Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dear Diary,

Batman has recently decided to join the Justice League. 

Which I for one am very happy about, though sometimes that joy waivers in his presence. I knew he was going to be a dark misfit amongst bright colors and loud personalities. But I didn’t know one person could be THAT quiet and broody while somehow being so controlling and deceivingly intelligent. The way that he comes up with plans right on the spot has even Wonder Woman second guessing her skills. A thing nobody knew was possible, for all her hardheaded knowledge.

I’ve watched that bat shtick from afar for so long, and it never made any sense to me. But I think I get it now. He somehow sneaks around quietly enough, that if I’m not specifically listening for his steps, he can jump scare me. Not on purpose (I think). He just appears out of dark shadows. And that broad shouldered stance of his mixed with the cape and cowl, has sent a shiver or two down my spine. 

Nobody knows his alter ego, and he seems very keen to keep it that way. Even going so far as to encourage the rest of us to keep our identities secret from the league. And while we had all remained in secret up to this point in time, it was on the table of possible futures for the League. Many were on my side to argue that it could only help strengthen our bonds and accountability to familiarize ourselves with every facet of the members. But he strongly disagreed.

I believe his exact words were “There is no I in team.” Which might be the most personable thing he’s ever uttered in my vicinity. As benign of a statement as it was.

Ps. this is NOT going to be a diary about Batman. Lois said I seemed tense lately, and suggested I journal about it. Which is sweet, for somebody who broke up with me a few months ago. We’ll see how long I last with it. But honestly, I’m willing to do anything that brings Lois and I back together as friends. I know she will keep Superman a secret no matter her feelings about me, but part of my tenseness has been the weird dance we do around each other at work.

May 21st 

Nothing good happens after midnight. 

Tonight, or I guess this morning, Batman, The Flash, and I hovered quietly in a dark corner. I knew there were a handful of bars on this side of town, but I didn’t venture there often. Because while it was a little bit in Metropolis, it was mostly in Gotham. And the Bats had staked his claim on the territory ages ago. (That was our first interaction. Short and tense. Much like his patience.)

But there we were, staking the joint for a Justice League mission. Probably the only thing that could have persuaded that silent brute to allow not one, but two supers into his town. (Batman, for all his unknowable mysteries, had a deep infatuation with Gotham. Which was the only clue about the man I knew.)

I practically got a death threat last time I was even caught using ‘his’ air space. Emphasis on the word caught. (I don’t know why, but seeing what I can sneak past that scarily observant glare brings me a thrill.)

Anyways, among the half drunk rabble and suspiciously suspicious Gothamites (why do they all look like that?), the Bat seemed to have locked on his target. Which neither I nor Flash was aware we were looking for. The league brief merely stated there was an up and coming kingpin in these parts, who has been moving a new drug formula that seemed to give users the ability to stay awake for days with above average strength and speed. Well, until the drug either exhausted them to near death, or ruptured their hearts. A side effect the dealers don’t share with their buyers, I’m sure.

I had scanned the crowds and listened for anything that might have pointed us in the right direction. Flash had run through the streets every which way in search of a clue. But who found the lead? The big, bat-themed grump who didn’t move from his spot the entire time. And I know his suit has some extra bits that help him scan the streets or whatever, but it surely wasn’t better than what Flash or I had.

(For a ‘normal’ human with no powers, he sure knew how to compensate in ways I would never have dreamed of.)

It was in a quiet moment where the 3 of us met to discuss all the nothingness there was to be found, Batman took a sniff of the air with the uncovered nostrils in his cowl. (Which really shouldn’t have looked as serious as he managed to make it appear. Considering he was just sniffing wildly into the air at nothing.)

“Do you smell that?”

He had asked the question in a hushed tone, almost too soft for his growl. 

Flash retorted back before I could even think of what to say to the bizarre question. Because all I could smell was beer and the special fragrance that only a damp alleyway could conjuring up

“Don’t tell me he has super-smelling?”

That made me huff out a laugh, just before we took off in pursuit of some random guy who looked like all the others at the bars. (Seriously, he looked like at least 3 other men we had passed earlier. And not even in an ‘evil quadruplets’ kinda way, just in a ‘he looks like every generic guy at the bar’ kinda way.)

Suddenly I had to know what was going through Batman’s head, I needed an insight into what I had apparently missed. Not totally convinced he wasn’t just making things up.

For all the times that I had interacted with Batman, I tried to keep it professional. Staying upbeat but neutral in his presence, perhaps to make him accept me faster. Even all the times in the past when he refused my offer to join the Justice League, I forced myself to remain casual and grounded. And thought I couldn’t contain the joy I felt when he finally accepted the offer and joined, I saw how annoyed he was with me and contained myself around him.

So tonight, I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps I was tired, or annoyed, or maybe even just wanted to annoy him. But I let a little bit of personality out when I asked my own question of him.

“Does that cowl of yours allow you to smell secrets? What is it we should be noticing, oh captain my captain.”

The glare he gave me after that was special. It wasn’t just the ‘I’m smarter than you’ look he took with me often. This look was equal parts amused (perhaps annoyed) and something that said he was about to show off. Gods how this man loved to show off. Not that I would ever stop him, usually I was quite impressed with his observations and grandstanding. And if anything, they gave me a small insight into how that man’s head worked.

“He’s drenched in Dolce and Gabbana." His lips pursed, like that was his big show stopper.

I know I looked confused after that. Because if you’re going to show off, your audience has to actually know what you’re showing off. And I, did not.

“I’m the Prince of Norway. Gosh, I love saying random stuff out loud. Isn’t this so much fun Flash?”

I didn’t look at Flash, and Bats never looked away from me. The exposed skin of his jaw drew tightly over his muscle. And if I wasn’t mistaken, a single corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

In the moment of silence that followed, I figured that was that. He was going to give that little Bat glare, and then turn back towards the case like I had known him to do. But in a surprising moment that I very nearly let my jaw drop at, he explained in a clear and concise tone.

“He’s wearing Louis Vuitton shoes, Balenciaga pants, a Fendi shirt, and covered with Dolce and Gabbana cologne. It’s like he’s wearing a full tuxedo to the beach. That’s our guy.”

Flash seemed to take that explanation in without a second guess, nodding his head and tracking his eyes on the fancy man. I, on the other hand, have a tendency to over think things at a speed that would put Flash to shame. I didn’t know what those words were, and I didn’t know how to take Batman’s sudden helpful tone.

Thankfully (I think) Batman took me out of my mental processing. Directing us to tail the suspicious man

“Now if you’re done questioning me, do you mind if we go after the criminal?”

I couldn’t help the sheepish look that I gave him. Nodding in agreement before we took a three way approach to cornering him at the back entrance of a bar.

I don’t know what flash was doing during our questioning, because I was too busy focusing on combating Batman’s bad cop routine with being the good cop. 

(Unsurprisingly, I could immediately tell it was our guy. His knowing grin said everything his mouth didn’t.)

Not that we could do much with him. He was squeaky clean without anything incriminating on his person, and he didn’t give up his source of the drug. Which basically led us back to square one. The only benefit (I think) was now they knew they were being watched.

Batman was very grumpy after that, frustrated that we weren’t able to get anything of use off our only suspect. I volunteered to fill out a report for the league about what had happened tonight. Flash was grateful (that guy hated doing debrief meetings, let alone filling out a single piece of paperwork about missions.) but Batman just grunted in acknowledgement and disappeared into the night.

When I got home, I had to look up those brands he had mentioned. All four of those items could pay my rent for a month or two. 

Now thinking about it more intensely, why would Batman know these high end brands not only by name, but by scent? 

I doubt the Dark Knight runs around in the light of day hanging with socialites and superstars. I just can’t see someone without a sense of humor working in the limelight like that.

He is very good at detective work and getting into a criminal's mind. I don’t think he would join the league if he were a criminal himself. Perhaps he’s a detective or private investigator by day. Something that allows him to bump elbows with people like Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne, while maintaining a quiet edge.

Why else would a man be familiar with fashion and fragrance? Could just be a hobby of his. Maybe he’s a designer himself, something in the luxury sector I’m sure. Knowledgeable enough about the products without necessarily having to be seen every day or night. Oh, or he’s married to a designer. His wife… or husband? Might be the master mind behind a fashion line, probably even came up with the Bat theme. Oh my gosh, his partner probably makes all of his suits by hand. That’s so precious. 

Ps. The more I try to figure out about this man, the more questions that I have. Why am I like this?

June 9th

Curiosity killed the cat.

Today was one of six mandatory meetings the League held every year. And while I completely agreed they were necessary, and oftentimes had important things to bring up myself. I found them to be dull and boring. A lifeless meeting to discuss policies, best practices, and who is and isn’t allowed to use Wonder Woman’s invisible jet. (Me and Martian Manhunter)

But this one was different.

Well, actually no. The meeting itself was exactly the same as it’s always been. (Excluding the very first one Batman attended. He had some very good and valid opinions about accountability and internal processes. I just wish he hadn’t been so Batman about it. Really didn’t win him any favors as a first introduction to several members.)

The only difference about today was the presence of a certain sound that started going off about 10 minutes into the meeting. Just after the topic of sharing real life identities was voted down. Again. 

The League's station is generally pretty quiet. Not as peaceful as my fortress, but a good second choice when the world was too loud. For being a tin can in space, full of loud mouthed heroes, it was actually pretty silent.

