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The Justice League had many rules.
Do not bring untested alien technology onto the Watchtower.
Do not let Green Lantern name emergency plans.
Do not allow Flash near the snack storage without supervision.
Do not ask Wonder Woman if she “knows Thor.”
Do not under any circumstances let Batman discover that the group chat was called “No Bats Allowed.”
There was, however, no official rule against discussing celebrity crushes in the main conference room.
This was an oversight.
It started after a mission in Nevada, where the League had successfully stopped an interdimensional cactus deity from turning Las Vegas into what Hal described as “a very prickly apocalypse.” Everyone was tired, dusty, and emotionally fragile. Superman had cactus needles in his cape. Flash had eaten seven protein bars and was still complaining. Aquaman smelled faintly of desert and betrayal.
Batman, of course, looked exactly the same as always.
Brooding.
Untouched.
Annoyingly composed.
They were sitting around the conference table while Cyborg ran diagnostics on the Watchtower systems. Someone had put music on softly in the background. Someone else had ordered pizza. Batman had refused pizza, which was not surprising, because Batman treated joy like a security breach.
Hal Jordan leaned back in his chair, one boot propped on the table until Batman slowly looked at it.
Hal lowered the boot.
“So,” Hal said, desperate to fill the silence because he had never respected silence in his life, “celebrity crushes.”
The room paused.
Barry Allen looked up from his third slice of pizza. “What?”
“Celebrity crushes,” Hal repeated. “Come on. We just survived a cactus god. I think we deserve some bonding.”
“No,” Batman said.
“You don’t even know the question.”
“I know enough.”
Diana smiled faintly. “I think it could be amusing.”
Batman’s head turned toward her with the precise horror of a man betrayed by an ally.
Diana’s smile widened.
Clark Kent, who was technically not wearing his glasses because he was Superman right now but somehow still gave the impression of adjusting them nervously, said, “I don’t know if that’s really necessary.”
“That means Superman has one,” Hal said instantly.
“I did not say that.”
“You said it with your face.”
“My face?”
“Your farm-boy face.”
Arthur Curry crossed his arms. “This is ridiculous.”
Hal pointed at him. “You have one too.”
“I am a king.”
“So?”
“I do not have celebrity crushes.”
“You absolutely have celebrity crushes.”
Arthur glared at him. “I have celebrity respect.”
Barry nodded solemnly. “That is what old people call crushes.”
“I am not old.”
“You once called a microwave ‘surface magic.’”
“It heats food without fire!”
“It is a microwave!”
J’onn J’onzz, who had been quietly eating Oreos and observing humanity with deep, tragic patience, tilted his head. “Is a celebrity crush a socially acceptable admiration for a public figure’s appearance, talent, or persona?”
“Yes,” Hal said.
Batman said, “No.”
Hal ignored him. “Exactly, J’onn. You get it.”
J’onn considered this. “Then I believe mine would be Dolly Parton.”
Everyone went silent.
Then Diana nodded with immediate respect. “Excellent choice.”
Clark smiled. “Honestly, yes.”
Barry put a hand over his heart. “Correct answer.”
Arthur nodded. “That woman has honor.”
Hal pointed around the table. “See? This is why we do this. We learn things.”
Batman stood up.
Hal snapped his fingers. “Nope. Sit down.”
Batman looked at him.
Hal’s confidence visibly dropped by half, but he continued. “You don’t have to answer yet. But you do have to stay and judge us silently. That’s basically your hobby.”
Batman sat back down.
It was somehow more threatening than if he had left.
Hal clapped his hands. “Okay. I’ll start. Celebrity crush: Bruce Wayne.”
Batman went completely still.
Not stiff.
Not visibly shocked.
Just… still.
Like a gargoyle that had suddenly heard someone insulting stone.
Clark choked on air.
Barry dropped his pizza.
Diana’s eyebrows lifted with interest.
Arthur blinked. “Bruce Wayne?”
Hal looked offended. “What? Don’t act like I’m wrong.”
“I am not acting,” Arthur said. “I’m processing.”
“Bruce Wayne,” Hal said again, as though presenting evidence in court. “Gotham billionaire. Ridiculously handsome. Throws money at hospitals like he’s trying to personally bankrupt illness. Has that whole sad rich boy thing happening. Probably smells like expensive cologne and emotional damage.”
Batman’s fingers curled very slowly against the edge of the table.
Barry leaned forward. “No, wait. Hal’s right.”
