Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clark walked down the steps to the Batcave, his stomach churning with anxiety. This was it. Today was the day he would reveal his civilian identity to the Justice League.

He knew, logically, that he didn’t have too much to worry about. He’d worked with these people for years now, and trusted them with his life.

And yet his palms were all clammy and his heart was beating out of his chest and his nervous energy was apparently obvious enough that Bruce could sense it without taking his eyes off of the screen in front of him.

“You don't have to do this.” He sighed.

“I know, I know. But I want to. Everyone else has already shared theirs, it’s only fair that I do the same. I need to show them I trust them.”

“They know that.” They’d had this conversation practically every single day for the past two weeks, ever since Clark grilled Bruce on the pros and cons of revealing his identity.

“Do they? I mean sure they know I trust them to have my back in a fight, but surely that should extend to trusting them with more than just work, no? You’ve seen how much closer they get once they know someone's real name. It’s like a mental barrier, or something. That you can't fully trust someone unless you know their name."

“Hn.”

“I’ve been trying to predict what everyone's reactions will be. Diana knows, J’onn knows, Oliver and Dinah know who I am but we’ve never actually talked much outside of the suit. Arthur probably won’t care, or at least he won’t get excited over it. So it’s the others I’m worried about, really. It could range from ‘oh cool I have no idea who you are’ to ‘tell me everything about yourself right now.’”

“You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to.” Bruce grunted, clearly trying to get the conversation over with so he could go back to work.

“I know, I know. I’m just… anxious. I guess.”

Bruce softened slightly at that, reached out a hand to squeeze his wrist, and said, “you can back out at any point. I’ll make sure no one makes you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Clark smiled down at him. Rao, how he loved this man. “Thanks, B.” He murmured, pushing himself up from the desk. He leaned down and kissed his husband’s cheek, then turned to walk out of the Batcave, his heart significantly lighter than it had been when he came in.

~•~•~

Clark was not super proud to admit that he barely listened at all during the League meeting that evening. He could feel Batman’s annoyed glances toward him and he knew that, on any other day, he’d get called out and asked to recap what was just discussed. He was partially grateful for this leniency, but also, if there were any actual consequences for his zoning out, he might be more inclined to pay attention. As it was, Clark sat there for two hours bouncing his leg and thinking about anything and everything but the meeting.

Finally, finally, Batman cleared his throat and put his bat-tablet down on the table. “That concludes all announcements and action items. As always, if there is anything that comes up during the week that requires immediate attention, you will be alerted. Is there anything else that anyone would like to bring to our attention?”

Clark looked around the room at all the bored faces, clearly eager to get away from this room. Well, he didn’t really want to be the cause of any annoyance if anyone had stuff to do and really wanted to leave and what if Clark was stopping someone from going to see their parents or going on a date and maybe he should postpone this for now and try again on a day when they were ending early so that he didn’t take up everyone’s ti-

Bruce cleared his throat once more. He wouldn’t actually pressure him into making this decision, but they both knew that Clark would beat himself up about chickening out if he didn’t just speak up right now and-

Batman straightened up and opened his mouth to dismiss everyone and Clark panicked.

“I-” He blurted out. All eyes turned to him. Oh, God. He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. Batman sat down, waiting. They were all waiting. For him. Why did he do this? “I have an announcement. Or, well, I guess it’s not so much an announcement as much as- as a- I- I don’t know. Something. But um-” Clark, stop stuttering. He drew in another breath. “Okay. I know you all know the importance of keeping secret identities safe.” He saw a couple of people perk up at the mention of secret identities, probably looking forward to figuring out who Superman was underneath all that spandex (Bruce’s words, not his). “So I trust that you know that this information cannot leave this Watchtower.” There were nods all around. Clark took yet another breath in, and reached up to tousle his hair and slip on his glasses that he’d gotten from a hidden pocket in his suit. “I’m Clark Kent. I’m an investigative journalist for the Daily Planet.”

As expected, practically no one knew who he was. But Ollie froze and stared at him with wide eyes and Dinah’s gaze kept darting between the two of them as if to confirm that she wasn’t going crazy and Ollie was seeing this too. Clark shot a shaky grin at both of them and Ollie’s jaw dropped.

After about 15 seconds of silence, Barry yelled, “YOUR DISGUISE IS GLASSES?”

Bruce let out a huff of amusement quiet enough that Clark was the only one who heard it, and he just barely resisted glaring at him.

“Wait… I know you. Why do I know you?” Hal asked, squinting his eyes so much that Clark wasn’t sure if he could actually see through the slivers.

“I don’t know?” Clark responded. He really didn’t. He didn’t think Clark Kent had done anything particularly noteworthy recently that anyone outside the news industry would know him. “I mean, I won a Pulitzer a few months ago… maybe it’s that?”

“No no no, I don’t care about that.” Hal said, shaking his head as though the very thought disgusted him. Uh huh, yeah that’s what Clark figured. “Something gossipy.”

“Something gossipy?” 

“It was in the news a few years ago.”

“Uhhhh…” Clark paused, running through the past few years in his head. There was that one time a couple years ago when he sparked a very small Twitter debate by sharing a controversial article, but that hadn’t ended up in the news, as far as he knew. Then there was that other time he’d rallied all of his reporter friends and all of Bruce’s socialite friends to save all the struggling animal shelters in the Gotham-Metropolis area. That one had ended up in the news, and Clark was proud of it. And then there was- “I dunno, I got married to Bruce Wayne?”

Hal’s jaw dropped to the floor to join Ollie’s.

Clark had just enough time to think ‘oh shit’ before the entire table exploded. It didn’t really, but the effect that that one throwaway sentence had was so loud and immense that it might as well have.

It seemed as though everyone had ten different questions that they had unknowingly (or, in Hal’s case, probably very knowingly) stored up for the unlikely event that they met Bruce Wayne’s husband.

Clark was sure that a regular human would have been overwhelmed by the amount of noise that suddenly burst through the room, so for him it was a thousand times worse. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to eliminate one of his senses to make it more bearable. It didn’t work. It might have actually made it worse, because now there was nothing else to focus on other than the noise and it was so loud. He balled his hands into fists to distract himself but his damn fingernails wouldn’t hurt his damn skin and it was too much too much too much.

A sudden loud bang sounded somewhere in the room and all the noises ceased.

He took a moment to slow his breathing and pried his eyes open to the sight of Batman leaning over the table, fist resting on the table where he had probably slammed it down a few seconds ago. He growled, “Superman will answer your questions only if he wants to, but I expect a certain level of decorum in this meeting room which many of you have failed to uphold today. Superman has shared this information with us out of respect, and we will show him that same respect going forward. Am I understood?”

There were various noises of assent from around the table and a few apologies directed at both of them. Bruce settled back down and nodded at Clark, giving him control over the conversation once more.

He blew out a long breath. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll take five questions and no more. We all have places to be and I don’t want to drag this out.” He watched as they all quieted down to deliberate over the best questions to ask.

After a few seconds, Ray raised his hand. Clark nodded at him. “How long have you two been married?”

“Oh, come on!” Wally exclaimed. “You can just look that up online! We have to ask things that actually matter! Like how big is his di-”

“NO!” Clark shouted. Wally cackled and Clark debated tackling him to the ground. “We’ve been married for six years. It’ll be seven in November.” He heard the groans of disappointment from the people who considered this a waste of a question, and he rolled his eyes.

“Is he the same as the gossip mags show him?” Hal asked.

“Absolutely not, no. He’s so much more.” Clark felt his face break into a soft grin. He loved talking about Bruce. He didn’t get to gush about him enough because the people he spent his time with were either the kids and Lois, who all groaned when Clark got gross and sentimental, his parents and Alfred, who listened indulgently but barely reacted after ten years of the same conversation, and the League, who he hadn’t been able to tell until now. 

Diana had a small smile on her face as she raised her hand and asked, “What is your favourite thing about him?” She’d known Batman’s secret identity for years, but they’d never met outside of the suit so Clark guessed that this was coming from a desire to know who Bruce could be when he wasn’t dark and brooding. Well, he was always dark and brooding, but she wasn’t wrong in assuming that the real Bruce was a lot more interesting than the masks he put on.

