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Clark tensed low, not quite crouching but not upright either. Fists clenched and brandished at his front. Sparring with Diana always forced him out of his usual fighting poise—upright and unyielding, like steel.
Because Diana bent steel to her will.
"Clark..." Diana chastised as if admonishing a toddler from doing something foolish. Clark could already hear Oliver, Barry and Hal snickering a good distance away. Watching with thinly veiled interest and amusement. Great amusement.
"I'm not holding back anymore," Clark reassured. Though Diana didn't seem convinced, she acquiesced. Taking her own stance, crouching lower than Clark. Clark was tempted to crouch even lower but he belayed the instinct and lunged.
!thwooom!...—!BOOOM!
Silence reigned for a long moment. The training room had gone so quiet, even human ears could pick up on the humming of the Watchtower. Multiple engines purring like the vitals of a living being. Clark was looking at everything from upside down, cocooned in the new Superman-shaped dent in the wall.
A snort from Barry broke through the silence, heralding Hal's obnoxious bark of laughter. And Clark could only groan, choosing to focus on the sound of Diana's boots against the padded floor approaching.
"You lasted longer," Diana said with poorly withheld mirth in her tone. Outstretching a hand for Clark.
"And you're learning!" She continued, nudging Clark with her hip once she'd helped him up. That alone made the crimson of his cheeks deepen, cheesing like an idiot. Compliments like that from Diana were always sincere and always resolve buckling. They made his walk of shame back to the sidelines more tolerable. Was Hal's laugh always that obnoxious?
Barry gave him a sympathetic smile he didn't mean, his cheeks occasionally inflating in his effort to hold back laughter. And Clark only gave him a flat, unimpressed stare before slumping into his seat.
"Cheer up, big man," Oliver consoled. Clapping Clark's back and effectively drawing his attention.
"Take it from me, you actually did improve."
Before Clark could reply, Diana voice cut through the training room. Firm, though Clark could still hear remnants of amusement in it.
"Hal."
Barry outright guffawed as Hal's face blanched, losing all colour and amusement. And Clark was only a man, so what if he snickered a little?
Diana made a summoning gesture at him, almost mocking in how kind and welcoming she made it. Hal turning a vicious glare to Oliver who already had his phone out, recording—["What?" Oliver met Hal's glare without falter. "Go!"]—before he made his way to the training mat. Slow and dreadful.
He lasted ten seconds longer than Clark had and Clark was a big enough man to admit he was genuinely impressed. Of course, Hal still found himself in a rather humiliating position, one that made Clark's seem dignified. And Oliver was all the more grateful for it.
"You did well, Hal." Diana soothed even as Hal made his way back to the sidelines, grumbling creative profanities in a literal alien language because no one was dumb enough to cuss infront of Superman and Wonder Woman.
Barry expertly dodging Hal's elbow, as Hal feigned stretching out his arm in an attempt to clock the speedster while maintaining plausible deniability if his foul play was to be called out. But Oliver wasn't as quick. The phone snatched out his hand in a blur of motion one could only adopt by being too close to Barry.
"Hey!"
The squabble for Oliver's phone wasn't enough to drown out Diana's voice. Not because she was loud or her voice was beckoning. No, in fact, it hadn't even changed in octave.
"Bruce."
Almost instantly, as if spooked deer upon hearing the cracking of a twig in two, everyone went quiet and still. Frozen in place by the sudden awareness of something unnerving. Diana's voice was firm, as it had been for everyone. But this time, it had a cold quality to it—unyielding. Strict. All the mirth from before drained so quickly one would seem crazy for claiming it had ever been there.
Even Diana's expression had gotten harsher. Her poise as unyielding as her tone. Bruce emerged from the shadows he'd sequestered himself in, away from everyone else. Clark had briefly forgotten he was even here.
His stride was steady and determined. His expressions as stoic as ever, but something sharp lay at the inner centre of his eyes—glinting into view before disappearing into the void of his stoicism once more. Something predatory.
"Did something happen between the two of them?" Hal whispered quietly, verbalising the question they all had in their minds. Barry shrugged despite the fact that Hal wasn't looking at him. They were all yet to take their eyes off Diana and Bruce.
The two faced each other, for a moment, neither moved. Then, with steady grace, Bruce took his fighting stance. Feet spaced apart, crouched low. Left hand clenched into a fist brandished at his front. His right an open palm. And Diana took hers, feet less spaced apart than Bruce's. Fists brandished at her sides, lacking a certain tension—betraying some kind of ease.
