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“Superman, I'm glad you could make it.” Jim Corrigan stands on the sidewalk outside a shop in the heart of Metropolis where Clark lands calmly. Pandora's Box: Trinkets and Ornaments, he reads on the sign above the window.
“Of course, Detective Corrigan. What seems to be the problem?”
Jim rubs the back of his neck. He seems a little embarrassed. “It's nothing but a good old robbery. Nothing we can't do ourselves. I wouldn't have called you here but the owner insisted on you and Batman. He's already inside.” The detective points towards the door, where broken glass litters the floor. Batman stands inside, looking at some of the shelves. A small old lady stands next to him, talking frantically. He doesn't seem to mind.
“Alright, don't worry about it,” Clark tells Jim. “Always happy to help.” He steps inside carefully as not to disturb any of the evidence, and scans the small store quickly. It's dark inside, the heavy curtain in the window blocking almost all light from outside. It smells dusty, and wooden shelves are lined with what can only be described as Trinkets and Ornaments, Clark thinks. A shiver runs over his spine. Faded energy hangs in the air all around the little shop, like something waiting to be awakened. He makes his way over to Batman and the old lady.
“Oh, Superman! Thank the gods you came! I was robbed,” she cries.
“It's okay, ma'am, we're here to help. Do you know what's missing?”
“I'm so sorry,” the woman cries. She seems frantic. Batman stays calm and looks at the shelf in front of him where there's an empty spot.
“It's not your fault. What is your name?” Clark tries.
“Adrasteia,” the woman says quietly. “This store is my life's work. And now it's ruined.”
“Okay, Adrasteia, can you tell me what was stolen?”
“Only one item. It was right here.” She points where Batman is now dusting for fingerprints. Clark quickly looks over the spot with his enhanced vision, but finds nothing out of the ordinary. Except that weird energy that seems to be pulling at him everywhere.
“The thief knew what they wanted,” Batman says.
“Okay, while Batman dusts for fingerprints, why don't we go sit down and you can tell me what the item is? We'll also need to take your fingerprints so Batman can filter those out of his investigation.”
The lady leads Clark to the cash register, where she sits down on a creaky old barstool. He manages to find her a glass of water. After she swallows the first sip, she starts talking. “The stolen item is very powerful.” Clark doesn't like the sound of this. Superman is just as susceptible to magic as humans are. “It's a soul statue. In the wrong hands it can cause a lot of damage. In the right hands, it can teach one a lot about oneself.”
“Do you think you could draw it? Or do you have a photograph?”
“I can do both, Superman.” The lady rummages through her desk, and pulls out an old crumpled photograph of the inside of the shop. Front and center are Adrasteia and a man, behind them the shelves full of trinkets.
“My Henry.” Adrasteia points to the man. She sighs. “It hasn't been the same since he's gone. I moved to the USA for him. That's a long time ago now. Ahh, here it is.” She points to a small item on one of the shelves. It's a little statue of a crude figure, but the old photograph doesn't show Clark much more than that.
“May we keep this? For now?” Batman asks. He has joined them at the register, and is setting up a small ink pad and paper for Adrasteia’s fingerprints.
“Please return it to me.” Adrasteia hands Batman the photograph. “I don't have much of him anymore.”
“Of course,” Clark says quickly.
Adrasteia tells them more about the artifact's powers and history as Batman guides her fingers one by one from the ink pad to the paper. It's capable of fortune telling, and can drive the recipient mad with realization of their truest self. It's very old, she says, and passed down through many generations into her hands. Her family kept it to protect them from lies and deception.
“Why did you have it for sale?”
“I'm old, Batman. I have no children to pass it down to. I can't make the trip back to Romania anymore, and my family can't afford to come here. It would be better if it found a safe home with someone else again.”
Batman nods. So does Clark. They leave the shop with a more detailed drawing of the figure, Adrasteia's squiggly lines depicting many decorations upon its body.
The two heroes reconvene on top of a nearby building after Clark has finished talking to detective Corrigan. “I don't particularly like this. It's better I tell you now that I'm just as susceptible to magic as humans. I won't be an advantage if we have to go against someone who knows what they're dealing with.”
“Which very much seems to be the case,” Bruce says. He rubs his chin. Their partnership is still new, but Clark is happy to have Bruce's help on this case. “I'll start with the finger prints and our database in the cave.”
“Let me know if you find anything,” Clark says. “Otherwise I can compare them with other databases around the world. In the meantime I'll fly to Romania and try to find out more about the thing and who would want it.”
Bruce nods. “Clever.” A little butterfly flaps its wings in Clark's stomach. Ever since he found out the man under the mask is human, Clark is impressed with everything Bruce does. Any validation from him feels like the biggest complement in the world. “We'll talk soon. You know where to find me.”
“Wait,” Clark says. He pauses for a beat when Batman actually freezes instead of running off. “It's been a while since we've seen each other. We should catch up. How's Dick?”
“In school right now. Not here. You'll get an invite to Wayne Manor soon.” Instead of jumping away like Bruce has taken to doing recently, he turns to Clark and takes his hand. “I'll see you there?”
“I look forward to it.” Clark smiles. Batman's grip is strong. The air between them crackles with something magical.
A week later finds Clark Kent donning his best suit - which still fits him abysmally and makes his shoulders look even wider and his frame very square - to attend the charity ball at Wayne Manor. The ball is thrown every year in honor of the late Thomas and Martha Wayne. Bruce himself is usually rarely seen, or only for a short amount of time.