Batman’s head turned.
Barry did not notice the danger. Barry rarely noticed danger until it had already written him a medical bill.
“Bruce Wayne is objectively attractive,” Barry said. “Like, scientifically. His face has symmetry. His hair does that falling-over-his-forehead thing. He once smiled at a camera at a children’s hospital and my aunt texted me three crying emojis.”
Clark stared at Barry. “Your aunt?”
“Everyone’s aunt likes Bruce Wayne.”
“That is not a real statistic,” Batman said.
Barry pointed at him. “It feels real.”
Diana rested her chin on her hand. “He is quite beautiful.”
Batman’s head turned again.
Diana looked entirely unbothered. “What? He is.”
Hal slapped the table. “Thank you, Princess.”
“And generous,” Diana added. “His foundation funds many humanitarian projects. He uses his status strategically.”
“Exactly,” Hal said. “Hot and useful.”
Batman’s voice was low. “Wayne is a reckless, irresponsible billionaire with a carefully manufactured public image.”
The whole table stared at him.
Hal’s eyes narrowed. “That was very specific.”
“It is public information.”
Barry squinted. “You sound like you’ve studied him.”
“I study many public figures.”
Arthur leaned forward. “Do you have a file on Bruce Wayne?”
Batman said nothing.
Everyone gasped.
Clark whispered, “Oh no.”
Hal pointed dramatically. “You do have a file on Bruce Wayne!”
Batman’s mouth flattened. “Gotham’s major political and financial figures require monitoring.”
“Monitoring,” Hal repeated. “Is that what we’re calling staring at billionaire cheekbones now?”
“I do not stare at cheekbones.”
“No one said cheekbones except you.”
Batman’s silence became lethal.
Diana laughed softly.
Arthur leaned back. “I’ll admit it. Bruce Wayne is handsome.”
Batman’s head turned so sharply that if he had been anyone else, there would have been a neck injury.
Arthur shrugged. “What? I’m married, not blind.”
Barry nodded. “Exactly.”
Clark looked pained. “Can we maybe not discuss a civilian like this?”
Hal smirked. “A civilian you know personally?”
Clark froze.
Everyone turned.
Batman’s eyes narrowed.
Clark cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ve interviewed him. As Clark Kent. For the Daily Planet.”
Hal sat up like a dog hearing a treat bag open. “You’ve met Bruce Wayne?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell us?”
“It didn’t seem relevant.”
“What does he smell like?”
“Hal,” Diana said.
“What? I’m asking for the group.”
“You are not asking for me,” Batman said.
Hal waved him off. “You don’t count. You hate fun.”
Barry leaned toward Clark. “So? What’s he like?”
Clark’s face did something complicated. “He’s… charming.”
Hal made a triumphant noise.
“And smarter than he pretends to be,” Clark added.
Diana smiled knowingly. “That is always attractive.”
Batman made a sound that was almost a cough and almost a warning growl.
Arthur noticed. “Are you jealous?”
The room went silent for the second time.
Batman looked at him.
Arthur looked back, brave in the way only a man with ocean backup could be.
“Of Bruce Wayne?” Batman asked.
Hal grinned slowly. “Wait.”
Barry’s mouth dropped open. “Wait.”
Diana’s eyes sparkled. “Interesting.”
Clark closed his eyes. “Please don’t.”
Hal leaned forward. “Batman, is your celebrity crush Bruce Wayne?”
“No.”
“That was too fast.”
“No.”
“Do you think he’s handsome?”
“No.”
Diana tilted her head. “You do not think Bruce Wayne is handsome?”
Batman said nothing.
Barry whispered, “That’s not a no.”
Batman stood. “This conversation is over.”
Hal blocked the door with a green construct shaped like a velvet rope. “Not until you answer.”
Batman looked at the construct.
The construct disappeared.
Hal put both hands up. “Okay, emotionally the rope remains.”
Batman started toward the door.
Then J’onn, who had been very quiet, said, “Bruce Wayne’s face appears on many magazine covers. Based on human reactions, he is widely considered desirable.”
“Thank you, J’onn,” Hal said.
“I have also observed that Batman’s heart rate increased by three percent when Hal first mentioned him.”
Batman stopped walking.
Everyone turned.
J’onn blinked. “Was that not helpful?”
Clark covered his face.
Barry slowly slid down in his chair.
Hal looked like Christmas had arrived early wearing a tuxedo.
Batman turned around.
