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“Batman informed me that a guest would be joining us later tonight,” Diana said to the group, her tone still booming despite the nearly impossible sitting position she had crawled into.
The Justice League had huddled around the main room, many finding spots on the plush sofas. It was the usual formation for after meetings, however tonight's meeting had been postponed due to Batman’s absence. So with nothing better to do, some of the most powerful beings in the universe had settled around the room, nursing coffees and assorted baked goods Clark brought.
Hal groaned at the mention of the knight. “Did he ever say who?” To which Diana glanced back in his direction and he slouched back in his lounge chair. “Of course he didn’t.”
“I’m not worried. If this guest is allowed to be in the Watchtower, I’d expect they are probably safe. Batman doesn’t exactly trust easily.” Clark noted, eliciting a poorly disguised chuckle from Barry.
“You can say that again,” Barry said, a smirk still lingering. “He’s the only one here who hasn’t revealed his civilian identity. The bat’s as paranoid as it comes.”
“Paranoid isn’t the right word… he’s just… careful?” Clark stammered. “Batman has a lot on his plate. You know… with Gotham being… Gotham.”
An accepting chorus and a few sighs echoed through the room before Clark heard something else. A zeta tube.
He put down his cup and began to stand. “I think our guest is here.” The room erupted into speculation and last minute guesses before a booming voice and handful of footsteps cut off all discussion.
“Hello, Justice League!” Bruce Wayne cheered, a billionaire smile covering his perfect face.
Bruce Wayne. Clark’s joy immediately soured. A man who prided himself on doing as little work as possible and sleeping with anything that could consent. A man who was so airheaded that he had tripped into at least three fountains in the past year, using it as an excuse to tell his fling that he had ‘fallen in love’. A man whose only contribution to the press was a few quotes that could only find a home in the gossip column. Clark could continue recalling all of the ways this man had irritated him, but his Ma had taught him better.
And Batman had sent him here? The constantly rational and perpetually strict Batman? It made sense that the two were at least acquainted, as Bruce was the highest sponsor of the Justice League, and they both shared an adamant adoration for the city they called home. But Batman?
The billionaire sauntered down the four stairs and into the dug out living space. Clark quietly hoped he would slip on the last step, but quickly dampened the thought in favor of social interaction.
“…Mr. Wayne! What are you… doing here?” Clark said, plastering a fake smile onto his own face.
“Oh Superman! Always fantastic to see you!” The man’s face softened into something that nearly looked genuine- if Clark didn’t know who he was talking to. “Batman told you, right? I’m just here for a routine check-up. Making sure all this money I’m spending is being put to good use.”
“Well, I hope everything is up to your expectations, sir. Who wan-“
Bruce suddenly clapped a hand on Clark’s shoulder, causing the alien to flinch. How in the hell did Bruce Wayne sneak up behind him.
“Superman! No need to use such formal language. Just call me Bruce. I insist,” he chuckled, his hand still on Clark’s shoulder. “That invitation extends to the rest of you, as well.”
A humiliating flush covered Clark’s face, and he just hoped that the rest of the League was too busy looking at the sparkling billionaire to notice. He hadn’t exactly been quiet about his intolerance of Wayne to his colleagues, especially after revealing his identity. But there was something deeper hidden under that intolerance that Clark wasn’t exactly ready to admit yet.
Clark started again with a cough to clear his throat. “So, who wants to show our guest around? I’m sure he would appreciate some guidance.”
Everyone’s hands raised- much to his surprise.
“We can go as a group,” Oliver suggested. It made sense- he knew Bruce the longest and probably thought that the more heroes around him, the less likely it was that he would trip on nothing and seriously injure himself. The group nodded, many already standing up from their seats.
“I’ll be here if you guys need anything,” Clark said, beginning to sit again. Another hand found its place on Clark’s other shoulder, and Bruce leaned over so his mouth was right next to Clark’s ear.
“Not planning on joining us, Clark?” He whispered. Clark’s neck snapped to the side, taking in the billionaire’s brilliant white smile and icy blue eyes. His fear must have been visible on his face, as Bruce just squeezed his shoulders and said, “God, Kansas. Don’t worry so much. Batman told me your identity. He told me everyone's identities. Me and him are like this:” he finally lifted one of his hands and wrapped his index and middle fingers together.
“And… we can trust you to not let this info leave the Tower?” Hal asked.
Dinah and Oliver coughed out a laugh, and even J’onn faintly smiled. Dinah smiled, “Yeah. He may be accident-prone but one thing about Bruce is that he will never spill. He’s heard so much shit from me and Oliver and hasn’t told a soul.”
The rest of the group relaxed a bit, and Bruce released Clark’s shoulders to fully stand back up.
“Where are we going first?” His attention now was fully directed to the group of heroes- and away from Clark, who deflated from the sudden freedom.
“You can follow me, Bruce,” Diana said, a gentle smile warming her still loud voice. “Do you remember the layout from the blueprints?”
Bruce paused, raising an eyebrow. “The blueprints…? Oh! I haven’t had time to check them,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Too busy.”
Of course. “Well,” Clark began, “you guys can go ahead. I have some things to work on, but I will try to join you all later.” He was not planning on joining them later, but it was far too much work to openly antagonize Bruce any more than he had.
A small whimper came from behind the kryptonian, and Bruce appeared to have… wilted.
“Come on, Bruce. He’ll join us later,” Diana said with a polite smile, gesturing him over.
The billionaire sighed and trotted- yes, trotted- over to the growing group.
“Well… you’ll know where we are. You’d better come join us when you’re done with that… ‘work’,” he said with a slight smirk and a wink, somehow making a completely innocent comment seem like an innuendo.