The great hall of the manor is crowded with guests doing their best to catch a glimpse of their host. The party is already in full swing. Lois makes a beeline for the champagne pyramid when they walk in, and Clark is alone among the crowd.
He's astonished. The hall is decorated with glitter and fresh flowers, gaudy and gold. Waiters walk around with trays of drinks. People are dancing, talking, playing games. He's only ever seen the cave below. The party sounds hollow between the old stone, like it's not supposed to be disturbing the house.
He listens. Dick is asleep in his room, in a wing far away from all the noise. On the floor above himself, Clark hears Bruce's footsteps. He slips away easily and makes his way up the stairs and down a long hallway towards Bruce's heartbeat.
When he opens the door, the room is dark. Bruce's figure stands in the strip of light coming from the hallway. There are no other lights on in the room and the sounds of the party are only murmurs.
“Mr Wayne. Here you are.”
Bruce turns around to face him. “Mr Kent. There's no hiding from you, is there?”
“If you'd rather be alone I'll leave.”
“No, stay. I just needed some quiet.”
Clark closes the door behind himself. The room is clad in only moonlight again. It suits Bruce. The sharp angles of his face are even more pronounced and beautiful this way. Clark squashes down the butterflies, and shakes his friend's hand. “Thank you for inviting me. Lois is downstairs losing her mind over the fact that she's my plus one and not the other way around. Mr White was very impressed as well.”
“You're welcome. You've never been up here before, I figured. And if I caused a promotion for you, be sure to let me know. I'd expect something in return.”
“And what is it you'd wish for, Mr Wayne?”
“We'll see when the time is right.” The corner of Bruce's mouth twitches a little. “Now, you mentioned Ms Lane being here as your plus one. Do you take her on dates regularly?”
“Oh, no! She insisted she'd come with me this time.” Clark adjusts his tie. He'll make an assumption. If it's wrong, he'll find out soon enough. “Normally I'd be alone. You can understand, being in a similar predicament yourself.”
“You mean the cape?”
“There's always two of us, right? One you show the world, and one you really are.”
“Hmm, I think the real us hides somewhere between all the masked versions of ourselves.” Wayne turns away from Clark towards the window again. He folds his hands behind his back.
Clark takes a step towards him. “Tell me, Mr Wayne. Do you ever see there being a mother figure in your young ward's life again?”
“I haven't considered it.”
“And why is that?”
“You said it yourself. It's complicated in our situation. They wouldn't understand. Though I mustn't forget you're a reporter. Maybe I've said too much already.”
“The reporter is the mask. You and Richard - and Alfred - are the only people alive who know who I really am.” It's been… surprisingly nice. To be able to be himself around them, when they're in the cave, or on short talks after adventures.
Bruce looks back at him. “Do I?” he asks.
“I think you do. Just as I know you.”
Bruce takes a step towards him. “It seems you do. Please, call me Bruce.”
“Only if you call me Clark, Bruce.”
Bruce stares up at him, searching his eyes in the dark. His breathing is calm, but his heartbeat is erratic, just like Clark's.
The door opens, to reveal a small figure. “Dick. I thought you went to bed.” Bruce flicks on a light near the window.
“I knew you were inviting Superman. I waited up until he arrived and tailed him here. Hello, Mr Kent.” Dick waves.
“Hi. You're quite the detective already I see.”
Bruce sighs, but there's a laugh hidden underneath it. “Alright. Come say hello to Clark. Then off to bed.”
The three of them talk a little, to catch up as Clark had asked for. Bruce glances at him every now and then. And Clark hears his heartbeat pick up a little.
The next day, Superman is called to the batcave via a signal in the sky. Bruce doesn't have his cowl on when he gets there, and Dick is practicing his swings and somersaults.
“Our database has no match for the finger prints.”
“Neither did the other ones I've looked into in police stations around the country.” Clark has done a lot of flying in the past week. “I visited Adrasteia's old home village in Romania as well, but I couldn't get a lot of information. People are still afraid to talk to outsiders with the occupation of the Red Army still on their mind.”
“Hmm, understandable. Maybe it was a long shot anyway.”
“I hate to say this,” Clark says, rubbing his chin, “but I think we need to look from a different angle. Any reports of anomalous behavior that could have been induced by magic could be a clue to the thief's identity.”
Bruce looks at him. “I hate to say this, but I think you're right.”
Clark smirks. He puts a hand on Bruce's shoulder. “Almost as good a detective as you, huh?” Bruce doesn't shy away from his half-hug. In fact, he leans into it, if only the smallest amount.
“I didn't say that,” he huffs.
On the swings, Dick has climbed up on the trapeze. “Clark! Can you fly up and catch me? I'm trying a triple somersault.”
As if caught doing something wrong, Bruce quickly moves away from him. “Of course, buddy,” Clark grins. Dick swings higher and higher, dropping to hang on the bar again, and then with a snap, he takes off. He does one, two full rotations, but Clark has to catch him halfway through the third, afraid he'll hit the ground too soon.
“Woo!” Dick breathes out. “Almost got it that time, Bruce!” He climbs out of Clark's arms again, telling him thank you.
“Keep practicing, chum.” Bruce ruffles Dick's hair affectionately. He looks so proud of his ward, it starts up all of the butterflies in Clark's stomach again. Still, he is a little worried at Dick practicing that without a net.
“Umm, I'll be here as a safety cushion?” He offers. Bruce looks at him with desperation. Please, he mouths.
“Say, Dick, how would you like to see my hideout?”
