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The Phelurians were a pair bonded species, and viewed it as the main mark of adulthood in an individual. So, when they wanted to negotiate with the Justice League, a pair needed to be sent.
“Tell me again why it had to be us?” Clark asks as he and Bruce prepare to leave the Watchtower docking bay.
“Because they know about Superman,” Bruce answers flatly, not for the first time, and Clark knows that it’s in the briefing that Bruce had prepared for him. Sue him for wanting to talk to Bruce a little longer, though.
“And you’re too much of a control freak to let anyone else go with me?” Clark follows up with a grin, bumping their shoulders together before Bruce goes to take his seat at the controls.
Bruce just grunts, not dignifying that with a response. And, because Bruce is, in fact, a control freak, there isn’t much for Clark to do when launching the shuttle itself, so he’s left with only time on his hands.
“Will they be expecting us to… act any kind of way?” Clark asks, taking a seat in the main section of the shuttle where he could still see and hear Bruce easily – and, more importantly, be heard by Bruce.
“No,” Bruce answers, not taking his eyes off the control panels as he starts the launch sequence and pulls away from the satellite. “They accept both platonic and romantic pairs, though will likely assume ours is romantic as that is more common.”
“Okay, good to know,” Clark says. “Should we… clarify that with them?”
“We should allow them to take the lead. If they assume it’s romantic, correcting them may seem embarrassing,” Bruce answers evenly.
“What about gender roles?” Clark asks. “If they think we’re… married, or whatever, will they expect one of us to be more… feminine, or something?”
Bruce sighs and shakes his head. Clark knows it’s in the briefing, and that Bruce is being very accommodating to repeat it all anyway. He probably thinks that Clark never read it – he seems to think that a lot, but Clark always reads them. “They have three distinct sexes,” he explains, and Clark can hear the fatigue seeping into his voice. He hopes that he can convince Bruce to turn on autopilot and get some sleep during at least some part of their journey, because he knows that Bruce has been up for a few days dealing with an Arkham breakout. “They won’t expect the traditional and human understanding of masculine and feminine gender roles, but will likely read you as the more masculine partner due to their knowledge of Superman. They will, however, accept me as masculine as well; same-sex relationships are accepted and common enough in this species.”
“Dang. I was kinda hoping we’d get you in a dress; I think you’d rock it,” he teases. He wants it to be light and silly, but isn’t sure if it really gets there.
“I would,” Bruce agrees, so seriously that Clark is suddenly sure that at some point, somewhere, for some reason, Bruce has gone undercover in drag.
The image strikes Clark silent, and he quietly files it away for later, when he can pull it out and immediately feel terribly guilty for sexualizing his best friend. Which has been happening more and more, lately.
Clark pushes it from his mind, for now. He’s become an expert at that.
“Well, we’ll be fine,” Clark says, trying to keep his outlook positive. “Everyone in the league already calls us mom and dad, the Phelurians should be okay with us.”
Bruce looks over at Clark, curious. “Who in the League calls us that?”
Clark feels his face heat up. He knows that the younger members tried not to say it within Batman’s hearing… and for good reason. “Oh, just, you know. Some people.”
Bruce frowns, but turns back to his controls. “Hm. I’m obviously dad.”
Clark thinks about the juice box and fruit snacks pouches on Batman’s utility belt. “Sure thing. Obviously.”
In their 30 hour journey to Pheluria, Clark manages to get Bruce to turn on autopilot for six hours. He listens while Bruce returns to the quarters in the back to make sure that Bruce at least lays down, and when he does, Clark turns back to babysitting the controls.
Bruce returns looking, if not refreshed, at least a bit better. Not that Clark will say anything about it for fear that it would just make Bruce stay awake until they were back on the shuttle heading towards Earth.
They dress in their regular costumes and prepare all their supplies for the two day visit before they make entry, and then the moment they land on the planet they’re enthusiastically greeted by a large crowd.
“Greetings!” says one of the Phelurians. She steps forward with another – her pairbond, most likely – and they each offer Clark and Bruce a gesture that Clark recognizes from the briefing as a greeting. They look basically human, like Clark, but appear to be slightly shorter on average than him or Bruce — the tallest of them don’t appear to reach even six feet in height.
“Greetings,” Bruce replies as he and Clark repeat the gesture. “We are Batman and Superman, representatives of the Justice League of Earth.”
“We welcome you to Pheluria,” the representative says. “I am Peris, and this is my partner, Riol. It is our honour to receive you.”
“It’s our pleasure to be able to strengthen the bond between Pheluria and Earth,” Clark says, trying to speak in their language. They have translators, of course, but he knows that it just goes the extra mile.
