Chapter Text
Barry thinks they were dating for years.
Hal thinks that they were married and broke it off.
Another Justice League member is certain that they lived together.
The reality is this: no one knows the truth. But what the Justice League members do know is that Batman and Superman definitely have some weird connection going on.
It’s not like they’re going off of a blank slate here either! It started off subtle, as all things tend to do.
“Did you eat?” Superman asks The Bat, who is staring at a large computer monitor. Who knows how long he has been there.
The Watchtower is mostly empty at this hour, save for the low mechanical hum of machinery and the occasional click from Batman's keyboard. Bruce hasn't moved from his chair in what feels like forever. His cape is pushed behind him, shoulders hunched forward, the blue glow of the computer washing over the exposed portion of his face.
There’s a half-empty cup of coffee beside him. No food.
“Don’t start,” Bruce mumbles gruffly, not sparing the other man a glance.
Clark raises his hands, perhaps to make himself appear more amicable in hopes of tempering Bruce’s mood. “I’m not starting anything.”
“Hmph.” Bruce clicks open a new tab. “You always say that.”
Always??
That catches Barry’s attention.
He had been sitting a few chairs away, supposedly reading through a mission report. Now, however, the words on the screen have suddenly become significantly less interesting. Don’t get him wrong, Superman and Batman have always butted heads. It’s hard not to when you have the embodiment of sunshine and the epitome of gloom and doom forced to work together on a regular basis.
But always implies that Superman nags Batman about this often.
Was this perhaps an issue in their past relationship? Was Superman’s constant inquiry a matter of tension when they were together? Maybe Batman's refusal to eat was one of those little things that started out harmless before eventually becoming one of the cracks in their relationship.
Perhaps he’s looking into it too much.
Or… perhaps not.
Because then there are all the other things. Clark knows Bruce's coffee order. Bruce keeps spare glasses with him at seemingly all times. Clark has unrestricted access to Wayne Manor. They argue about Clark's recklessness. Bruce complains that Clark never listens. Clark complains that Bruce shuts him out.
They have small, petty back-and-forths that sound less like two superheroes discussing League matters and more like two people who have been having the exact same argument for the last ten years.
“You’re late,” Batman announces as Superman walks through the door.
The League meeting started five minutes ago at exactly eight o'clock. Everybody knows how punctual The Bat is.
“Sorry.” Superman smiles abashedly, taking his seat directly across from Bruce, who is staring daggers into him from underneath that cowl. “I have a second job,” he attempts to jest.
Nobody laughs which is mostly because Batman is still staring at him, unamused.
“I said eight.”
“It’s only 8:05.”
“You’re still late.”
“I stopped a bus from going over a bridge.”
“You knew about the meeting yesterday.”
Clark's mouth opens and then promptly closes. He makes an impressive effort not to sigh and smiles instead, folding his hands neatly on the table so that the meeting may move on. It seems to work and Batman ignores him for the rest of the meeting.
Or, at least, he appears to ignore him. Because approximately twenty minutes later, Superman reaches toward the center of the table without looking, and Batman wordlessly slides the tablet he was reaching for directly into his waiting hand. Neither of them even looks at each other.
Barry looks at Hal. Hal looks at Barry. Diana notices both of them looking and politely decides not to involve herself.
However, they don’t argue all the time, though.
This is why Hal thinks that they were married.
“They just know each other a little too well,” he tells Barry and Diana one afternoon.
And it’s true.
Superman knows at all times when and where Batman will be. Sure, you could argue that it’s possible for him to do this with anyone due to his Kryptonian biology, but it’s the fact that he seeks out Bruce first and without prompting. If Batman disappears from a meeting? Superman knows where he went. If someone asks where Batman is? Superman answers. If Batman's heartbeat changes from three rooms away? Clark's head turns.
It’s weird.
Then food starts to magically appear at Superman’s desk.
At first, Barry assumes Clark is bringing it himself. That theory lasts until one afternoon when Diana happens to walk into the room just in time to see Batman place a paper bag beside Superman's computer.
