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Clark had been in the time loop for a month and was no closer to finding his way out than he had been on the first day.
Well, he had a clue. Mister Mxyzptlk had said, the last time he’d appeared – three weeks ago, now – that true love’s kiss would save him. But that was obviously just to annoy him.
He starts by seeing who will believe him.
Jimmy does with no further questions, almost concerningly quickly. He immediately jumps into trying to help, but after a few days of no leads, Clark decides to tell him that he’s Superman. Since, apparently, nothing he does really matters anyway. It hasn’t so far.
Jimmy believes that, too, though he does have follow up questions. Clark almost starts to believe that he should tell Jimmy, at a time when Jimmy will remember it the next day, but then Jimmy starts acting like Superman was the real guy and Clark Kent doesn’t matter as much, so that idea dies quickly.
Lois believes him about the time loop, eventually. She believes him the fastest when he can point out a sequence of events seconds before they happen – he’s going to spill his coffee, she’s about to trip – and she tries to help, too. Her ideas are more grounded than Jimmy’s were, even though she does suggest the plot to Groundhog’s Day.
Clark does wish that creating one perfect day could solve this, but somehow he doubts that, so he tells her that he’s Superman, too, and watches as her eyes shutter as she realizes what that means – for them, for the way that she and Superman had ended.
He tries again and again because, despite the fact that they’d been together in over a year in the real world… maybe. She gets sad, and angry, and even once she does kiss him.
And Clark wakes up the next morning to the sound of Good Morning, Metropolis! On his neighbours radio just before six in the morning, as he had every day for months now.
The rest of the Planet crew don’t believe him, no matter what he does. Nothing convinces Perry of the time loop or that he’s Superman; Cat thinks that he’s trying to get her story on the Wayne Gala that night, somehow with both pieces of information; Steve acts like he believes Clark and it takes Clark three days to realize that Steve is messing with him; Ron requires more evidence even than Lois and, by the time he believes it, the day is over anyway.
“Gooooood morning, Metropolis!”
Clark represses the urge to scream, and decides not to go into the Planet for a while. He’ll field angry calls from Perry and Lois, but they’ll forget they were mad at him the next day when the loop resets, so it doesn’t really matter.
The League does have protocols for this exact scenario, after all – it’s not like Clark is the first hero to find themselves in a time loop – and Bruce is pretty immediately pissed off that has been in it for months now without notifying anyone or following those protocols.
“How do you know that this isn’t affecting everyone?” Bruce demands.
Clark sighs, only able to respond with a shrug. “Because Mxyzptlk said so. I know that’s not good evidence, and we shouldn’t trust a fifth dimension imp, but… he said it was just me.”
“You’re probably creating alternate universes every day that you’re in here,” Bruce grumbles, but eventually – eventually – he relents.
“You’ll come to me immediately when you wake up tomorrow, to maximize the time that we can use to work on this,” Bruce instructs him. “Do you know how long before the loop resets?”
“Midnight,” Clark answers. “Even if I’m awake at midnight, I ‘wake up’ this morning again.”
Bruce taps away at the batcomputer, ignoring Clark, and then finally looks back at him. “If your reported wake up time is five forty-five AM then that gives us approximately eighteen hours to work. Do your best to remember the conclusions that we draw so that we don’t start from nothing every day. Understood?”
Clark understands, so they set to work, though they don’t get much farther that day. They determine that the loop is only affecting Clark, and likely the universe will snap back into place once he’s free. Small mercies.
Over the next few days, Clark is starkly reminded of why he hadn’t come to Bruce first. Why he’d eschewed the League’s rules and guidelines.
There’s something enrapturing, almost intoxicating, about being the subject of Bruce’s focus. He does tests, tries to see if there’s evidence of Clark’s cells aging more quickly than they should based on his last set of scans, anything to indicate how the loop is affecting him. Clark just sits there and takes it, does whatever Bruce asks.
If, two years ago – or even just one – Mxyzptlk had said true love’s kiss, Clark would’ve thought Lois’ name. He would’ve assumed, even when they weren’t together anymore, that it was her. But as it was, the first name on Clark’s mind had been Bruce.
Clark doesn't tell Bruce about that little detail for a long time. He’s been in the loop, in total, for just over six months when he finally does.
“Magically,” Clark starts slowly; they’re in the cave, running a set of tests that Bruce did three weeks ago, but Clark won’t tell him that this time, “what does true love’s kiss mean?”
Bruce freezes. “Is that… was that said to you? Was that the condition?”
Clark nods, unable to verbalize it in quite so exact terms.
“And is this the first time that you’re telling me?” Bruce asks, his voice as even and calm as it ever is, but there’s a note to it that Clark recognizes as the closest thing that Batmen gets to stress.
Clark nods again, and Bruce groans in frustration, his frozen demeanour broken. “You could’ve gone to Lois and ended this the entire time?”
