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Superman is irritatingly bright.
Bruce can’t help feeling drawn to the man in front of him. His voice, his eyes, the color of his skin under the Sun’s rays… Jesus. Everything about him is perfect. Damn it. Bruce loves Clark.
“Please, B! I’m starving!” Clark begged, asking for a burger at the end of the mission he and Batman had just finished.
“You don’t even feel hunger,” the Bat replied, one eyebrow raised.
“But I want to eat with you! And you know what I mean…”
The pout that enormous man made was adorable, in Bruce’s opinion—though he would never admit that out loud.
He should already be immune to tantrums. He has plenty of children to deal with.
But Clark always wins in that department.
“Fine. Alright. But don’t take too long. I still have obligations.”
Clark answered with an enthusiastic “yay!” and, to Bruce’s surprise, picked him up, flying them to the top of a building and setting him down on a gargoyle. He asked Bruce to wait just a moment and then took off toward the diner.
Bruce crossed his arms, his cape swaying gently in Gotham’s night wind. Below, the city pulsed with neon and crime, and yet, up there, everything felt strangely quiet.
He watched the red-and-blue blur disappear into the distance.
This is ridiculous, he thought. He could have gone alone. He could have refused. He could have said no.
But he didn’t.
Bruce absentmindedly touched the communicator at his ear, making sure it was still on, even though he knew Clark could hear him from anywhere on the planet. A useless habit. A habit… a comforting one.
Minutes later, the familiar sound of rapid movement cut through the air. Clark landed beside him with a triumphant smile, holding a paper bag and two large cups.
“Extra fries,” he announced proudly. “And milkshakes. I got strawberry for me and—” he tilted his head, assessing Bruce, “—vanilla for you.”
“I didn’t say I wanted—”
“But you always do,” Clark interrupted, handing him the cup. “You just forget to admit it.”
Bruce hesitated for half a second before accepting it. His fingers brushed Clark’s—too brief to be an accident, too long to be meaningless.
They sat side by side on the edge of the building. Clark ate with genuine enthusiasm, as if burgers were humanity’s greatest invention. Bruce watched from the corner of his eye, pretending to focus on the city.
“You’re quiet,” Clark commented, wiping his mouth with his thumb. “Tough mission?”
“Missions always are,” Bruce replied.
Clark was silent for a moment. Then he gently leaned his shoulder against Bruce’s, respecting the space Bruce pretended to need.
“You don’t have to carry everything alone, you know.”
Bruce closed his eyes for a second. The warmth of Clark’s body contrasted with the cold stone beneath them. Sun and shadow. Always like this.
“I know,” he murmured.
Clark smiled—that soft smile he didn’t give the world, nor the League. It was just for him.
Bruce took a sip of the milkshake, trying to ignore how perfectly the sweetness matched the moment.
Damn it. It’s so cold.
“Bruce…”
“Superman! Quick—who here is most likely to get married first?” Hal asked eagerly as soon as Superman entered the Justice Hall.
“Huh?” Clark blinked, still a little out of sync. “Isn’t Flash already getting married?”
“He doesn’t count! Neither does Ollie. No obvious answers.”
Clark scratched the back of his neck, thoughtful. His gaze swept the room almost reflexively… and stopped on Batman, seated in silence, arms crossed, his presence as heavy as ever.
“Maybe Batman.”
Batman raised an eyebrow beneath the cowl.
“Oh come on!” Hal laughed. “He’s the last person here capable of loving anyone.”
A few laughs rippled through the room. Bruce didn’t react. He didn’t need to. The line wasn’t new.
Clark, however, frowned.
“I disagree.”
Silence fell instantly.
“Come again?” Flash asked, slowing to a complete stop.
“B loves deeply,” Clark said, simple and firm. “He just doesn’t make a spectacle of it.”
Bruce felt his jaw lock.
“Loving isn’t just saying pretty things,” Hal shot back. “It’s letting someone in.”
Clark held his gaze.
“And you really think he doesn’t?”
The tension spread like static electricity. Diana watched in silence. Alfred, somewhere in the world, was probably sighing.
Batman stood up.
“Discussion over,” he said, curt.
He turned to leave, but before he could take two steps, Clark’s voice reached him.
“B.”
Batman paused for half a second. Long enough for only Clark to notice.
“You’re cold,” Superman continued, his tone low, almost casual.
Bruce didn’t turn around. He only replied:
“I can handle it.”