Clark considered this question for a bit, letting his eyes flick over to Bruce for a moment before dropping to the table. “There are way too many things to pick out a favourite. I love his smile, and the way his mind works, and the way he treats the kids, and his sense of humor, and how he trusts me with every part of himself. He’s the best person I know and the best person I ever will know, and I’m so damn lucky I get to spend the rest of our lives with him. I could keep going but I don’t think you’re all here to see me get sappy.”

He glanced around the room, taking in the looks on people’s faces. Some of them were smiling, probably finding it sweet to watch Superman get mushy. And some of them were fake gagging, clearly finding it absolutely disgusting to watch Superman get mushy. He looked over at Bruce, face impassive as always, though Clark could hear his heartbeat thumping just a tad harder than usual.

Arthur, who Clark was pretty sure hadn’t said anything the entire time, broke the thoughtful silence that had settled over the room. “How many children do you have?”

“NO!” Wally interjected again. “YOU CAN GOOGLE THAT! DON’T ANSWER THAT! Supes, what’s the weirdest thing about Bruce Wayne?”

“Weirdest?” Now, that one had actually caught him off guard and he wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“Yeah, like not annoying or bad but just weird.”

“Hmm…” Clark thought back over the past decade or so of being with Bruce and tried to come up with something that he still wasn’t quite able to normalize and still thought of as strange. “Oh! He puts his ice cream in the microwave!” He could feel the weight of Bruce’s death glare and resolutely decided to ignore it. “Not to melt it a bit so it’s easier to scoop, no no. He’ll scoop it out into a bowl and then put the bowl in the microwave for thirty seconds! It comes out completely melted and barely even cold anymore. He has never once eaten ice cream normally in the entire time that I’ve known him.”

Clark heard the laughs from all around him, but his focus was solely on the way Batman’s gloved hand had come up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“He sounds like a monster.” Barry gasped out between bouts of laughter.

Clark grinned. “Yeah. He’s the best. Right, last question. Make it count.”

Hal leaned forward. “Is he as good as they say?” He asked, shit-eating grin on his face.

Clark felt his face heat up and shot that line of questioning down immediately. “Not answering that. Nope. Nuh uh.”

“Aw come onnn!” Hal whined. “Then you gotta answer another one ‘cause that one doesn’t count.”

“Fine.”

“Can we meet him some day?”

Clark hesitated. It wasn’t as though his professional life and his personal life overlapped very often, Bruce and the kids being some of the very few exceptions. Oliver and Dinah were already well acquainted with Brucie, but they were in his social circle so crossing paths was common. The only way Clark would be able to introduce Bruce to the League, aside from him getting kidnapped and them having to save him, would probably be to bring him up to the Watchtower. Out of the suit. As a civilian. And Clark didn’t see Batman being comfortable with that any time soon.

“Probably not, but we’ll see.”

Batman’s attention had been focused squarely on Clark during this whole interaction, but now he caught it shifting to Hal and then around the table at the other members. Most people would have brushed it off as inconsequential, an acknowledgment that the conversation was over and everyone should be dismissed, but he knew better. Bruce was up to something. Clark wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was.

~•~•~

The next few weeks passed easily, and Clark had almost forgotten the entire Bruce Wayne meeting the Justice League thing.

No one brought up Clark’s civilian identity again, which he was glad for. He hadn’t wanted that knowledge to change how the League saw him, both as a leader and a fighter. Hadn’t wanted them to see his identity as a flaw or a weakness in Superman’s persona. In hindsight, that was a stupid thing to get worried over. After all, most of the others had civilian identities and no one questioned their importance to the team as a result of it.

Today was miserably quiet, and Clark had noticed his attention drifting a while ago but hadn’t made any effort to bring his focus back. There wasn’t anything to focus on, anyways. They were all gathered around a few tables in the mess hall. Some of them had food, some were playing a card game, and all of them could feel the boredom weighing them down. Bruce had said he was going to be there, but his meeting was running late.

Just as Clark was about to stand up to go find some food or go to the training room or walk around or do something that wasn’t just sitting down being bored, he heard the sound of the zeta-tube going off. He perked up. Batman would come in and see them all sat around doing nothing and he’d get all pissy and start ordering people to run drills or go on patrol, and finally they’d have some motivation to get up.

Clark was too busy imagining Batman’s little tantrum that he didn’t realize something was wrong until the footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. The wrong footsteps.

That wasn’t Batman.

Batman’s steps were steady and measured and heavy. Bruce’s footsteps were also steady and measured, but didn’t have the suit lending him extra weight.

These footsteps were inconsistent and light and Clark buried his head in his hands and groaned. He could feel everyone’s attention turn to him, but they didn’t have the chance to ask him what was wrong before Brucie goddamn Wayne sauntered through the doorway.

Clark raised his head to glare at him and was met by the infuriating smirk that his husband wore when he knew he’d fucked with Clark successfully and he couldn’t retaliate.

The entire room was silent for a few seconds before Brucie said, “Hi!” Then all hell broke loose. Which wasn’t too bad, actually, once Clark realized that all hell breaking loose was basically just Hal and Barry saying ‘oh my God it’s Bruce Wayne holy shit what the hell’ over and over in an otherwise silent room.

Brucie ambled over to them, pushed Clark upright from where he was still sat hunched over in embarrassment, and sprawled himself sideways on his lap.

Great.

Clark closed his eyes, breathing deeply and reminding himself that he did, in fact, love this man, and that he would probably not be easily forgiven if he stood up right now and let Brucie fall on his ass. He should’ve guessed. Bruce was all too aware of his distaste towards his public persona, so of course this would be his plan to fuck with Clark.

He opened his eyes again just as Bruce was finishing up with introductions that were entirely unnecessary. Diana was hiding a smile behind her hand, Oliver had introduced himself as Green Arrow and was clearly trying not to seem like he knew Bruce, and Hal still looked like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Fair enough, honestly. Brucie Wayne in the Watchtower was not something he thought he’d ever see, and he was pretty sure it was something he never wanted to see again.

Clark glared at the side of his head. “What are you doing here?”

Bruce grinned at him innocently. “What? My meeting just ended so I figured I’d come and visit you! I mean, now that everyone knows we’re married, I think it’s about time I met all your teammates, don’t you?”

“Well, not all of them,” Wally interjected. “Batman’s not here.”

“Batman.” Bruce scoffed. “I live in Gotham. We’ve met.”

This curt response was clearly not the reaction some people were expecting. Both Clark and Bruce knew that their fondness for Batman only extended so far, but Clark guessed that they hadn’t heard a civilian be so dismissive of a superhero before. In the interest of keeping the reason for that dismissal a secret, he said, “I’d appreciate it if you kept your personal opinion of my teammate outside of my workplace.”

Brucie just waved his hand flippantly, apparently not even deeming that worthy of an answer. “I’ve actually come to take you home. Today’s been sooo loooong and I don’t wanna go home without you,” he complained, letting a bit of a whine into his tone. If Bruce would have ever considered revealing his identity, Clark was sure that the memory of this event would stop him. There was absolutely no way he’d let them know that Batman and Brucie Wayne were in any way related after this little performance.

“I can’t just leave, I’m doing things!”

Bruce gave him a look. “Really. As far as I could tell, you were sitting here bored out of your mind. At least at home you can put that big, strong body to good use and do something more worthwhile.” He wiggled his eyebrows to let him know exactly which activity he meant. 

“Nope!” Clark stood up abruptly. He didn’t let Bruce fall on his ass, though, and he was quite proud of himself for resisting the urge. He stood them both on their feet and grabbed his husband’s shoulders, pushing him over to the door. He could feel his face burning up. “Nope. No. Absolutely not. I will see you at home later after I speak to Batman about your visit today.”

He gave him a firm shove to start walking back down the hallway and glared at his retreating form, ignoring the laughter coming from it. Then he turned back to his team, face probably still red with mortification. “I am so sorry about him. He’s an asshole.” The laughter behind him redoubled and Clark brought his hands up to drag over his face.

Wally cackled. “I like him a lot.”

Clark groaned.

~•~•~

The moment Batman stepped into the room ten minutes later, Clark shot up from his seat. He stalked over to him, grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around, cutting off the little tantrum that Clark had predicted earlier before it could start. It would have been so welcome just fifteen minutes ago, before Bruce came in and did all that.

“I need to talk to you.” He said, pushing him out of the room and down the corridor.