Except for the rapid fire buzzing sounds that started emanating from Batman’s tactical belt. 

I tried to ignore it for a good while. Reminding myself that it would be rude and a violation of privacy if I were to attempt to look at the phone that was only audible to me. 

But after the 4th text came through, I couldn’t help but be curious about what the messages might be about. And in all reality, yes, I hoped there might be some information to gleam from the messages that might tell me a bit more about Batman. Ever since I pondered the fact that he might have a real life partner out in the world, I couldn’t help but become more entrenched in the thought that there had to be somebody else under that dark mask.

As the 5th text buzzed out with an obnoxious custom pattern, I began guessing about the sender of the messages. If they were from Batman’s husband or wife back home. Maybe it was an emergency work situation. Perhaps he had kids and they were checking in on their father. It could even be a super model requesting his expertise for a fashion event.

At the 7th text, my resolve broke. Without giving myself the chance to change my mind, I took a quick look with my xray vision through the table and into the bat belt.

There, in plain text across Batman’s phone, was the contact for somebody saved in his phone merely as “Big Titz”. And the images that were popping up on the preview of his lock screen, certainly told me the woman was well deserving of the nickname. 

(I had never been more glad that my alien biology didn’t allow me to blush. Because there was no way I would have recovered from my own embarrassment.)

I’m sure Batman could tell something was up with me. 

Certainly he could read the flustered confusion on my face as I weighed through the odds of what those messages might mean. (If he were married to Big Titz, cheating on his partner with Big Titz, or even that he was just a typical sleazy, single, straight, man.)

Time seemed to slow after that. It might have been one of the shortest meetings we’ve ever conducted at the station. But as for my ability to focus my attention away from Batman, it felt like an eternity.

PS. I think I can put to rest the ‘is Batman gay’ question. 

PPS. For some reason, I feel as if I should call Ma and apologize. Just, on behalf of all mankind.

June 30th 

Chasing rainbows.

I didn’t realize Metropolis hosted such a large Gay Pride celebration every year. I, apparently, had been off planet or completely unaware of the events in my time living here. Which is actually such a shame, being downtown amongst the rainbows and the glitter was an eye-opening and joyous occasion. 

And while I was sad at first to be there as Superman, and not as a reporter taking in all the sights and stories of the night, my view certainly changed soon enough.

It all started with another tip from the League about a shipment of the drug we had been hunting down.

(After a brief discussion among a few other members, it was decided that Batman and I would be taking this case from the JL. Without sharing too much information with the team, it was clear that it was close to home for the both of us. And after it had gone cold after ‘interviewing’ that fancy guy in Gotham, even Batman was conceding to us teaming up and taking the case on together.)

In reviewing the tip from the League, I received a quick rundown from Bats of how we were going to go about infiltrating the shipment. 

After that, came a very unexpected confrontation with a few colorful guys that were loitering outside of the bar that seemed to be the headquarters of the Kingpin we had questioned the other day. I was certain they weren’t a part of the drug deal, their demeanor and excitement at the pride parade was palpable. But I was sure they had information that would be useful to the two of us. From their position, and maybe even their involvement at the bar, would make them witnesses to some of the shady secrets of the deal.

Now, the interesting thing to know about this conversation that occurred between those men and the two of us, was just how little of it I understood. But Batman on the other hand, seemed to take on a brand new life. Even cracking a smile a time or two as he complimented the guys and drew the information out of them so easily. And not that I would ever mention it, but there was a sassy flair to his words, something even the dark growl of his voice couldn’t cover.

From what I gathered of their conversations: The Kingpin’s name was Tommy and he owned the Rooster Room. His office was upstairs, but lately there had been handfuls of new men hanging around. Security had been tighter than ever before. And a few of their friends seemed to have gotten hooked on some new street drug. (Seems like the Kingpin is targeting other gay bars in the area to recruit for both buyers and sellers of the drug.)

We were able to find enough information from a few well timed questions. And by tailing one of the new security guards the men pointed out, we found the location of the latest drug shipment 

We (unfortunately) destroyed the entirety of the shipment (definitely not my fault, even though Batman is convinced that it is. Sorry you and the drugs are both flammable, and between the 2, it’s obvious which one I’m saving). 

So we had less evidence than we had hoped, not no samples of the actual substance to analyze.  

And even though a few well groomed thugs were busted for breaking and entering and a handful of weapons charges, there was not enough to go on. Causing Tommy and his contacts to go underground. Again.

It’s going to take much more digging to find the manufacturers of the drug, and get it off the market for good. 

A new thing that I seem to be doing, is googling words that Batman uses, and being surprised at why the man knows what he knows.

• Twink: Skinny or petite man, gay
• Sub: Submissive, as in sex
• Otter: large hairless man, gay
• Leather Daddy: large man in leather, gay
• Rooster Room: popular gay bar in town
• Harness: popular among men and BDSM, gay
• BDSM: (I really should have put my browser into private mode.)

PS. I’m back to thinking about Batman’s real identity and if his interests are in men or women. NOT that it matters. That definitely isn’t something that is living in my head rent free, as the kids would say. Actually. The night is still young. I bet those folks are gonna be out until dawn. I could probably go have another look around town, see if there is any more information we might have missed while in uniform. You know, just to distract myself and help the case along…

PPS. I found a picture that was taken of Superman holding a pride flag. That will for sure be going into the Daily Planet tomorrow.

July 15th

Is professionalism dead?

I can’t believe Batman is still letting me work this drug case with him. And I don’t even think it’s just because both of our towns seem to be equally involved in the ever expanding market that is targeting gay men. Back when Lex Luthor was doing all his crazy scheming, Bats didn’t let me near his town, and would have rather died than accept help on his case. 

But these days, secretly, I think that man likes me. Or if anything, he likes me more than all the rest of the League members. Which really might not be saying much, but I’ll take it. Batman likes me enough to keep allowing me to work in his city, and has even taken to sharing some of the plan making for busts that we go on. Not that he always takes what I say into consideration, but a win is a win.

All of this I am finding quite interesting. More and more I get to see small peaks at the man under the mask. Little hints he isn’t just a dark and broody robot with a pension for big chested women.

Like today, when we were canvassing the warehouses where the drugs were sometimes stored. He showed great interest in a small chested woman. 

There was a smart looking lady who seemed to be out of place in the manufacturing district of Gotham. Dressed in (kitten) heels and a pink skirt (what Lois always told me was a pencil skirt), with a well fitted blazer to match. In my opinion, she looked like a real estate agent that had mistaken the docks for a beach front property. 

She didn’t take very kindly to Superman’s friendly nature. And before I could even begin to think about how she might take to a Kansas boy’s charm, Batman was making moves. Stepping between the two of us with a wink. 

BATMAN WINKED AT SOMEBODY. And I was there to witness it. Which marks kind of a momentous occasion. For all the tonal cues and gay lingo he was throwing around the other night, this was something that felt personal. Like he forgot he was supposed to be a dark loner that barely liked people in the first place. 

He winked at this woman (Chelsea) and began a mind boggling bout of flirting. Flirting that was so good, he had ME wondering what was going to come next. (It now occurs to me that I stood merely a few feet away, witnessing the whole scene like a background actor in a movie, and neither Batman or Chelsea had a care that they were being watched.)

He never let his voice ditch that classic growling tone. But even with the intimidating stance and not actually knowing what he looks like, she gave him her phone number. Wrote it down on a piece of paper and tucked it in a small gap near his waist. 

Now, I’ve had my fair share of horrendous sexual harassment from men and woman alike. You don’t get to run around in a body con suit in bright daylight without some lewd commentary. And in a way, that makes sense to me (as much as I loathe it.)

But Batman? The big weird guy in a cape and bat mask? The one that dangles people over the side of buildings and creeps in shadows? That is somebody, a very attractive woman, decided to flirt with and give her phone number to?

By the gods, I cannot stand this man. 

And, not that I meant to watch, but he took out his cell phone (completely different from the one he had the other day on the station) and saved her number under the contact “Girl Next Door”. 

I was too stuck on the implications that he had multiple phones, that I didn’t even have the disposition to look away when he noticed my lingering eyes. 

And then, HE WINKED AT ME.

I know he winked at me. There’s no way I imagined that. Batman winked at me. Or, at least in my general direction? I’m at least 90% sure he winked at me, and it wasn’t just a weirdly timed blink, or small seizure. 

This man is giving me whiplash with the speed at which he makes me question his sexuality. Which, as it stands, is taking up more mental space than it has any right to. I am dying to know who he is under that mask. 

PS. I just know he’s gotta be attractive, ugly guys don’t have as much game as he does, even with a mask on. Maybe he is a trust fund baby or movie star. Somebody with enough money and power to have this sort of blind confidence with women.

July 25th

Today was… unfortunate. 

In the pursuit of Tommy the Kingpin (again), we got caught up in the crosshairs of two rather unfortunate foes. Ones that were well suited to take advantage of our diverted attention to get us alone.

Lex Luthor had caught me off guard on the streets of Metropolis. Using undercover agents to pose as men looking for the drug (apparently known as Fairy Dust or Rooster Ring), and jumping me with Kryptonite. 

(Batman has been a little less forthcoming with how he was taken hostage by Cat Woman. But from what I managed to get out of him in the debrief meeting, it sounds like there were civilian hostages that he was negotiating to save when he was restrained.)