Clark swallowed his complaint and responded with a simple, “Will do.” But the rest of the Justice League was already leaving the room, the soft lull of conversation already dissipating.
When Clark heard a loud thud followed by gasps and small giggles from the other room, he expected to see Bruce on the floor in a horribly compromising position. What Clark didn’t expect to see was Bruce in a spare Batman suit, the fallen chestpiece on the floor the origin of the ruckus.
“Oops.”
Clark’s eyebrows shot up and a shiver traveled down his back. If anyone would be questioned about what happened to the spare, it would be him. “Bruce… what… are you doing?!” Apparently his voice was laced with far too much anger and not enough false curiosity, judging by how many people flinched.
“Sheesh- don’t worry so much- it’s my tech anyways. Big B probably won’t mind,” the billionaire smirked.
Seeing Bruce in Batman’s armor did… something to Clark that he wasn’t quite ready to confront. His face fully flushed, and all he could do was mumble incoherently as he returned to his quarters at superspeed.
His JL communicator- which acted more so as a phone- laid on his bed, still nearly untouched. He didn’t have much need for long distance conversations with his super hearing, but he was finally glad to have it.
He slumped onto his bed with a slight creak, and called Batman. The communicator rang five times before going to voicemail, which surprised Clark. Batman was one of the most punctual people he knew- he certainly didn’t seem like one to neglect his communicator, even in his civilian life.
As the phone rattled off the voicemail message, Clark just put it back up to his ear as he stood up and walked to the large window to look out over the Earth from space.
“Hey B. I hope you are doing well- but I just have a question to ask. Well… maybe a few questions really. Um… one: why is Bruce Wayne here? And two:… why- no… how do you trust him? I’ve repeatedly told you how much I can’t stand him. So I would have at least enjoyed a warning before the man with two brain cells battling for which could be stupider came to the Watchtower. In no way am I trying to somehow spoil his fun but he um… well. He’s in your suit. Your spare Batsuit that nobody was supposed to know about. Including me.” He let out a large breath of air he didn’t know he was holding and continued. “I mean I knew about it even though the closet was lead lined but that really isn’t the point right now because he is in your suit. I don’t usually ask you to be open with me about your personal life, but this is ridiculous. Can you… can you please…” he melted and his voice dropped to nearly a whisper that he hoped the communicator could still pick up. “B. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?”
But despite his pleas, the end of the line remained silent.
“Sorry. I’ll um… see you soon. I didn’t mean to make that sound so accusatory. You mean a lot to me and I… am just trying to understand your reasoning…” Clark said, his voice trailing off as he suddenly became aware of the crowd standing at his door, smiles hidden behind hands and turned heads.
“Aww~ are you talking about me?” Bruce drawled, draping his arms over Clark’s shoulders- which was made much easier with the added height from what Clark could only assume were called the bat-boots. How his superhearing was unable to pick up Bruce’s movement twice in one day was beyond him, but he tried to ignore the heat radiating off of his face and neck.
He swallowed, and tried to enunciate to the group, but failed miserably, his voice only cracking into something barely louder than a whisper. “Hey… Bruce. How is the tour going?”
A joyful hum could be heard from the billionaire, before he responded in a much brighter tone. “Fantastic. I don’t really make any of my own financial choices but I’ll put in a good word for the Justice League to Lucius. Maybe ask for more money to go into that fridge that's completely empty.” That last sentence came with a chuckle and Clark assumed he looked back at Barry.
“Great. So. Do you have any questions for me or…?” Clark said, still staring out into space while trying to avoid any sort of eye contact with the rest of the group.
Bruce hummed a familiar note. “Not exactly a question… but I need the paparazzi gone first.” A hint of a smile was still audible in his tone, and the small group of league members erupted in a collection of dramatic sighs and promises to meet back at the meeting room. The door slid shut with a hiss and Bruce disconnected from the kryptonian to instead stand next to him.
“My apologies. I needed to talk to someone sane,” Bruce said, his voice dropping a few pitches. His body language had also completely changed; his loose lean straightening and the cape enveloping him in shadow. “Or at least someone who wouldn’t endlessly remind me of the horrible comments I released this year.”
Clark- stunned into silence- finally turned his head to look at the man next to him. “...Bruce?”
“Yes, Clark?” Bruce turned to face him too, his pale eyes half lidded; attentive but not the energetic expression that is so commonly associated with the whole… ‘Brucie Wayne’ brand. His head tilted slightly to the right and slightly down so they could make proper eye contact with their proximity.
“Um… are you feeling alright, Mr. Wayne?”
He nodded. “Feeling fine. As fine as… wait. You didn’t…” his eyes softened a bit, and a familiar smirk spread across his face. “You didn’t look?”
“Look?” And it hit Clark. “Oh my god.” The cowl.
A small chuckle came out of Batman, his shoulders slightly jumping with each sound. And of course, Clark now heard a hint of the signature gravel in his voice and the makeup covering a faint scar on his top lip.
Batman inched closer to Clark so their shoulders were touching before looking back out the window. His face returned to something more neutral, but Clark could still hear the smile in his voice. “For being an investigative reporter, you sure are trusting. How long have we been together? And you never even tried to peek through the cowl?”
“I can’t stand you,” Clark stammered, his face flushing a shade that rivaled his cape.
“Yeah… yeah… love you too,” Bruce smiled, placing his arm over Clark’s shoulders and pulling him into a half hug.
Clark leaned into it before remembering a small detail and standing rigid again and blushing even deeper.
“Bruce…”
“Yes?”
“Don’t check your voicemail.”