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Clark should have felt immediate relief when he got home. He often felt that being a reporter who occasionally needed long bathroom breaks between stories to stop the city from collapsing or save kittens in distress was exhausting in a way that only the familiarity of arriving home lifted the metaphorical weights off his shoulders.
But not today, because today there was the disturbing noise of a completely unknown heartbeat inside his house. It wasn't Lois, he knew his wife's heartbeat, it wasn't anyone he knew like Clark or Superman, he may not memorize every heartbeat of every person he meets, but he would still know if they were familiar.
Clark's own heart raced as he approached from the kitchen, which was where the sound seemed to be coming from, He approached slowly due to the possibility that the intruder would not know that he had invaded the Man of Steel's house, the effort to keep his identity secret proved to be a disadvantage because the closer he got, the more the sound became distant until it became indistinguishable from the rest of the cacophony of Metropolis. When he finally entered the kitchen he found himself completely alone and a window he remembered locking was wide open.
Clark groaned in frustration, hoping the would-be thief hadn't had time to take anything of value before having to flee.
Clark tried to calm down, took a deep breath and began to inspect room by room. The television in the living room was intact, the appliances too, the safe was untouched and not a single dollar had gone missing. Clark also rummaged through Louis' jewelry drawer but didn't miss anything. Two hours later he had almost completely recovered from the shock and had convinced himself that the intruder had not managed to take anything when the power was cut.
Just his, in the whole neighborhood, he checked.
He thought about calling Lois, but she had gone out with some colleagues after work to celebrate one of her friends' promotion and he didn't want to worry her for nothing at the moment, after all, what would he say? Hey baby, There was someone in our house who didn't do anything but now the lights are off and I'm scared? He's Superman for god's sake that would be ridiculous.
It got less ridiculous when the lights started flashing different colors and his television would turn on by itself, change channels several times, turn off, and do it all over again and still no sign of anyone else.
Clark didn't believe in ghosts, although if they really existed it wouldn't be such a big surprise, so his conclusion was: Hacker.
Terribly inconvenient, he was invulnerable, had super strength, super speed, x-ray vision and could even fly but he didn't understand anything about technology. Who the hell was the hacker who wanted to hack a random reporter? Did the culprit know about his other identity?
The lights changed from blue to red, the television turned on again and emitted a white noise for a full 10 minutes before playing a bizarre gore video, the air conditioning turned on by itself at 15 and the refrigerator started beeping like it did when the smart touch panel that only Lois knew how to fix got messed up, Clark was on the verge of sitting on the floor and crying in frustration.
The microwave turned on by itself, cold water started running from the filter and he had to run to unplug it and every two minutes he heard the vacuum cleaner running.
Clark was already 90% decided to contact Cyborg when the gravity of the situation increased 100 times and made Clark clench his fists tightly and want to punch someone badly instead of crying. There was a stash of kryptonite inside his refrigerator, scattered throughout the shelves and drawers.
“Hello.” Clark jumped, so surprised for a moment that he didn't even notice someone approaching, someone with the exact same heartbeat as the intruder from earlier. He straightened his shoulders, assuming the posture of Superman, ready for any fight. The man facing him wore a white suit that covered him completely, from his feet to his helmet; not an inch of skin was visible.
"Who are you?" Clark asked authoritatively, slamming the refrigerator door shut and moving as far away from the kryptonite stash as possible without getting out of the way of the intruder and the refrigerator. He knew he would be at a terrible disadvantage if the other man managed to get them, that is, if he didn't have any with him. “Where did you get that?"
The man ignored the first question and, as what Clark assumed was an answer to the second, raised a batarang.
Fuck, a Batman villain? What was he doing in Metropolis? Was Batman okay? Was it some kind of hostage situation?
"What did you do to Batman?" Clark asked menacingly.
The stranger had the audacity to look offended, he lifted his chin trying to demonstrate superiority, which wasn't difficult considering his super technological suit compared to Clark's civilian clothes.
"Batman and I do a lot of things together." What the hell kind of answer is that? He had no reason to sound so defensive. "What about you? Have you been talking to the bat much lately?"
The last time Clark had seen Bruce was two weeks ago when they helped Green Arrow deal with a monster in the city's sewers that was reproducing by mitosis faster than Oliver could take each one down. When they went to the tower to get rid of the ruined costumes and catalog the new monster that had never appeared before, Clark even got Bruce to tell him an anecdote about the substitutions Alfred had been making in the recipes to cut out meat from the dishes in the mansion now that Damian had become a vegetarian, which was a gain that pleased him; he was always in a good mood when their friendship seemed to progress.
But he wouldn't tell that to the stranger, obviously.
"Enough so we can contact each other if we get into trouble." He hoped that sounded threateningly ambiguous enough because he wasn't sure if it was Batman who was in trouble or he who would be soon; he'd never heard of that specific villain, so if it was the latter, Bruce had better be just a phone call away.
"Wrong answer." What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
The doorbell rang.
It was Bruce, Clark recognized it before he even got to the door, thank God. Incredibly, the stranger made no move to stop him from opening the door.
Bruce wasn't dressed as Batman, but he wasn't wearing any of his expensive suits as the only wealthy heir, and his characteristic mannerisms of Bruce Wayne: The Prince of Gotham were missing. Instead, Bruce was wearing a wandering vagabond disguise, sunglasses, baggy gray clothes, a hood over his matted hair, and makeup that made his face look like it was covered in soot.
