Work Text:
Bruce doesn't notice it at all. To be fair, the battle had been fierce, and he'd taken many blows. With how much he ached, it was hard to keep track of what parts of the Batsuit were damaged enough to be repaired and where he just hurt.
It's not until Clark gently lays a hand over his forehead that he realizes the cowl was cracked open. Clark's fingers smooth over the wrinkles of his furrowed brow and into his hair.
"Let me," Clark murmurs, drawing them into a secluded area. Bruce allows himself to be dragged along, trusts that Clark's glances have ensured no one will see them.
Bruce nods permission, and Clark delicately draws off the cowl. It's more broken than Bruce thought, hanging in tatters in Clark's hands. Carefully, Clark fuses the cowl back together with heat vision, and hands it back to Bruce.
Bruce turns it over in his hands, examining Clark's careful repair. It's flawless. Fluidly, he pulls it back on. It fits oddly in some places - nothing more Clark could do there, with how damaged it had been - but it would work until he got to the Cave.
"Thank you."
"Anytime, B."