Clark can’t help it – he laughs. “I tried that. It didn’t work. That’s why I’m asking.”
“It… didn’t work?” Bruce echoes, as if he can’t believe what Clark is saying; as if it’s absurd.
Clark shakes his head. “Nope. Woke up this morning, same as always. That was in the second month, I think.”
Bruce’s frown deepens. “You’ve been seeing someone new, then?”
“Definitely not,” Clark tells him, already feeling his own shoulders tense and his cheeks warm. “So – what does it mean? In magic?”
“It usually means that you have to believe it,” Bruce explains. “That you both have to believe it’s love, maybe. The leading theory is that the combination of hormones is what true love spells target. So… who do you think it might be?”
CLark’s heart drops into his stomach. “Oh. I… hoped that it would just have to be me, I guess. They have to think it, too?”
“Ideally,” Bruce confirms. “We don’t know for sure, and it may depend on the specifics of the spell. I can contact Zatanna, but we’ll be more likely to get a reply if you ask me to do it first thing tomorrow.”
Clark nods, looking at his hands. “There’s no way that they feel the same,” Clark tells him, continuing to look anywhere but directly at Bruce. “So. That’s probably for the best.”
It’s not the first time they’ve called Zatanna with a question, so Clark is used to the song and dance – if they call before seven in the morning, she’ll arrive around three in the afternoon. He isn’t sure what she’s doing in the meantime, and it doesn’t really matter. That’s the earliest time she’s ever shown up, and so that’s when Clark expects her.
Even with this new direction, she doesn’t have a lot more information for them to go off of. She basically parrots the same thing Bruce had said — you have to believe it, it’s probably a hormone thing, likely works best if both parties agree.
Clark is pretty sure that he’s gonna be stuck in this time loop forever, if that’s the case.
Except… he has eighteen hours. Eighteen hours and fifteen minutes to see if he can make Bruce Wayne fall in love with him, or at least get close enough to it for the magic to work. The fall out… Clark can’t think about that now. How if he does this, Bruce might feel manipulated after – might not appreciate Clark gaming his emotions, and it might push Bruce even further away than he already is. And he already is completely unattainable for someone like Clark Kent.
But Clark doesn’t really have another option, so he starts to plan.
He spends the next few weeks gathering information on what Bruce does when Clark doesn’t interfere with his schedule, watching him from afar to see where he goes, who he talks to, the convenient places where Clark could pop up without raising any major alarm bells.
Once he has that, he starts asking questions.
“What’s your favourite flower?”
“Depends who’s asking,” Bruce teases, and no matter how he asks, Clark can’t get a straight answer, so he moves on. Maybe Bruce just doesn’t like flowers.
Clark gets ten different answers to what Bruce’s favourite restaurant is, only one within his budget, so he files that one away even if it isn’t true. He asks about past relationships, mostly Bruce’s with Selina, and Bruce looks at him like he’s lost his mind.
“Is there something you’re not telling me, Clark?” Bruce asks, when Clark’s cornered him in the cave. “No offence, but you’re not really Selina’s type.”
Clark sighs and, as always, moves on.
Clark, eventually, remembers the Gala. He’s started going back to the Planet, at a loss for what else to do, and found Cat fretting about it. He’d forgotten, apparently, because Bruce had never shown up to it before midnight – before the loop had reset – but…
“Can I go with you?” Clark asks, leaning against Cat’s desk. “I need to get a few quotes for something I’m working on.”
Cat agrees, but only after Clark reassures her that he doesn’t want to take her coverage of the event – he won’t even talk about it, he promises, he just needs to talk to some of the people who will be there.
He spends a few days attending the Gala, getting the lay of the land, before he invites Bruce.
“Hey, I’m being forced to attend your little party tonight,” Clark lies. “Can you show up early? It would help out a lot.”
Bruce pretends to be put out, but Clark knows he doesn’t really care either way. And as much as Bruce doesn’t like public appearances, they always have fun together. Interviewing Bruce Wayne at one of these Galas was how Clark had realized that he was in love – not just with Batman or the Bruce he met with in the cave, but with the whole man. It had been a sobering experience, the knowledge that Brucie’s over-the-top flirting did it for him.
So Clark shows up to the Gala with Cat, early enough to take some photos of the arriving guests. He splits up with her, pretending to find people and get quotes until – a few hours into the night, at eleven PM, Bruce shows up.
Clark doesn’t have time to waste, but he still takes his time making his way around to Bruce. He doesn’t want to raise those Batman-honed instincts, because that would only derail their evening.
It takes him half an hour to get close enough to Bruce to talk. “Took you long enough,” he mutters, low enough that no one else can hear, and Bruce answers with a smirk.
“Sounds like you’ve been waiting on me all night, Mr. Kent,” Bruce answers, reaching out to shake Clark’s hand.