Then, Bruce lunged.
Bruce wasn't a speedster, he was only human after all. But he was by no means slow. Bruce was peak human physique. When in the same team as people who could circle the planet in minutes, that didn't mean much. So watching him and Diana devolve into a blur of blows and sleights and weaves was...—shocking.
Non of their sparring looked like this. This serious, deadly, mesmerising. Bruce was relentless, pushing for a weakness to exploit and swiftly darting back when he got too close. But that didn't last. In a blur of motion that was more superhuman than human, Diana was behind Bruce. Forearm to his back, she smacked him to the ground.
Barry took a sharp step back. His expressions, even in the most tense situations, always somehow conveyed an innate ease and warmth. But now, all Clark could see was genuine shock. One would swear Diana had just put an animal to death with her bare hands. Even Hal and Oliver tensed at the hit, as if they were the ones to get smacked to the floor. The hit couldn't have hurt that much, not more than Hal and Clark had endured. So that wasn't why they flinched. It just felt wrong to watch. To see. It was harsh and unyielding and unforgiving. Demanding. So unlike Diana.
"Felling you to the ground like a tree wouldn't have been possible if you weren't so rigid."
Clark's eyes widened at Diana's words to Bruce. Everyone else tensed even further. Compared to her compliments— "You're learning!" "You did well!"—this was beyond jarring. Clark felt as if he ought to intervene, do something. And he felt as if everyone else expected him to as well. But he was just as stunned as everyone else, too stunned to do anything more than gape, wide eyed and shook.
Bruce got back up like it was nothing. And took his stance once more.
"Doesn't the session end once you're hit?" Hal questioned, all to get completely ignored by both Bruce and Diana as she took a stance of her own. Elegant where Bruce was graceful.
"Something happened." Barry whispered, still from where he stood beside Clark. But Bruce lunged again. And somehow, the blows and sleights had gotten faster. Yet despite the increase in speed, Bruce surged forward less and flanked back more. As if he were calculating weaknesses anew mid fight, recalibrating himself.
And apparently, he'd taken too long. Because, once again, Diana blurred past him with inhuman speed and brought her heel to the back of his knee. Toppling his form.
"Bend."
She demanded once more, looming over him like an overbearing shadow. Unyielding.
"What the hell's going on?" Hal whisper-questioned. He sounded so genuinely perplexed that it was more than enough to snap Clark out of his stunned trance and into action. Striding towards the two, Bruce already rising from the padded floor.
By the time he'd gotten a good distance closer, Diana held a hand up. Halting him in place. He would've continued his approach if it weren't for Bruce taking his combative poise once again, Diana mirroring him. Whatever this was, he was beginning to realise even if he'd acted sooner, no amount of anything he'd say or do would stop it.
Bruce lunged. Again. His onslaught more certain than it was before. He was doing better than any of them had. Lasting longer. But that wasn't enough. Not for Diana. Not anymore.
Bruce swung between jabs, punches and strikes driven by force—to those driven by momentum wherever he deemed fit. But Diana wove behind him like a creature of silk, slipping through his reach with ease. And driving a heel to the back of his knee. Again.
"Bend, Bruce!"
She demanded. Again.
"Diana, that's enough!" Clark commanded. But Bruce held a hand up, rising—again. Staying Clark with a warning glare before turning his attention back to Diana. Then reverting his gaze to the floor. Not in shame.
He was giving himself a moment to recalibrate. Clark could almost hear the crackling of static between his synapses if he tried. Then, after a long moment of tense silence. Heavy with something only Diana and Bruce understood. Bruce took his stance, steady and deliberate. Grace as unyielding as him.
Diana regarded Bruce for a moment, before taking a stance of her own. Then he lunged. Like before, they were swift. Bruce was holding his own, surging forward to drive out weaknesses he'd exploit. Drawing back to prevent his own from being exposed. Oscillating between brute force and graceful agility.
And again, like an untouchable breeze of wind, Diana blurred till she was material again behind Bruce. Ready to drive her heel into the back of his knee, again. But this time, Bruce bent. Diana's heel met air and Bruce's bent leg kicked out to her feet—to sweep them from underneath her and topple her to the ground.