“You have a hideout?”
“Sure do. I call it my Fortress of Solitude.”
“That sounds kind of sad,” Dick says. He looks up at Clark.
“Well, I'm usually there to be alone.” He turns to Bruce. “We can scan reports from all over the continent and feed it into my crime analysis machine.” Bruce's eyes light up. Clark takes a good look at his two crime fighting partners. “You might want to dress warm. It's in the Arctic.”
“Hmm, lead the way. We'll follow in the batplane.”
Once inside the fortress, Bruce and Dick are in awe. They slowly walk around taking everything in, from the tiny bottled city of Kandor to the shipwreck of the Titanic occupying the main hall. There are many rooms where Clark practices hobbies or spends his time building machines or tries to work on cures for diseases. He wants to show Bruce all of it, but it will have to wait. They're here for a mission right now.
“And I thought I had you all figured out,” Bruce says quietly.
“I'll show you more of this place some other time,” Clark promises.
“Hey, look, B. There's statues of us!” Dick exclaims when they walk past the room labeled Superman's best friends. “Wow, they look just like us.”
“You made those?” Bruce asks. He purses his lips, looking at the lips on his statue. “Remarkable.”
Clark fists his cape. “Sorry if it's unsettling. Photographic memory,” he explains, pointing to his own head. “Sculpting the wax figures is very soothing to me. And I wanted a place to honor my friends, and, you know, if I'm ever not here anymore I want people to know how much I trusted all of you. Umm, that's also why there's one of Clark Kent. So no one ever finds out.”
Bruce hums. But dick pipes up. “You don't have to be so lonely anymore now.” The kid is remarkably perceptive. Maybe even more so than Bruce in certain ways.
“No, I don't,” Clark agrees. He wraps his arms around both of them. “I have you now.” It had been daunting at first, to come to terms with Bruce and then Dick knowing who he was. They're the only ones who have a grasp at understanding Clark's daily struggles. He takes Bruce's hand. “Come, I'll show you my crime analysis machine.”
Bruce goes with him willingly, Dick follows closely behind. Even through Batman's glove, it feels nice to hold his hand. Bruce has a firm grip and a warm presence. If Clark concentrates, he can almost feel the ridges of Bruce's skin through his enhanced senses and the vibrations of the material of his glove. He selfishly wants to feel him bare.
In his Kryptonian lab, Bruce's heart skips a beat. There's Clark's supercomputer, showing every newscast from around the world, and his chemistry table, to analyze elements from outer space, and his crime analysis machine. “Now we'll feed the clues we have found into the machine and it will give us a list of suspects.”
“And in the meantime I'll input parameters for your supercomputer to scan the news for any mentions of our culprit.”
“Yes,” Clark smiles.
As the machines power up and start making ticking noises and sheets of paper roll out of various slits, Bruce sits down next to Clark. Dick has taken to looking into everything at his chemistry table, and they watch the kid together. Bruce takes off his cowl. His cheeks are rosy from the cold air and the hard work. It looks nice, Clark thinks. As if he's been smiling.
“Thank you for sharing this place with us,” Bruce starts.
“I'm glad I have someone to share it with. I'll work on some heating so you'll both be warmer next time.”
“I'd very much like to come here again. There's so much more I want to see. And you'll have to explain all the workings of your supercomputer to me.”
“I'll show you the intergalactic zoo. And maybe you can help me finish my shrinking ray so I can enter Kandor.” Clark doesn't realize until he's finished speaking that he's grabbed Bruce's hands in his own. Bruce doesn't pull away. He smiles, and his heart skips a beat again. He's almost certain Bruce is gay as well, and into Clark. It's the way he steals glances, and the way his pink cheeks dust with just a bit extra pink from talking to Clark. There's a connection between them that runs deeper than both of them fighting crime. Clark rubs his fingers.
Just then, the list of names finishes printing from Clark's machine. “Ah.” Bruce gets up. “We've got work to do.” He's right of course. It's a long list. Clark follows him and watches over Bruce's shoulder as he picks up the list.
“The Master of misdirection… Grand Gloria, Great Zodiac… these are all magician's stage names.”
“That can't be right. Something must be wrong with your machine.”
“Hmm.” Clark crosses his arms. “It's never far off. We could look into these magicians first while we wait for any alerts from the supercomputer. Though it's high time I showed up for work on time for once this week.”
“You're always busy,” Bruce says.
“So are you.”
“Touche. It's time Dick and I go back to Gotham as well. Can I take the list? I'll do some research in my spare time.”
Batman often burns the candle at both ends, Clark has noticed. Though he can't very well judge Bruce for that, seeing as he isn't much better himself. The difference is that he doesn't need sleep though. “Only if you make sure you get some rest, too.” Clark has already memorized the list in case anything pops up that he needs to look into.
“No promises,” Bruce says as he folds up the paper. “Maybe I need some help with that.” He turns around. “Dick, we're going home. School tomorrow.”
Clark stares at Bruce's back as he and his ward walk back towards the batplane. Bruce was flirting with him! He grins. The butterflies in his stomach triple their effort to make him absolutely lovesick for this man. He can't wait to hold him in his arms.
Not much happens for a week. Bruce calls Clark at his home and it's nice to hear his voice between all the chaos of work and patrolling Metropolis and saving people. They talk about the case and Bruce's progress researching the dozens of stage magicians. A couple of them are actively doing shows at the moment.
“Thank you, Bruce. Get some rest.”