Bruce, in Clark’s periphery, looks suitably impressed.
Peris leads them towards the main building where they’ll be staying, which is the same building where the main reception was expected to happen on the last day. In all ways, it looks and feels like a fancy hotel on Earth.
“We’ve taken the initiative to prepare the…” Peris looks towards Riol, as if searching for the word – which she likely was, as she was trying to make the effort to speak English.
“The honeymoon suite,” Riol finishes, picking up her partner’s sentence easily with a pleasant smile, almost like they could speak with the same mouth.
Clark knows what the feels like, some days, and the thought alone makes him sputter, “Oh, that’s –”
“Very generous,” Bruce agrees, and Clark gets that feeling again, and shame curls in his gut.
Peris grins. “We’ll leave you to settle in – there will be a small dinner this evening, and we’ll prepare a list of your activities and appearances to deliver then.”
“That is very appreciated, Peris,” Clark says, trying to meet her level of cheer even with the thoughts brewing in the back of his mind.
They’re led up to the suite and then, as promised, Peris and Riol leave and Clark and Bruce enter… the honeymoon suite.
Clark really shouldn’t be surprised that there’s only one bed.
“I can take the floor,” he says. “You know, actually, I don’t even really need to sleep much, I can just take a lap into the sun —”
“Clark,” Bruce interrupts, finally removing his cowl and shaking out his hair. It wasn’t too sweat-damp, since he hadn’t been wearing it in the shuttle, either. “It’s fine. We’ll just share. This isn’t entirely unexpected.”
“It isn’t?” Clark asks, and his voice sounds squeaky even to his own ears.
Bruce gives him a withering look, which Clark feels is a little undeserved, thanks. “They assumed that we’re married. What else would they offer?”
Clark sighs. “Okay. Fine. It’s just a few nights, anyway. We’re both adults.”
He isn’t sure which of them he’s trying to convince.
The dinner goes smoothly. It’s small, as promised, with about 20 people present, including Peris, Riol, and a local head of state who introduces himself as Heril and his partner, Tule.
Peris tells them that she and her partner would be the main people assisting them during their visit, which is great news because Clark already likes them enough to get through this. As promised, they’re also given an itinerary, which has them visiting some museums and cultural landmarks the next day, including a luncheon with a few important political and cultural figures, and then another dinner.
“That one will be just myself and Riol,” Peris says. “We understand that at that stage, you may be… tired.”
Clark offers her a smile. “We appreciate it, though if you wanted to schedule something, we could muster up some cheer.”
The first night is, too, less daunting than Clark had feared. The bed is big, enough to fit the both of them with some extra room, so they get through the night without Clark rolling over to snuggle Bruce or anything else embarrassing like that.
He tries to push down the disappointment in the morning, that he can’t even get that and claim some level of innocence about it, even if Bruce would never have believed him. Bruce probably would’ve let Clark get away with it, though, he’s pretty sure.
Clark takes the lead on the museums, asking the sorts of questions he would if he were writing a piece of the Planet, and then Bruce lets a fraction of his Brucie persona out to deal with the luncheon. After that, it’s Clark’s turn again to lead the charge when they visit a few cultural moments, and then finally they’re back at the hotel for a quiet dinner.
“So,” Riol asks, “how did you two discover your bond?”
That was the sort of phrasing Clark had seen in the briefing to mean something like get together, to better encompass the fact that the bond could mean different things to different people. He looks to Bruce for guidance, how to start, but Bruce just tilts his head – lobbying it back to Clark.
So Clark decides to tell the truth, at least mostly. “Well, it was… a long time ago, now. Over ten years.”
“Closer to fifteen,” Bruce adds.
“We were what our culture would consider young adults,” Clark continues, “both very new to our roles as… protectors.” He isn’t sure how much of his own story they know, how much cultural understanding of superheroes he could rely on, so he keeps his words more vague, universal. “We didn’t see eye-to-eye at first.” At the look of confusion that the idiom earns, Clark quickly adds, “We didn’t get along for a while.”
Peris gives a nod of understanding. “Ah, yes. Often, the strongest bonds are those we earn through adversity. Riol and I were both old to find a pairbond, and met through a… matchmaking service, I suppose you would call it.”
“I said I didn’t want to see her again,” Riol adds with a laugh. “It didn’t go well. But then we met again through friends, and hit it off.”
“That’s pretty similar to us, actually,” Clark replies, looking over at Bruce with a smile. “Though it was through gathering friends – our colleagues in the Justice League – that we realized our bond.”
Riol sighs, almost dreamily, and Clark feels a little bit guilty at the assumption she’s made, though it’s the same one everyone else has made. It just… feels different, with someone they’d spoken to at length.