Clark takes it, and Bruce lets his fingers trail across Clark’s hand as he pulls away. It’s something he does, one of the flirty affectations of this persona, and even knowing that it’s an act… it still sends a shiver down Clark’s spine.
“I always am,” Clark says, letting the honesty bleed into his tone. He knows that it’s worked because Bruce’s eyes go wide, just for a second – he’s surprised by that answer. It isn’t coldly professional nor does it meet the guidelines of the flirtatious game Brucie engages in. It’s something completely other.
Good, Clark thinks.
“Well, I’d hate to leave you disappointed,” Bruce says, his smile affixing itself firmly back into place. “How about an exclusive to make it up to you?”
Clark smiles. It was easier, with Bruce offering – it meant he was willing, that Clark wasn’t taking him away from some other objective.
“There’s some free offices upstairs,” Clark suggests.
Bruce waves a hand out. “Lead the way, Mr. Kent.”
So Clark does. It takes them a bit to slip out of the party, everyone they pass wants a piece of Bruce’s time, but Clark knows he has a deadline.
At eleven forty-five, Clark lets them into an empty office. He doesn’t have time to waste.
“Bruce, I’m sorry,” he says immediately, because that’s the first and most important thing.
Bruce looks confused, which is understandable. “For… asking me here?”
Clark shakes his head. “I thought you’d show up a bit earlier,” Clark admits with a laugh. “That I could… have some time to plead my case, explain why, but I can’t. There isn’t time.”
Bruce shifts, and it’s suddenly Batman standing in front of him in his expensive suit and artfully tousled hair. “What’s going on, Clark?”
“Nothing,” Clark lies. “It’s not important. It’s – Mxyzptlk is messing with me, so I need you to go along with it for… for ten more minutes. And then it’ll be over.”
“Okay,” Bruce agrees immediately. “But you’ll explain this later, right?”
“I promise,” Clark says, and he means it – if it’ll matter later, then he’ll explain it. “I figured my best shot is just… to tell you flat out.” He squares his shoulders and reaches up to put his hands on Bruce’s arms, holding him lightly in place so that Clark could meet his eyes. “Bruce, you’re my best friend, and I’ve never wanted to jeopardize that. But I’ve been…” the words stick in his throat, but he has to power through. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. And I – I know you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay. I promise it is, we can go back to normal in – in a few minutes. But I need you to pretend, just for a few minutes, that you could feel the same. Can you… can you do that?”
Bruce looks confused, maybe even overwhelmed, and Clark can’t blame him. “And this somehow all has to do with that little imp?”
Clark nods. “Yeah. So… can I kiss you?”
Clark doesn’t expect a response – this is his first try. He’ll keep coming to this Gala until he can get his script right, get just one kiss from Bruce, and then he’ll resign himself to calling Mxyzptlk back and trying to make a bargain.
He doesn’t have to wait, though. His wildest expectation was something quick and chaste, but Bruce doesn’t reply – he uses the arms held by Clark’s to wrap around his waist, pulling him close and immediately kissing him hard and fast. It’s all Clark can do to hold on, and he knows that he’s going to roll this memory over in his mind for the rest of his life, if it’s the only time he gets it.
Bruce is the first to pull away, being the one that actually needs to breathe. And he is, heavily. “Now. What the hell is going on?”
Clark looks at his watch, and immediately starts to laugh. He has to hold Bruce tighter to keep him from moving away, from misunderstanding.
It’s a minute past midnight.
“I guess – I guess pretending was enough,” Clark tells him. “It was… true love’s kiss was supposed to end his game. I – I knew how I felt. I thought… if I could get you to pretend, for just a second, that would be enough. I hope – I hope that’s some data you can share with Zatanna, maybe help understand this type of magic a bit more.”
He realizes, all of a sudden, that he needs to let Bruce go. It’s past midnight. Clark is going to experience a new day for the first time in almost a year. Bruce isn’t actually in love with him.
Clark lets go. Bruce doesn’t.
“Clark, you’re going to explain all this later,” Bruce tells him firmly, “but magic can’t be fooled like that. It wouldn’t work if it was just a performance.”
Clark feels something like hope filling his chest for the first time in a long time. “Oh. So you…”
“Yes, Clark,” Bruce says quietly, and Clark brings his arms back around Bruce.
“Oh. Good,” Clark says, sounding ridiculous to his own ears, but then he leans down to kiss Bruce – again and again, because it’s a new day, and when Clark wakes up the next morning it probably won’t be to the sounds of Good Morning, Metropolis! because the way this seems to be going, it won’t be in his own apartment at all. And then he’ll explain, and deal with Bruce being upset with him for not following the League’s guidelines properly, but then he’s pretty sure Bruce will let Clark kiss him again, so it’ll all be worth it.