“J’onn.”
“I did not read your mind,” J’onn said calmly. “Only your pulse.”
“That is not better.”
“It was involuntary data collection.”
“Stop collecting.”
Diana was smiling openly now. “Batman.”
“No.”
“We did not ask anything.”
“You were going to.”
“Do you have a crush on Bruce Wayne?”
“No.”
Hal whispered loudly, “He’s lying.”
“I am not.”
Barry raised a cautious hand. “To be fair, Bruce Wayne is a very reasonable celebrity crush.”
Batman stared at him.
Barry lowered his hand. “I’m going to eat more pizza now.”
For three weeks, the Justice League became unbearable.
Not professionally. Professionally, they were still excellent. They saved cities, stopped invasions, negotiated with alien diplomats, rescued civilians, and prevented global disasters.
Personally, they were a nightmare.
Hal started bringing up Bruce Wayne at random.
“Nice grappling hook, Bats. Bruce Wayne probably has one in gold.”
“Jordan.”
“Do you think Bruce Wayne has ever been sad on a yacht?”
“Jordan.”
“Do you think Bruce Wayne’s hair just does that naturally?”
“Jordan.”
Barry was worse because Barry tried to be subtle and failed with the intensity of a collapsing star.
He left a magazine with Bruce Wayne on the cover in the Watchtower lounge.
Batman threw it away.
Barry replaced it with two more.
Batman shredded them.
Barry laminated the next one.
Batman stared at it for a very long time, then said, “Flash.”
Barry, from the other side of the room, whispered, “It’s waterproof.”
Diana did not tease as much, but that made it worse. She would simply smile whenever Bruce Wayne’s name came up, as if she knew something Batman did not want known.
Arthur once entered a meeting, saw Batman already seated, and said, “How’s your billionaire?”
Batman replied, “How is your ocean?”
Arthur nodded. “Fair.”
Even Superman was not safe.
Clark tried very hard to be normal. Unfortunately, Clark’s version of normal involved looking guilty whenever Bruce Wayne was mentioned, which made him look extremely suspicious.
Hal noticed.
Hal always noticed the wrong things.
“You know something,” Hal accused him after a briefing.
Clark looked up. “What?”
“About Batman and Bruce Wayne.”
“There is no Batman and Bruce Wayne.”
Batman, who was reviewing files nearby, said, “Correct.”
Hal pointed at both of them. “That sounded rehearsed.”
“It was not rehearsed,” Clark said.
“Then why did Batman answer like your lawyer?”
“Because I am right here,” Batman said.
“Exactly. Lawyer behavior.”
Eventually, the League’s Bruce Wayne obsession reached a breaking point because of a Wayne Foundation gala.
The foundation was hosting a massive charity event in Metropolis to fund disaster relief, medical research, and rebuilding projects in cities frequently damaged by superhero activity. This meant half the Justice League had been invited as honored guests.
Batman had not.
Technically, Batman had been invited.
He had declined with a one-line response: “No.”
Bruce Wayne, however, would obviously be there.
This created a problem.
A problem named Hal Jordan.
“We have to go,” Hal said.
Diana looked amused. “We were already going.”
“No, but now we have to go with purpose.”
“Our purpose is charity,” Clark said.
“Our purpose is meeting Bruce Wayne.”
“We are not bothering Bruce Wayne,” Batman said from the corner.
Hal spun around. “You’re not even coming!”
“I will be monitoring security.”
“So you’ll be there emotionally.”
“I will be there tactically.”
“That’s Batman for emotionally.”
Barry adjusted his bow tie nervously. “Do you think he’ll talk to us?”
Diana smiled. “He is hosting. I imagine he will.”
Arthur looked down at his formal suit with visible discomfort. “Why does surface formalwear hate shoulders?”
Clark, who was also attending as press, said, “You look fine.”
“I look trapped.”
“You are wearing a jacket.”
“Exactly.”
Batman said nothing.
He had spent the entire briefing in the shadows, pretending to review security footage and not to listen as his teammates discussed Bruce Wayne with the enthusiasm of teenagers at a movie premiere.
“He has that thing,” Barry said.
“What thing?” Hal asked.
“The thing where he looks like he hasn’t slept in ten years but somehow makes it expensive.”
Diana nodded. “The haunted aristocrat look.”
Arthur grunted. “Rich widow energy.”
Clark made a strangled sound.
Batman’s hand tightened around his tablet.
Hal snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Rich widow energy.”