Bruce yawns. Clark chuckles. “Hmm. It was nice to talk to you. Goodnight, Clark.” Bruce doesn't wait for an answer. The phone clicks back on the hook.
“Goodnight, Bruce,” Clark whispers to his dark living room.
Three days later, Clark gets an alert from the Fortress. His supercomputer has compiled a series of reports of people hallucinating… at various magic shows around the country.
“A show in Cleveland… people reported feeling woozy afterwards. And then at one in Columbus. ‘Several attendants left Zorban’s show, stating nausea and seeing things that weren't there,” Clark reads to Bruce in the cave barely five minutes later. “See. I told you my crime analysis machine wasn't wrong.”
“Okay, okay. Let me see… Zara Zorban. She's on the list.” Bruce browses several newspapers on his computer, scanning for entertainment calendars. In just a few minutes, he has success. “She has a show In Cincinnati tonight. It starts in one hour. Can you get us there?” He looks up at Clark.
“Of course!”
Just as Bruce has packed a disguise for both of them, and he stands ready for Clark to pick him up, Dick runs into the cave. “Where are you going?” He asks, looking between the two of them.
“Investigation,” Bruce replies. “Sorry chum, the plane won't be fast enough. Next time you can come along again.”
“I do have two arms for carrying,” Clark smiles and puts his arms up as if to prove it.
Dick does a little jump. “Far out! Let's go flying!”
Bruce shoots him a look. Clearly Clark shouldn't have said that.
“You're not coming, Dick. You're 10. We're not taking you with us at 8 o’clock on a Wednesday.”
“But I did all my homework! What about patrol?”
Bruce puts a hand on Dick's shoulder and crouches down to his level. “It will be too late when I get back. Alfred will make you dinner and see to you going to bed on time.”
“Hmph.” Dick crosses his arms. He stomps a little and stares up at Bruce. Bruce stares back, arms folded across his chest. It must be hard being Batman's kid. In the end Dick does turn around and stalk to Alfred, who's standing at the bottom of the stairs to the house.
As they leave, Clark turns to Bruce. “I'm sorry if I made that worse. I shouldn't have said anything.”
“Hmm. He looks up to you a lot. I would appreciate it if you left the parenting to me for now.”
“Of course,” Clark agrees. “You do a great job. He's a swell kid.”
“Thank you, Clark.” Bruce puts his hand on Clark's shoulder. “Now, shall we?” There's a sparkle in his eyes that puts a smile on Clark's face.
“We shall,” he says and holds out his hand for Bruce. Bruce slides his cowl over his head before taking it and stepping very close.
Clark holds Bruce under his knees and his back a little awkwardly at first, but as soon as they take off, it feels more natural. The wind whips through Clark's hair and the ears of Bruce's cowl prick gently into his shoulder where Bruce leans against him. Bruce holds the leather bag with their disguises close to his chest and stares straight ahead. Clark thinks it's cute.
As Clark flies through the clouds chasing the sunset, he allows himself to feel Bruce's breath against his chin and his pulse underneath his fingers. He could get used to this.
When they reach Cincinnati, Clark lands them on a rooftop where they change into their disguises. Clark’s suit, hat and glasses are not too far from his usual disguise. Bruce wears an inconspicuous suit, hat, and he has added a fake mustache for good measure. The theater where the magic show will be is small and packed. An usher holds back a curtain for the two of them to pass through and points them to their seats. Bruce puts his hand on Clark's back as they walk in.
“Hmm, this better be something.” Bruce crosses his arms in his seat. He seems to install himself to just wait for the show to start. Clark leans over.
He extends his hearing and looks through the wall behind the stage. “Zara seems to be getting ready backstage. She doesn't look very suspicious.”
“What about her props? See any sign of the statue?”
“Hmm, I don't think so. She has a lot of props. This might be a long show.”
People around them are chatting as well, whispering to each other in the moderate lighting. The dark room makes it easy to hide and pretend they're on a date. Bruce whispers in Clark's ear, tickling breath ghosting along his neck. It's very hard to concentrate on Zara, and then suddenly she's on stage.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!” She walks across the stage, arms wide, a flowing velour cape dragging behind her.
“She certainly has stage presence,” Clark whispers to Bruce.
“Shhh,” Bruce mouths.
“Get ready for a magical night, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, you will be mesmerized, and transformed!” Glitter falls from Zara's hand. “You'll remember my name! Zara Zorban!” She starts her show. Clark watches, already intrigued. With some of her trickery he can barely see through it, even with his enhanced senses. Halfway through, Bruce puts his hand on Clark's arm. Her effects are positively amazing.
Bruce squeezes his arm, as if to say something, but when Clark turns towards him, they're kissing. They can't, it flits through Clark's mind. They'll get thrown out of the theater. But it's Bruce, and his lips on Clark's. And it's perfect, until it's not.
The logic part of Clark's Kryptonian brain takes over, and he wakes up. All around Clark, people are moving in unnatural ways. Zara stands on the stage, taking it all in, grinning from ear to ear. In her hands is the small statue that Adrasteia described. Next to him, Bruce sits motionless, his eyes unblinking. They're not kissing, they never were.
“Bruce!” He whispers. “It's her, she has the statue.”
Bruce doesn't react. Clark grabs his hands.
“Bruce,” he tries again. “Whatever you're seeing, it's not real.” Clark wonders what Bruce is seeing. Probably not the same as him. Selfishly, he feels dread settle into his heart and make a space there to stay. It was crazy to think he ever had a chance with Bruce. Whatever his partner is seeing must be horrible, judging by his wide eyes.