They go back to the suite, and Clark can tell that they’re both worn out – and the next day would be when they had to address the Phelurian’s equivalent to the UN, as well as the main reception. But then they’d only have to share the bed one more time and they’d go home and Clark could stop thinking about how he wishes that his unconscious body would just take the initiative and pull Bruce closer.
They have the morning to themselves to prepare for the address, which Bruce just makes Clark run through as many times as physically possible before Peris and Riol are coming to take them to the building. In the car on the way over, Riol peppers them with random questions about Earth, seeming to have gotten past any formality that had lingered after the night before.
The address goes well, almost forgettable in the terms of alien speeches that Clark has given, and then they stop somewhere for lunch before heading back to the hotel until the reception. Bruce, immediately, has notes about how Clark could’ve handled the speech better, but Clark takes it all in stride – this is how Bruce deals with situations like this, where there was really nothing else to do in the moment and he had to sit there and let Clark take the reins.
For the reception, Bruce wears the Batsuit, but Clark had taken the liberty to get some Kryptonian formalwear from the Fortress. The cape reminded him of a human sari, the way it draped across his body, though under it he wore an elaborate, paneled tunic with slim fitting pants. He hadn’t brought the circlet that the Fortress had given him with it, though, because it felt a bit too royal, even if the Phelurians wouldn’t have the same reading of that sort of garment.
Bruce pauses when Clark re-enters the room from the bathroom where he’d changed.
“How long have you had that for?” Bruce asks.
Clark shrugs. “I’ve known about them since I found the Fortress, there just isn’t a lot of reason to dress up like this. Most people on Earth expect the normal suit, this would be… too much.”
Bruce looks him up and down and Clark lets himself imagine that Bruce is admiring the fit the way he wants him to be. “The construction is impressive,” he says, breaking the illusion, and Clark tries not to deflate.
As if on cue, Peris and Riol arrive, both in dresses that matched styles Clark had seen in the briefing as being particularly popular for formal wear.
The reception is a lot bigger than the first dinner they’d attended — the ballroom was packed, even with people sitting at tables for dinner. There were over 500 people, easily, and the noise was almost overwhelming. Clark has half a mind to turn around, to the relative silence of their hotel room – though he isn’t sure he would be able to shut it out, now that he’s heard it – but then Bruce’s hand touches his arm, and even through the glove and the thick material of Clark’s shirt, it feels like a brand.
“Just one more night,” Bruce reminds him, so quiet that Clark’s sure no one without superhearing could hear.
Clark nods, a silent response, and they go to take their seats alongside Heril and Tule, who they’d met the first night. Once they’re seated, along with their guides, Heril stands up and announces a toast. He keeps it short and sweet, talking about being honoured by the visit from Earth, and how this would strengthen their bond, so Clark takes it all as a win.
Once they’re done eating, Bruce takes the lead again, mingling a little bit with their hosts, while Clark takes a break along the edges of the room.
Peris slides up next to him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Clark offers her a smile. “Of course. I just… find events like this overwhelming, at times. Batman is much more used to them.”
She hums in acknowledgement. “He’s very devoted to you – he prioritizes your comfort often, I’ve noticed. Even when I’ve had a conversation with him, there’s a sense that he’s paying attention to you. You two share a very special, strong bond.”
Clark feels his face heat. They hadn’t really done anything to sell the idea that their bond was romantic, but the assumption lingered. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Peris frowns. “Do you doubt it?”
Clark bites his lip, torn between admitting there was some sort of sham at work here and going along with it, before going with another truth. “Ours is a platonic bond,” he admits. “So any… devotion he feels is of that nature.”
“But you wish it was otherwise,” she guesses, and Clark is embarrassed at how easily he was read. Peris had known them for only two days – how many people who actually knew them had realized how Clark felt? Had Bruce?
“Yes,” he admits, almost relieved to say it, and then immediately realizes the potential stumble. “I – sorry, if that is… contrary to your customs. I know you have strong platonic bonds here, as well.”
“We do,” Peris says, “but it’s also not unheard of a bond changing form — Riol and I had a platonic pairbond, at first. Once we resolved our differences, we thought we would be best suited to it. It was only after several years that we realized we wanted to change it. It’s the nature of a bond to grow with the people in it.”
Clark nods along quietly. “That’s… very insightful. Thank you, Peris. You and Riol have been very accommodating and welcoming during our visit.”
Peris smiles. “You have been wonderful guests. And, if it’s any help – I believe that your bonded wishes are the same as yours.”