“I am begging you all to remember this is a humanitarian event,” Clark said.
“Humanitarian,” Hal agreed. “We are humans. Bruce Wayne is hot. It counts.”
“I’m not human,” J’onn said.
“You still picked Dolly Parton. You’re included.”
The night of the gala was a disaster before it even began.
Not because of villains.
Because of Bruce Wayne.
He entered the ballroom twenty minutes late, because Bruce Wayne was always late in public. It was part of the performance. He wore a black tuxedo with a loosened bow tie, his hair artfully messy, his smile bright enough to power a small country, and the casual confidence of a man who had never once checked a price tag.
Hal saw him and forgot how to stand.
Barry made a noise.
Arthur muttered, “Okay, I get it.”
Diana smiled into her glass.
Clark, from the press area, closed his eyes and prayed for strength.
Bruce Wayne swept through the room greeting donors, politicians, reporters, and heroes with careless warmth. He made people laugh. He kissed cheeks. He shook hands. He leaned down to listen to a child from one of the supported hospitals and gave the child his full attention, the playboy mask softening into something genuine and quiet.
Diana noticed.
Arthur noticed.
Clark already knew.
Hal, unfortunately, also noticed, and it made him worse.
“That man is unfair,” Hal whispered.
Barry nodded. “How does he have philanthropy rizz?”
“Never say that again,” Arthur said.
Bruce approached them with a smile.
“Wonder Woman,” he said warmly. “Your Majesty. Flash. Green Lantern. Thank you all for coming.”
Diana took his hand. “Mr. Wayne.”
“Bruce, please.”
Hal inhaled too sharply.
Barry looked like he had forgotten every language except panic.
Arthur shook Bruce’s hand and immediately glanced down at their joined hands, then back up. “Strong grip.”
Bruce’s smile flickered. “I try.”
Hal stepped forward. “Hi. Green Lantern. Hal Jordan. Pilot. Space cop. Big fan of charity.”
“Always good to meet a fan of charity,” Bruce said.
Hal nodded too many times. “Huge fan. Love giving. Love funds. Love foundations.”
Barry stared at him in horror.
Bruce’s mouth twitched. “That’s wonderful.”
Diana, clearly enjoying herself, said, “Green Lantern was very excited to meet you.”
Hal’s head snapped toward her.
Bruce looked delighted. “Was he?”
Barry whispered, “Diana, no.”
Arthur said, “We all were.”
Barry whispered louder, “Arthur, no.”
Bruce turned his smile on the group. “I’m flattered.”
Hal seemed to regain just enough brain function to make things worse. “You came up in a conversation about celebrity crushes.”
The room stopped.
Not literally.
But around them, Clark Kent visibly froze in the press section.
Bruce blinked.
Then he smiled slowly.
“Did I?”
Barry looked like he wanted to vibrate through the floor.
Diana calmly sipped her drink.
Arthur looked at Hal with the expression of a king considering exile.
Hal, having already jumped off the cliff, decided to flap his arms. “In a respectful way.”
“A respectful celebrity crush conversation,” Bruce said.
“Exactly.”
“How dignified.”
“Very.”
“And who brought up my name?”
Hal pointed at himself with both thumbs. “This guy.”
Bruce’s eyes sparkled. “I’m honored.”
Barry blurted, “Batman said you weren’t handsome.”
Bruce went very still.
Clark made a tiny sound from across the room.
Diana’s face lit with wicked amusement.
Arthur slowly turned to Barry. “Why would you say that?”
Barry’s eyes widened. “I don’t know. Fear response.”
Bruce leaned slightly closer. “Batman said that?”
Barry swallowed. “Well, he didn’t say you weren’t handsome exactly. He just said no when asked if you were handsome.”
Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “That sounds like him.”
Hal stared. “You know Batman?”
Bruce’s smile became innocent in a way no innocent man had ever managed.
“Everyone in Gotham knows Batman.”
Diana laughed softly. “Not like that.”
Bruce looked at her.
Diana looked back.
For one terrifying moment, Bruce wondered if Diana already knew.
Then she smiled.
“Batman seems to have many opinions about you,” she said.
Bruce sighed dramatically. “I have that effect on emotionally repressed people.”
Barry wheezed.
Hal slapped a hand over his mouth.
Arthur laughed into his drink
The League spent the rest of the evening being personally victimized by Bruce Wayne’s charm.
He danced once with Diana, who returned to the group looking amused and mildly impressed.