Clark smiled—small, sad, and full of something no one else in the room seemed able to see.
“I know.”
Dick tugged on Bruce’s cape with his small hands.
“Pleeease, B! Let me go for a ride with Clark!”
“At the moment, this is Superman, Robin. Watch the names.” Bruce sighed, looking down at his son’s pleading face. “No. We’re going back to the cave.”
“Please! Supes can take me! Right, Superman?” the boy insisted.
“Come on, B. I swear I’ll bring him back in one piece!” Clark said, almost laughing.
Bruce tried to pinch the bridge of his nose—a habit—but the cowl got in the way. He sighed again. Unfortunately, he found Clark’s affection for Dick adorable.
“Fine.”
Dick practically leapt onto Clark’s back, and Clark held him effortlessly.
“But don’t take too long,” Bruce added.
Clark secured Dick with one arm before taking off.
“Hold on tight, champ.”
“I know!” Dick answered excitedly. “Batman taught me!”
Bruce drove the Batmobile in silence, eyes fixed on the road leading to the cave.
They should have been back by now.
He wasn’t worried. Not exactly. Clark was… Clark. Dick was safe. Safer than anywhere else.
Still, Bruce glanced at the clock on the dashboard.
Fifteen minutes.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
They’re just flying, he told himself. Clark gets carried away. Dick gets carried away.
Twenty-five minutes.
Bruce entered the cave, the engine echoing against the stone walls. He shut off the car and sat there for a few seconds, unmoving.
Thirty minutes.
He raised his hand, activating the communicator.
“Superman.”
The reply came almost immediately.
“Hey, B.”
Bruce closed his eyes for a moment.
“Bring Dick back.”
There was a brief pause. Too brief to be coincidence.
“We’re on our way.”
Bruce turned off the communicator, ignoring the faint sense of relief.
He definitely wasn’t worried.
Definitely.
He let out a long sigh.
“Bruce!” Superman wrapped him in a tight embrace. “I’m here…”
Bruce cried. He held back his sobs so he wouldn’t look pathetic. After all, to him, it was his fault. Jason had died, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He must have suffered so much…
“I should have… I should have stopped it… It’s my fault, Clark. I let my son die.” Hot tears streaked down his face.
“No. Never say that.” Clark tightened the hug. “It wasn’t your fault. It was the Joker’s. He’s a monster, Bruce. You’re a hero. Don’t confuse the two.”
“What kind of hero can’t even protect his own son, Clark?! Damn it!” Bruce shoved him hard. “I’m going to kill that bastard!”
Clark hugged him again, ignoring the blows and the desperate attempts to pull away.
“No… don’t do this to yourself.”
“I need to, Clark… I need to.”
“No.” Clark’s voice was firm, but full of pain. “You want to because you’re hurting. But it won’t bring Jason back.”
Bruce laughed, a broken hollow sound.
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand more than you think.” Clark rested his forehead against Bruce’s. “I hear your heart race every time you think about him. I feel the despair. I know.”
Bruce stopped fighting. His body suddenly went limp, as if the weight of the world had finally caught up with him.
“I failed him…”
“You loved him,” Clark said softly. “You took him in when no one else would. You gave him a home, a name, a family. That isn’t failure.”
Bruce closed his eyes, his breathing uneven.
“I taught him how to fight. I put him in that suit.”
“You taught him to be brave,” Clark said, gently lifting Bruce’s face so he had to look at him. “And he was. Until the end.”
Bruce’s tears returned in full force.
“I can’t do this, Clark.”
“Then don’t do it alone.” Clark pulled him back into a tighter, more protective embrace. “I’m here. Today, tomorrow, for as long as you need.”
Bruce buried his face in Clark’s shoulder.
“Stay…”
Clark closed his eyes.
“I never left.”
Superman had a small pout on his lips, his cheeks flushed.
Batman’s space suit had never bothered him so much.
He, Superman, and a few members of the Justice League had been sent on a space mission to a planet with a red sun. The mission was already over—they had fought and won. Still, they took the opportunity to offer Superman drinks, since under that sun, his resistance was practically nonexistent.
“Lois broke up with me,” Superman said, without anyone asking. “She said I’m in love with someone else and I just haven’t realized it yet. How is that even possible?” He rested his dizzy head on Batman’s shoulder.
Bruce stiffened but forced himself to hide it. “Hm.”
“And Jon?” Diana asked.