But as for what I experienced, besides the excruciating pain, fear at what was happening to my teammate, and the general disappointment that the real threat was able to get off scott free again. I was stuck at the basement level of an unfinished building that I’m assuming Lex Luthor owns. Stuck in a chamber of kryptonite, made as a personal jail cell for me, being tortured by the ugliest bald man I had ever known. I was 30 floors beneath Batman, straining my ears to hear the clanking of metal chains around his kevlar suit, trying to figure out if he was okay or not. His breathing was strained and heart was beating unbelievably fast, even for the situation he was in.

He was on the top floor of the unfinished highrise, restrained, and being… I think interrogated might not be a strong enough word for what I heard occurring. Extorted might be closer. But overall, it was ill intentioned, (and made me want to call up the man right now just to make sure he was going to be okay.)

I couldn’t see what was happening, and my hearing was a bit foggy at times, on account of the torture. But I am left with way more questions and feelings than strictly necessary for a coworker. 

The scene keeps replaying in my mind. 

“Whatcha thinkin about there, Bats? Anything special catching your eye?”

The way the leather of her suit sounded to rustle against something rough, I assumed she was writhing without pause. And my mind filled in the image of her much too close to the bound up Bat, using her body to talk more than her words. 

That conjured up an anger I wasn’t aware I was capable of feeling. The thought of somebody close to me (physically, not emotionally. Though we are definitely more amicable now than we were even a month ago) being sexually harassed, maybe even assaulted, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

“Just give in Batboy, you know you can’t resist. Tell me what you know of the Drug Lord you’re hunting with Wonder Bread down there.”

I strained my body, trying to point my head up ever higher, hoping that it might be enough to get a clearer picture of what was happening so far away. But Lex must have been watching me. (He could have been in the same room as me, or a thousand miles away, and I never would have known.) It wasn’t worth my efforts to try and stop my suffering, not when there were so many people out there who were suffering worse fates at the hands of the Kingpin we weren’t able to stop.

Through strained ears, I listened for every rustle of fabric and shift in footing. Every word and change of breathing pattern. Hoping. Praying. Needing to know that Batman wasn’t going to be violated in that way. It was one thing to see him beaten black and blue in a fight he was capable of participating in. But this? It churned the bile in my stomach.

Through the increased level of pain I was feeling at the addition of more Kryptonite in my holding cell, all I could hear was growing sighs and groans of frustration from Catwoman. And nothing more than a dark laugh or brash “No” from my fellow Justice League member.

There were several moments of chains pulling taught against each other in loud metal clangs. But nothing that told me he was in any more danger than before. 

It felt like ages had passed before there was a sigh of relief to be had. 

“FUCK! Why isn’t this working? Poison Ivy assured me these pheromones would make you useless in resisting me! Why aren’t you throwing yourself at me? Telling me what I need to hear, just for the chance to touch me?”

I hadn’t needed the verbal confirmation to outline exactly what was happening up there, but it did confirm my fears at what she had been attempting to do. Only with the added benefit that I could imagine her covered in smelly plant juice, looking like a useless fool as she paraded around the tight fabric of her suit while trying to seduce Batman.

He let out a laugh from the depths of his being, “Oh Honey, I’m gay.”

It was a voice that had a familiarity to it, but not one that I would ever imagine Batman could emulate. The high pitch and tonal flair of somebody we would have met at the Pride parade.

(And that phrase. That phrase stuck in my head like I needed it to breathe. For reasons unknown to me, that phrase wormed its way into my brain and claimed a residence for itself. “Oh honey, I’m gay.” Even now as I write this, it bounds relentlessly through my inhuman brain.)

Anyways…

Catwoman must have been just as distracted at his turn of phrase, because after that came the familiar sounds of struggle. Like Bats had broken free of his restraints and was now overtaking a villain that had assumed the curves of her body would be all the fighting she would need that day. The struggle was quick, and I heard the sound of his bat-cuffs (a stupid name, I know. But he really insists on naming all of his gadgets with Bat) secure against latex and leather, and I knew she was restrained. 

“6421 Main Street. Catwoman and Lex Luthor. Bring hazmat and backup.”

His voice was back to his usual gruffness, but with an added layer of exhaustion and strain as he called in for backup.

Finally accepting that he was going to be okay, I phased in and out of consciousness. Knowing that even if the bat didn’t know where I was, or if he didn’t find me in time, at least he would be safe. Lex had me in a literal bind, and even through the blinding pain, I found peace knowing Batman was going to be okay. (Which is a very normal way to feel about somebody I work with. If Wonder Woman or Green Lantern had been in the same position, I would have been just as worried about them.)

I don’t really know how much time passed between being captured and seeing the caped crusader single handedly disarm and confine Lex Luthor (turns out he was in the same room as me). It could have been minutes, hours, or days. All I knew was the shadowy outline of a familiar form. One that broke me from my chains, carefully taking my arm over his shoulder to help guide me out of the wretched room.

I’m not actually sure if I had ever explained to the man how my powers work, or how the energy from the earth's yellow sun revives me more than anything in this world. But he seemed to know. Dragging my dead weight outside, and propping me up in the sunlight with a gentle touch. 

As he lowered me to a bench, he sat beside me with a concentrating look. Like he was making sure I wouldn't fall over or something.

It was a quiet moment that I feel like we both needed.

I felt the pressure of his shoulder leave mine as he stood, taking a deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

(I hadn’t meant to ask it, but I don’t regret that I did.)

He paused, hovering over me like he was frozen. His voice didn’t growl as he answered.

“You’ve been tortured for hours through what I understand to be unbearable pain. To the point that you lost consciousness. And you’re asking if I’m okay?”

I looked up at him, and it was then that I truly saw beyond the cowl and into those icy blue eyes. For all his brutish tactics and brooding wit, there was a human behind the mask. One who had, however small, a soft side.

“I guess I am.”

He gave a curt nod of his head before running off to assist the Police officers that had started arriving. 

Slowly my body started to heal and re-energize in the golden rays of sun. 

I watched the officers and their tactical efforts to read the criminals their rights and detain them in two different vans. Watching carefully at Batman’s interaction with Catwoman, who still had the front zip of her suit down well beyond normal cleavage on her chest. (She was being handled by personnel dawning well secured hazmat suits. So I still have some unanswered questions about Poison Ivy’s pheromone situation.)

She looked so put out asking the question I had been trying to avoid in my own head.

“Were you telling the truth? Are you not attracted to me?”

He dared to lean closer to her, squaring his shoulders as he hovered over her secure place in a quarantine medical truck. Whispering in that voice again.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Babydoll”

That same charismatic voice that seemed to other worldly coming from such a mouth. 

In our debrief, I asked another time if he was okay, and those blue eyes seemed to shift in front of my own face. For a few moments, he dared let his deep growl drop, as he assured me he was fine, and asked how I was doing.

I realize this is definitely becoming a Batman centered journal, but I just can’t help it. There is something so… magnetic about The Dark Knight. The little bits of personality keep luring me ever closer to him. And like a dog on the scent of a treat, I just can’t seem to give up the ever-growing mystery. Maybe it was the investigative journalist in me that desired to crack the case. 

That’s what this is. It’s a case. A question. A story that I’m meant to get to the bottom of. 

Who is Batman? What’s his real identity? And not that it really matters, but is he gay or straight? 

PS. I'm going to blame it on account of all the torture or whatever, but I simply cannot rest tonight. There are so many thoughts that are traipsing through my head that I can’t possibly shut it down enough to sleep.  And moreover, why is the question of who Batman is affecting me so much? Why should I care who Batman is under the mask? Whether or not he is a Gay fashion designer, a married movie star, or a straight Finance Bro, what should that matter? Batman is an excellent member of the Justice League, a trustworthy man to work a case with, and just human enough to make him worth knowing. 

August 1st 

Holy Alter Ego, Batman!

Tonight was a large political event thrown in celebration of some mayor patting himself on the back. Acknowledging the drug crisis that was happening right under our noses, but how his task force had been cleaning up the streets. A fact that was wholly untrue. Batman and I had been the only people even making waves in getting to the bottom of the entire ring. The mayor’s task force was a handful of overpaid and under-enthusiastic officers that didn’t have a care in the world that gay men were going missing or dying at alarming rates. 

Thankfully I was there under the guise of reporting a fluff piece for the daily planet. One that was meant to hype up the political prowess of the man up for reelection. With the comfort of hiding under my ill fitting tweed coat and press badge, I was free to roam about the masses. 

15 minutes into an egotistical story from a man on the so called task force, I heard the loud and energetic entry of a man I hadn’t seen in quite some time. I didn’t have to look his way to know there were gorgeous women hanging off each of his arms. 

“Oh Brucie, are you sure you wanna be here tonight? Surely there are more fun things you can think of doing?”

The raised end of the woman’s question was sensual by nature, but that wasn’t what caught my attention.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, babydoll.”

Without even a polite excuse, I turned away from my interview and looked at the man who had uttered those words. 

Those words, that voice, those eyes. Icy blue eyes that shone with a hint of humanity behind them. It was all too familiar. I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to put the pieces together.

My jaw had dropped, and Bruce Wayne met my gaze with a raise of his brow. 

He knew.

And now he knew that I knew. 

He winked at me. This time I’m certain it was a wink directed at me. 

“Excuse me ladies, I have some business to attend to. But feel free to put your drinks on my tab.”

