Chapter Text
Being a hero comes with many things; in Bruce's case, it's stress. He hasn't slept for days, he hasn't even been able to patrol peacefully, he's far too restless. The Arkham staff was so incompetent that the Riddler ended up escaping. An ordinary guy escaping from Gotham's most secure prison. Luckily, Gordon and he are investigating simultaneously for possible corruption within the police force. It's suspected that he had help from his crazy followers and the Joker's, since they both escaped, but the other inmates refuse to cooperate or say a single word. Everything is one ENORMOUS headache.
And now he's like an idiot trying to solve a damn riddle he just can't decipher. He still has to get the hang of riddles or word games; the whole winged rat thing still haunts him in situations like this.
The cave is dark, a single lamp barely illuminates his face. The paper in his hands feels like a mockery.
> "You look for me where everything is clear, but I was born where nothing is.
You see me when you look ahead, but I'm behind what you ignore.
I'm not above nor below... though they always step on me.
If you want to find me, stop looking at what's obvious.
Gotham is upside down when it's understood correctly."
He rubs his eyes, trying to chase away the exhaustion clinging behind his eyelids. He reaches out to grab a cup of coffee among the many scattered across the table when a soft voice reaches his side.
"You have to see it from another perspective."
Bruce has never turned around so fast in his life. It's a miracle he didn't break his neck. He's already reaching for his batarang on the table, on full alert. No one else is supposed to be able to enter the cave except Alfred and Clark.
But there's no one there. Bruce blinks, and suddenly a tiny figure no bigger than his thumb, covered in bright colors, appears before his eyes wearing that ridiculous blue and red suit Bruce would recognize from miles away.
Superman. A Lego Superman. Floating right in front of his face.
"Hi, B!" he says, sounding cheerful and happy. "You're B, right? You look just like him, and the cave is the same." The tiny Superman keeps talking.
Bruce blinked once more and rubbed his eyes again. He had seen strange things ever since he discovered the existence of metahumans and started working alongside the Justice Gang. That had been like opening Pandora's box: suddenly, the world became much bigger, much more complicated, and much stranger than he had ever imagined.
Sometimes he thought it might have been better to stay in Gotham, limiting himself to dealing with corrupt politicians, petty thieves, mobsters, and the lunatics who tried to blow the city up every week. At least those problems made sense. At least they were human, more manageable.
"B? Are you okay?" L!Superman asks, sounding painfully just as concerned as his flesh-and-blood Clark.
Bruce has a feeling these are going to be complicated days.
"Yes. I... I'm fine." Bruce replies, regaining his composure and that neutral expression. He's still on alert, of course, but he doesn't sense any hostility coming from the figure.
"Can I ask why there's a Lego Superman in front of me?" he asks, watching the figure now wander across his desk, arranging the coffee cups.
"Oh, yes. Sorry about my manners." He apologizes with that nervous little laugh. "Lex and the Joker said they wanted to conquer the human world. They opened a portal, B and I followed them, and that's why I'm here."
Great. Wonderful.
L!Superman takes the silence as an invitation to continue.
"I don't know where my B is. We landed in different places." L!Lex and L!Joker are probably separated somewhere too, so Bruce mentally adds that to his list of concerns. "So I had a feeling our worlds are similar and that he'd be here." He says, now turning his tiny body toward Bruce and moving the stack of papers so he won't step on them before stopping in front of him. "But I found you instead!"
Bruce sighed. "Anything else I should know?"
He regrets asking that immediately.
"Yes, they came too... Riddler, Harley, and Ivy. Those two said they were bored. So it's my B and me trying to find them." He says, flying until he's hovering in front of Bruce's face. "Can I ask for your help?" Bruce wonders how a piece of plastic can make puppy eyes.
He also discovers that he's weak against any version of Clark's puppy eyes. Besides, who knows what dangers the miniature versions of his archenemies could cause... you should never underestimate an enemy's size or height. Bruce learned that lesson very well.
Now he has to deal with a human Joker and the Riddler, and Lego Harley, Joker, Lex, Ivy, and the Riddler. What a great day—or night. He has no idea what time it is.
"By any chance, isn't the Penguin here too?" Bruce asks with that dry sarcasm.
"Now that you mention it, yes."
"..."
Meanwhile, Clark is at his apartment, mentally a little exhausted from an article and everything in general. Not seeing Bruce puts him in a bad mood. He hasn't seen him for several long days, because of his own work and because his boyfriend is up to his neck with the whole Arkham, Riddler, and Joker situation. Naturally, Clark offered his help, which was clearly refused. He would go visit him, but he knows very well that Bruce prefers to focus completely on his investigation, and Clark doesn't want to be a bad distraction. So he's bored, sad, and missing his boyfriend.
Coincidentally, the article he's writing is about the source of his affections, about a joint project between Metropolis and Gotham to help low-income people, the homeless, and provide incentives to study and accessible education programs. Clark is so happy Bruce went all out this time... he looked so gorgeous in the photo beside the article.
"He should smile a little more."
A raspy voice reaches him. Great, now he's hearing his boyfriend's voice in Batman mode, which doesn't seem strange because he really misses him. And he agrees with the fake voice, Bruce is beautiful and should smile more.