“Batman,” he finally whispers. Bruce looks at him, terrifying ire in his eyes. He closes them. His dark and bushy brows furrow unnaturally. He's hurting, Clark needs to help him and the other audience members. He needs to apprehend Zara. But one is more important than the other right now. He chances one last look at Zara. She spots him in the middle of the writhing crowd, and disappears.
Clark puts his hands on Bruce's face. “B,” he starts, forgoing his full hero name. Maybe it will work. “Listen to me. Whatever you're seeing is not real. You're right here in the theater, with me.”
Bruce grinds his teeth, dangerously so. Behind him, some other people bump into his shoulder. “B, please listen to me! You can wake up. It's not real. The only things that are real is that Dick loves you. I..”
“I'm trying to control it,” Bruce grinds. “It's too much. I cause so much harm.” For a moment, Bruce is not rigid. He almost sobs.
Clark can't let him speak anymore. He'll let go of his iron control and the hallucinations will take him under. “Okay, shhh, just breathe. You can get out of this. She's left, it won't last long anymore now.”
“Help them,” Bruce strains. He motions with his head around the room.
“Okay. Promise me, you'll get out of this.”
“I do.” Clark lets go. He gets up to look around the room. He helps people one by one, starting with a woman who's threatening to go into a seizure. He helps multiple people with their breathing. He only calms down a little and regains some of his confidence once he sees Bruce doing the same.
Once the people have all made it out of the theater, Bruce takes him aside. He shivers a little bit.
“Are you cold?” Clark asks. Bruce nods, but keeps his arms defensively crossed over his chest. Clark doesn't try to go near him.
“It's a shame she got away.” Bruce's tone isn't accusatory, but it invites no further discussion. Still, Clark feels defensive.
“You know I couldn't let you and all those people suffer.”
“Hmm.” It's simply like this, ever since their partnership started. They butt heads sometimes, but Bruce doesn't explicitly disagree with Clark. He uncrosses his arms. “At least we know it's her and what she looks like now. All we have to do is find her.”
“She won't be able to hide from Superman and Batman for long.” Clark bumps his elbow. Bruce turns around and walks to the building where they've stored their suits.
“What did you see?” Clark asks when they're back in the air and Bruce is in his arms again, where he mostly can't ignore Clark. He doesn't want to think about what he saw and hopes that this way he'll be able to distract himself a little by helping Bruce work through it.
“Something I shouldn't do. It only leads to destruction,” comes the unsatisfying answer. Bruce definitely hasn't seen the same as Clark then. All he wants is to kiss Bruce, but he knows he can't now. “What about you?”
“Something I shouldn't do,” Clark says.
“Adrasteia said the soul statue can teach you a lot about yourself,” Bruce recalls.
“Our deepest desires.” The thing is, Clark already knows he wants to kiss Bruce. If Bruce even saw the same, it must have been horrible for him.
“Maybe it's better not to act on them, I think now. I'm sorry.” Bruce's apology takes Clark off-guard. Why would he apologize? Would he have hurt Clark? He can keep guessing, but Clark has always been about truth and finding it.
“What for?” He asks.
“For what we can't do.”
Clark doesn't want to think about what that means. “Me too,” he says, with a lump in his throat.
He looks at Bruce's lips, feels the ghost imprint of them on his own, and back at the sky ahead again as they fly to meet the sunrise over Gotham.
That night, Clark has trouble sleeping. He only dreams of Bruce, his cunning brown eyes and the black of his hair and his rough but gentle lips, and his beautiful brain. He wakes up multiple times shaking the image from his mind. He doesn't know exactly what Bruce has seen, but he knows they can't be together now, and never will.
The fifth time he wakes up it's to someone calling for Superman. The voice doesn't sound distressed, but Clark is out of his bed and in his suit in the blink of an eye, being pulled to the Appalachian mountains. “Superman,” he hears again, and it's not until he lands that he realizes it's Zara. She stands at the mouth of a cave holding the soul statue.
“You,” he says.
“You were at my show,” Zara says calmly. “The statue is too powerful for most, but not for you.”
“How did you know?” Clark asks. It isn't like Superman had shown up to her show.
“Oh, darling, you were easy to spot between the mess of humans down there. And only one man can be strong enough to endure like that.” Zara walks around him, and Clark feels frozen in place. Magic always gets to him. He doesn't try to fight it too much, deciding he should try to find out what her motive is first and conserve his energy.
“Why steal the statue?” He asks. Zara drags a finger across his chin.
“At first, I simply wanted some recognition.” Clark falls to his knees, unable to resist. The statue shines. “It's not easy making a name for yourself as a female magician in this country. I know of the statue and its history. It's relatively easy to use.” So she's not very experienced using real magic, Clark thinks. Maybe he can work with that. His hands are on the ground. Why does it hurt so much? He lifts up his right hand, and he's holding Bruce's. They're walking, through Wayne Manor's gardens, together. Bruce's hand is warm and rough. He smiles at Clark. He rubs his thumb over the back of Clark's hand. It's not real.
“But,” Zara continues, “it's too powerful. People remember me now, yes, but it's not like they'll come back to my shows. But you, Superman, it's just enough to control you. It's perfect!” She makes Clark look up at her. It's round and her eyes are dark. Just like the room around them. Clark is in bed, he wakes up. It's not his own bed and Bruce breathes silently next to him. It's still early then. Clark stretches out, catching Bruce in the midst of it and pulling him close.