He waived them off easily with the flick of his wrist, and nodded his head to the side. Gesturing for me to follow him to a quiet corner of the grand ballroom.

I was speechless. What even would there be to say? ‘Hey Mr. Bombastic billionaire with a possible sex addiction and the IQ of a bowl of fruit. I know that you’re secretly a genius detective with the ability to fight aliens and never crack a smile, what gives?

In the quiet corner, Bruce angled my back against a wall so he was facing only me, and dropped his poised features. Lowering his voice to match the quiet look in his eyes that felt so familiar and comforting in that moment,

“I need you to calm down before you bring attention to either of us.”

Why was it that I felt a sense of ease at Batman’s even-keeled nature more than the charm of a playboy billionaire? And I was right, he was a very attractive man under the mask. And maybe that’s what made it so much more difficult to process all the information I was learning.

“How long have you known?”

My mind raced with the thought that Batman might have known my cover since the beginning. How hypocritical that he denied anybody sharing their secrets, when he was just going to uncover them anyways. 

“About a month now.”

His mouth firmed up in the classic Batman, that’s all I’m going to share with you fashion. But I wasn't going to let him off that easily. I needed more.

“Come on  B–”

I had to physically bite my tongue to stop the rest of that word in the back of my mouth. His pointed glare told me that would not lead to a good outcome. 

“Look B, that's not fair. Tell me. How long have you known?”

At least he had the decency to consider my question. And not that I actually expected him to answer it, but he did.

“July 1st. I had some suspicions for a while now. But seeing your article on the front page of the Daily Planet after Pride, I pieced it together.”

My jaw dropped, and I felt like my eyes were bugging out of my body. And I must have looked that way too. Because in the process of my reaction, Bruce leaned his body closer to mine, and propped up his hand on the wall next to my head. Shielding the public’s view from my minor freak out. 

“What did I say about bringing attention to us?”

That snapped me back to the moment, mostly because of the absurdity of that question,

“Bruce, attention is on you everywhere you go. Do you know how many times I’ve seen that shiny smile of yours in my own newspaper?”

He had the audacity to flash the exact smile I was referencing. One that was crooked and toothy, but charismatic and charming all the same. 

I sighed.

“If you’re trying to flirt your way out of this, it’s not going to work on me.”

His smile dropped like he remembered we were coworkers and not just a reporter and a socialite in our own little world.

“Don’t let this affect how you act around me in public, and definitely don’t let this affect how you act around me, not in public.”

He didn't threaten me out right, but the sentiment was there.

“I’ll do my best.”

His brows drew together in a glare. But I took the moment to change the topic altogether. Taking a page out of Batman’s book of moving on from conversations he decided he was done having. 

“Actually while I'm here, do you think I could get a quote for the paper?”

In a moment I almost missed, his body took on a new life. His eyes took a faraway look, his smile flared, and I swear he got a little shorter. But his hand remained on the wall next to me.

“On the record, I think this task force is needed greatly. It’s so unfair what’s happening on the streets, and I just can’t stand to watch so many lives be affected.”

He lowered his hand from the wall, but drew in just a little closer.

“Off the record, I think the mayor is a load of shit, and his task force is about as useless as his limp dick.”

He winked at me again before disappearing off into the crowds of people hopeful to just get a moment of his time. 

I think I’m getting used to Batman winking. It’s happened just enough that I can’t write it off as a joke anymore. It’s not a plot to make me feel crazy, it’s just genuinely something he does. 

Which doesn’t drive me insane at all. 

PS. I’d never put much stock into Bruce Wayne before. Sure he was handsome as the devil, but with all his fame and fortune, he had never done much more than make a fool of himself and flaunt his money. But now looking into Wayne Enterprise with a critical eye, that man has single handedly supported his city through foundational health care, employment opportunities, and environmentally friendly industries. No wonder Batman was so protective of Gotham, he’s pouring his entire life into making that hellhole a decent place to live. 

PPS. Again, not that it matters, but I think I can put the question of his sexuality to rest. As much of an act as Brucie Wayne is in the media, I just don’t think you can pretend to be THAT straight. 

August 3rd

I did not see that coming. 

Bruce Wayne texted me early in the morning. Presumably on the same phone he had used to communicate with Big Titz. A fact that I really need to get out of my head.

Bruce: Hey Clarky, what are you up to this evening?

Clark: Who is this?

Bruce: Come on Clark, you don’t know your good friend B when he texts you?

Clark: Bruce? I’m on texting terms with Bruce Wayne now? Great. Good. This is very normal. And super inline with you telling me not to let anything affect how we act around each other. 

Bruce: Glad to see you’re taking this well. 

Clark: I don’t even know what to do with this information. What do you want?

Bruce: I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going to the Rooster Room with me this evening.

Clark: You’re inviting me to a gay bar? 

Bruce: Yes. I, Bruce Wayne, am asking you, Clark Kent, to go to a gay bar with me this evening.

I called him immediately after that, because I was not about to sit there and make a fool of myself. Not that I wanted him to hear any hesitation in my voice from the sheer shock that Batman… Bruce was asking me on a date, but I needed clarification that it wasn’t a date. 

And it wasn’t. Technically. 

Somebody had seen him interacting with me at the Mayor’s ball and made some assumptions. 

Bruce had received an invitation to the bar with the promise of getting to try a new party drug that had some ‘great’ side effects for men. His invitation held space specifically for me. So whoever it was that sent it, knew the both of us by name. (Which limited it down to a handful of potential suspects. I suspected the mayor, but B is convinced it’s a corrupt officer on the task force.)

We were going to be playing the part as undercover gay lovers, looking for a drug fix at the Rooster Room. 

Once I got over the fact that I was dressed in a wild mess of leather and mesh that Bruce made me wear. I had to get over the fact that Bruce was dressed in even louder pieces adorned with studs and tassels. I didn’t even ask if he already owned those particular items, or if one of the benefits of being a billionaire was the ability to procure niche items in a moment's notice. 

At first I had felt unsure about meeting at Wayne Manor and taking one of his sleek town cars to the bar. But the prospect of being under cover as my own identity made me uneasy. And the thought of having Batman by my side no matter what happened, did wonders for calming my nerves.

Getting into the Rooster Room was easy enough. One flash of Bruce Wayne’s smile was enough to get us rushed to the front of the line with complementary drinks in our hands. And for once, I was glad to be dressed appropriately for the situation. 

Apparently, the worst part of being undercover was the waiting. 

We had no way of knowing how long it would take for anything to happen. Who was supposed to be contacting us. If the Kingpin was even going to be there. And unlike staking out a warehouse or money drop, where you could wait without being watched by a suspicious number of security cameras. Here, we were in the midst of normal life. Playing a waiting game from the center of a colorfully lit club of neon lights and loud music.

I was taking large gulps of my fruity cocktail, just to have something to do besides think too much about what was going on around me. I considered myself to be an open minded person, but the bouts of grinding and snorting and wandering hands made me come to terms with quite a few things at once. 

From the corner of my eye, I watched as Bruce downed the rest of his own drink before taking my mostly empty glass and setting them both on a nearby surface. 

In a flash of moments that went too fast for me to possibly know what happened, there was dancing and movement of bodies. Tame and rhythmic timing with Bruce’s hand lightly on my hip, he gave me a look that told me to take a deep breath. 

It took several moments for me to coax myself into a sense of normalcy. To finally let myself depart from my self-imposed rigidity.

But a song played that I knew, and I let that carry away my self-consciousness. I was Superman dammit. I was a metahuman walking among the world, fighting evil schemes and alien forces daily. Why should I be held back by imaginary boundaries?

The music continued to play, and I let myself live freely like I had never done before. Knowing that I had the safety and security of Bruce at my side, I danced. And danced. And danced. 

Until a warm hand found its way farther down my hip. Looking up and expecting Bruce to be there, I was surprised to see an unfamiliar face. The stranger was handsome in a way I hadn’t ever thought of before, though his face was more full and pointier than Bruce Wayne’s squared features. 

His hand wandered down further and began to pull me closer. Matching my the movements of my dancing, getting ever closer with his body.

My brain shut down and refused to think about the moment. About how it felt so right. About how I wanted to see where that hand might go. About what Bruce might think if he saw me in such a compromising position. 

His lips began to trail ever closer to my face, but not for a kiss. That might feel too intimate. Instead, aiming for my ear. My neck. My collar bone.

Suddenly Bruce was at my back, hovering close enough for me to smell his now familiar cologne over the scent of everything else in the room. 

The stranger looked up from my chest and looked at the man behind me. And for everything in the world, I want to know what his face looked like. Because it was enough to scare the handsome stranger away in an embarrassing fumble of words and apologies.

Turning back towards Bruce, I saw the two fresh drinks in his hand, and a smug glint lingering at the corner of his mouth. 

I didn’t even bother with quelling the enjoyment in my face. Instead I took the drink offered to me and cheers-ed our glasses together. 

After downing half of my cup, not realizing just how warm I had gotten, Bruce laughed. Raising his voice loud enough to be heard over the bass.

“You should really get out more.”

That made me laugh myself, still hyped up on my newfound sense of self, I braved more conversation. 

“What makes you say that?”

His eyes flickered behind me and I imagined them lingering on the man I was dancing with.

“At best, he’s a 6. There are so many better options for you here.”