He spoke with Arthur about ocean conservation, and Arthur came back looking unwillingly respectful.
“He knows more about marine funding than half the politicians I’ve met,” Arthur said. “Annoying.”
He gave Barry a tour of the dessert table and asked him about forensic science with genuine interest, which resulted in Barry returning with three tiny cakes and a dazed expression.
“He listened to me explain blood spatter analysis for six minutes,” Barry said. “At a gala. On purpose.”
Hal stared at Bruce from across the room like he was looking at the sun.
Then Bruce approached him again.
“Green Lantern,” Bruce said. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
Hal straightened. “Yes. Normal amount.”
Bruce looked him up and down. “Good.”
Hal’s ring flickered.
Bruce’s smile widened.
Clark later found Bruce near a balcony.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Clark said under his breath.
Bruce took a sip of champagne he had no intention of finishing. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Hal is going to combust.”
“That sounds like a Lantern problem.”
“Barry told you Batman said you weren’t handsome.”
Bruce looked deeply offended. “Yes. I’ll be filing a complaint.”
“With Batman?”
“With HR.”
“The League doesn’t have HR.”
“Then I’ll buy you some.”
Clark sighed. “Bruce.”
Bruce smiled.
“You’re going to have to tell them eventually,” Clark said.
Bruce’s smile faded slightly.
Below them, Hal was telling Diana, very seriously, that Bruce Wayne had “old money cheekbones.” Barry was nodding. Arthur was pretending not to listen and failing. J’onn had arrived late and was studying the room with the calm focus of someone watching a nature documentary.
Bruce looked at them for a long moment.
Then he said, “I know.”
The reveal happened two nights later.
Not because Batman planned it that way.
Batman had seventeen different identity reveal contingencies, and none of them included Green Lantern, a celebrity crush conversation, and a PowerPoint presentation titled “Why Bruce Wayne Is Objectively Fine.”
Unfortunately, Hal Jordan had no respect for contingencies.
The League had gathered in the Watchtower lounge for what Barry called “team decompression” and Batman called “a waste of time.” Someone had dimmed the lights. Someone had brought snacks. Someone had set up the presentation screen.
That someone was Hal.
Batman walked in, saw the first slide, and stopped.
The title read:
BRUCE WAYNE: A RESPECTFUL ANALYSIS
Underneath was a photo of Bruce Wayne at the gala, smiling in his tuxedo.
Batman said, “No.”
Hal said, “Yes.”
“No.”
“We need closure.”
“We need professionalism.”
Barry raised his hand. “I helped with transitions.”
“Flash.”
“They’re tasteful.”
Diana was already seated, looking far too entertained. Arthur had a bowl of popcorn. J’onn had Oreos. Clark stood near the back, looking like a man who had seen the future and disliked it.
Batman turned to him.
Clark whispered, “I tried.”
“You did not try hard enough.”
Hal clicked to the next slide.
It showed a list.
Reasons Bruce Wayne Is A Valid Celebrity Crush:
1. Face.
2. Money, but in a charity way.
3. Sad eyes.
4. Good with kids.
5. Probably owns silk pajamas.
6. Could fund your dreams and then brood about it.
7. Mysterious Batman connection.
Batman’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Number seven?”
Hal pointed with his clicker. “We can’t ignore the lore.”
“There is no lore.”
“There is so much lore.”
Barry nodded. “There are forums.”
Batman turned to him. “You’re on forums?”
Barry froze. “For research.”
Diana smiled. “I find number three compelling.”
Arthur shrugged. “Sad eyes are a classic.”
J’onn said, “His sadness is evident beneath his public persona.”
Batman closed his eyes.
Hal clicked again.
A new slide appeared.
BRUCE WAYNE AND BATMAN: ENEMIES? ALLIES? EXES?
Clark made a strangled noise.
Batman moved.
No one saw him cross the room. One second he was by the door. The next he had taken the clicker from Hal’s hand.
Hal gasped. “That is censorship.”
“That is mercy.”
“You can’t silence journalism.”
“This is not journalism.”
“It has bullet points.”
Batman crushed the clicker.
Barry sighed. “I worked hard on the transitions.”
Diana leaned forward. “Batman.”
He looked at her.
Her expression was softer now, though still amused. “You know this teasing comes from affection.”
Batman said nothing.
Arthur nodded. “And curiosity.”
Hal added, “And cheekbones.”
Batman looked at him.