“I don’t know… but if we’re really getting divorced, it’ll probably be joint custody.” He sighed. “And if I didn’t understand it, imagine Jon…”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Bruce felt every point of contact between them like pure electricity. The weight of Clark’s head on his shoulder. The warmth. The trust in the gesture.
He didn’t move.
“Clark…” he started, low and careful. He stopped.
Superman lifted his head slightly, blue eyes oddly dull under the red sun.
“She’s wrong, right?” he asked, with a hope far too childlike for someone like him. “I’m not in love with anyone else.”
Bruce swallowed hard.
“Clark, you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I have,” Clark nodded seriously. “But not enough to make things up.” His fingers tightened lightly around Bruce’s forearm, as if he needed the support. “When I’m near you, it’s different.”
Diana discreetly looked away. Somewhere behind them, Barry cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in absolutely nothing.
“You’re always different around me,” Bruce replied, too controlled.
“No.” Clark shook his head. “I’m… I’m me.”
Bruce closed his eyes for a second. The suit felt too tight. The planet felt wrong.
“You can’t say things like that.”
“Why?” Clark frowned, confused. “Because I’m married? Because I’m supposed to love someone else? Or because you’re afraid to hear it?”
Bruce opened his eyes.
Afraid.
The word hit home.
“Clark,” he said again, more tense now. “You’re under a red sun. You’re vulnerable.”
“I know.” Clark smiled faintly. “That’s why I’m telling the truth.”
Bruce stayed perfectly still.
Bruce’s gray-blue eyes softened as he watched Damian interact with Jon. It was good to see him spending time with someone his own age—it reminded him that Damian was still just a child, forced to grow up far too fast.
“Father, I’m going out with Jon,” Damian declared, pulling Bruce from his thoughts.
“May I ask where?”
“No,” the boy replied flatly.
“We’re going to get a snack, Mr. Wayne!” Jon added quickly.
Bruce smiled at his son’s irritated reaction and nodded.
“Don’t take too long. Your father will be here soon, Jon.”
“Okay, Mr. Wayne!”
Damian pulled Jon toward the mansion doors.
Bruce sighed as he heard them close and went to find Alfred. He talked with the butler for a while before noticing the security alarms signaling Clark’s arrival.
“Jon and Damian just left,” Bruce said before Clark could approach.
“That’s fine. I’ll wait.” Clark smiled softly. “I like your company.”
Bruce lifted his gaze slowly.
Clark wasn’t wearing his uniform, just simple clothes—too ordinary for someone who could level buildings. He looked… at home. Which was, in its own way, dangerous.
“Coffee?” Bruce asked, more out of habit than politeness.
“Please.”
They walked side by side into the kitchen. Alfred was already watching them with that look that said I know exactly what’s going on and won’t comment. He served the coffee and left quietly.
Clark held the cup carefully.
“They get along well,” he said. “Jon talks about Damian all the time.”
“He won’t admit it,” Bruce replied. “But he needs that.”
Clark nodded.
“You’re a good father.”
Bruce froze for half a second.
“I try.”
Clark tilted his head, studying him.
“You don’t have to try so hard when you’re with them.” A soft smile. “You’re… different.”
“You’ve been paying too much attention,” Bruce shot back.
“I always have,” Clark shrugged. “I’m just saying it now.”
The silence stretched, comfortable and tense at the same time. Bruce lifted the cup just to have something to do and closed his eyes.
“Man, you’re so pathetic!” Bruce heard Jason’s voice echo down the hall.
“Shut up, Jason,” Tim replied nervously. “Don’t agree with him, Cass!”
Entering the room, Bruce saw Dick holding a laptop high above his head while Jason wrestled Tim to keep him from reaching it.
“What’s going on here?” Bruce asked.
“Tim is exchanging affections with the worst Kryptonian in existence,” Damian replied flatly.
“You little demon!” Tim immediately let go of Jason and lunged at Damian.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, exhausted.
“Enough.”
His voice was low, but it was enough.
Everyone froze.
Dick slowly lowered the laptop. Jason smirked, satisfied. Cass watched silently, curious.
“Tim,” Bruce continued, not taking his eyes off his son. “Explain.”
Tim pointed indignantly at the laptop.
“They hacked my computer!”
“You left it unlocked,” Jason shot back. “Basic crime.”
“And he was talking to an alien,” Damian added. “Suspicious.”
“He’s not just any alien!” Tim exploded. “It’s Conner.”
Silence, exactly two seconds long.
Bruce closed his eyes briefly.