I scrunched my nose in disbelief. But before he could continue on with whatever tangent he was about to go on, I took his hand. Fighting through the crowds of people I hadn’t noticed were there before, I led him towards a less occupied corner. One at the edge of a bar.

My phone began buzzing rapidly in my pocket, so when we made it to our place, I took it out to see who might be sending me so many messages in a row. 

Shockingly, it was Lois. First with a handful of images of me Bruce in his car, then several of us walking into the club. Followed by a barrage of messages.

Lois: Hey so quick question

Lois: WHAT THE HELL

Lois: I’m not judging, I promise

Lois: But considering we dated for 8 months, I feel like I should be privy to the fact that you LIKE MEN?

Lois: And also, Bruce Wayne?

Lois: BRUCE WAYNE?!?!

Lois: Wait, does Bruce Wayne like men? 

Lois: Anyways, these pics are from one of Jimmy’s contacts. We have him sworn to keep these out of the press for at least 24 hours. You know, if either of you don’t want those outfits seeing the light of day.

Lois: Okay, that’s all for now. You two look gorgeous together by the way. Have fun, use protection, and don’t let that playboy break your heart.

By the time the last few messages were coming in, I had pointed the screen towards Bruce. Letting him see the contents and enjoying the way he laughed at her sentiments. 

I took a picture of myself with Bruce making a heart with his hands in the background and hit send before talking myself out of it. 

Taking one last look through the photos she had sent, I clicked my phone off and placed it back in my pocket. Holding onto my new drink and letting my head wonder in too many directions. 

Perhaps Bruce could read my distraction, or he got tired of the silence, or even because he had the wherewithal to keep the energy up for our undercover story. But he took a sip from his glass and spoke so casually.

“You have a real talent for writing. When it’s not frivolous pieces about Superman or declining alcohol sales.”

I appreciated the distraction, giving him a rise of my brow. “I have a hard time believing you’ve read more than the front page pieces I’ve penned.”  

He pouted playfully, “You wound me.”

I gave him a light shove to the shoulder. “I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

He leaned his head in close, placing his palm on my chest as he braced his body weight against it to whisper in my ear. “As well as you know my work ethic by now, surely you must know the amount of time I put into researching before acting?”

He pulled back, standing a few inches away. Swirling a straw in the blue contents of his cup.

I tried to keep my face unburdened by thought, not wanting to give any reason for somebody to second guess our intentions here. “And you want me to believe I’m the one you’ve had your eyes on?”

So slowly, he drew the straw up to his lips and drank of the sugary concoction before retorting a non-answer.

“Tell me you’ve not looked into my past.”

I couldn’t hold eye contact at the insinuation, as correct as he was. I took a swig of my champagne based drink. Trying to decide on what I could say here, and what I truly wanted to say to him.

“You have dedicated your life, in more ways than one, to benefiting Gotham. I presume to make your late parents proud. But something tells me it’s deeper than that. And there are some parts of you that I still can’t figure out if they’re real or not. Perhaps even you don’t know anymore”

He looked at me, and I could finally discern a third person amongst the many lives of B. Not the overly stern and alone as a power tactic Batman, not the dramatic womanizing prince of Gotham Brucie Wayne, but the genuine man who laid between. One that cared so deeply for his city, he might have lost himself somewhere along the way. 

He didn’t let the features of his face betray the quiet seriousness in his voice. 

“A boy who moved from small town Kansas to live in the big city, making his way in journalism in an attempt to better the world. Juggling so many different pieces of himself, he sometimes wishes for a normal life. Yet writes like he’s dreaming of more.”

For a moment, that took the air from my lungs. Forcing me to look away from his intensity and take an observing glance around the corner we were drinking in. Of course there were times I wished I had a normal life. Wished that I could have had all the normal experiences granted to humans making their way through childhood and college. Wished I didn’t always feel like I was being pulled between worlds, trying to remember who I am. Wished that I could settle down with somebody I loved and didn’t know the worry that came with getting close to people, heaven forbid the wrong person find out my secret.

The dancefloor started spilling over, quickly filling up the space around us. Forcing him even closer to me with a hand that lingered on my lower back. Saying he was there, and more likely, showing to the others that we were together and not to be disturbed. 

Our faces were closer as well.

As the crowd swayed drunkenly with the music, so did we. Bruce was barely talking above a whisper, but I could hear him crystal clear. “Tell me, are you happy?”

I looked back at him expecting to find judgement or that confident Batman gleam, but I should have known better. Tonight, for now at least, I had the real version of Bruce that I had longed to know of. The side of himself he protects with alter egos. The side that seemed genuinely curious if I were happy with my lot in life. 

“That’s a complicated question.”

He tiled his head to the side, a slight crease in his brow. “Is it?”

(When did Bruce become so philosophical? Well, I guess he could have always been deep and philosophical, I am just now getting the chance to see this part of him. In the wildest setting anyone could ever have imagined being in, let alone with Batman.)

“Well then you tell me. Bruce, are you happy?”

He didn’t hesitate to answer. He had known his words before I had the courage to ask it of him.

“Not as much as I once was, but more than I’ve been recently.”

(Is that why he joined the justice league? Not because we had finally worn him down into saying yes for the good of the world, but because he was… unhappy? Alone?)

I heard intense voices sounding their way towards our shared space. So many thoughts flashed through my brain in an attempt to make sure we were ready for whatever was about to come. But the only one that seemed to be useful in this quick moment was to draw Bruce closer to me. 

His drink spilled messily on the counter where he attempted to place it, and mine still clung in my hand as I drew his firm body practically on top of mine. Instinctually he began to match my movements, grinding and swaying to the beat.

(So, it wasn’t the mayor that had been behind any of this. It was a dirty cop that had been tipping off the drug network anytime the task force was making a move. Keeping the Kingpin one step ahead. He was the second in command it would seem.)

Him and a few large men led us through the crowded club and up a set of stairs towards a private office.

Seeing Brucie Wayne’s full performative dumb ass routine live and in person, was the most entertaining thing I have seen in years. I spent so much of our time in the office watching his body movements and following his sloppy language, that I almost forgot to pay attention to the details around the room. The calendar on the wall with a few important dates circled, unmarked bills in the filing cabinet, and the biometric access computer on the desk at the center. I was willing to bet the information we needed would be found on that thing. 

“Wait here, I’ll be right back with your items.”

When the dirty cop (John) left the room, he manned the outside of the door with 2 of his security guards. Already confirming that there were no cameras in the office, I watched Bruce break character in a split second. The dull yet charming facade fell into a face that held a single train of thought.

“I’m going to work on this computer, you just let me know when they are coming back.”

He jumped up from the chair he had been seated in, running towards the computer to start hacking through the security systems with a handheld gadget. (where the hell did he have that thing? His pants are pretty tight, and he didn’t have a bag with him.)

Coming closer, I watched as he had managed to already break through the password and was now working to bypass the fingerprint scanner. I leaned my backside against the desk and focused my listening onto the men who had just been in here. 

“They’re coming back upstairs. You have maybe a minute left.”

Bruce nodded, “I just need a few moments more to clone the data.”

I continued to monitor, growing worried at the footsteps that were closing in. 

“B, they’re almost here.”

He pushed around a few papers on the desk, knocking over a pen holder and small potted plant. “Sit there.”

There was no time to argue with him about directions, so I moved and sat where he had pointed. My legs hung over the side of the desk, an inch from where he was.

“5 seconds.”

He placed one hand on the small device and slotted his body between my legs. Throwing his other hand up the back of my shirt and meeting my lips with his own. Despite what Lois called my ‘old fashioned and vanilla ways’, they were easily abandoned with the task at hand.

Mimicking the obscene kissing I had seen on the dancefloor, I let my head dip and my tongue plunged forward. Pulling Bruce closer into my space, our chests firm against one another, his hips brushing against my inner thigh.

As the door opened, our bodies flinched naturally in an act of surprise, causing a small commotion at the computer. He was able to pull the small device back to wherever it had been hiding, all the while looking like he owned the place.

“God, is nothing sacred to you people?”

John rolled his eyes, but didn’t suspect that anything was amiss. Though his reaction was making me think he was in this drug business for homophobic reasons. 

“This one’s on the house. And if you like what you see, give us a call. The big man will personally connect you with more.”

John handed us a small bag of powder and a business card that contained only a phone number. In turn, Bruce took a $100 bill from his pocket and threw it on the desk. 

“For your trouble, and discretion.”

He winked and hooked a finger through my waistband. “Let’s get you back home sexy. I’ve got a few things I’d like to try.”

I’m not proud to admit that the sound that came out of my mouth at that moment was more primal than anything I knew I was capable of. Between the thrill of snooping as Clark Kent and almost getting caught, kissing a man for the first time in my life, and the seductive look in those icy blue eyes. I couldn’t help the guttural moan that crept its way up.

And for all the gods in all the heavens, I was thankful for Bruce Wayne’s sexual experience and tact. Because if I had heard that sound in my ear, my head would have been spinning with a hundred questions and a sizable amount of hormones.

The night wrapped up quickly and quietly. Debriefing in the car ride back to the Manor, Bruce was able to confirm he had gotten all the information off the computer, and at least had enough evidence to get the Task Force investigated. And with a sample of the drug to research, we could figure out the best way to combat a drug to reverse overdoses. We were confident that we were on the cusp of ending this thing once and for all. 

When we got back to the manor I didn’t really know how to go about a normal goodbye. But again, Bruce was always one step ahead of me.