As they walked away, Bruce had the audacity to say, “I got an alert about an unauthorized visitor to the Watchtower. Know anything about that?”

Clark glared at him, scowling at the back of his head so hard that there was no way he couldn’t feel it. “I hate you so much.” He muttered.

They walked to Clark’s room and opened the door. Batman pulled his cowl off, revealing Bruce’s stupid face grinning up at him. Not one ounce of regret. Fantastic.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clark hissed.

“What? I’m not doing anything!” Yeah, the fake innocent act was not working one bit.

“Right, so you’re not going to explain why Brucie Wayne just waltzed in and embarrassed me in front of people who should respect me.”

“Oh, come on! I barely embarrassed you.”

“You sat on my lap and propositioned me!”

Bruce scoffed, dropping down on the edge of the bed. “Propositioned.”

“You couldn’t have told me you were going to do this?” Clark continued, ignoring the interjection. “Bruce, if I was going to introduce Bruce Wayne to the League I would have introduced them to the actual you and not the guy who has a reputation for sleeping around and passing out in the middle of charity events!”

“That happened one time and it was because Ivy-”

“I don’t care!” Clark knew his volume was rising so he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I need to know now if you’re planning on bringing Brucie around again, and I need you to tell me when."

“You don’t want me to stop completely?” Clark opened his eyes again and saw his husband cock his head to the side and raise his eyebrows.

“As long as I know when I’ll be able to brace myself for any of your,” He waved his hands in the air, “shenanigans.”

Bruce snorted in amusement. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Well I guess I would appreciate if Brucie stopped coming around and was replaced by Bruce, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen. So I guess just don’t… don’t embarrass me? Too much?”

“Clark, you’re embarrassed by everything.”

“Am not!”

“Uh huh…” Bruce shot him a very unimpressed look and Clark met it with a glare.

“Well then just be slightly more you, then. I’d like them to at least get some sense as to why I married you, and that’s not going to happen if all they see is that guy.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and huffed. “Fine. You have to admit their reactions were pretty funny, though.”

He didn’t have to admit anything, thank you very much.

And yet…

“I’m pretty sure Hal pissed himself when you came in.”

Clark realized then that he would do anything for the grin that stretched across Bruce’s face. And if “anything” included introducing his husband’s incredibly obnoxious public persona who famously couldn’t take anything seriously to a group of superheroes that saved the world on a regular basis?

Rao, he was screwed.

Chapter Text

To Bruce’s credit, he lasted about a month before the urge to shenanigan again grew too strong. It also helped that the first two or three weeks were busy, both in and out of the suit. Once their days became calmer, though, he started growing restless. And a restless Bruce was never a good thing.

Clark had been caught up at work, finishing a piece that Perry had assigned to him last minute. He was exhausted, annoyed, and about ready to cry as the formatting on his document got messed up yet again. He’d texted Bruce two hours ago to complain and apologized for the fact that he would miss their date. It wasn’t a huge inconvenience, there were no reservations to cancel or anything, but he’d bugged Bruce to watch a movie with him after dinner before leaving on patrol and he’d reluctantly agreed. If anything, B was probably glad that he’d called it off.

His phone’s screen lit up from where it was lying on his desk and he leaned over to read the text.

At WT. Come over when you’re done?

He frowned a bit in confusion. Why was B at the Watchtower? He was supposed to be on patrol, and there were enough people at the Watchtower today that they didn’t need an extra set of eyes. Much less two, if he was asking Superman to join them. Nothing was wrong, or he would have been alerted.

Clark shook his head, bringing his attention back to his work. He’d finish up in an hour or so, he could go up and see what was going on afterwards. No point wasting brainpower on this when all of his energy was focused on finding out why exactly Word hated him so damn much.

~•~•~

50 minutes later, after Clark had shot an email over to Perry to let him know the article was done, he stepped into the Watchtower. There didn’t seem to be an emergency going on, but Clark couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. As he walked through the hallways, passing empty room after empty room, the that feeling only intensified. He could hear laughing and yelling coming from somewhere, and followed the noise over to the monitor room. He stopped short right in the doorway, unable to comprehend what the hell he was seeing.

Why were there so many people? It looked like everyone in the League was here for some strange reason. This room was generally considered to be the most boring room and people usually dreaded coming here for yet another boring shift. So why was everyone here? And, actually, a much better question: why in the hell were they all covered in pink frosting?

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose.

The room had quieted down considerably, and he looked up to see everyone staring at him warily. If this was their reaction to Superman walking in on whatever this was, Clark would have given anything to see their reaction if it was Batman instead. Unfortunately for him, Batman was currently indisposed. If “currently indisposed” meant standing in the middle of the room, hands and face covered in frosting and crumbs and grinning like an idiot. As if that wasn’t enough, he seemed to have been the instigator of this chaos, if the boxes of pink-frosted cupcakes behind him were any indication. Boxes he’d had Clark bring home from the bakery a few streets down from the Planet yesterday for a “work celebration.” Liar.

“Clarkie!” Bruce walked over to him and Clark dodged away from his disgusting hands.

“What’s happening, Bruce? What is this?” Turning around and walking away from this madness seemed like a pretty good idea at this point. He’d go back home, eat some food that wasn’t pink-frosted cupcakes, watch that movie they’d missed and snuggle into bed to wait for his calm, collected, clean husband.

“Remember those cupcakes I asked you to get?” He asked, licking frosting off of his thumb.

“It was yesterday, Bruce. Yes I remember.”

“Well Carla – you remember Carla – turns out Carla brought the exact same ones to the celebration! And there was enough food there anyways that I thought I might as well bring these ones back home. And then I thought, Clarkie loves these cupcakes! I should bring them to him! But then I got up here and you weren’t here so I figured I’d just share them with everyone anyways! No sense in letting them go to waste, yeah?”

Yep, definitely lying. For one, Clark had never even seen these cupcakes before yesterday and certainly didn’t love them. Also, that retelling made absolutely no sense whatsoever timewise. Superman wasn’t even scheduled to be up at the Watchtower tonight and Bruce was fully aware of that. But he just shook his head tiredly, unwilling to expend any more energy on understanding this situation.

Brucie’s playful demeanor dropped somewhat, as he seemed to take in the slight slump of Clark’s shoulders and the dazed look in his eyes. He spun back around to the League, grin back in place once more. “You guys can entertain yourselves for a while, right? I promise not to take too long!” Clark couldn’t see his face but, knowing him, he probably threw in a wink at the end for good measure. Then he turned to Clark and ushered him out with his sticky hands.

They walked to the closest washroom in silence, shoulders brushing together with every step. Bruce washed his hands and his face and dried them as Clark leaned against the wall. Then he stepped up close and reached up to pull him into a gentle kiss.

“I didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand.” Bruce said, after he’d pulled away. Clark didn’t let him get too far, though, resting their foreheads together. “I know you said to tell you when Brucie came by, but I really did just mean to give everyone cupcakes, hang around for a bit and leave. Turns out when you add Brucie and Ollie chaos into the Barry and Hal shitshow things get a bit out of control.” He added, sounding vaguely disgusted with himself for getting along with Hal Jordan. Clark huffed out a laugh and Bruce hit his shoulder gently. He leaned back to look him in the eye and asked, “Wanna go home? I can excuse us. Think I’ve socialized enough anyways.”

Clark took a breath, assessing his level of tiredness. On the one hand, this little break, short as it was, had reenergized him enough that he was willing to go back out and join the chaos, even if that was just talking to Diana on the side while watching his husband make a fool of himself. On the other (better) hand, he’s been ready to collapse into bed for hours, and dragging Bruce home to act as his personal body pillow sounded incredibly appealing.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

On their way back to tell everyone they were leaving, Clark suddenly remembered something that had confused him. “Why was everyone in the monitor room?”

“Wanted to keep an eye on everything because I knew no one else would.” Bruce grumbled.

“And you let a food fight break out? Doesn’t seem like you.”

“Oh trust me, it was annoying me the whole time. Batman’s gonna get pissed about it tomorrow.”

~•~•~

“How the hell did you land Bruce Wayne?” Hal hissed at Clark, sliding into the chair next to him.

A fair question, and one that he’s been asking himself for a decade. He still hasn't come up with an answer.

“You know what, Hal? I don't even know.” He responded truthfully.

Hal grumbled, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. “But-” He cut himself off. “Well, how’d you meet?”