Clark felt pretty sure that she was wrong, but he wasn’t going to dig his grave any further by admitting that he and Bruce were rarely on the same page – about anything. That seemed to go against the idea of bonds, which flowed so naturally between the people he’d seen during their time on Pheluria. He looks over at Bruce, where he was talking to Heril and Tule, and finds that Bruce is looking back at him.
Peris leaves him to go dance with Riol, and Clark thinks about what she said. If she’d so easily and accurately read him, maybe….
But then Bruce finds him, and Clark has to push it from his mind.
“Do you want to leave?” Bruce asks quietly.
Clark shakes his head. “No. No, I was actually just about to join. Would you like to dance?”
Bruce looks surprised, but he agrees and allows Clark to lead him onto the ballroom’s dance floor.
Bruce goes to put his arms in a traditional human waltz – as the leader, of course – but Clark avoids it and leads them into the steps of the dance the people around them were doing. It wasn’t dissimilar to a waltz, after all.
“You read the briefing,” Bruce says, sounding impressed.
Clark can’t help but laugh. “I always do. You take good time to prepare them, after all.”
Bruce rolls his eyes. “Tell that to Oliver.”
“I can try, but I don’t think anything will make a difference on that front,” Clark tells him. He pulls Bruce closer, leading him into a spin to match the people around them. It isn’t strictly choreographed – much like a human dance, people are doing what they want within a set of parameters – but there seemed to be cues in the music to what the most appropriate moves were. Or at least some sense of rhythm that made people more inclined to doing one thing over another.
They don’t speak for the rest of the dance, and Bruce waits until they’re partway through the next one to say something.
“Riol was complimenting the strength of our bond,” he tells Clark.
“Peris was as well,” he replies tentatively. “She says you pay attention to me very well. I couldn’t tell her it was because you’re worried I’ll undermine our mission,” he adds with a self-depricating laugh.
“I don’t think that,” Bruce says immediately. “I trust you, even if I thought you hadn’t read my briefing.”
Clark can’t help but smile. Bruce’s trust was hardwon, and even though Clark knew it – had known it for years – it never hurt to hear. “So why were you watching me, then?”
Bruce is quiet for a moment, and Clark thinks they’ll lapse back into comfortable silence – end the dance, go back up to bed, fall asleep on separate sides of the bed – but then Bruce says, “I haven’t done anything different. I told you – they would accept our bond as is.”
Clark tilts his head so that he can meet Bruce’s eyes, and he’s suddenly very aware of their height difference from the rest of the room – Clark had been right in his assessment the first day, no one reached Bruce’s shoulders, leaving them both a head taller than everyone else. And, as such, on display.
“Riol also said that you pay a lot of attention to me,” Bruce says quietly. “Is there some merit to that?”
“I haven’t done anything different,” Clark says, echoing his own words, hoping that they mean what he wants them to.
Bruce looks at him evenly for a moment, taking long enough to do anything that the dance ends and he steps away, and Clark feels cold. Was there something in his face, as he’d said those words, that had let Bruce realize what he meant? Had Bruce found it… lacking, in some way?
“We should go back to the suite,” Bruce says, and Clark wants to feel bereft – wants to let himself be a little bit heartbroken – but Bruce is still… looking at him, and the thinnest flicker of hope remains.
“Okay,” Clark agrees quietly.
Their exit doesn’t pass unremarked, with both Peris and Riol returning to tell them goodnight, but otherwise the festivities go on undisturbed. They make their way up to the suite quietly, Clark focusing on Bruce to let the noise of the reception fall away as they go higher and higher. And then, finally, they reach their door and Bruce lets them in.
Bruce immediately pushes off the cowl, letting it fall to the ground haphazardly, and Clark has to push away the instinct to pick it up. “Despite their emphasis on bonds, the Phelurians aren’t particularly fond of public displays of affection,” Bruce tells him, and the hope in Clark’s chest barely has a chance to soar before Bruce is shedding the gloves, too, and pulling Clark in by the cape to kiss him.
Clark responds immediately and enthusiastically, trying to help Bruce in his mission to unravel the fabric that was wrapped around Clark’s body.
“Peris asked me if I – if I wanted our bond to change,” Clark tells him, breathlessly, when they pull away so that Bruce can unlatch parts of his suit. “She figured it out pretty quick, it seems.”
“They both did,” Bruce admits, just as Clark manages to get the last of his own cape off his shoulders, letting it pool around his feet on the ground.
Clark goes to pull Bruce back in, backing them up towards the bed. “Maybe we’re just that easy to read.”
In the morning, Clark wakes up with Bruce wrapped in his arms, and he doesn’t even have to push the thought of it away – he can just tighten his arms, revel in the way Bruce makes a contented, sleepy noise, and wait for him to wake up.