Then the slideshow suddenly moves. Clark frowns, and when he lowers his gaze he sees a... miniature Batman?
"Oh my GOLLY."
Clark says, blinking and sounding incredulous.
"I don't look that sad, do I?" he asks with the same deep, raspy voice, though sounding noticeably more expressive than the human Bruce. He also looks rather offended as he turns to look at Clark.
Clark stares at him.
This isn't the kind of surprise that's easy to process. He's seen impossible things ever since he became a hero: alien invasions, gods walking among humans, miniature cities, entire cities erased from the map and rebuilt as if nothing had happened. Over the years, he also learned to live alongside the inexplicable... or at least not let it unsettle him too much.
And yet, this is different.
He knows the multiverse exists. It's not a theory or an exaggeration. He's heard it straight from Mr. Terrific, explained with his usual analytical calm: branching timelines, realities born from the smallest decisions, alternate versions of people he believes he knows like the back of his hand... who, somewhere else, can be completely different.
Clark thought he was ready for that. Or at least that he would be when the time came.
What he never imagined was that his first real encounter with that entire web of infinite possibilities would be this.
A Bruce... made of LEGO.
Small, rigid, with that unchanging expression printed on his face that tries to look serious even on a plastic body. Ridiculously out of place and, at the same time, undeniably him. As if someone had taken all of Bruce's intensity, his very essence, and compressed it into a toy version small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.
Clark watches him in silence, as if blinking again might somehow change what he's seeing.
But it doesn't.
He's still there: absurd proof that not only does the multiverse exist, but it also has a very strange sense of humor.
The figure doesn't seem to care or need an answer. He's far too busy in front of the computer again, looking through more photographs while grumbling that his human version looks like an abandoned puppy: sad, dramatic, and melancholic. Meanwhile, he insists that he looks much cooler, more incredible, and more rock-and-roll.
Clark crosses his arms, clearly offended while letting out an incredulous little laugh.
"You can't seriously be saying that." Clark says, looking at L!Batman as if he'd just said the greatest nonsense in the universe. "You're comparing... yourself against Bruce?"
L!Batman doesn't even look up from the screen. He keeps scrolling with absurd concentration, zooming in on photos of human Bruce as if he were analyzing case files.
"Of course I can," he replies with complete confidence. "It's science. I'm more handsome. More mysterious. More iconic."
On the screen, a photo of Bruce appears with that distant look, his hair slightly messy, and that sad, dramatic expression that practically screams, "I haven't slept in three weeks."
L!Batman nods proudly.
"See that? That's exactly what I'm talking about. He looks like an abandoned puppy. Me, on the other hand, I'm perfect in blocks. Defined lines. Jaw... nonexistent but emotionally powerful."
Clark stays silent for a second.
The kind of silence where you decide whether to laugh or explode.
"First," he finally says. "You can't insult him. You're insulting yourself."
"Uhm."
Clark raises an eyebrow.
"You're jealous. I'd be too. Bruce is very handsome."
L!Batman freezes for half a second.
Only half.
But enough.
"No. I don't know that word."
"Of course you do."
"It doesn't exist in my dictionary."
Clark lets out a short laugh.
"Bruce is incredible just the way he is."
L!Batman makes an exaggerated gesture with his hand.
"Yeah, yeah. 'Tragic, dark, emotionally broken but attractive.' I've read it. I've seen it. Teenage girls love it."
L!Batman finally turns toward him, crossing his arms as well.
"Listen, Clark. I'm just stating the obvious. If human Bruce Wayne met me, he'd say, 'Wow, this Lego Batman has better style.'"
Clark stares at him and knows there's no point. It doesn't make much sense arguing with a Lego either, but life is weird.
L!Batman slowly turns back toward the screen.
And right then, without asking permission, he opens another folder full of photos.
Clark sighs, resigned.
"You're going to keep looking at pictures all afternoon, aren't you?"
"Yes."
That's the only answer Clark received.
The little Bruce spent quite a while until he got bored and concluded with, "I'm cooler," before starting to snoop around on the computer. Clark lets him. He's happy having mini Bruce around. At some point, they end up talking nonsense.
Bruce opened the music folder and laughed when he saw it.
The Mighty Crabjoys: Clark's absolute favorite band.
P.O.D.s. He commented something about, "I got the reference," regarding someone named James Gunn. Clark didn't understand what he meant, but he didn't ask either.
Strangle Fellows. Teddy Bears. Etc.
"The Mighty Crabjoys? Seriously? They suck."
"Hey!" Clark says with that high-pitched voice that appears whenever he's offended or incredulous. "You too? Lois said the same thing. They're a really good punk rock band."
"Pff-. She's right. They're commercial, radio-..."
L!Bruce stares at Clark, who's looking back at him with puppy eyes. Apparently Clark does that in the human world too. And he realizes he can't resist that look here either.
So he lets out a huff, rolls his eyes, and reluctantly ends up admitting they're good bands.
And that silly moment came to an end because !LBatman remembered why he was there in the first place.
Just like L!Clark explained it to Bruce.
L!Bruce explains it to Clark.