“Work.”

“Oh my g-” He groaned loudly in frustration, folding his arms on the table and burying his face in them. Clark tried not to grin. He was beginning to understand why Bruce found so much amusement in being purposefully obtuse. Hal raised his head to glare at him. “Well, did you interview him as a reporter? Did you go to one of his parties? Did you meet him as Superman? Did he know you were Superman and- and-” He paused, seeming to ransack his brain for a name.

“Clark Kent.” Clark supplied helpfully.

“Right! That one! Did he know you were Superman and Clark Kent before you started dating or after? You wouldn’t have gone to Gotham as Superman because Batman would’ve had your head. So did you meet there in civvies or did he go to Metropolis? Bruce Wayne said he knew Batman, right? Do they know each other because of you or because they both live in Gotham?” Hal gasped suddenly and choked on air and Clark had to thump him on the back. Once he’d regained use of his lungs, Hal turned to him with wide eyes. “Does Batman approve?”

Clark couldn't help the snort that got pulled out of him. “Why would I need Batman’s approval to marry someone?” Sure, when that someone was Batman himself, approval was a very important thing. But Hal didn't know that.

“Because he’s your best friend!”

“Bruce is my best friend.”

“Okay, sure.” Clark didn't appreciate the eyeroll that came with that, but he decided to let it slide. “C’mon, Batman’s your work husband, you can’t deny that. You might be actually married to someone else, but you two communicate like you've known each other your whole lives. There’s no way you’d let a relationship get as far as this without Batman’s approval. But Batman definitely doesn't seem like he’d like a guy like Bruce Wayne, and Bruce Wayne didn't seem like he liked Batman either, so something else must be going on here.”

“You can just call him Bruce.” Clark interjected.

“So if you married Bruce Wayne,” Hal continued, way too caught up in his theorizing to pay any attention to him. “It has to be because it was a mutually beneficial relationship between him and Batman. Like… um- crime rates! But I dunno why Bruce Wayne would have control over that. Orrr something to do with Wayne Enterprises. Or- OH! Maybe it was because he funded the Watchtower! Spooky wouldn't have passed up that chance to get funding from a guy who has billions to throw around, especially not if that guy had skin in the game and wouldn't give up anyone's identities and therefore wouldn't be a security risk! And that skin in the game in this case, is you!” Say what you will about Hal Jordan, but when he senses an opportunity to be a nosy little shit, he’ll grab onto it and follow it til the end of the line.

They both sat there, stunned, for a few long moments. Clark was kind of impressed that that word vomit had turned into a pretty solid theory about why Batman tolerated Bruce Wayne. Hal was staring, wide-eyed, into the distance, apparently having overwhelmed his brain enough that he had to let it cool down.

Clark cleared his throat. “Right. So. Was there… anything else?”

Hal turned to him slowly, still with that vacant stare. Clark was beginning to get concerned.

Then he snapped out of it and said, “So how’d you meet, again?”

Clark sighed.

~•~•~

“Brucie!”

Bruce turned around from where he was standing in Clark’s personal space. They’d been pressed together a few minutes ago by a crowd of reporters, pushing and shoving to get a good shot for their newspapers. They’d stayed close together even after the crowd had moved on, Clark keeping B close by hooking his finger into one of his belt loops.

Bruce grinned at the couple approaching them. “Ollie! Dinah!” He pulled away just enough to pull Ollie into a hug and kiss Dinah on the cheek, then he stepped up close again and looped an arm around Clark’s waist. Clark unhooked his finger and slowly slid his palm up B’s back to rest on his shoulder, relishing in the slight shiver it elicited.

“Oliver. Dinah.” He greeted with a smile and a nod.

Dinah smiled up at him easily, but Ollie hesitated for a second, staring at Clark through narrowed eyes. This was the first time they’d met as civilians since Clark revealed his identity. He could see the cogs turning in Ollie’s head as the images of Clark Kent and Superman overlapped. He shook his head after a beat, snapping out of his thoughts to smile and nod back. Then he glanced at Bruce nervously, probably hoping he didn't notice the lapse in attention. Bruce had graciously looked away, but Clark could see the tiny smirk he had at the corner of his mouth.

“How’ve you been, Bruce?”

Bruce turned back to him, scrunching his face up in thought. “Aw, y’know, same old. You and Dinah?”

“Yeah, much the same, much the same. And, uh… How’ve you been… Clark?” And good gosh, if Ollie was going to be this awkward around him in public then he’d better make sure he never approached him when anyone but Bruce was around to hear. Even now, Clark was looking around at the crowds around them, trying to see if anyone was watching them and witnessing the absolute travesty that was Oliver Queen trying to be normal.

“I’m doing well.” He said, after he’d determined that no one was looking at them weirdly. “Not as well as Bruce, though! He’s been looking forward to this event for weeks and he’s delighted to be here.” He grinned. Bruce had not, in fact, been looking forward to this event, and he pinched Clark’s side hard in an effort to get him to stop talking. Luckily for Clark, (and unluckily for Bruce,) he barely felt it. “He kept going on about how much he wanted to leave the house to spend his entire evening here! I had no idea he was such a big fan of overly elaborate baby showers disguised as grand openings for fancy nurseries for over-privileged children!”

Bruce, whose smile had changed from the easy Brucie smile to a more strained version that barely hid his annoyance, said, “Yeah, that’s great, babe. I don’t think we need to tell Ollie and Dinah about how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

And now Clark could let this go. He could leave this bit and retain some chance that Bruce would actually talk to him tonight after they got home. But also… “It’s alright, hon, I don’t think they mind! You guys don’t mind, do you?”

It was clear from Dinah’s small grin and Oliver’s over-exaggerated façade of innocence that neither of them believed any word that was coming out of Clark’s mouth about how excited Bruce was. They weren’t that accustomed to seeing annoyance on Brucie, but they gladly took the cue from Clark that it was fine to keep the bit going.

“Not at all!” Dinah was quick to assure him. Rao, he loved her. “We’re all too happy to hear about it! What part do you like most? The giant cake that’s not even made of cake? The screaming children? The plastic wine glasses?”

“Oh, Bruce has been gushing about all of it!” Clark beamed.

Bruce exhaled through his nose and seemed to resign himself to an evening of teasing.

~•~•~

Clark had just finished waiting around for the police to finally arrive on the scene of an attempted burglary (honestly, two hours?? Gotham had better response time than that!) when he got a text from Bruce.

BW at WT

He’d never tell Bruce, but he found it endlessly amusing when he referred to himself as BW in texts. It rarely happened, since it was only when he had to distinguish between Bruce Wayne and Batman in a way that wasn’t readily apparent from context clues, but Clark got a kick out of it every time it did happen.

He should probably head up there just to make sure Brucie wasn’t causing any trouble.

He looked from his phone to the police cruisers to an ice cream shop across the street. He contemplated going over and grabbing a scoop or two.

After all, he had a sworn duty to keep an eye on this situation until it was resolved.

And he really wanted ice cream.

His phone buzzed again and he glanced down at it.

Don’t freak out

Clark launched into the air, barreling towards the Watchtower at top speed.

~•~•~

Wally was the first person he bumped into as he marched through the halls. He looked nervous and skittish and like this was the last place he wanted to be.

“Wally.” Clark said, trying desperately to force calm into his voice. “What happened?”

“Bruce said not to freak out.” Wally blurted out.

“I know what ‘Bruce said.’ Where the hell is he?”

Wally shrunk back. “Medbay.” He squeaked.

Fuck.

Clark stormed away, squeezing his hands into fists as hard as he could.

The Watchtower medbay was a flurry of activity. The small part of Clark’s brain that wasn't consumed with worry for his husband's wellbeing wondered just how many people had gotten hurt. Then he stepped into the room and saw the single patient sitting on the edge of a cot, happily chatting away to his faithful attendees. Clark’s next thought was ‘shit, how bad is he hurt for there to be so many people here?’ But no, a quick x-ray showed nothing major, only a lump on his head that already had an ice pack held to it.

Which meant that they were all here for Bruce Wayne. Which made the inevitable shouting match that much more awkward.

“Heyyy honey!”

“Don’t you ‘hey honey’ me. What the hell happened?”

“Nothing!”

