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“He’s hiding something from you.”
Kal-El rolled his eyes. “He isn’t like that.”
“You’ve been dating him for three months, you don’t know what he’s like.”
Normally, when Batman and Superman had monitor duty together, Bruce just let Kal-El talk about whatever was on his mind and mentally graded him on how well he was keeping dangerously-specific details out. For the past few weeks, though, all of Kal’s thoughts had been concentrated on his new boyfriend, a fairly rich man who didn’t deserve the reputation he had, on account of his secret heart of gold.
Personally, Bruce thought Kal’s boyfriend sounded ridiculous. It was even more ridiculous considering Kal had only been dating the man for a matter of months, and he was actually thinking about telling the man that he was Superman. Hell, Bruce had been dating Clark for three and a half, and his current plan was to just let Clark figure it out for himself; he was one of Metropolis’s best investigative journalists, he was more than capable of it.
“Yes, I do,” Kal argued, with the heat of someone who’d had this argument many, many times. Bruce just looked at him, and Kal flushed a little. Clearing his throat, his tone more subdued, Kal added, “He isn’t as bad as everyone says.”
“You have smart friends, Superman. You should listen to them.”
“They don’t know him like I do.”
Typical. Bruce should’ve started making predictions on what Kal was going to say. Maybe next time he’ll bring a bingo board; Kal mentioning that his boyfriend donates a meager portion of his overinflated salary on orphanages would be the center square.
“And I know what you’re going to say, but I just…I feel like I’ve known him for years, you know? He’s sweet, and—”
“He’s never gotten annoyed at you for cancelling a date last-minute?” Bruce parroted, letting the dry disbelief seep into his voice. “Never?”
“Only you would think being considerate is a reason to be suspicious.”
“There’s a difference between being considerate and being indifferent—”
“He’s not indifferent, he just—” Kal stopped himself abruptly, and Bruce’s eyes narrowed.
“He’s just what?”
Bruce must’ve run into some other argument Kal had had a dozen times, because there was an uncharacteristic aura of sheepishness around him as he stuttered out, “Nothing. Just—not every relationship needs sex to be meaningful.”
Well, of course Bruce knew that. He was asexual himself, and though he enjoyed the physical act well enough, he was more than happy to oblige Clark’s desire to wait. Bruce had never dated someone so physically affectionate before; if Clark was just as satisfied cuddling on the couch together as he would be taking Bruce to bed, then who was Bruce to complain?
“Does he ever cancel on dates?”
“Yes.” A hint of stubbornness, a quick defense. “He’s a higher-up at a big company, sometimes he has to work late.”
The scant few details Kal had given about the suspe—Superman’s boyfriend—came bubbling to the surface. Superman, even blinded by attraction, was smart enough to stay away from anyone who worked for Lex Luthor. Bruce kept one ear on the politics of Metropolis’s elite, the same way he did in Gotham; he’d know if one of the more influential “higher-ups” had recently picked up a dark-haired, blue-eyed boyfriend. Something more low-key, though—something like the Daily Planet…
Well, it would explain Superman’s fondness for some of the journalists there, while Clark had never mentioned even meeting Superman, much less interviewing him numerous times.
“Who initiated it?”
“He did. I never would’ve—well, like I said, he’s a little out of my league.”
Bruce had a hard time believing that Superman was out of anyone’s league. He made a mental note to work on how to best ask, without Kal getting on the defensive again, if his boyfriend had ever implied that he was.
“I assume you’ve been to his house?”
“Yeah, a few times,” Kal said, sounding suspicious, already wondering where Bruce was taking this line of questioning. He was learning; Bruce was almost proud.
“Does he seem comfortable with the idea of you being left alone in a room, unsupervised?”
“I am not snooping on my boyfriend for you—”
“But could you?” Bruce interrupted.
Kal faltered slightly. Bruce felt a rush of satisfaction.
“You’re thinking of something, aren’t you?” Bruce pressed quietly. Kal flinched slightly like it was a physical bruise. There was something—a moment, a look, a statement that pinged at Kal’s heightened senses in a way he’d tried to brush off at the time.