He groans, Clark smiles into his shoulder. Dick will be up soon. They should at least be decent.
“Sleep well?”
“Mmhmm,” Bruce mumbles. His voice is raspy in mornings. Clark loves it, although he has forgotten how many they've spent together now.
They kiss lazily for a bit, in the safe confines of Bruce's bedroom. Bruce pulls at his tank top, but Clark manages to pull away before they get distracted by other, definitely indecent - things. “I'd better get up if I want to be on time for work,” he says. But when he places his hands on the mattress to push off, there's sand between his fingernails and dust of rocks crumbles away underneath them.
“Yes, Superman.” Zara paces around him. It's not real. “You feel the full force of it now, don't you? Are you ready to submit yet?”
“Never,” Clark groans. Bruce looks at him incredulously.
“Never?” He raises one eyebrow.
“No, I haven't,” Clark laughs. They're walking side by side down a street in Gotham. Clark wishes he could hold his boyfriend's hand. The street and her faces are illuminated by streetlights and their reflection in the still wet pavement.
“Well, you've got to. At least once.” Bruce pulls him into a small cafe in a secluded corner of a square before Clark has a chance to agree. It's crowded and warm inside. Men stand by the bar, talking. More men sit at little tables enjoying drinks and cigarettes, and some are huddled around the jukebox. Some dance together. Some lean against the wall, whispering in each other's ear. The bartender greets the two of them with a smile on his face. Bruce orders them a drink. He sits down, pulling Clark close. They hold hands.
Bruce talks to him through the noise, making him laugh. Clark has forgotten about their current case, but tonight it doesn't matter. They don't have to hide. “Well?” Bruce asks, sipping his whiskey. “Aren't you glad?”
“Incredibly.” Clark grins from ear to ear. He's taken off his jacket. He looks over at the small dance floor. “Maybe you'll finally try the twist with me.”
Bruce laughs, a beautiful sound. So much so, that Clark almost misses the cock of a gun, the click of a trigger being pulled back. He's out of the bar and in the right alley on autopilot before he knows it. He stretches his arm and reaches, but it's too late. The muggers run away when they see him, forgoing the intended wallet. A boy, not much older than Jimmy, slumps to the floor, and blood stains Clark's hands as he catches him. He should have paid more attention. He should have been on time. He should have saved this young man, but instead he'd been with Bruce.
It's not real! It's not real! Flits through his mind like an electronic news tape. It's not real, he remembers. He's on the cave floor. Zara looks down on him. “See, Superman, what happens when you follow your heart’s desires? Selfishness is in our nature. That is why the statue works.” Clark holds her blood red cape. It pools through his fingers. “Oh dear, you're almost there aren't you? Oh what I wouldn't give to know exactly what you're seeing! I can feel you're afraid to love. Well, love him some more!” She holds the statue up higher and it flows brighter.
It's not real.
He holds onto that like a lifeline as he flies restlessly through the night sky towards Batman's ragged breathing and Robin's whimpering cries. Anger takes over as he hears a particularly anguished sob coming from Dick. He finds them, bursting through a wall. It almost throws the Joker off.
“Ha! I knew their cries would get you here, Supes!” Batman and Robin are strung up against the wall on either side of the room, being held by metal shackles around their wrists over their head, and their feet just above the floor. Minions hold up two stakes to Bruce's neck, just denting the skin. One slip and he's gone. Robin has a deep cut on his thigh. A sword hangs dangerously close to his abdomen and would pierce him if not for the string holding it back. Bruce's eyes are closed.
“Let them go!” Clark boulders.
“Now where's the fun in that? You love them both so much, I'm gonna make you choose of course!” Joker twirls around, spinning a little knife in his hand. “Save Batman, and the kid gets it. Save snot boy, and batsy is done for! And don't even think of trying to kill me, goody two shoes,” Joker adds when he sees Clark twitch towards him. “Because then they'll both die!”
Clark stands in the middle of the room. He needs to come up with a plan fast. He can be fast enough, if only he does it exactly right. This is a puzzle Bruce would figure out in no time. Nothing is impossible, and there's always a way. “Aww, you actually love them that much? You can't choose? How sweet!”
Clark knows the way, the one that works, but it's a thing he despises. Surrender. He holds up his hands and doesn't look at Joker when he speaks. “Okay, Joker. You've got me. What do you want me to do? Just let them go, and I'll come willingly.”
“Then it seems I've finally got you where I want you, Superman.” Lex luthor steps out of the shadows. A small smile plays around his lips.
“No,” Clark gasps.
“Oh, yes. You think he was smart enough to come up with this?” Lex points at Joker, who huffs. He doesn't even take another breath before hitting Clark with a chunk of kryptonite. He hears himself scream, and the sound of stabbing, and the smell of blood.
It's not real. This can't be real.
He's on the cave floor. There's dirt on his face and tears in his eyes.
“Hmm, we'll have to make you a little more resilient if you're to be my minion,” Zara says.
“I don't do well with magic,” Clark grinds. It goes dark. The wind picks up. There's weight in Clark's arms.
“Now you'll join me, Kal-El.”
He opens his eyes. Bruce's cowl is cracked. He looks older. “It's okay, honey,” Bruce rasps. “Remember all the times we've had?” Clark doesn't. It doesn't worry him, comfortingly. He should have preserved earth when everything was good, but now will have to do. There's nothing worth living for here anymore. Bruce becomes heavier in his arms as he finally closes his eyes and lets out one last breath. Clark's tears fall silently.
