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To Clark, it was about time that the Batman brought him into his not-so-famous Bat Cave. He wasn’t sure if Bruce was as pleased as he felt, but that didn’t matter.
“I’d like to see how you’re able to create all of your… gadgets,” Clark smiled kindly.
“Oh is that why you paid a visit? And you just knew I would let you into the cave, right?” Bruce Wayne shed his suit jacket and draped it over a chair in his grand drawing room.
Clark chuckled, “I would think you had enough manners to give me the tour.”
“Right this way, Mr. Kent,” Bruce officially welcomed the man and led him to the secret cave. Once down there, he resumed his introduction speech, “Alfred’s actually working on an upgrade to my normal suit to prevent knife penetration without the suit being too bulky. I would still like to be as agile as possible.”
“Evening, Master Bruce. And Mr. Kent,” Alfred greeted, adjusting his glasses.
Clark waved to Alfred and then shook his hand, “A pleasure.”
Bruce was rolling up his sleeves as he got to work.
Clark watched them for a while and smirked, “How would you make a suit for me?”
“I wouldn’t,” was Bruce’s stubborn answer, making Clark chuckle.
Clark pulled up a stool near Bruce, “Seheriously, I am curious.”
“Well, we aren’t familiar with your body type so we’d have to work a long time to match the fibers of the suit to your genetics… your alien genetics,” Bruce said.
Alfred nodded in agreement and offered, “I’m going to make a pot of coffee. Would either of you like a cup?”
“I’ll take one, Alfred,” smiled Clark.
Bruce said, “Me too. Thank you.”
Alfred left the room after shedding gloves that Bruce took up soon after.
“Can you help me fit this on?” Bruce asked Clark, taking the rubber-like chest piece of one of his many Batman suits and standing with it.
“Uhh, how does it go on?” Clark looked baffled.
Bruce scoffed, “And you fit into skin tight spandex how often?”
Clark laughed, “It’s become a skin to me….. I think that’s how it goes,” he had fit it onto Bruce.
Bruce then requested, “Punch me if you want. Not full-on Superman. But punch me. Feel how it bounces back.”
Clark cleared his throat and toned back a punch that still made Bruce take steps backwards from the force.
“I felt no bounce, I hate to say.”
“No kidding,” Bruce huffed with a grin on his face, “Luckily I didn’t really feel anything.”
Clark smiled, “How must it feel when your actual body receives blows?” he helped Bruce out of the armor, “After being protected most of the time by things like that.”
Bruce shrugged, “I try to keep in shape so I never rely too much on my suits. But I’m definitely more vulnerable without the suits,” he could tell Clark never really knew what something like that felt like because of his superhuman senses, “It’s kind of like… you can’t be tickled when you’re in one of my suits. That sort of thing, do you get it?”
Clark chuckled at the analogy, “I thihink so, even though I’m always ticklish.”
Bruce shook his head, smiling as he went back to work, “I never pegged Superman as being ticklish.”
Clark swiveled on his stool, smiling still, “Lois knows all about it… Is the Caped Crusader ticklish?”
Bruce shook his head, “No,” was his curt answer, immediately pressing Clark on. The journalist smiled and poked Bruce’s side as he was working and distracted. Bruce had no reaction.
“Hmph… I find it hard to believe a human isn’t ticklish when even I am,” Clark noted.
“Let’s just say I meditate a lot,” Bruce smirked, cutting through a piece of his armor to analyze it.
“Oho, so you’re one with yourself?” Clark chuckled, trying to poke more at the billionaire. He had no idea what made him so playful all of a sudden, but he didn’t overthink it.
“Clark, I’m trying to work,” Bruce said after a few more jabs without much result.
Clark huffed, a little disappointed, “Fine.”
Alfred came down with a tray holding three coffee mugs and the fixings to go with it. He knew how Bruce liked his coffee, so he handed that to him, and let Clark make his own.
“Thank you, Alfred,” Clark said and after taking a sip of his drink he asked, “Alfred, where’s Bruce ticklish?”
Bruce seemed to freeze, thinking the wool he pulled over Clark’s eyes so far would be gone. Alfred definitely knew where.
The tech whiz smiled fondly, “Is it my business to share, Master Bruce?”
“Not at all,” Bruce nearly snapped.
Alfred rose an eyebrow and looked to Clark, mouthing the word, ‘hips’, and gesturing to the area. He stood, “Looks like I need more sugar,” he mumbled to avoid getting told off my Bruce and quickly exited the cave.
Clark grinned wickedly and stood, going behind Bruce and swiftly squeezing both of the man’s hips as he was sitting. Bruce jumped out of his stool and shouted an exasperated, “Clahark!”
Clark laughed himself at Bruce’s reaction, “Noho wonder you bulk up your suits, Wayne.”
“You’re entering into dangerous waters, Kent,” Bruce pointed a finger at the Kryptonian.
“Ahand I care… why?” Clark answered with a hint of snark. He was slowly approaching Bruce, and with every step he took, Bruce backed up two more.
Bruce didn’t know how he was overcome so quickly, but Clark had him on his back in an instant with his arms above him, pinned. Immediately, he went for his hips.
“DahaHAMMIT! Clahark stoppit!” Bruce laughed and bucked. Man, this was childish. Why was this happening to him?
“Your suits aren’t here to protect you now, are they?” Clark grinned maliciously. He decided to find other sensitive spots on his friend and struck gold under his arms. Bruce hadn’t remembered laughing this hard in… ever. He was struggling to comprehend how the hell Clark was such a skilled tickler.
This ticklish onslaught ended when Bruce’s struggling came close to kneeing Clark in the nuts. The Batman knew from that day on whenever he was in Clark’s presence to wear some type of a costume as a safety precaution.