“It’s not what you think.”
Now that was a strong contender for one of the corner squares, Bruce thought.
“What do I think?”
“Funny,” Kal said wryly. “Look, B, I appreciate the paranoia—concern.” Bruce rolled his eyes behind the cowl; when Kal inevitably got his heart broken and himself betrayed by the man too good to be true, he’d be grateful Bruce had started planning ahead. “But he’s my boyfriend, and I…trust him.”
Bruce swallowed; for a second, it had seemed like Kal was dangerously close to saying love.
“And how many people have you made that argument to?”
To Bruce’s relief, Kal took the dry statement for what it was. A laugh bubbled out of him, the tense line of his shoulders relaxing. “Shut up.”
If there was one thing—person—in the world who could make Bruce forget about Superman’s relationship, it was his own boyfriend. He and Clark had an anniversary coming up: four months, if you counted from the day of their real first date, the one that didn’t get interrupted by an all-hands-on-deck alien invasion.
(Bruce did; Clark didn’t.)
Nevertheless, the slight difference left Bruce free to plan a real four-month anniversary date, with Clark being content to have planned the one the week before. He’d gotten a private table at one of the nicer steakhouses in Gotham—“nicer”, not nicest, because any place with cloth monogrammed napkins in the bathroom started to make Clark slightly uncomfortable, and prices being left off the menu didn’t seem to make him feel any better than when they were listed.
The night of their anniversary, Bruce had spent an embarrassingly long time preening in front of the mirror, before spritzing himself with the cologne that Clark always seemed to like best.
He’d just arrived at the restaurant when the call came through.
“Is everything alright?”
“I’m going to have to cancel,” Clark blurted out, sounding mildly panicked. “I am so sorry—”
Of course he did. But the edge in his voice set something off in Bruce's chest, and he couldn't push down the sudden rush of protectiveness. Clark Kent wasn't supposed to be panicking. A missed anniversary paled in comparison.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something came up at work.” Lie. Bruce could tell just through the phone.
But before Bruce could press, his League communicator buzzed in his pocket, summoning him back up to the Watchtower.
(Has that ever happened before? That their cancelled dates lined up so well?)
“I’ll make it up to you,” Clark continued gushing, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I’m so—”
“It’s fine,” Bruce found himself saying, and the irony hit him like a poorly-aimed batarang.
The words stopped Clark. There was something…odd in his tone. “You’re…not mad?”
“Something came up for me, too,” Bruce offered. “Call me afterwards?”
A little hesitantly, Clark agreed.
Bruce tried not to think about it as Alfred drove him straight back to the Manor.
Superman must’ve only been a few minutes ahead of Bruce, because he was standing near the zeta-tube when Batman stepped out. The other founding members must’ve already been in the conference room, because they were alone.
Kal turned when Bruce arrived, a frown on his face.
“You smell—” Kal started, and then his eyes went wide, and Bruce wasn’t keeping score but for the record, the pieces clicked for him at least three and a half seconds before they did for Ka—Clark Kent. “Don’t start.”
“I was right,” Bruce said anyway, fighting the smug smile.
Clark rolled his eyes hard enough to reverse the planet’s rotation. “Yeah, yeah, my boyfriend was keeping something from me." He glanced sideways at Bruce, a hopeful little smile on his face that made Bruce’s heart skip in his chest. “Not deal-breaking, though, right?”
“Not for me.”
With a quick look around to confirm they were alone, Clark leaned in to press a quick kiss to Bruce’s cheek, right where the cowl met the skin of his cheek. Bruce refused to blush as he followed Clark deeper into the Watchtower.
(Clark didn’t call him, afterwards—he followed Bruce back to the Manor and kissed him gently in the Cave before Bruce stripped out of the suit. As it turned out, the thing that gave Bruce away was the fact that Clark could definitely see the fact that Bruce had a secret basement the first time Bruce showed him around the Manor, but Clark just didn’t know how to bring it up without revealing he had X-ray vision.)
(Bruce loved his boyfriend. He really did. He had no idea how Clark didn't see that and immediately end the relationship.)