“Do not try this with me right now, Bruce Thomas Wayne.” Clark saw everyone’s eyes widen in his periphery and they all slunk out of the room. He knew they wouldn't go far, though. Not when there was drama to listen in on. He was proven right when they tried not to make it too obvious that they had stopped just outside the door.

“I’m not trying anything! It wasn’t even serious!”

“You’re sitting in the Watchtower medbay right now with a head injury. You might, might, be able to use that when I can take you home without worrying about anything. But currently, from where I’m standing, you do not have that luxury. Now why don’t you cut the bullcrap and tell me exactly. What. The hell. Happened.”

“It was just- it was- you know…”

“Bruce.” Clark gritted out.

“It was barely a hostage situation.”

“WHAT?” Clark was well aware of the fact that probably everyone currently on the Watchtower was looking through the open door behind him, but frankly, at this point, he couldn’t care less.

“It was nothing!”

“Bruce Wayne, I swear to Rao if you say that one more time I will punt you into the sun.”

Bruce let out an annoyed sigh through his nose.

“You still haven’t answered my question. What happened?”

“I was in Gotham. At a bank.” He began slowly, patiently, as though he were talking to a child. Clark would've yelled at him for being patronizing, but he was finally getting on with the story and Clark really didn't want to start this all over again. “Some people came in with guns and held it up. I put up a bit of a fight and some asshole pistol whipped me. Then I sat there for like five minutes until the League came. It was n-” He cut himself off.

“Yes? It was what? You wanna finish that sentence?”

“Well, I don’t exactly want to get punted into the sun, now, do I?” Bruce said, with a saccharine smile.

Clark clenched his jaw and turned away from him slightly. Then he turned back, less agitated than before but equally annoyed. “It was serious enough that the League got involved, but you couldn’t yell one ‘Superman’ into the air?”

“You were on patrol! It wasn’t important.”

“I’ve been sitting outside a house for the past two hours making small talk with a thirteen year old boy. Why don’t you let me decide what’s important or not?”

“Okay, f-” Bruce cut himself off again. “Two hours? Gotham has better response time than that!”

“That’s what I s-” Clark snapped his mouth shut and let out an aggravated groan. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Why didn't you call for me?”

“Clark, it was five minutes.”

“Yeah, takes less than five seconds to say ‘Superman.’”

“Fine. Next time I’m in a bank and it gets robbed, I will scream into the air and hope you're only talking to a thirteen year old kid about his Pokémon card collection.”

Clark paused. “I know you're making fun of me, but it was actually a stamp collection.”

“What kind of kid has a stamp collection nowadays?”

“Exactly, which is why I talked to him for two hours. He was actually very interesting.”

“See? So it was good that I didn't call you. Imagine how sad and deprived you would be if I pulled you away from that enlightening conversation.”

“Yeah, imagine how much more sad and deprived I’d be without a husband.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up from its neat Superman style.

Bruce went quiet. Then he stood up and walked towards Clark, pulling him into a hug. “I’m okay.” He murmured into his neck.

“I know you're okay, I j-” Clark clenched his jaw, not letting any more noises through. He buried his face in Bruce’s hair and tried to calm his breathing.

“What is it?”

Clark shook his head, screwing his jaw even tighter.

Bruce lifted his head from his shoulder, looking up at the doorway. “Would you guys mind giving us a moment?”

There was some shuffling and retreating footsteps, then the door closed and they were left alone.

“Clark? What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to say that, you aren’t either.”

“You already know my thoughts on you getting hurt without telling me.”

“Honestly, Clark, it was just a bump on the head.”

“Yeah? And what about next time? And the time after that? I know you can handle yourself in the suit, but what about out of it? What if they’d shot you? What if the League had taken longer? Did you even call for backup or were you just waiting? Did you-”

“Clark.” Bruce pulled back and took Clark’s face between his hands, forcing him to make eye contact. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, but-”

“No buts. Yes or no. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then can you trust me to assess a situation accurately and make a proper judgement based on the potential threats to my wellbeing?”

“To your wellbeing?” Clark scoffed. “Have you met yourself?”

“Babe, I’m serious.”

Clark took a breath and squeezed his eyes shut. As much as he complained about Bruce not caring about his wellbeing, he knew that wasn’t true. Not entirely. He’d always put others before himself, sure, but he would never poke the bear when he knew no one was in danger. And if he didn’t call for help then he knew everyone would be safe. Everyone, including him.

He had a family to come home to, too.

Clark sighed softly, eyes still closed.

“I trust you.”

This was far from the first time they’d had this argument, and it would be far from the last time.

But for now?

For now, Clark just rested his forehead against his husband’s and whispered, “Can we go home now?”

Chapter Text

Clark liked monitor duty with Arthur. They were both attentive to what was going on, there wasn’t any food being tossed around despite the fact that food wasn’t allowed in this room, there was no urge to fill the silence with talking. It was peaceful.

So Clark wasn’t exactly sure why today was different.

“I just thought you’d be married to Batman.”

Well no, he knew why today was different, he just didn’t know why it was happening now instead of anytime in the past two and a half months since his identity (and subsequent marriage) reveal.

“Really?” Clark laughed. “Why?”

“You always seem to understand each other better than anyone else can. Batman won’t ask for help from anyone else but you, and you’re obviously always inclined to do the same, but you’re more… normal about it.”

Clark chuckled.

“I mean,” Arthur continued. “If anyone else were to stand within six feet of him, he would glare at them until they backed up. But with you it’s different. It’s not that he barely tolerates your company, either. I think he really does go looking for it.”

Clark schooled his features into pure confusion, giving away none of the glee he felt over the fact that Bruce, Mr I-Regulate-My-Heartbeat-So-Well-Even-My-Superpowered-Husband-Can't-Always-Tell-When-I'm-Lying, was apparently unable to fully control his body language around him. “So, you’re saying… what? That B has feelings for me?”

Arthur hesitated, clearly unwilling to overstep. “Well, I think- I know he’s more comfortable with you than with anyone else, including Diana.” He raised his hands up in surrender. “And all I’m saying is that there might be something to that.”

“We have been working together for way longer than the Justice League has existed.”

“Well, yes, but you think I’d say the same thing if it were Hal Jordan instead of you?”

Clark snorted and conceded the point. They fell back into the comfortable silence that monitor duty with Arthur was usually characterized by.

It was never hard to separate Batman and Bruce in his mind. Not in a way that he thought they were two entirely different people, but in a way that, while Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne were married, Superman and Batman were not. From the very beginning, Bruce had made it clear that this thing between them could never come at the cost of their jobs. Which, to Batman, meant that there would be absolutely nothing between Superman and Batman beyond a professional partnership. (‘And friendship!’ Clark had added. Bruce had scoffed but hadn't argued.) A decade in, and Clark was pretty confident they’d done a good job of keeping barriers up. There was no PDA, no flirting, they had separate rooms on the Watchtower and they tried not to let professional disagreements affect their personal life and vice versa.

Except apparently, they weren't as subtle as they thought. If Arthur Curry, of all people, thought it was his duty to bring up the fact that Superman may or may not be breaking Batman’s heart. He’d expect this level of gossiping from some of the others, like Barry and Hal, but Arthur? Maybe this was more serious than he’d thought.

~•~•~

“We need to talk.” Was the first thing Clark said when he opened the door to Bruce’s study.

Ten years ago, those words would have made Bruce shut off completely. Ten years ago, Clark didn’t exactly know that there was really only one way a conversation that started with that was expected to go. They’d reached a compromise over the years. Clark would only use that phrase when he needed Bruce’s undivided attention for a conversation, and Bruce would stop assuming the worst whenever he heard it.

As it stood now, Bruce just put his pen down and raised an eyebrow.

Clark dropped into the seat on the other side of the desk. “Arthur thinks Batman is in love with Superman.”

“Okay?” Bruce said after a pause.

“Okay? That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s just that this seems to be going further than we thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we started this whole Brucie and the Justice League thing, we thought – well, I thought – that there would be no complications because Superman could be married to whoever he wanted with no repercussions for your identity. But now it seems like the team is convinced that I’m hurting you because my husband keeps coming over to the Watchtower while Batman’s pining hopelessly away.”

“‘Brucie and the Justice League’ sounds like a kids’ show.” Bruce muttered.

“Can you be serious?” Clark threw his hands in the air.

“Fine. You said Arthur thought Batman was in love with Superman, but then you said the whole team did. Which is it?”