“Come in and exit through the back. Unless you want to see more pictures of yourself in that outfit.”

He walked away silently after that. Leaving me with a quiet flight back to my apartment.

PS.I have never been more confused about Batman/Bruce’s sexuality. Actually, I’ve never been more confused about my own sexuality either.

PPS. I am going to have to figure out what to say to Lois next time I see her. There’s not a lot of reasonable explanations for Bruce and I being seen the way we were. And even fewer explanations she would believe. Maybe I can tell her a version of the truth…

August 5th (8)

To be known.

Bruce: Good morning baby, I’m away on business today but feel free to stay in my bed as long as you’d like 😘

A text from Bruce. Something that might feel so natural for one of the many women he tethered himself to. But to be sent to me, was odd.

Not just odd, weird. Crazy. Insane even. So much so, that it had to be a cry for help. One, that if I was reading it correctly, was leading me back to his bed??

With the last of my dignity and more concern than I care to admit, I snuck into Wayne Manor. Not even needing to make it to the bedroom before seeing signs of struggle in the great hall. Scuff marks and items knocked from tables. A broken mirror and a shattered vase. 

Among the wreckage is where I met Alfred. An older English man with balding gray hairs who introduced himself as the butler. 

“Any idea why he would send me this ridiculous text?”

Alfred didn’t even glance towards my phone, seeming to know what it said. Cutting me off before I could assault him with the million questions in my head.

“Master Bruce has been kidnapped and taken hostage in the theater district. The text and mess is a side effect of his dramatic flair.”

But by the way he spoke of Bruce’s predicament, came across as more of a father than anything else. Not  that he seemed too worried about the man’s safety, more annoyed that he was inconvenienced with the clean up. Which strangely enough, calmed me. 

And then came the most mind boggling request of my entire life. (I may have to rethink getting friendly with Bruce Wayne, because nothing is normal around this man.)

“Bruce has requested you suit up as the bat for his rescue. There’s too many parallels between you love birds and a certain pair of heroes in their line of sight.”

I asked the dumb question, because I was in disbelief Batman would let anybody near his suit. Let alone to impersonate him in the field. 

“He requested what? Did he know this was going to happen?”

The look Alfred gave me said he was barely resisting rolling his eyes. 

“Yes, he had made some assumptions about the ramifications of his flamboyant activities. Leaving some preparations in case things turned out this way. You should be familiar with his disposition to plan making”

I nodded my head taking time to process. I hadn’t really thought about how our undercover scheme could have affected his carefully designed public charade. Gotham wasn’t quite as forward thinking as Metropolis. Sure, the masses can look past a womanizing slut if it’s a pretty billionaire, but gay? I’d seen men beat up for less.

“How would the appearance of Batman not just point them to thinking he’s Superman? Wouldn’t that place him in more danger if they thought him bulletproof?”

Alfred cracked a grin that felt like earning a first place ribbon.

“During the kidnapping, they spilled his blood and could clearly tell he was not more than human. If you show up as Batman, you can clear both of your names. 

Thinking about Bruce, even with all his skills and abilities, out there alone and bleeding. It was enough to drive me to go through with such a wild idea.

Alfred led me through the house to a vast and dimly lit cavern. Built out with technology and various forms of his suits and vehicles. (It’s nothing like my fortress of solitude, but I suppose it serves the same purpose.)

Without time to reconsider what was about to happen, I was locked in place with the cowl on as a final touch. Getting a verbal rundown of all the gadgets and gizmos of the suit, and a heavy reminder that Batman does not fly. Or talk much.

Alfred pointed me in the right direction based on cell phone tower triangulation, and I was on my way. 

(Like father like son. A little sassy, a little smug, and a spectacular lack of holding a conversation. It must be maddeningly quiet in that big house.)

Stepping out of a shadow and seeing a stark reflection of myself in the fear-stricken eyes of that crooked cop. I finally understood what it meant to be Batman. Why he couldn’t be one for bright colors or soft edges. No punchlines or personable quips. Bruce specifically chose this outline. This path. This caricature of himself. 

The mask is a reminder that darkness does not mean the absence of light. That even through fear, and grief, and shame, and difference. There is a good to be found and fought for. And accountability for those who choose to harm others, even if you can’t see it, is coming for you. 

I could hear Bruce breathing harshly, like his body wasn’t able to grasp a full breath. Not out of exhaustion, but injury. And my blood boiled.

But wearing the cowl, wearing the life of another man, forced my natural reaction to quell. Giving way to a new method of madness. To a mindfulness that spoke of well timed hands and a preservation of evidence. 

(What is it about Batman that brings out my poetic side??)

In saving him, I kept to the Dark Knight’s sense of Justice and ability. Focusing in on saving Bruce while making it look like I didn’t even know he was there. Which was nearly broken by the sight of him in nothing but a pair of briefs and a robe, with a simple cut down one of his hands. And the ragged breathing of a man with a fractured rib, though I guessed that was more from his crime fighting duties than the kidnappers.

But the thing that broke my concentration was the large-breasted woman in a matching robe next to him. Cowering helplessly into his poised picture of fear. I didn’t let my mind ponder on that for too long, the evidence of a ‘sleep over’ was very evident. Along with their early morning nabbing.

(He is a grown man, allowed to do whatever he wishes to do with his life. I personally think it’s good for him to be surrounding himself with so many people lately.)

The rest of the rescue passed by in a hazy blur. The police arrived in a surprisingly well timed manner, I’m assuming by Alfred’s doing. Bruce’s small wound was cleaned up by a paramedic who couldn’t stop his wandering eyes. And a man known as Commissioner Gordon (who acted friendly towards the cowl) took statements and evidence to bolster the case he had been building against Tommy the KingPin.  

And like Batman would. I assured everybody was safe and accounted for, before silently fading into black. Trying not to let myself be a little disappointed that the case was over as I traded in the batsuit. 

Alfred was kinder this time. Visibly relieved that Bruce was safe and accounted for. I dared to ask him about his more than professional relationship with Bruce, and he gestured to me like we were one in the same. 

I liked that thought. Alfred could be a butler and a father, and I could be a coworker and a friend. Batman contains multitudes, and the handshake from the Englishman told me he hoped to see me again.

August 7th

I don’t know what to do with myself.

Gotham City and Metropolis law enforcement are working together to finish busting the rest of the drug ring. With Tommy the kingpin in custody, along with John the crooked cop who is making plea deals left and right with information. There is nothing left for us to do. 

Lois sent me the Gotham newspaper first thing this morning. And there, on the front page, was an indecent photo of Bruce and Big Titz (finally with a name, Rachel). The large font overhead announcing ‘Bruce Wayne is off the market’. Followed by a sleazy yet charming article about how he and Rachel have made it official after their traumatic situation.

(Why does finding out via the Gotham Newspaper hurt my feelings?)

Not that having a girlfriend is that serious, And not that we’re that close of friends. But I guess just because you’ve kissed a man and been in his clothes, that doesn’t give you a right to information about his life. Apparently. 

(I just can’t shake the feeling of… betrayal is too strong a word. Disappointment is too weak. Heartbreak would be akin to the emotion, though that’s certainly not what this is.)

And now on board the Justice League Station with him, I don’t know how to go back to the way things were. I’ve seen sides of Batman the rest of the team could never imagine. I’ve seen the face under the mask. I’ve met the many versions of Bruce Wayne. 

It was hard enough to keep the names straight. Let alone not look at him with the knowledge of what lies beneath, what his lips taste like and what his real laugh sounds like. To act around him like a distant acquaintance might. 

Sitting aboard the Justice League Station, Flash appeared out of nowhere, and sighed loudly. Waiting until he had the audience he had clearly wanted. 

“What gives? Lately, you two have been the best entertainment on board. But now you won’t even argue or look at each other.”

He gestured to Batman before crossing his hands over his chest (and pouting I’m pretty sure.)

That dark mask grunted in a defiant way, “Ask the Boyscout.”

Typical. Blame it on me. I turned his way (and admittedly, without thinking) spoke. 

“Congratulations on the girlfriend, she’s very pretty.”

The echo of gasps and arched brows around the room reminded me of my place. On a team of heroes that don’t know each other's real identities. So my uncontrolled outburst drew more attention than it usually would. And for that, I was truly sorry. But Batman’s response, well I can’t feel bad for what happened after that.

His jaw tightened into a hard line.

“Don’t.”

I pursed my lips, letting my eyes roll dramatically. 

“Sorry B. I don’t know what you want from me.”

His eyes softened, but he still tensed the muscles in his body.

“Don’t make things personal.”

(Ugh) 

“Look B, it’s not that easy. You should know that I can’t just turn off parts of myself like you can.”

And like Batman always does, he changed the conversation to suit himself.

“It’s a publicity stunt. Surely you’re familiar with the concept.”

(UGH)

“Now who’s making it personal.”

As he tightened his jaw again, I had a thought. A little wicked, but a well planned idea nonetheless. One Batman would hate, but ultimately respect. 

“There’s enough people here to vote. What do we think, team? Should we reveal identities?”

There were murmurs but no outright objections. Even Batman didn’t resist with the venomous urgency as usual.

“All those in favor say Aye.”

There was a loud echo of Ayes. Egged on by the intriguing spectacle before their eyes.

“All opposed, say nay.”

There was only one nay.

“Then it is agreed.”

I did a quick change on board, dressing myself in ill fitting reporter clothes with a press badge and note book visible.

