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Three years ago, Gotham flooded. The world watched in horror as a cackling clown held the flooded city hostage, blowing up buildings and killing people with abandon. The standoff between the clown and the police lasted three weeks, before a new man showed up. He wore all black, down to the cape and the kick-ass boots. He hid his identity behind a cowl, complete with ears. He called himself “The Dark Knight”, and he said he was Gotham’s protector. In less than forty-eight hours, he did what the police couldn’t, taking down the clown, and locking him up in Arkham. Within a few days, Gotham had gone back to normal. Batman, as he was called by the press, found and disabled the bombs. And then disappeared.
He reappeared a few times, always when really bad things were happening in Gotham, but otherwise kept to the shadows and the underworld. Six Batman-level events later, and Perry White, Clark Kent’s boss at the Metropolis newspaper, The Daily Planet, sent him to Gotham. To interview Batman.
Clark was the only choice to interview Batman, according to Perry White. Mostly because he was the only one who wasn’t able to argue that they had plans, meetings, anything, to get out of going to Gotham on short notice. He took the ferry across from Metropolis, noticing how the sky got darker, and it got colder and damper the closer he got to Gotham. He’d have preferred to fly, but there wasn’t any way to explain that. He packed his cape in his suitcase, and wore his worst suit. It was Gotham, and it was going to rain for the entire time he was supposed to be there. The ferry docked in Gotham, and Clark got off. He took a deep breath of damp and smog, and sighed. This was gonna suck.
The next day, Clark was walking back to his hotel when someone tried to mug him. It wasn’t quite broad daylight, but it certainly wasn’t night, and Clark was in one of the nicer parts of town. Clark wasn’t worried about the gun the mugger pulled. He was more worried about being shot and being outed as Superman. By a two-bit thug in Gotham. He was stammering out what he hoped the mugger wanted to hear, when he heard the distinctive “hiss-kuthunk” of a grappling hook. Batman. He almost sighed. Seriously, this was his life? Batman thinking he needed saving. Batman swooped into the alley, kicked the mugger in the chest, knocking him to the ground, grabbed Clark, and swung them both out of the alley.
Clark fought down the instinctive urge to fly, knowing that Batman would notice that he was flying, and come to the same conclusion that the mugger would. It was far harder than he’d expected, keeping himself from taking to the air and flying. They landed on the roof of Clark’s hotel. Batman made sure he was balanced, and stepped to the edge of the roof.
“You should be more careful,” Batman said, and swung out of sight. There was the slightest hiss of his grappling hook, a swish of a cape. The only evidence he’d even been on the roof was the Batman insignia in the boot print he left in the white gravel.
Clark noticed none of this, as he stood on the roof, getting thoroughly soaked by rain, dumbfounded. It couldn’t have been. He must have misheard. Batman could not have said what Clark thought he said. There was simply no way he’d said “You should be more careful” before swinging off of the roof. It was that, or Batman was his Soulmate, and that was something even Superman couldn’t contemplate.
Ever since he could remember, Clark had had “You should be more careful” on the back of his right shoulder. It was there when his parents found him in a corn field, an infant alone in the wreckage of an alien spacecraft. It was there when his powers started coming in. His parents were sure it had something to do with his powers, sure it had something to do with how he was different. “You should be more careful” could mean so many things. And could be said by just about anyone. They didn’t have to be about his powers.
(Having those words on his shoulder made Clark more aware of when he did minor things that everyone did, such as jaywalking and crossing against the light. Once his powers fully came in, he rarely did either, knowing what would happen if he was hit by a car. It would not be pretty. For the car.)
Standing there on a rooftop in Gotham, in the rain, the tingling in his shoulder making it clear that Batman had indeed just said his words, Clark knew that he was well and truly fucked. And not just because of the paperwork he’d need to fill out at the Planet when he got back. But first, he needed to call his mother. And then Lois.
His mother had no helpful advice, but was happy to hear that her son had found his Soulmate. She was a little disconcerted that it was a caped vigilante, but if anyone could handle that, it would be Superman. Lois just laughed at him, saying Batman was perfect for him.
“And now, you’re gonna have to figure out who wears the cowl, right?” she asked, later, after she’d stopped laughing. He could picture her, lying in the bed in a crappy motel, waiting to meet her source for the exposé she was writing on one of the many corrupt politicians in the world.
“He’s your Soulmate, Clark,” she added when he didn’t say anything. “Your Soulmate.”
“Means I can’t write about him though,” Clark reminded her. “How am I supposed to figure out who he is, if I have no reason to be in Gotham?”
“As long as you sign the paperwork and have someone edit your stories for bias, Perry will let you write about Batman.” Lois sighed. “Hell, Perry is gonna be thrilled when he learns about you and Batman.”
Clark huffed a laugh. “Maybe this will let me get off the Bruce Wayne beat?” he asked, hopeful.
“Unlikely,” Lois said. “You know what that man thinks of Cat Grant.”
Clark laughed and laughed, eventually getting himself off of the roof and into his room, where he took the hottest shower his crappy hotel shower could.
A few months later, Clark was half asleep in Metropolis when he heard the distinctive sounds of a scuffle. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and listened. He’d need a few moments to decide if it was something he’d need to get involved with. Superman couldn’t be everywhere, stopping everything, which was something he’d had to come to terms with early in his career. Sometimes, he just had to let the little things happen, so that he’d be able to handle the big things.
What he could hear this time was odd enough that he changed into his suit and flew to… Gotham? He followed the sounds to a ruined conservatory, and found Bruce Wayne, suspended from the ceiling by… vines. Yes, living green vines. Gotham was fucking weird.
