their seats. “Neither will I,” he says under his breath, low enough that only Superman can hear, and then starts his post-mission debrief like it’s nothing at all.