“Well, Arthur said he thought we were married, and Hal made vague allusions to Batman being my ‘work husband’” He brought his hands up to do air quotes. “But you know Arthur, he wouldn’t mention it unless it was obvious enough that he thought it was serious. And if it was obvious to him, you know the others have gossiped about it already.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” Clark sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what you can do. I think if you just came straight out and said that Batman wasn’t in love with Superman they’d think you’re just in denial.”

Bruce paused for a moment. Then a slow, smug grin spread across his face. “I think you're the one in denial.”

“What.” Clark said, squinting at him.

“Well, Batman is in love with you, Superman. Anyone can see it. The guy hangs on your every word. He looks at you like he never wants to look away.” Bruce said, standing up and rounding the desk.

“Sure you're not projecting?” Clark smirked.

Bruce scoffed and slipped into his lap. “Please, I have the real deal in my bed every night. All he’s got are his fantasies.”

“You can't distract me from the Batman issue.” Clark said, although his eyes were already drifting down to B’s mouth.

“Oh yeah?” Bruce paused a hair’s breadth away from his lips. “Wanna bet?”

~•~•~

The next time Clark received a “BW at WT” text, he had just finished up with dinner at a fish and chips place with Lois. They were waiting for the check when he heard his phone buzz on the table. He glanced at it and sighed.

“Bruce?” Lois asked. He could never figure out how she always knew when it was Bruce. He’d ask, but she’d probably love the chance to go into detail about how disgustingly sappy his face got (even though he was pretty sure he’d’ve grown out of that after seven years of marriage), and he’d rather not give her the opportunity.

“Yeah. He’s been doing a thing with our coworkers lately.”

“A thing?” She scrunched up her face in confusion.

The waiter came by with their check and Clark mouthed ‘later’ across the table at her before grabbing his wallet.

A few minutes later, as they were walking down the street towards Lois’ apartment, she nudged his arm.

“What thing?” 

Clark sighed again. “Well, you know how they’ve never really known the real him, right?”

“Uh huh?” She’d known B’s identity since the beginning. They never had a chance to hide it, between Clark’s blatant pining over Batman and then his pure, unrestrained joy when he told her about his first date with Bruce Wayne. Bruce hadn't been happy, at first. He didn't like the idea that someone had figured out his identity without him having the chance to stop it. He came around soon enough, and the two of them quickly became a united force with the sole purpose of out-stubborning Clark’s stubbornness.

“And remember how I told you that I shared my real name with them a few months ago? Well, it came up that I was married to Bruce, and now he’s made it his goal to confuse them all by being both versions of himself.”

“No!” Lois gasped, delighted. “How bad is it?”

“You know him, he'll never do things halfway.” Clark grumbled.

“Oh my God, I love him. He’s such a menace. Is he doing it now? Is that why he texted you?” Her eyes were wide and Clark started to mirror her grin, no matter how annoyed he was trying to seem.

“Mhm.”

“Send me photos! Please, Clark. I don't know why the hell you've let me go this long without seeing the absolute chaos gremlin your husband tries to pretend he’s not!”

See, this was probably why he hadn't told her before this. Because she and Bruce got along like a house on fire and they’d always feed each other’s flames even when all Clark wanted to do was put them both in headlocks.

Still, she’d probably pester him for two days straight before texting Bruce to have her request granted if he said no right now.

He sighed once more and Lois’s grin got impossibly wider.

“Fine.”

~•~•~

When he went up to the Watchtower after dropping Lois off at her apartment, everything seemed peaceful.

Clark frowned.

Brucie and peaceful did not go together.

He was half expecting to be ambushed by a hyperactive husband as he rounded a corner, but everything was quiet. There were people talking in the common room, so he made a beeline towards it. Maybe Bruce had gone home? Clark hadn't taken more than ten minutes to get up here, but maybe there was something happening in Gotham that he’d had to go and deal with.

He walked into the room, catching sight of Bruce immediately. He was… talking. Normally. Calmly. To Diana and Shayera. Arthur was rummaging through the fridge and Ollie and Barry were on the couch attempting to throw popcorn into their mouths. They had a pretty low success rate, judging by the mess on the carpet.

Bruce’s smile, which had previously been a more subdued version of his Brucie smile, but still not quite a Bruce smile, turned into something a lot softer when he caught sight of Clark. “Hey babe.” He said, reaching out his hand. Clark took it, allowing himself to be dragged close. “How was your day?”

“Not bad.” He said, dropping a kiss in his husband’s hair. “Think I have enough to finish that article I told you about. The one about housing conditions for ex-convicts.”

“I thought Perry wanted you to drop that?”

“Perry wanted me to drop it in favor of writing about a museum opening. One of those is much more interesting than the other. ‘Sides, Cat still owed me one so I just asked her to cover the museum piece for me.”

“Do you enjoy your job, Kal-El?” Diana asked. 

“Yeah, I do! It helps keep my mind occupied.” Clark watched absently out of the corner of his eye as Bruce muttered an excuse me and pulled his phone out to send a text. “And I get to help people even more. Granted, in a less direct way, but sometimes it has bigger consequences. Superman can save a burning building, but Clark Kent can expose all the inner workings of a corrupt company and take it down with a single article.”

“He’s good at it too.” Bruce grinned up at him. “Luckily he hasn’t turned that huge brain of his into digging into my company. Who knows what he’d find?” He sent a wink over to Diana and she rolled her eyes fondly.

“What makes you think I haven’t? You think I’d’a gone out with you in the first place if I thought you were corrupt?”

“It’s been ten years, Mr. Kent. Things change.” He turned his body fully towards Clark and let go of his hand to tuck both arms around his waist and under the cape.

“Oh yeah?” Clark draped an arm over his shoulders in return. “Think I should start digging now, then? See what shady dealings WE has been up to?”

Bruce nosed at his jaw. “Hmm. Better not. Don’t wanna lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmured.

Fuck. Ten years. Ten years, and Clark could never fully shake the helpless shudders when Bruce got affectionate like that. He knew Bruce was expecting a quip like ‘what? You mean WE?’ But he just couldn’t say it when all his words felt like they were caught in his throat right where Bruce’s mouth was puffing warm breaths onto his skin.

Barry yelped from somewhere off to the side and Clark snapped back to reality.

Right.

The Watchtower. Work. Diana and Shayera. Who were currently looking at them with poorly concealed amusement.

Clark cleared his throat and pushed Bruce away enough that one of his arms dropped from his waist.

“So,” He cleared his throat again, wishing that would be enough to clear away the blush he knew was covering his face. “How’ve you two been?”

Shayera launched into a story about something that happened on watch yesterday that looked like a drug deal but turned out to be a surprise birthday party for a high school student which then turned out to actually be a party where drugs were being used by underage teens and how she'd had to call in a very confusing tip to the police because she wasn't entirely sure what the situation was herself.

The zeta-tube went off and Clark instinctively latched onto the sound of Batman’s footsteps. Oh gosh, Batman would not be pleased to see all the popcorn spilled on the fl-

Wait.

He froze, focusing his attention back on the footsteps. It was definitely Batman. He could hear the heavy thud of the boots, the slight scrape of metal joints, the fluttering of the cape. The breathing, however…

Clark turned towards Bruce, saw him look over and raise his eyebrow a fraction of an inch, a tiny gesture that anyone would have missed had they not been keyed in to every slight twitch of his features. Clark interpreted it as ‘whatcha gonna do about it?’

“Bruce,” he said, with a measured calm he did not feel, “Batman’s coming.” He left the unasked question in the air, knowing his husband well enough to be sure that he caught it anyways. Bruce, why in the name of all that is good and holy is Batman coming?

Bruce’s eyes widened comically and he looked towards the door. “Batman? I haven't seen him since the last time I was kidnapped! What was that? Five months ago?” Oh, Clark remembered that. He’d been helping out with search and rescue after an earthquake in Indonesia and Dick had been caught up with a case in Blüdhaven so Jason had had to step into the Batman suit. He’d spent the next few months gloating about it and Bruce had grumbled about it every night when they went to bed.

This wasn't Jason, though. Bruce refused to let him anywhere near the suit now. Something about him ‘not respecting the sanctity of the bat.’ Whatever that meant.

The footsteps stopped right at the doorframe and Clark turned around to watch their oldest son take in every detail of the room.