Hal sank lower into his chair.
Clark stepped forward. “Maybe we should let it go.”
The room quieted.
Batman looked around at them.
At Diana, smiling but patient.
At Arthur, pretending not to care.
At Barry, trying very hard not to vibrate with nervousness.
At J’onn, quietly understanding too much.
At Hal, still mourning his clicker.
At Clark, who had known for longer than anyone and had kept his secret without making it feel like a burden.
Batman sighed.
It was very small.
But for Batman, it was basically a confession, a breakdown, and a group hug.
“You want to know my opinion on Bruce Wayne,” he said.
Hal sat up instantly. “Yes.”
Batman reached up.
Clark’s eyes widened. “Batman—”
But Batman had already removed the cowl.
For a second, no one moved.
The face under the cowl was tired, handsome, bruised along one cheekbone, and deeply, deeply unimpressed.
It was also unmistakably Bruce Wayne.
Hal’s mouth fell open.
Barry dropped his snack plate.
Arthur choked on popcorn.
Diana’s eyebrows shot upward before her face broke into the most delighted smile anyone had ever seen on an Amazon warrior.
J’onn blinked once. “Ah.”
Hal made a sound.
Not a word.
Just a sound.
Batman, now very clearly Bruce Wayne in armor, said, “There. Closure.”
No one spoke.
Then Barry whispered, “Oh my God.”
Hal pointed at him. “You.”
Bruce stared.
Hal pointed harder. “You let me say all that.”
“Yes.”
“You let me say you probably own silk pajamas.”
Bruce’s mouth twitched. “Technically, I do.”
Barry made a strangled noise and bent over laughing.
Arthur slapped a hand over his eyes. “I called you rich widow energy.”
“Yes.”
“While you were standing right there.”
“Yes.”
“Under the cowl.”
“Yes.”
Arthur dragged his hand down his face. “I hate surface world secrets.”
Diana stood, walked over to Bruce, and studied him closely.
Bruce endured it for about three seconds before saying, “Princess.”
“You told me Bruce Wayne had a manufactured public image.”
“He does.”
“You are Bruce Wayne.”
“Yes.”
“So you manufactured your own public image and then criticized it in the third person.”
Bruce paused.
Clark, from the back, said, “She has you there.”
Bruce glared at him. “Not helping.”
Diana smiled. “This is magnificent.”
Hal was still frozen. “I told Bruce Wayne that Bruce Wayne was my celebrity crush.”
Bruce nodded. “You did.”
“At the gala.”
“Yes.”
“To your face.”
“Yes.”
“And then I made a PowerPoint.”
“Yes.”
Hal turned to Clark with betrayal in his eyes. “You knew.”
Clark winced. “I suspected.”
Bruce looked at him.
Clark sighed. “Fine. I knew.”
Hal threw his hands up. “Superman knew I was embarrassing myself in front of my celebrity crush and said nothing?”
Clark looked apologetic. “I thought stopping you would make it more suspicious.”
“It was already suspicious!”
“You once asked what he smelled like!”
“That was for science!”
J’onn tilted his head. “For the record, Bruce Wayne does smell like expensive cologne and emotional damage.”
The room erupted.
Bruce slowly turned to J’onn.
J’onn calmly ate an Oreo.
Barry was laughing so hard he had to lean on the table. “I can’t breathe.”
“You do not need to breathe this dramatically,” Bruce said.
Barry pointed at him. “You’re Batman. You’re Bruce Wayne. You’re your own celebrity crush discourse.”
Hal sat down heavily. “I need a minute.”
Arthur looked at Bruce. “Does this mean Batman has good hair?”
Bruce’s expression went blank. “What?”
“You hide it under the cowl. Seems wasteful.”
Diana nodded. “It is good hair.”
“Thank you,” Bruce said automatically, then looked annoyed at himself.
Hal whispered, “He said thank you.”
Barry whispered back, “Bruce Wayne manners.”
Clark was trying very hard not to smile.
Bruce put the cowl back on the table. “My identity does not leave this room.”
Everyone sobered slightly.
Diana nodded first. “Of course.”
Arthur said, “Your secret is safe.”
Barry placed a hand over his heart. “Always.”
J’onn inclined his head. “You have my word.”
Clark smiled gently. “You know you have mine.”
Hal nodded, then raised one finger. “Absolutely. Completely. But I do need to ask one thing.”
Bruce stared at him.
Hal took a deep breath.