Bruce says nothing and Diana says nothing and they walk away peacefully. Twenty minutes later, Clark arrives, sits down, opens the bag, and starts eating. Superman never acknowledges it, and neither does Batman.
There’s another instance where Superman adjusts Batman’s cowl before some League event without even thinking about it. They’re standing amongst the others when Clark suddenly frowns.
“Hold on.”
Bruce looks up at him.
Clark reaches forward and fixes the edge of his cowl where it looked a little crooked. His movements are careful, fingertips brushing the side of Bruce's face with a little too much familiarity and a little too much warmth in his eyes.
And Bruce just lets him! If it was anyone else, their hands would have been cut clean off!
“Oh my god,” Hal quietly says.
It does not go unheard by Bruce.
“What?” he grumbles, Clark's hands have already retreated.
Hal shakes his head quickly. “Nothing.”
These can all be coincidences though, right?
Maybe Superman and Batman are just really good friends. Like…really good friends. Even Diana, in all of her wisdom, isn't exactly sure what’s going on between those two. She has theories, of course. She simply has enough sense not to voice them. Unlike Barry.
But then one day, Bruce gets hurt during a mission.
A skyscraper-sized leviathan made of millions of grinding gears, iron rivets, and puffing steam vents is causing chaos throughout Gotham, each lumbering step shaking the streets beneath it. Its mechanical limbs tear through concrete like paper. Steam rolls between the buildings in thick clouds, firelight flickering orange through the haze.
It is a battle Batman (begrudgingly) cannot fight alone.
Perhaps it is a good thing he has backup that day because who knows what he would have done after he gets thrown against a wall. The impact is sickening—Bruce’s back hits brick hard enough to crack it behind him before falling several feet onto the pavement below.
“Batman!” Wonder Woman calls out.
He doesn't answer immediately and Clark is there before anyone else can move. Bruce pushes himself onto one elbow, breath hitching sharply, and then coughs. Blood spatters across the pavement, flowing out of him like a stream.
For half a second, nobody says anything until Clark's expression changes.
“You’re done.” There is something in Superman's voice that none of the other members have ever heard before. Anger. Not the righteous fury Superman directs at villains. Not irritation. Fear disguised as anger.
He hovers over the other man, whose face is impossibly calm considering thick, red blood is pooling at the corner of his mouth.
“I decide when I’m done,” Batman says in typical Bat fashion.
He plants one hand against the ground and attempts to stand but his whole body wavers when he tries.
Clark catches his arm.
“B, you can barely stand—”
“The mission isn’t—”
“The mission will survive without you for ten minutes!”
Clark's voice booms loudly enough to echo between the buildings.
Hal raises his eyebrows. Even Diana looks away from such an intense moment. Batman shuts his mouth quickly.
His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks down at the blood-soaked pavement beneath his boots. For one long moment, the only sounds are distant sirens, grinding metal, and Bruce's uneven breathing.
Then:
“You don’t get to make that decision for me anymore, Kal.”
Barry’s head practically explodes. ANYMORE?? They definitely went through a catastrophic divorce!
Clark's expression crumbles just slightly.
“B,” Clark whispers, so desperately that his voice almost breaks. “You promised me you wouldn't do this again.”
And Barry finally snaps.
“Okay, I'm sorry, but what the hell happened between you two?!”
There’s a long stretch of silence before they both turn their heads toward him and blink at the same time.
“What,” Bruce breathes out, breath ragged from his injury, “are you talking about?”
Okay, maybe this isn’t the most appropriate time. There is a mechanical leviathan destroying Gotham approximately four blocks away. Batman might have several broken ribs and Superman looks like he's approximately thirty seconds away from either murdering someone or having a nervous breakdown.
But it’s too late to go back now!
“Your marriage!” Barry exclaims as if it was obvious and behind him, Hal nods affirmingly.
Clark chokes.
And Bruce slowly scowls. “Our what?”