Dick’s gaze swept over the two on the couch, the man leaning against the counter and eating cereal, the group of four looking back at him, and it froze on Bruce.

“Superman. A word.” Batman growled after a pause. He turned on his heel and stalked out, not bothering to check if Superman was actually following. Clark sighed, pulling out of Bruce’s grip and walking out the door.

Dick stopped a few corridors down, far enough away that they couldn’t be seen or heard. “I have no idea what’s happening.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“No like, seriously. What’s happening? You must have some context, I just got a text from Bruce saying to go to the Watchtower as Batman and he’d give me five hundred bucks. I didn’t think he’d be here!”

Clark groaned. “Okay. So. Basically, I told everyone I was married to Bruce Wayne and they asked if they could meet him. And I said- well, I don’t remember what I said. But it was definitely not a yes. Except Bruce, being Bruce, took that to mean ‘of course I’ll introduce my husband’s annoying public persona – who I don’t even get along with most of the time –  to you, my incredibly serious crime-fighting group.’ And now he’s doing things like this where he’ll parade around as Brucie and confuse everyone and I keep hoping he’ll get tired of it but I think we both know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.”

Dick took a moment to process his words, eyes narrowed in confusion behind the white lenses. “Okay, well, first of all,” he began slowly. “I don’t know who you’re trying to bluff when you say ‘incredibly serious crime-fighting group,’ but it’s not working. I just saw Barry Allen and Oliver Queen in that room along with an insane amount of popcorn.” Clark rolled his eyes. “Second of all… how much fun should I have with this?”

Clark scrubbed both hands across his face and let out a noise that was half laugh, half sob. “He’s giving you five hundred dollars?”

Dick bobbed his head happily.

“Rao, okay. He’d never forgive me if I gave you six hundred to leave now, and I don’t even have that much anyways.”

“You’re literally married to-”

“Y’know what? Screw it. Have as much fun as you want. I’ll give you an extra hundred if you yell at him.” He turned around and started back to the common room.

Dick caught up to him and muttered, “This is the best day of my life,” grin apparent in his voice.

They walked back side by side, stepping into the room and rejoining the group. Clark hooked his arm back over Bruce’s shoulders.

“Bruce Wayne.” Batman ground out.

“Batman!”

“Why are you here.”

“I came to say hi to my husband!”

“You live with him.”

“So?”

“You have a job. In Gotham.”

Bruce scoffed. “I’m Bruce Wayne.” He said, as though that explained everything. And surprisingly, it did.

“You have a life. That is not here.”

“Keep going like this and I’ll start thinking you don’t want me here!”

“I don’t.” Batman spat, but Bruce had already walked around them to the couch Barry and Ollie were on, wiggling his fingers at the popcorn bowl in a silent question.

Batman followed behind him and snatched his hand out of the bowl before he could grab anything. “Leave.”

Clark slid his phone out of a pocket in his suit, snapped a photo of the two of them and sent it to Lois.

“Who’s that?” Bruce grinned, ignoring Batman completely. He knew that Clark wouldn't send potentially compromising photos to anyone outside of the pre-approved “safe” list, but Clark could still see the slight tension in his expression.

“Lo.”

Bruce’s face lit up. He made grabby hands for the phone and Clark stepped forward and handed it over with a roll of his eyes. He watched as Bruce opened up the camera and flipped it so he could see himself. He then started a video and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet saying, “Lo! Lois! Lo! Guess what?” He flung an arm around Batman’s neck and pulled him into frame. “Batman’s here!” Dick did an impressively accurate imitation of Batman’s growl and death glare and raised a hand to shove his face away.

Bruce laughed, “Aw, c’mon Bats!”

Batman whipped around to jab a finger in his chest. “Do not call me that.” He snarled. “I let you in here because, for some godforsaken reason, my teammate seems to like you, even though you’re the lowest form of shit-eating invertebrate to ever crawl on this deplorable Earth. And for some reason you’ve decided to leech onto the one thing that is good and right in this world, and, purely out of respect to him, I let you come up here no matter how much I want to dropkick you into the Pacific Ocean and let you drown!”

The room was silent, the only sound being Dick’s heavy breathing.

Barry and Ollie were hiding behind the couch, mouths hanging open. Clark couldn’t see Diana and Shayera from where he was standing, but he could assume they were in similar states of shock. Arthur looked incredibly uncomfortable, and Clark had just enough of his wits about him to think ‘shit, this is just going to fuel the rumors about Batman’s unrequited pining.’

After a good twenty seconds of silence, Bruce let out a weak laugh. He had the sense to look appropriately chastized, but that all faded away when he brought the still-rolling camera up to his face and said, “Someone’s grumpy!” He stopped the video just as Batman lurched forward threateningly.

Clark snapped back into action. “Alright, that’s enough! Batman, cool off. I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow. Bruce, we’re going home.” He wrapped an arm around the latter’s shoulders and practically dragged him out the door. They walked to the zeta-tubes in silence, and Clark suspected they were both still reeling from Dick’s rant.

When they arrived back at the Batcave, Clark dropped his arm from Bruce’s shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, when I said, ‘just so you know, the League thinks Batman is pining after Superman and we should probably think of a way to change their perceptions of the situation so that they don't overdramatize it and make Superman and/or Bruce Wayne the bad guy for not considering Batman’s feelings,’ you took that to mean, ‘why don’t I ask my son to dress up as me so that I can orchestrate a meeting between two people who are supposedly in love with the same person and who famously do not get along and surely this won’t go wrong!’”

“In my defence,” Bruce raised a finger. “I didn't think Dick would act like that. I thought we could have a civil conversation and convince everyone that we can, actually, get along.”

“In your defence, you didn't think Dick would act like Batman?”

“Batman can be civil!” He handed the phone back and turned away to walk towards the stairs to the manor. “At any rate, I didn't think he’d yell at me.”

…whoops. That may have been Clark’s fault.

He went to change out of his suit, pausing only to send the video to Lois and Venmo $150 to Dick. He deserved a little extra after that performance.

His phone buzzed repeatedly a few minutes later, as he walked into the living room and dropped onto the couch next to Bruce. He took it out of his pocket, seeing a bunch of texts from Lois.

hooooooly shit.

is that Dick???

this is the best video ever

“lowest form of shit eating invertebrate” he’s been sitting on that one for a while huh?

this is better than that time bruce called himself a furry

Dick came running up the stairs and jumped over the back of the couch to land perfectly perched on the coffee table. Clark would always be jealous of the flexibility of that kid. He wasn’t even a kid anymore. And that made it even worse!

Bruce grinned at him, grabbing his money clip and counting out five $100 bills. Then he paused, seemed to deliberate over it a bit more, then counted out another five. He handed them over and said, “This is why you’re my favorite kid.”

Clark didn't need superhearing to hear the screeches of outrage that came from the kitchen where the rest of the kids were hanging out

Chapter Text

It hurt.

It hurt.

Everything fucking hurt.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

~•~•~

“-perman! Superman!”

Who was that?

Why was it so dark?

What happened?

~•~•~

“Superman! Clark! FUCK!”

That voice.

He knew that voice.

It was right there.

Who was it?

He couldn’t remember.

~•~•~

It was bright.

Too bright.

He tried to close his eyes, but something was holding them open.

“Clark, baby, please.”

Bruce?

“Honey, I’m gonna get you home. You’re gonna be okay.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, the fingers holding them open retreating to grasp his face. He blinked his eyes back into focus and was met by Bruce’s worried face.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you.”

“B?” He rasped out.

“Yeah, babe. I’m here. Alfred’s coming with the car. You’ll be okay.”

“Wha' happ’n?”

“You got into a fight and were shot with Kryptonite bullets. The League’s here and everyone’s safe. But I couldn’t get to you in time, baby, I’m so sorry.” Bruce’s whole body was tense, his eyes watery with unshed tears.

Clark tried to reach a hand up to hold his wrist and reassure him that everything was okay, but the moment he twitched his arm he was suddenly made aware of the level of intense pain he was in. Searing, white-hot agony shot through his body. It felt like nothing he’d ever felt before and he wished more than anything that he could go back to the state of shock he’d been in earlier, where everything was fuzzy and unfocused.

He was distantly aware of the scream that ripped out of him before the darkness brought him under once more.

~•~•~

It was quiet.