“Tim,” he said with painfully forced patience, “are you… romantically involved with Superboy?”
Tim blushed all the way to his ears.
“Maybe.”
Damian rolled his eyes.
“Pathetic.”
“Damian.”
“Sorry.” A minimal pause. “Pathetic and predictable.”
Jason laughed loudly.
Bruce took a deep breath.
“Alright. No one is forbidden from liking anyone.” He shot a meaningful look around the room. “But hacking computers, fighting in the living room, and nearly destroying historical furniture—”
“The vase isn’t historical,” Jason interrupted.
“—comes with consequences.”
A chorus of groans followed.
Bruce turned to leave.
“And Tim?”
“Yes?”
Bruce hesitated for half a second.
“Next time… use headphones.”
Tim’s eyes widened.
Jason burst into laughter.
Bruce walked away, pretending not to hear, but only thinking: Seriously? Superboy?
He didn’t wait long before messaging Clark, asking if he knew.
“Of course I do! How did you miss it, Mr. World’s Greatest Detective?” Clark replied.
Bruce huffed.
“I don’t investigate my children’s love lives.”
“You investigate absolutely everything,” Clark shot back almost instantly. “Just not this, because you didn’t want to see it.”
Bruce stopped in the hallway.
“Don’t mix things up.”
“I’m not mixing anything.” Even through text, Bruce could picture the teasing smile. “Conner’s liked Tim for months. And Tim… well, he turns red whenever Conner shows up. It’s obvious.”
“To you,” Bruce replied.
“To anyone.”
Bruce typed, deleted, typed again.
“They’re young.”
“And happy,” Clark replied. “Isn’t that exactly what you want?”
Bruce sighed, leaning against the wall.
“Yes.”
The reply took longer this time.
“Then relax.”
“You did a good job, Bruce.”
He stared at the communicator screen longer than necessary.
Clark sent a ridiculously smiling emoji.
Bruce turned off the communicator… trying to ignore the fact that he was smiling too.
“Dad! Dad! Please, dad!” Bruce could hear Dick’s desperate cry. “Stay with me, please, Bruce… dad!”
It’s so cold.
Ah.
He was dying.
Or maybe he was already dead.
“You’re cold,” Superman cried. Thick tears streamed down his face.
Clark knelt beside Bruce’s body, his hands shaking as he tried—uselessly—to stop the bleeding. The yellow sun above no longer mattered. Nothing mattered.
“No… no, no…” Clark repeated, his voice breaking. “You promised. You always come back.”
Bruce breathed with difficulty. Every breath was a conscious, painful effort.
“Dick…” His voice came out weak, barely a whisper.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Dick clutched his father’s hand tightly, as if he could anchor him there. “Don’t go, dad. Please.”
Bruce tried to smile. It was crooked. Flawed.
“I did it? Mission accomplished?” Blood spilled from his mouth, hot, mixing with memories still as vivid as the liquid itself.
He let out a long sigh.
“Bruce… you did it. You always do,” Clark said desperately. “Please don’t go. Stay with me. I need you, Bruce. I love you.”
Bruce silently regretted staining the blue uniform of the man he loved.
Jason watched from a distance, his hood hiding a face soaked in tears. He had imagined killing his father so many times, in anger, in pain, but never losing him. Never like this.
“Clark… I—” Bruce tried.
“Don’t leave me…”
“I love you.”
Everyone froze.
The world seemed to stop.
Clark choked on a broken sob.
“Say it again…” His voice was almost childlike. “Please.”
Bruce took one last breath. Too short.
“I… always loved you.”
Bruce stayed perfectly still.
Dick’s hand tightened desperately around his.
“Dad?”
Bruce closed his eyes.
His heart stopped beneath Clark’s palm.
Clark froze.
For one eternal second, he refused to accept it. He couldn’t.
“Bruce?” He shook the body gently, as if he could wake him. “Hey… hey, look at me. You can’t do this.”
No answer.
Bruce turned off.
The scream that tore from Clark’s chest wasn’t human. It wasn’t restrained. It was raw, desperate, a sound that seemed to rip the sky apart.
Dick sobbed uncontrollably, clutching his father’s cape.
Jason fell to his knees.
Clark pulled Bruce against his chest, protecting him even now, even too late.
“I should’ve been faster…” he repeated through his tears. “I should’ve… I should’ve…”
The wind swept across the battlefield, carrying with it the echo of a life that had just gone out.
And in that moment, even the Man of Steel broke.