“Do it, Kal-El.” Brainiac puts a hand on his shoulder. He sets the world ablaze, but it's not real.
He pushes up to his knees. “No.”
“No?” Zara says. “You interrupted my monologue. Just as it was getting good.”
“No. I will never burn down what I love, what I have loved all my life.” His home, this earth and the people on it. He watches the fires disappear and get replaced by flowers on a headstone.
“What are you doing?”
“They can save themselves.” Bruce and Dick wiggle out of their bonds expertly. Bruce smirks at him before he punches the Joker unconscious. “I trust them and they trust me and I will choose to trust them over and over again!”
Clark stands up more. Zara steps back, the statue clamped tightly in her fist.
“I can't save everyone,” he says quieter, “but I will always try, and so will he.” Bruce puts his hand on Clark's shoulder in the alley and takes over on stopping the bleeding. Together they wait for the ambulance.
“What's happening?” Zara cowers and tries to get further away from Clark, but he grabs her wrist.
“I can wake up next to him and be on time for work. I can hold his hand. We can shape our own destiny. Your hallucinations are just that, Zara. Fantasy. Love is the stronger force.”
“I don't understand! You were subdued,” Zara whimpers.
“I'm sorry, Zara. There's always a way.” Clark takes the statue from her. It burns a little, but it subsides quickly out of her grasp. “I'm sorry you felt you had to use this.”
Zara falters and drops to her knees, holding on to Superman's legs and cape.
“Yeah! You got her!” Dick yells and runs over to poke at Zara. Clark has no idea where he has come from, but he trusts Robin to bind her correctly with his handcuffs. When he turns around, Batman stands at the entrance of the cave. A small, wavering smile plays around his lips. Batman's mask could never hide Bruce's beautiful eyes, shining with concern and full of hope.
Clark feels his cheeks heat up. “Did you hear any of that?”
“All of it,” Bruce says, and the next moment they're running up to each other and kissing. He's kissing Bruce and it's real. The roughness of his slightly chapped lips and his unshaved chin, the angles of the cowl, it's all real.
“I knew exactly what you were seeing,” Bruce breathes, his hands still fisting Clark's cape.
“How?”
“Because I saw it too.”
He pulls Bruce closer to hug him properly, saying his name over and over again. “You know we can do anything together right? There's no reason to be afraid of this.”
Bruce pulls away to look at him. “There are many reasons to be scared going forward. But with you by my side I know we can withstand all of them.”
Bruce kisses him again. It's not as frantic and rushed this time. Clark uses his thumb and forefinger to cup Bruce's chin and make the angle just right. Bruce pushes his tongue into Clark's mouth, making Clark almost forget that there's a child present.
Luckily said child is very good at making himself known. Dick scrapes his throat. “What about her?” He points over his shoulder to Zara, who looks up at them with glassy eyes and messed up hair.
“I'll take care of her,” Superman and Batman say at the same time.
“We'll put her in the plane, it's a little ways down below,” Bruce decides.
“How did you know to come find me anyway?” Clark asks.
“You weren't answering my calls. When I told Robin of our evening, we had a suspicion she might try to target you. I was… we were worried about you.”
Clark smiles at Bruce and Dick, and rubs Dick's hair. “No one is ever worried about me.”
“Well, get used to it. B worries a lot,” Dick pouts.
“I will,” Clark grins. Then, he takes Zara down to the plane first and locks her inside while the dynamic duo wait for their lift down the mountain.
“You realize I could have you under my thumb now, with the valuable information I know about you and Batman,” Zara says as Superman straps her into her seat. She sounds tired.
“But you won't.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Clark knows it's the truth.
Zara looks at him. “I won't. I do hope you find what you want.” Clark smiles a little. It's closer to him than she realizes. All he wants is a family, and they're waiting for him on top of the mountain.
He places a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you do too.”
Back on the mountain, Dick runs towards him quickly. “I'm flying with Clark. You already had your turn,” he yells back at Bruce. Clark catches him in his arms easily.
“Okay, buddy,” he laughs. “I do seem to remember I have two arms. Climb aboard you.” He stretches one arm out towards Bruce, while Dick climbs his way up to Clark's other shoulder.
“Oh, this is gonna be swell!” Dick exclaims as Clark leaps into the air.
A couple days later, when Zara has been processed at the police station and Superman has made sure she gets a fair trial, Batman and Superman show up at Pandora's Box again.
Adrasteia opens the door for them and greets them warmly. “That nice detective has told me all about your work! Thank you for finding the statue. I hope it didn't cause too much trouble.”
Clark looks back at Bruce. “It was alright, ma'am.”
Bruce scrapes his throat. “Nothing we couldn't handle.” He unwraps the statue to hand it back to Adrasteia, but she walks deeper into her store.
“Sit. I have tea.”
“Hrm, we really should be on our way again,” Bruce says. He looks at Clark for a plea, but Clark smiles at Adrasteia.
“We'd love to,” he amends.
Adrasteia pours tea from a copper pot into three small cups. The liquid is very dark and aromatic. “I barely get any customers anymore,” she says as she sits down on her stool behind the counter. She places the little statue between them.
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“People don't appreciate the unknown anymore. Henry always used to say we should have moved to the west coast. Find more interest there.”
“We know a magic user,” Bruce offers. “Maybe he could help you appraise some things and sell them into the right hands.”
“Then you could retire,” Clark adds. Adrasteia deserves a nice end of her life, he thinks. A store is a lot of work that an old lady shouldn't have to do.