“Your, um…” Barry's confidence falters. “Marriage?”
Bruce stares at him, Clark stares at him and Hal stops nodding.
“Marriage,” Bruce repeats flatly.
“Yeah.”
“To each other.”
“...Yeah?”
Clark's mouth opens but nothing comes out.
Bruce looks at Clark and Clark looks at Bruce. Something silent passes between them.
Barry knows that look! He has seen that look! That is exactly the kind of freaky telepathic ex-husband communication divorced couples have!
Then Clark makes a strangled noise. “We've never been married.”
Bruce wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his glove. “We've never dated.”
Now even Diana looks at them as Barry's mouth falls open.
“Never?”
“No,” Clark says.
“Not even—”
“No.” Bruce interjects.
Hal steps forward. “Wait.”
Bruce's glare moves to him.
Hal, somehow, continues.
“You're telling me that you two have never been together?”
“No,” Bruce says.
“You didn't have some horrible breakup?”
“No,” Clark answers.
“You never lived together?”
“No.”
“You weren't engaged?”
“No.”
“You've never—”
“Stop.” Bruce says firmly.
Hal shuts his mouth as Barry looks between them. Slowly, horrifyingly, another possibility occurs to him.
“Have you guys even kissed?”
Superman turns bright red and Batman goes completely still.
What…?
Barry's eyes widen.
“YOU HAVEN'T?!”
The League discovers right there that Batman and Superman have never even held hands.
Absolute outrage.
----
“You have a bedroom at his house!”
The argument resumes approximately forty-five minutes later.
The leviathan has been dealt with. Gotham is, for the most part, still standing, and Batman has been forcibly confined to the Watchtower medbay with two cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, and strict instructions not to move. Naturally, Bruce is sitting upright with Clark standing beside his bed.
Barry, Hal, and Diana are standing at the foot of it. Nobody remembers inviting them.
“It’s a guest room,” Clark says.
“It has your clothes in it!” Barry shoots back.
“I stay over sometimes!” He shrugs, entirely too tired and a tad flustered to be dealing with this.
Hal throws his hands into the air. “You stay over sometimes?!”
“After missions!”
“At your ex-husband's house!”
“He is not my ex-husband!”
“Apparently!”
Bruce closes his eyes. His head hurts but perhaps he can will the concussion into taking him away from this terrible conversation.
Diana, meanwhile, is watching with an expression that is becoming increasingly difficult to interpret. Barry begins counting on his fingers.
“You know his coffee order.”
Clark frowns. “So?”
“He keeps your glasses in his utility belt.”
“They break often.”
“You bring him food.”
“He forgets to eat.”
“He brings you food.”
“I forget to eat.”
“You know his heartbeat.”
“I know everyone's heartbeat.”
“Do you know my heartbeat?”
Clark pauses. Barry points accusingly.
“Exactly!”
“That proves nothing!”
Barry turns to Bruce. “You call his mother.”
Clark's face changes and Bruce finally opens his eyes.
Clark slowly turns toward him.“You call my mom?”
“She calls me,” Bruce answers smoothly.
“But you answer!” Hal interjects.
“What am I supposed to do, ignore her?”
“Yes!” Hal exclaims. “That's what normal coworkers do when their coworker's mother calls!”
Clark stares at him before saying with finality: “We're friends.”
The room goes quiet and Barry's expression becomes almost pitying.
“Clark.”
“What?”
“Come on.”
Clark looks genuinely offended now. Bruce, unfortunately, has become interested.
“What exactly are you implying?” The Bat asks.
Four heads turn toward him.
Barry gestures helplessly between the two of them.
“This!”
Bruce's eyebrows pull together.
“This what?”
“This whole—” Barry waves both hands around. “Whatever this is! You guys argue like you're divorced, worry about each other like you're married, know everything about each other, and apparently do everything except actually date!”
“We're partners,” Bruce says.
Hal groans. “That is worse!”