“Do we still get to say Bruce Wayne is hot, or is that weird now?”
Clark groaned.
Barry collapsed into laughter again.
Arthur said, “It’s definitely weird now.”
Diana smiled. “It was always a little weird.”
J’onn said, “I believe honesty among teammates is healthy.”
Bruce said, “No.”
Hal pointed at J’onn. “The Martian says it’s healthy.”
“The Martian is wrong.”
“I did not say it was advisable,” J’onn clarified. “Only honest.”
Bruce picked up his cowl. “This meeting is over.”
Hal stood quickly. “Wait, wait, wait. One more question.”
“No.”
“Who is your celebrity crush?”
Bruce put the cowl back on.
Batman returned instantly.
The jaw hardened. The shoulders squared. The entire room temperature seemed to drop.
“I do not have one.”
Hal grinned. “Liar.”
Batman moved toward the door.
Barry called after him, “Is it Bruce Wayne?”
Batman stopped.
The room went deathly silent.
Then, without turning around, Batman said, “Objectively, he has symmetry.”
The door closed behind him.
For one stunned second, no one reacted.
Then the Watchtower lounge exploded.
Hal screamed.
Barry fell off the couch.
Arthur laughed so hard he nearly dropped the popcorn.
Diana put both hands over her mouth, eyes shining.
Clark leaned against the wall, shaking with silent laughter.
J’onn calmly picked up the ruined clicker from the floor and said, “I believe that means yes.”
After that, the League adjusted to knowing Batman’s identity with maturity, dignity, and professionalism.
For approximately four hours.
Then Hal changed the group chat name to “Bruce Wayne Fan Club.”
Batman changed it to “Mission Communications.”
Barry changed it to “Mission Communications But Bruce Is Hot.”
Batman removed Barry from the group chat.
Clark added him back.
Diana sent a single message: “Objectively, he has symmetry.”
Arthur replied: “Rich widow energy.”
J’onn replied: “Emotional damage confirmed.”
Hal replied with seventeen fire emojis.
Batman did not reply.
But thirty seconds later, every phone in the room received a new automated warning:
UNAUTHORIZED GROUP CHAT RENAMING WILL RESULT IN LOSS OF WATCHTOWER SNACK PRIVILEGES.
Barry gasped. “He wouldn’t.”
Clark looked toward the ceiling camera.
“He absolutely would.”
Hal held his phone to his chest. “I can’t believe my celebrity crush is threatening me.”
From somewhere deep in the Watchtower, Batman’s voice came over the intercom.
“I can hear you.”
Hal looked up.
Then, because Hal Jordan had never once learned from consequences, he said, “Love you too, Bruce.”
The lights went out.
When they came back on, Hal was gone.
A moment later, his voice echoed faintly from a storage closet down the hall.
“Worth it!”
Batman never admitted he found any of it funny.
But the next week, Bruce Wayne donated a very large sum of money to rebuild a children’s hospital in Central City. At the bottom of the official donor note, in handwriting only the League would recognize, were three words:
Objectively good cause.
Barry cried.
Hal framed a copy.
Diana laughed for ten minutes.
And Batman, sitting alone in the Cave later that night, stared at the League group chat as the messages rolled in.
Barry: “Bruce Wayne is my hero.”
Hal: “Celebrity crush upgraded to teammate crush.”
Arthur: “Still weird.”
Diana: “Still symmetrical.”
Clark: “Please stop before he deletes the internet.”
J’onn: “He is smiling.”
Batman immediately looked up at the Cave ceiling camera, despite the fact that J’onn was nowhere near Gotham.
“I am not,” he said to no one.
Alfred, passing behind him with tea, glanced at the screen.
“Of course not, Master Bruce.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
Alfred smiled politely. “Though, if I may say, sir, it is good that your friends appreciate you.”
Bruce looked back at the chat.
Hal had just sent a poorly edited image of Batman’s cowl over a red-carpet photo of Bruce Wayne.
Barry responded with: “BEAUTY AND THE BAT.”
Bruce should have deleted the entire chat.
He should have banned Hal from the Watchtower.
He should have created a protocol, written a memo, and threatened everyone with monitor duty.
Instead, he stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then he typed one message.
Batman: “This is why I work alone.”
He sent it.
Three seconds later, Diana replied.
Diana: “No, you do not.”
Bruce looked at the message.
Then, very quietly, where no one could see except Alfred, he smiled.
Only a little.
Objectively.