“I appreciate the offer, dear, but what would I do then? No, It would just be nice if people stopped by here for a chat every now and then.”
“Well, we can certainly help you with that,” Clark smiles.
“Thank you. Now,” Adrasteia turns to the statue. “It made you see things, didn't it?”
Superman and Batman look at each other. Silence stretches for a beat or two. “It made us realize some things,” Bruce settles on.
“It omits the lies you tell yourself,” Adrasteia explains. Clark thinks of what he had seen. Pain and destruction, rage and bait. The lies he tells himself why he must always remain alone. It's dangerous to love somebody in his situation. The statue had been the thing to make him realize that those are but chances, controllable fate, and it had stripped all that away until only one thing was left: that he is undeniably, very fiery and irresistibly, in love with Bruce. And Bruce with him.
Under the counter, he grabs Bruce's hand. “Yes,” he tells Adrasteia. Bruce squeezes back gently.
“Well, I'm glad it worked out for you two. Now, dear,” she addresses Bruce. “You seem like the type to have a fireplace in your home. Do you?”
Several, Clark thinks. “Uh. Yes,” Bruce forces, taken aback.
“Take it.” She hands Bruce the statue. “It will have a good home with you two.”
Bruce nods. “Okay.” Clark has never seen him so flustered before. There's no need to be paranoid. Adrasteia doesn't have a mean bone in her body, and together they can do anything.
“When I saw you, I knew.” Bruce turns towards him, away from the cold moonlight coming through one of the tall Wayne Manor windows and towards the warm yellow of the fireplace. “The things you told Zara… that's when the puzzle pieces of what I had seen finally fell into place. I needed to hear that.”
“Me too,” Clark says. “When I saw you go through it in the theater, that scared me. I thought there was no way that you'd seen the same things I did and that it meant you didn't want me the way I want you.” Bruce looks at him worriedly. Clark swallows. “I thought I'd misinterpreted all the signs.”
“You didn't.” Bruce smiles. He takes Clark's hands. “Realization came so quickly. That I fancy you, I mean.” Inwardly, Clark thinks Bruce's choice of words is cute. His transatlantic accent comes out, proof of being raised by a British butler in the upper class. He understands the word love is hardly found in Bruce's vocabulary, but it's in the warmth of his hands in Clark's, and the hopeful shimmer in his eyes. “It was overwhelming.”
“It was,” Clark agrees. “I'd like to spend a lot more time with you.”
“Would you now, Mr Kent?” Bruce smirks. “Does that mean there's no Mrs Kent in your future?” He echoes their conversation from weeks ago in this very room.
“I'm quite positive.” Clark leans closer, to whisper in Bruce's ear. “Just between you and me: I'm gay.”
He feels Bruce's smile against his cheek. “So that's what you were trying to tell me,” he chuckles. “I'll let you in on a little secret: so am I.”
Clark places a hand on Bruce's back to pull him closer. The feeling of having found someone, and not being alone anymore and being able to say his deepest secret out loud has him smiling wildly. Their hug turns into an embrace and then a kiss. He feels Bruce's hair between his fingers, soft and short. Bruce's lips are warm and rough against his own, their noses bump, and Clark's clothes are quickly becoming too warm. Before they can do anything about that however, Alfred opens the door to the room they're in.
“Ah, Mr. Kent. I was just about to serve master Wayne his afternoon tea. Would you like some as well?” The butler says, before carting a serving tray into the room and towards the couch where he begins pouring a cup and places it on the coffee table.
“Alfred!” Clark stammers. He's still holding onto Bruce, although they've put some distance between themselves. “Uhh, sure. I'd love some tea. If it's not too much trouble.”
Bruce makes his way over to the couch where he sits down. Clark joins him a little awkwardly, and Alfred calmly pours more tea and lays out treats for them to enjoy. “It's never too much trouble to have a guest over that master Wayne cares about,” he says. Clark wonders if this is some sort of acceptance. At least the Brit doesn't seem too phased by what he saw.
“Thank you,” Clark says as he takes the tea.
Before the butler leaves the room again, he reassures Clark of his welcome. “It's very nice to see you here again, Mr. Kent. I do hope it will become a regular occurrence.” out of the corner of his eye, Clark sees a small smile around Bruce's lips.
“I hope so too,” Clark smiles over his cup.
Bruce and him chat for a while on the couch, watching the fireplace. Clark puts his arm around Bruce. When they're halfway through their tea, Dick runs into the room with a book, but comes to a stop abruptly when he spots Clark. “Clark! Hello! I was going to read but now you need to come practice the triple somersault with me!” Dick puts down his book on a nearby side table and starts pulling at Clark's hand. Not wanting to make a mistake again, Clark waits for any sign from Bruce. He gets a small nod.
“I'll come downstairs in a while.”
Bruce indicates to the door. “Go warm up, chum. We'll be right there,” he agrees. Dick jumps a little and quickly takes one of the cookies before he runs off.
Bruce sighs. “Maybe the two of us will stand a chance against his antics.” There's a soft chuckle to his voice.
“Hmm, we do make a pretty good team.” Outside it's completely dark now. Clark presses a kiss to Bruce's cheek. He's overwhelmed with a feeling of love and happiness, for getting to have this, and spend time with Bruce and Dick, and come as close to being a normal family as they can. It feels like the truest truth there is to him, and everything makes sense for one of the first times in his life.
When the two of them get up to leave the room, Clark looks back. From up on the fireplace mantle, the soul statue gazes at them, illuminated by the soft lights of the flames.