Bruce's glare sharpens before Diana finally speaks.
“I believe what they are trying to say is that the intimacy of your relationship is unusual for two people who consider themselves merely friends.”
Barry nods. “Yeah. That.”
Clark looks at Bruce. Bruce looks at Clark. Again, that silent communication!
Barry nearly screams. “And you do that!”
“Do what?” Clark asks.
“Look at each other!”
“You are upset because we look at each other,” Bruce says, teetering on annoyed now.
“No! You're having entire conversations!”
“We're not.”
Bruce glances toward Clark, Clark's brow furrows. Bruce's eyes flick briefly toward the door and Clark sighs.
“Guys, Bruce needs to rest.”
Barry's jaw drops. “YOU JUST DID IT!”
“I said nothing,” Bruce growls.
“THAT'S THE PROBLEM!”
Eventually, Diana takes pity on him and ushers Barry and Hal from the room before Bruce's blood pressure becomes a greater concern than his ribs. Their voices continue down the hallway.
“I still think they were married.”
“Hal, they literally weren't.”
“Then explain everything!”
The doors slide shut.
Silence finally settles over the medbay and Clark exhales deeply.
Bruce leans his head back against the pillow, resting his eyes.
For several seconds, neither of them speaks.
“Ex-husband?” Bruce's voice is dry.
Clark looks over and despite everything, a laugh escapes him.
Bruce's mouth twitches. He’s always loved the other’s laugh. It’s like sunbeams streaming through a curtain. Not that he would ever admit that outloud.
“Oh, come on,” Clark says. “You have to admit it's a little funny.”
“I don't.”
“They thought we were married, Bruce.”
“I was present.”
“And divorced!”
“Yes.”
“Apparently it was catastrophic.”
“So I've gathered.”
Clark laughs again and Bruce watches him. The tension in Clark's shoulders has finally disappeared. His cape hangs loosely behind him, one hand resting against the edge of Bruce's bed.
Then Clark's smile slowly fades, not completely but just enough.
“Do we really act like that?”
Bruce's gaze shifts. “Like what?”
“You know.”
“I don't.”
“Bruce.”
Clark looks down at his hands. “Like we're…” He doesn't finish. For once, Bruce doesn't either. The medbay suddenly feels much quieter than it did before. Clark thinks about the spare glasses. Bruce thinks about the food. Clark thinks about Wayne Manor and the bedroom that hasn't truly been a guest room in years. Bruce thinks about Smallville. About Martha sending him a Christmas present last year. About Clark falling asleep on his couch. About knowing Clark's footsteps in the Manor well enough that he doesn't look up anymore when he hears them approaching. Clark looks at Bruce again but Bruce is already looking at him and something passes between them.
For once, neither of them knows what it means.
Clark clears his throat. “You should rest.”
“Hm.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“And don't try to leave the second I walk out.”
Bruce looks offended.
“You have two cracked ribs.”
“I am aware.”
“I'll know.”
“You always do.”
Clark pauses. There it is again. Always. A strange little word. Clark's mouth curves upward.
“Goodnight, B.” He turns toward the door.
“Clark.”
Clark stops and looks back.
Bruce seems to reconsider whatever he was about to say but his expression closes.
“Nothing.”
Clark watches him for another second and then… smiles.
“Goodnight, B.”
The door closes behind him and when it closes with a soft thud, Bruce stares at it.
And, for the first time in a very long time, the World's Greatest Detective finds himself confronted with a question he has absolutely no idea how to answer: Why aren't they together?
Outside the medbay, Clark makes it exactly six steps before stopping in the middle of the corridor.
His brow furrows. Slowly, he looks back at the closed door.
“Oh.”
Barry, hiding around the corner, clamps both hands over Hal's mouth before he can make a sound.
Diana walks past them and she doesn't stop, doesn't even look at them. But there is an unmistakable smile on her face. Perhaps, Barry thinks, the Justice League had been wrong.
Batman and Superman weren't divorced.
Not yet, anyway.