He couldn’t hear anything but a muted beeping and a faint buzzing.

Too bright.

He could see the light even through his eyelids and flinched away from it.

Where was he?

He flexed his hand, feeling another hand wrapped around it.

Bruce.

The light seemed to get brighter the more aware he was of it, so he squeezed his eyes tighter.

“B?” He tried, although it came out as a rasp. He coughed.

That got Bruce to jolt, his hand tightening over Clark’s.

“Clark! Holy fuck. Baby, you okay?” His voice was rough. From sleep or from crying, he wasn’t sure.

Clark tried to draw in a breath, but it caught in his throat and he coughed again.

“Here. Water. Honey, open your mouth.” Something prodded at his lips and he sighed in relief as he sucked up room-temperature water through a straw. He wet his lips and cleared his throat once he drank enough, feeling slightly better than he had a few minutes ago.

“Clark? Can you open your eyes?”

“Too bright.” He whispered.

“Oh shit.” Bruce said, and Clark felt the light dim and move away from his face. “What about now?”

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the spots in his vision. The first thing he saw was Bruce, standing next to the bed he was on and gripping his hand like he couldn’t bear to let go. He was dressed in sweatpants and one of Clark’s old hoodies and he somehow looked like he both just woke up from hibernation and hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks. He looked around, recognizing the unmistakable surroundings of the Batcave. The sunlamp was set up above him, buzzing away, still too bright for Clark to look at comfortably. The med bay he was in was clean, no evidence of an operation happening recently. Clark was pretty sure that was what must have happened, anyways. What he wasn’t sure of was what exactly he did to land himself in here.

“What happened?”

“You got hurt. You went to go run surveillance on something that was happening in Metropolis but they knew you were coming. They had Kryptonite bullets and you were shot three times and if I hadn’t been in that fucking meeting I would’ve gotten to you sooner.” Clark squeezed his hand and he took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he lifted a corner of his mouth in a wry grin. “You managed to call the League before you passed out and they called Batman, but I didn’t have time to change into the suit so I went to get you as Bruce. I think the jig is up.” He chuckled wetly, bringing the hand that was braced on Clark’s shoulder up to swipe at his eyes. “God, I was so scared, Clark.” He collapsed onto the chair behind him and leaned forward to rest his forehead on their entwined hands.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. You saved me.” Clark reassured him. “I’m gonna be okay.”

“You better.” Bruce whispered.

“How long’s it been?”

“Five days.” Bruce choked out. “You might not have your powers back for a while. The Kryptonite took a lot out of you. It was in your body for way too long.”

“Five days.” He echoed. Shit. “Bruce, I’m so sorry.”

His husband raised his head to squint at him. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry. I thought I could do the job myself and I didn’t know-”

“Shut up.”

Rude.

“You couldn’t have known, don’t blame yourse-.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

Bruce shut his mouth with an audible click.

Bingo.

“You couldn’t have known either, so stop blaming yourself.”

Bruce tensed up. “But if I’d have just gotten to you sooner-”

“How? You were stuck in a meeting.”

“A meeting that I scheduled. I set it up knowing that you were going out on a potentially dangerous mission and-”

“It was surveillance, B.” If Bruce had been less distressed he would’ve gotten mad at Clark for cutting him off so much, so it was a testament to how out of sorts he was that he kept letting it slide. “If you don’t do any work any time I’m going out on a mission, even if it’s a simple surveillance job, you won’t get anything done ever. You and I both had no idea this one would go wrong, so it’s not your fault.”

Bruce slumped forward again, this time resting his temple on Clark’s hip so he could watch his face. Then he reached over and dimmed the sunlamp a bit more, making the light more bearable for both of them. “We can argue about this some more later.” He grumbled.

Clark hummed, tired enough that he was willing to let it go for now. He closed his eyes and said, “Tell me about how the Brucie thing’s going.”

Bruce let out a huff and pressed a kiss to his fingers. “Sure you don’t want to sleep?”

“No, wanna hear you talk.”

“Fine, but you should get some rest after. Nothing much has happened, to be honest. Haven’t seen any of the League since you got hurt. They tried to bring you up to the Watchtower to get you healed up but I didn’t let them. They were arguing that the Watchtower had better equipment,” He scoffed. “As though I don’t have the best equipment to treat my husband. I didn’t leave any room for debate though, and I think they realized it was better to let you go with me than let you bleed out more. I’ve been sending Diana updates on your condition and she’s been passing them on. But yeah, the Brucie thing. Don’t know if everyone knows Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same person, but I think they might have figured it out. They were all confused when I showed up and Batman didn’t, and Batman hasn’t been up to the Watchtower since.” He let out a sharp exhale. “I’ll probably have to tell everyone who I am now.”

Clark opened his eyes again, squinting against the light that his eyes had to readjust to. “You okay with that?”

Bruce shrugged a shoulder. “That was the endgame anyways when I started this whole thing. I just wanted to have as much fun with it as I could before then.”

“Even when you came in and sat on my lap?” Clark huffed.

“Especially then.” Bruce grinned at him. “Imagine everyone’s faces when they look back on that and realize that was Batman.”

…oh, God.

~•~•~

A few days later, after Clark had regained the majority of his powers, they zetaed up to the Watchtower. Batman had been up there a few times since he’d woken up, just to check on things. He hadn't revealed his identity yet and they'd agreed to wait until the next League meeting so that everyone would be there.

“So that you only have to do it once?” Clark had asked.

“So that I can see everyone's brains melting in tandem.” Bruce had replied.

They sat down at the empty table, not talking. They didn’t need to. They’d spent hours planning this, Bruce going over contingency after contingency. Clark found it funny that he had made fun of Clark’s anxiety about his reveal but was now being 10 times worse than he ever was.

People trickled slowly into the room, greeting Clark and checking up on him before taking their seats and chatting away to whoever was next to them.

Batman waited patiently until the hour changed, then he stood up and cleared his throat. “The meeting will be starting now. It is unfortunate that so many seats are empty. I would hope that everyone would arrive on time next week, although I do understand when I am asking too much from a group of highly-trained and supposedly disciplined adults.”

Clark rolled his eyes and settled in for a long two hours.

~•~•~

By the time Bruce put his bat-tablet down and did his standard end of meeting spiel (something something announcements and action items, something something immediate attention, Clark usually zoned out the moment the bat-tablet met the table), everyone was ready to get the hell out of the room and do literally anything else.

Clark felt the same, honestly. League meetings were never the most exciting thing (understatement of the century), but last week’s meeting had been canceled because Superman couldn't make it so this week’s was extra long to make up for everything they’d missed. Even though Bruce was trying to speed through things as fast as he could, either to get to his reveal sooner or because even he wasn’t immune to the torment of a long meeting, it had still taken almost three hours to get through it all.

“Before I dismiss you, I have one more announcement.”

Barry, who had already pushed his chair back so that he could speed out of the room the moment Batman gave the go ahead, made a choked off sound that could have been a sob if it had spent a few more seconds in the oven.

“A little over three months ago, Superman made the decision to share his identity with us. After much deliberation, I have decided to do the same in the name of trust and transparency.” ‘Trust and transparency’ his ass. Bruce would’ve gladly kept this going as long as he could have if Clark hadn’t gotten injured. “You all understand the weight of this decision, and I trust this information will not be shared anywhere outside of this Watchtower. If it does, I will find out who leaked it and I have all the information I need to destroy each and every one of you completely.”

The entire table was staring at him with wide eyes, with the exception of Diana, who had propped a hand up on the arm of her chair to cover her smile, and J’onn, who looked like he really couldn't care less.

Batman, with all the gravity of a man being forced to show his hand early and who was doing all he could to squeeze the last dregs of satisfaction out of the situation he was in, reached up slowly, gripped his cowl... and pulled it off.

The room went deathly silent.

Even Clark, with his superhearing, could only pick up shallow breathing, pounding of hearts, and the click of someone's throat as they swallowed.

Ollie’s face was white, Hal’s face was red, Wally’s face was green, and honestly, at this rate, who needed Christmas decorations?

Bruce stood at the head of the table, grinning smugly down at them all.

Barry was the first one to recover.

Although… maybe ‘recover’ was too strong a word.

“YOU PUT YOUR ICE CREAM IN THE MICROWAVE??”

Clark threw his head back and cackled.