But she was fast, she adapted quickly. Leaping away—all to be met with another onslaught as Bruce kicked out his other leg—without a cease in motion, without a cease in momentum—this time, to her mid section.
And she dodged again. Swift and adaptable. But with each time she dodged, she owed Bruce a debt. One he was relentless to see paid. He kicked out one last time, this time, to her head. She could either dodge or take it. She dodged, laying herself in his trap. One he enacted like a snare closing around a weight with ruthless swiftness, as if a second of hesitation would be failure and failure wasn't an option.
Trapping her in a work of limbs that used her own strength against her, swiftness or force would result in the dislodging of the joints. He knew his own strength wouldn't win him this fight. So he weaponized hers against herself. For a long moment, Diana struggled—before finally realising the machination of limbs she was trapped in. Because Diana was, above all else, wise.
Instead of using her strength, she maneuvered Bruce off her with her agility and litheness. Forcing him to either dart away, or have his weaknesses exposed and exploited in close range.
He hurled away from her, using her very body as leverage to kick away from and land a good distance away. Landing on his feet, balance unyielding.
And she only looked at him for a long moment—crouched low and heaving beneath his breath—the glint of a fight not gone from his eyes. Though everyone else could sense, somehow, that whatever this was—it was finally over. Atleast, Clark could.
And he was beyond relieved, even if the relentless glint in Bruce's eyes worried him. When he looked at Diana however, where he expected to see that unyielding firmness again, in all it's unsettling glory. All he saw was gleaming pride. Blinding in its quality. The only time he'd ever seen her this proud was when he'd learnt ancient Greek just to hold conversations with her. A difficult language to learn, but worth it if only to make her feel more belonging. And even that couldn't hold a candle to pride in her eyes this instant.
A deep well of it that only ran deeper, made her eyes gleam from within. Clark was so distracted by it that he didn't see Bruce lunge, again. Like a sentient, untameable shadow in his periphery. Diana almost instantly subduing him with a hand pinned to his back. Chuckling—the sound oozing with a warmth so innate to Diana, Clark hadn't realised it's absence is what made this all so unsettling before.
"I think that's enough," Diana began. Bruce's struggle letting up before he wrenched his arm out of her hold—more petulant than venomous. Making his way back to his shadows and grabbing a towel on the way. Clark could only watch, astonished. Confused. Stunned.
When he looked to Diana, hoping for an elaboration he knew he wasn't going to get from Bruce, all he was met with was her stretching. Groaning in relief at the sound of popping and faint cracking from between her joints.
"I believe that's enough sparring for the day." She declared to the room, grabbing two water bottles with one hand and a bag with another. "Unless the rest of you would like to continue, the floor's all yours."
That was the last thing she said before making her way to the sidelines Bruce had sequestered himself to once more. Sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Pulling his right arm with his left over his chest as Diana sat down beside him. Wordlessly placing one of the water bottles at his side and the bag on hers. Before twisting open the bottle cap of her own water bottle.
"What just happened?" Oliver spoke quietly, just as Clark saw Diana knock her head against Bruce's, drawing his attention and gesturing at the water bottle beside him. He said something in reply, something that made Diana roll her eyes in an exasperation she seemed used to. But took the bottle nonetheless.
"I...—" Clark was at a loss for words for a moment, even as his superhearing picked up on Bruce and Diana's conversation. ["You did well." Diana stated, voice soft. "I could've done better." Bruce replied without an ounce of hesitation, tone clinical as if stating a fact beyond denial.]
"...—I don't know."
["You will." Diana replied, tone unyielding and resolved. A promise and fact all in one. "I plan to ensure it."]
Bruce looked at Diana for a moment, as if discerning her words in his mind. Before turning his gaze away, gently nudging his head against hers. As if in some long decided, non-verbal truce.
"Is it weird that I'm kinda jealous?" Barry suddenly spoke up. All to be immediately shut down with a near unanimous "Yes." from Oliver and Hal. Shrinking under the weight of their obvious scrutiny and not so subtle judgement.
Clark hadn't taken his gaze away from Bruce and Diana. He didn't think it was weird. Though he still didn't understand what it was—[Bruce remaining solely preoccupied with massaging the back of his right knee meant he couldn't see Diana watching him. But Clark could tell even from afar Bruce was aware of her gaze. Her warm, prideful gaze.]—he didn't think it was weird to be envious of it.