Clark appreciated the discretion, he wouldn't know how to explain Batman or Mr. Wayne on his doorstep if any of the neighbors saw him but he sometimes thought his friend tried too hard, even his cheeks looked thinner and his chin more square, he wondered if he had taken a makeup course.
"Kent," he greeted. "It has come to my attention that you have an individual here who should be under my responsibility."
Please take him away from here.
"Your responsibility? Oh, please Bruce, will you treat me like one of your brats?” The stranger came walking behind him, passing Clark as if he was nothing to face Batman. Ah he was definitely missing something here, there was no way some random Batman’s Rogue would know his name and the existence of his family.
"I...recognize your individuality and competence, Ghostmaker, but since you're here for something that's indirectly my fault I would say it's also my responsibility to stop you from continuing to torment Clark when he hasn't done anything.”
Ghostmaker then, the name seems very fitting...wait, what the hell did Bruce do to this guy that resulted in Clark having a horror movie day for nothing?
Ghostmaker snorted and slung an arm around Bruce's shoulder in a way that seemed a little too casual. Clark almost choked as he raised his other hand to remove his helmet but felt a little disappointed when its absence only revealed a mask that still covered the entire upper part of his face, the lower part of Ghostmaker's face masked only white teeth and skin a few shades darker than Clark's.
"You're so full of yourself." His tone was disapproving and irritated, but the fact that he was still half-physically engaging Bruce and Bruce didn't react or try to dodge suggested they had some history.
"...okay, wait, what exactly is your relationship with Batman?" Clark frowned, he still didn't understand. Were they friends? Coworkers? Friendly rivals? Things weren't making sense. Plus he was feeling very left out by two men who were in his living room.
Ghostmaker pretended to stretch and gave Clark a lazy smile. "Well, someone's gotta put the Dark Knight to ride, and it ain't gonna be the horse.”
The look Batman gave Ghostmaker was absolutely murderous, if Clark tried to imitate him he would probably pierce Ghostmaker's entire skull with a laser, but Clark was too open-mouthed to care, he felt his cheeks heat up and his tongue tie. He knew Batman hooked up with men sometimes from the same sources he knew he spilled wine on Lex Luthor's expansive suit last month but he wasn't expecting him to be dating again after his seventh breakup with Catwoman almost two years ago.
And couldn't he be seeing someone with less terroristic and villainous tendencies? Jesus, he definitely had a type. Clark felt his head hurt and wanted to thank the universe for meeting Lois just trying to imagine how their relationship worked.
"Uh...um, okay...congratulations?" Clark tried, still staring at the couple (Couple!) Bruce remained stoic and motionless, emitting murderous will while Ghostmaker still smiled sarcastically. Batman's very eloquent response was a meaningless grunt while his partner let his fake smile fall.
Never again I want to see your crazy boyfriend, take this insane guy back to Gotham Clark didn't say this but he would have a serious talk with Bruce later about imposing some boundaries on his partner, he was so good at imposing them on basically everyone but of course his love interests for some reason always with criminal records had to be the exception, to such a control freak he has a strange tendency to have a crush on people he can’t control.
"I don't like being away from Gotham," Batman announced after thirty seconds of the most awkward silence of Clark's life. "I'm going back to my city, Ghostmaker?"
Ghostmaker shrugged. "You heard my guy. I still don't feel like leaving him alone today. It was a pleasure meeting you, Superman." He uttered this last sentence with such irony that Clark almost could taste poison on his tongue and at the same minute the strange man turned and walked elegantly towards...Clark would say towards the middle of desert street but he heard Ghostmaker say some commands and minutes later the batmobile landed.
Clark gasped indignantly, "He has control of your car? Seriously?" Not even Bruce's kids can just call in the Bat-vehicles whenever they want.
Bruce didn't even glance back to where Ghostmaker had already made himself comfortable in the copilot's seat. "Not by my choice or initiative," he replied dryly, giving her a brief, almost imperceptible nod. "Superman." And he left.
Clark walked into the house and threw himself on the couch as soon as they were gone, he grabbed his phone and texted Lois that they should swap their Saturday dinner date for a spa date.
𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𓌹𔓎𓌺 ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆𔓎⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺𓆩𓆪
"Seriously Bruce? With Superman?" Khoa flailed angrily trying to hit Bruce with a kick to the chest.
"I've never made physical contact with Superman for more than two minutes." Bruce defended himself, panting as he blocked Khoa's kick and tried to punch him in the face only to have his arm grabbed. Khoa ignored him and twisted Bruce's arm back, but received a knee to the jaw as retaliation. "With Superman? It doesn't make any sense he's not even your type "
Bruce took advantage of the few seconds it took Khoa to recover and attack him again to breathe.
"And what do you want me to do? Control what you dream? Stop getting mad at me for this nonsense.” Khoa attacked him back with four quick punches to the face, Bruce successfully dodged the first three but the fourth grazed him.
"I'm not mad, I don't get mad." Khoa retorted, sounding hateful.
Bruce snorted loudly and put his hands around Khoa's neck, choking his opponent and passing a thigh over his hip, practically riding the other man's groin and throwing all his weight on him in order to knock him down.
"Of course not." Bruce grumbled above him, he could hardly believe that Minhkhoa haunted Clark for an entire day because he had the audacity to kiss Bruce in Khoa’s dream. This complete madman. Bruce felt Khoa squeezing his sweatshirt-clad thighs and sighed.
"We need to work on your concept of foreplay, haunting Superman is not sexy."
Khoa rolled his eyes. "You're not much better, but if you insist, the next time I have a dream like that, you're the one I'll haunt."
Bruce kissed him, no different from their usual foreplay.