“Clark Kent, I work for the Daily Planet in Metropolis.”

And one by one, identities flowed in front of us. Diana Prince, Museum Curator in Paris. Barry Allen, Forensic Investigator in Central City. Hal Jordan, former Military Pilot. Among others.

Then all eyes were on Batman. Stoic and still as ever, I almost thought he wouldn’t participate. I knew he was probably embarrassed to have anybody see the other mask he wore, but I knew the others would come around. They would still respect him despite his namesake.

He looked at me for a lingering moment, and I nodded encouragingly. (I like to think that is what changed his mind)

Suddenly, he took the mask from his face and ran a hand through his hair.

“Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprise in Gotham City.”

He looked rather put out, but still his face read more as Batman than Bruce or Brucie. I smiled.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

He glared at me, obviously upset at how I had gone about getting my desired outcome. (Though a small part of him, deep deep down, I know appreciates having this weight lifted from him. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of him feeling more at home on the team.)

“I believe you would call this mutually assured destruction B. If one person shares a secret identity, then their own secret will be revealed.”

His face was unmoving,

“We’ll need to make an addendum to the League Bylaws. We must ensure the safety of confidential information. The repercussions of our names leaking—.”

I smiled, he had already accepted his defeat.

“B, we all know you probably have a full draft ready to be voted on and signed in.”

He shook his head, not angry but accepting. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you in on that case.”

I shrugged my shoulders playfully. 

“Oh well, too late now. You’re stuck with me.”

He turned to address the rest of the room. Ignoring me completely. 

“Emergency meeting called. All hands on deck in 72 hours. Masks off, don’t be late.”

He grabbed his cowl and turned with the swish of a cape. Leaving without another word or look. 

August 20th

Breaking news.

I was personally invited to a formal dinner at Wayne Manor. (Formal dinner seems a little much for what it actually ended up being. More like an alcohol induced business meeting).

He flashed me a toothy grin from across the way, but turned back to a group of boring men in suits. They looked as if they were trying to have a serious conversation, but Bruce was having none of it. (Acting in a manner I would bet he dreamed of doing during our league meetings)

I felt like I was being toyed with. He hadn’t spoken a word to me since the new covert identities policy was written into place on the JL station. But now I’m getting invited to his house to attend an event that serves no purpose for me, just to be ignored again.

After an hour of listening to the most pretentious and self obsessed chatter I could tolerate, I was done. Done with playing Bruce Wayne’s games. If he wanted an impersonal relationship between Batman and Superman, he could have it. 

Just as I had reached the foyer, I heard my name much louder than strictly necessary. Sloppy, excited, echoing for all the world to hear.

“Mr.Kent, there you are. I believe we had an interview scheduled, my apologies for getting so distracted.”

He wavered in his steps a few times before steadying out and walking my way. A handful of people were watching us closely, (well, watching Bruce closely) but the rest of the party was already back to enjoying themselves. 

If there had been no eyes on the moment, if he hadn’t made this such a scene, I would have left. But he ruined that opportunity, so I gritted my teeth and forced a smile. 

“Yes of course Mr. Wayne. Perhaps there is somewhere quiet where we could chat.”

We stepped into a room just off the entryway, 

His face fell into soft lines. Not a trace of pomp and circumstance to distract from whatever was going on in my head.

“Why am I here?”

He quirked an eyebrow up, confused.

“Didn’t you get my invitation? I only threw this party for you."

I felt the features of my face contort through a plethora of thoughts. Landing on annoyed.

“What does that even mean B? You’ve looked at me exactly one time. It’s hard to believe this weird dinner party could be for me, when I’ve been ignored the entire time.”

I watched as the soft corners of his mouth turned down.

“Have you not been listening to the talks I’ve been having all night? What good is that hearing of yours?”

I laughed. I audibly laughed.

“No! I don’t make it a habit to listen in on private conversations. Unlike you, I don’t take joy in prying into other people’s lives and personal business.”

He shifted his weight on his feet.

“As I recall, you snooped through some private text messages of mine not too long ago.”

(Oops)

“And I regretted it immediately. Besides, that was different.”

He playfully shook his head, his face unreadable. (And I tried to read it. Staring silently into his eyes as if they might give me the full picture for once.)

I sighed.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why am I here?”

He looked at me so plainly. Like he was piecing together how it was possible I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I’ve been dropping hints to each member of the board and some of my top investors. I’m announcing something big that might rock Wayne Enterprise. You’re here to break the story.”

I didn’t like where that was going.

“Break what story?”

He stared blankly for a long moment.

“You know, for an investigative journalist, you're quite slow.”

I crossed my arms across my chest, annoyed.

“Can you stop being cryptic for like 2 seconds and just tell me.”

“I’m going to propose.”

I didn’t know what to do with myself at that moment. My body flooded with a million questions, all clouded by a flush of emotion that I didn’t dare name. But in my wild attempt to remain cool,  I saw Rachel making her way towards this half of the house, searching for something, or more likely, someone. 

I glanced back at Bruce, not ready to give up the chance to have a genuine conversation and actually get some answers. So with a quick decision, I dragged the two of us into a nearby coat closet. Shutting the door to Big Titz and the rest of the party.

He looked amused at the action. Entertained at being manhandled into a confined space in his own home. Smiling wildly until he finally met my questioning glare head on, and his face fell almost imperceivably.  

“I’m giving you a get out of jail free card. The drug bust and my kidnapping has been flooding the press, and this announcement will keep the media fed for a while. Any pictures of us together won’t ever see the light of day. You won’t be tied to the case, to the club, or to me. You’re free, you can move on.”

My jaw dropped in wild confusion.

“Move on? What am I moving on from? Bruce, nothing can be worth the idea of you stuck in an engagement, gods forbid a marriage, just to get rid of me.”

His mouth was a straight line. 

“Do you think so little of me?”

I huffed.

“I actually think very highly of you. Which makes this much worse.”

We stared at each other for a long while. Long enough for the space between us to grow humid with each breath, and the room to feel like it was closing in tighter and tighter. 

I couldn’t take it, I needed to know why he was doing this now. Why he’s choosing to close the small gap that allowed me a glimpse into his life.

“Bru—“

“You can move on from me. You can have a normal life, with a normal job, and a normal relationship. Without my stupid empire of front page idiocy dictating your world. I’ve already committed my life to my name, no need to drag you down as well.”

The concept of Bruce even thinking of doing anything with me, was already more of a confirmation of our friendship than I needed. Which made me care all the much more about this stupid decision of his.

“Do you love her?”

He straightened his suit instead of looking at me.

“She’s a good fit into my world. Well known, grew up wealthy, social and friendly enough.”

“Do you even like her?”

Again his eyes didn’t quite connect with mine as he flicked off some imaginary dust off his shoulder. 

“She’s trained in taekwando and maintains her fitness, so she can handle herself for a time if anything serious happens.”

I wanted to grab his face and shake some sense into that pretty head of his.

“If you don’t care about yourself, what about her? How do you think she’ll feel knowing you’ve picked her as a prop?”

He shrugged.

“If it wasn’t me, it would be a politician or actor or some other golden boy. I can offer her money and status, and she can offer me the chance to close the worst part of my life.”

“Which is?”

“Bruce Wayne is a philandering playboy. I don’t— I just can’t do it anymore.”

His eyes finally met mine, and for the first time, I could see a deep seated despair. The sadness of giving up.

“What about your nights huh? You don’t think she’ll get suspicious about what you’re doing when you disappear for hours or days at a time?”

“She’ll be suspicious of my loyalty, then I’ll buy her a car or send her to an all-inclusive resort with her friends, and it will be okay. Billionaires keep secrets, and she gets that.”

I frowned, closing my eyes for a second as I tried to piece everything together.

“Bruce.”

His eyes flicked to my lips before meeting my eyes with a vulnerability.

The look was fleeting, only for a moment. But it burned the contents of my stomach in an unfamiliar way. His heart quickened and then there was a blurring motion.

(I don’t claim fault for what happened)

But my lips were suddenly delving into soft cushions that turned firm in a way I didn’t know I liked. The fire in my stomach burned hotter at the taste on my tongue.

This was way different than when we had kissed in the club. This wasn’t done as a visual distraction, trying to mimic what we had seen before. But this kiss was one of passion, and a sudden need to be closer to that intoxicating cologne. 

His hands snaked to my hips and pushed my body back, and I let him land me squarely against the wall. 

My tongue searched deeper into his mouth, teeth scraping across lips as I clawed at his much too expensive suit. Trying to pull him closer than humanly possible. Like our atoms could occupy the same space in the small closet. 

His knee grazed against my inner thigh and forced a sigh to escape my mouth. Bruce took the opportunity and delved his tongue further, running it along my teeth and tongue.

(This has been running through my mind on an endless loop. I’ve never understood the concept of being horny before, but that man figured out how to turn me on and now I can’t find the off switch.)

“FUCK.”

He threw himself back, and I could see the wild look in his eyes. His face, for the first time, portrayed a myriad of very recognizable thoughts and feelings.

He turned and was about to open the door to leave, but I didn’t want him to. I couldn’t leave it at that, wondering all night and day what it meant. Wondering if he was still going to propose to that woman. Wondering what I meant to him.

“Why did you get Chelsea’s phone number?”

He looked at me in stark confusion, and I was glad just to have him back to reality for a moment.

“Who?”

“Chelsea, that woman from the warehouse district. You flirted your way into getting her number as Batman. Was that just to show off?”

He shook his head sternly.

“Why would I do that?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know Bruce, you do a lot of things I don’t understand.”

He looked a little sheepish at being called out, but refused to engage in the deeper meaning.

“She was hanging around the Rooster Room when we were questioning those guys at Pride. And then conveniently she's near a known drug location? I got her name and number to track down her business. She’s got access to several properties that are tied to this ring.”

(Ohhhhh.)

“Oh.”

He gave a curt nod,

“Yeah.”

I bit my cheek.

“Then why did you save her under ‘Girl next door’?”

He shifted his weight, leaning a shoulder against the door he had almost walked out of.

“Ah yeah, maybe I was showing off a bit.”

(I turned the question back on him.)

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you—“

He cut himself off, trying to even his voice. 

“You’ve ruined me.”

(That genuinely took me so off guard, I stepped closer just to make sure I was hearing him right.)

“You give me too much credit.

He coughed lightly, amused but still overcome by something heavy.

“Seeing how freely you give yourself to your emotions. How caring and strong you can be to the entire team, and how the league is better for it. How sincere you are in friendship.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, like he was waging a war within himself, struggling to allow these words to be heard by another. 

It came out very soft, almost a whisper. 

“I spent a very long time protecting myself against relationships and attachments, but you make it very hard to keep it that way.”

He turned back towards the door, not ashamed, but emotionally drained.

I heard the click of the handle in the frame

“Bruce, please stay.”

He drew a long hesitant breath.

“Do you know what you’re asking for?”

“Yes.”

“I had a plan.”

“You’re Batman, you make at least a dozen plans for every occasion. Find a new one. One that makes you happy.”

He huffed louder than necessary, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Happy… What about you Clark?”

“I just want you to be happy Bruce. Do what you need to do, I’ll be here for you either way.”

He wavered for a long moment. And I don’t know what I expected to happen, but it certainly wasn’t for him to leave.

Closing the door swiftly behind him as he put on his Brucie Wayne facade to make his way through a few lingering people. Though convincing, his usual fanfare was much more subdued.

And I didn't stay around to see what became of the night. Gay, straight, engaged, loving me, hating me. Whatever inner turmoil that man was going to overcome, he will know where to find me if he needs me.

PS. I’m still very turned on from that kiss. A KISS. I didn’t know something so simple could linger on me the way that man can.

PPS. I think I’m in love with Bruce Wayne

August 28th 

Putting on a show.

Waiting on the bridge of the justice league station, Bruce walked in. Unencumbered by the presence of his dark cowl, and seemingly, the emotional toll or pining for your best friend for a week. Though he did look tired. Like lack of sleep, tiredness.

His crystal blue eyes landed on mine, and the corner of his mouth raised almost enough to be called a smile.

“Clark.”

I wish he could hear how fast my heart was beating. The sound of my name leaving his lips.

“Bruce.”

Hal overpowered the room, letting out an impressive whistle towards Bruce.

“Is this why you didn’t want to share identities B-man? It’s hard to look you in the eye after seeing some of those papers with your name in it.”

Those blue eyes flashed out of focus for a moment, like he was trying not to relive the memories conjured up by that statement. I was afraid of what it might mean, but I didn't dare jump to any conclusions.

“How’s Big— Rachel. How’s she doing?”

He swallowed too harshly, that far away look still present on his face. “Off with some guy from a reality tv show.”

(My heart went from a stammering pound to a light flutter.)

“Oh is that so.”

Wally gasped.

“Come on dude, you live right next to Gotham, you had to have seen a single paper in the last week. Even I’ve seen those headlines.”

I shook my head.

“No, I’ve been avoiding the news recently.”

Bruce still hadn’t taken his eyes off me, but he focused again. Reading me intently.

“Why is that?”

(There it is. There’s the emotional side that makes me weak at the knees)

I shrugged.

“If there was anything worth knowing, I figured my friend Bruce would let me know.”

I raised a brow at him, ignoring the small murmurs and whispers occurring around us.

“So, is there anything worth knowing?”

He took a firm step forward.

“Gotham city is surprisingly accepting of billionaire playboys coming out of the closet.”

My head ran rampant thinking of what had been going on in the media recently, and if I should have actually kept tabs on his safety. (Not that I hadn’t thought about it obviously. But there’s a fine line between checking in on a friend and stalking somebody you’re in love with. I really wasn’t keen to toe that distinction)

“Is that all?”

His mouth drew up into a smirk now, he was toying with me. 

“That, and there are hundreds of slutty gay pictures circulating of me and about 90% of the survivors of the Fairy Dust drug epidemic.”

(I prayed to every god in existence that I wasn’t reading his words wrong.)

Taking a step closer, I urged him to continue. 

“What ever would you do that for?”

He gave me a wicked smile that burned wild in my throat.

“Perhaps to saturate the press. You know, just in case anybody with a camera sees Bruce Wayne and his boyfriend strolling about.”

(I rolled my eyes, forgetting about the amount of people who were currently privy to this conversation. And the commentary between Hal and Diana, both of whom couldn’t agree on weather we were fuck buddies or this was a really awkward fight between friends)

“Boyfriend? Wow, I really did miss a lot since I saw you last. It’s a good thing I’m not the jealous type.”

Bruce laughed deeply, and it sounded angelic reverberating off the metal walls. 

“We both know you’re the jealous type, don’t lie.”

(Hal and Wally were now certain we’ve been sleeping together, and Diana managed to coral the still suited up Hawkgirl and Black Canary to the conversation. The three of them whispered quietly about how dumb men are.)

“You can’t just flash that charming smile at me. I need more.”

His smile grew brighter.

“You think I’m charming?”

I couldn’t help placing my hands on my hips.

“I think you’re charming, and frustrating, and sexy, and emotionally constipated, and the most meaningful person I’ve ever met.”

Bruce took those words and nodded approvingly. Letting out a small laugh.

“Aren’t you wondering what I think of you?”

I looked up, plastering a cheesy thinking look to my face.

“It would be nice if you could clear up a few things for me, yes.”

He waited until I looked back into his eyes before responding sincerely. Only letting his Cheshire grin appear at the end.

“I think you’re caring, and overly emotional, and hot, and kind, and just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.”

I nodded my own head, not breaking eye contact. Somehow afraid that if I blinked, I’d find out this was all a dream.

“And what are you going to do about that?”

His face turned serious, losing all sense of the charming Bruce Wayne that had just been there, and I had to look away. 

I took a quick glance around, examining why the bridge had become so deathly silent. I didn’t expect to find three sets of hands, snaking out from each of the girls, covering the mouths of a handful of other members. Each staring on in a mix of confusion, excitement, or contentment.

“I’m going to tell you I love you, and hope you don’t hate me.”

My eyes shot back to him. To those words. 

“I couldn’t hate you.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He needed to hear more, and I would happily let him have everything from me.

“I love you. I’m in love with you Bruce.”

The way his face lit up let loose butterflies in my stomach and my heart fluttered. To see him feel something so loudly and freely, I wanted to take him in my arms.

So I did.

I stepped towards him and took him into a deep embrace. Pulling his body close to mine, Bruce fit in my arms like I had been missing a piece of myself all this time. His breath tickled at the side of my neck, and I felt at home. 

When he pulled away from me slightly and caught my eyes in his own look, there was a noise that let out from the sizable crowd that had gathered around.

“KISS HIM YOU IDIOT.”

I wasn’t sure who had said it, and I was even less certain if it was meant for me or Bruce. But it was good advice that I intended to listen to.

With one last look, I drew him closer and caught his lips in a kiss. 

This wasn’t a hasty performance like it was at the Rooster Room. It wasn’t a heated plea like it was in that small closet. This was soft like a promise. 

When we finally broke apart, he did the most Bruce thing I could think of. And that was to try and convince me he was wrong for me.

“You know dating Bruce Wayne is going to be messy.”

“I know.”

“And I’m going to be really mad at you if you ever show favoritism for me out in the field or on a case.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to have a hard time keeping a low profile as Clark now."

“I know.”

“We’re going to have to write a policy about internal relationships.

I sighed.

“I know.”

He surprised me by looking around, speaking louder now.

“And not just for us.”

I matched the line of his vision, surprised who I saw on the other end.

“Who has Green Arrow been fraternizing with??”

Oliver’s face paled and looked sheepishly at Black Canary (I think her real name is Dinah?). And she looked just as guilty. 

But then Bruce surprised me again by looking towards another member of the league.

“Green Lantern? You know, I have seen him being real chatty with Hawkgirl.”

Bruce smiled and nodded, confirming my suspicion. 

“Okay you gossipy queens, can you just go screw or something? This has been a lot to take in.”

My jaw dropped hearing Diana speak that way. Though it was slightly less surprising hearing it out of her civilian identity than her in full Wonder Woman costume. 

I looked back to Bruce and he winked at me. 

I grabbed his hand and led him towards my room on board. 

His growling laugh left the room full of people who didn’t know what to do with themselves. But that wasn’t my problem. 

I had the man I loved, and a new and exciting future to start building with him.

PS. I don't think I need this diary anymore, It's served it's purpose. I'm not stressed anymore. I have Bruce by myside, a normal relationship with Lois again, and I've been closer than ever with my Justice League Team. Not to be cheesy, but I think this is my happily ever after.