Wayne was arguing with someone Clark couldn’t see, so he used his x-ray vision to find the person. It was a slim woman, and she was not happy about something Wayne was insisting he hadn’t done. Tired and cold, Clark really didn’t care about the dispute, so he cut Wayne from the rafters with his laser vision, caught the startled billionaire, who squawked and swore in at least two languages. Clark was briefly surprised that he knew how to swear in multiple languages.
Clark flew them to the roof of the Wayne Enterprises headquarters building in downtown Gotham, placing the shell-shocked billionaire on the roof, and hovering in front of him. Wayne looked at him, his head tilted slightly to the side, and it struck Clark that he was far more intelligent than his public persona would suggest.
“You should be more careful, Mister Wayne,” he said. He tipped his head and flew back to Metropolis. His bed was calling. He completely missed Bruce Wayne’s reaction to his words.
Bruce Wayne stood in the rain on the roof of the tallest building in Gotham, which just so happened to have his last name on it, and laughed. It was just his luck, after all. His soulmate was none other than the alien. The superhuman alien.
All of his life, Bruce Wayne had had “You should be more careful, Mister Wayne” on the back of his right shoulder. Knowing that he had a Soulmate had helped him survive some of his darkest days. Knowing his Soulmate was out there helped him survive witnessing his parents’ murder, helped him survive Ra’s and his tactics, and Crime Alley in Gotham. Knowing he had a Soulmate had been all that got him through the Joker flooding Gotham, almost taking the Bat with him. And, now. Now he learned the truth. His Soulmate was the goddamn alien! Fate was fucking with him.
Once he stopped laughing, he pulled a cigarette from the case in his jacket pocket, and lit it, inhaling the acrid smoke, feeling his lungs burn. He exhaled smoke through his nose, making sure to look as nonchalant as possible. The doors swung open, and Wayne Enterprises security came running out. They looked confused at why their CEO was standing on the roof, smoking, but didn’t ask him any questions. They herded him back into the building, back behind the bulletproof glass Lucius Fox had invented. Bruce barely had time to toss his unfinished cigarette on the roof before he was shuffled into the stairwell. He made sure to hold a politely confused look as his head of security reminded him why he wasn’t supposed to be on the roof by himself. Something about being a prime kidnapping target. If they even knew.
There were times he regretted being the Prince of Gotham. Times when he wished he could do normal people things, without having to worry where his security. Time when he wished he could be the Bat in his day-to-day life. He took a deep breath, and let his security deposit him in his own office. He had research to do. Superman had a secret identity, and he was going to find it.
A few months later, Bruce had nothing. In fact, Bruce had less than nothing on Superman’s secret identity. What he did have, though, was a potential contact. The only person Superman had ever given an interview to was a bumbling, corn fed disaster of a polite midwesterner who worked for the Metropolis newspaper, The Daily Planet. Bruce used everything the Batcomputers had to find information on Clark Kent, but there was very little.
He looked at his data, sparse as it was. It was far sparser than it should be, given everything Bruce had access to, including several very confidential government databases. Kent had no social media Bruce could find, which would make it very difficult for Bruce to arrange a “coincidental’ meeting. It would be easier to buy the paper. Which… what the hell. How much could the paper cost, anyway?
Speaking of the Daily Planet...
Clark Kent was a junior editor at the paper. His only solo bylines before the Superman story had been in the lifestyle and style sections. His most recent solo byline? An article about how Gotham was recovering from the flood, wherein he drew the conclusion that the Batman had had nothing to do with the flood. He heavily implied that Batman had been the hero of the situation, pointing out how Batman had almost died trying to save the lives of a few hostages.
Some rather unnecessarily intense research later, and Bruce had Clark Kent’s hometown. Which was… Smallville, Kansas. After rechecking, he decided that Smallville, Kansas, was a real place. Kent’s parents had over five hundred acres of corn.
As for his education, Kent had a Bachelor of Science Degree in Journalism and Mass Communications from the University of Kansas, and a Master's of Arts in Journalism from Metropolis University. He attended both of them on loans, and which had somehow resulted in almost well over sixty thousand dollars in student loan debt, which even a billionaire like Bruce Wayne thought was ridiculous. The student loan debt could be leverage, though, if needed. Sixty thousand wasn’t much to someone with as much money as Bruce had.
The most interesting fact Bruce could find was that Kent was adopted.
“Do I have to, Lois?” Clark complained a few weeks later. “You know what-”
“You think of billionaires, yes.” She grinned at him as the elevator doors opened. “I suspect you’ll want to eat the rich in more ways than one, in this case.” She winked at him, leaving him gaping as Bruce Wayne walked up.
“Eat the rich, huh?” Wayne said with a wink and a crooked grin. “Sounds like it could be fun.”
Clark gaped. And gaped some more. Long enough that Wayne clapped him on his right shoulder and headed towards his meeting with Perry. Wayne winked at him again as the door closed. Beside him, Lois laughed so hard she started coughing, holding on to Clark so she wouldn’t fall over.
“Thank God those weren’t your words, Clark,” she said, once she stopped laughing enough to draw breath. Clark simply nodded, not entirely sure what had happened with Bruce Wayne. The overt come on? That was expected. The elevator eyes? Same. But the actual interest between those yes? That was not expected. And that was interesting.
Bruce Wayne smiled to himself as he closed the door to Perry’s office, making sure to wink at Kent as he did. Kent, somehow, blushed even harder. Perfect. Kent liked guys, and found him attractive. Bruce could work with that; Kent was easy enough on the eyes. And, it made it far more likely that he’d be willing to talk about his connection to Superman, if he didn’t think the billionaire was after his sources.
After a thoroughly boring meeting with Perry, Bruce made his way over to Kent’s desk.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot, Mr Kent” he said, perching on Kent’s desk.
“Perhaps, Mr Wayne,” Kent said, nervously fiddling with his glasses.
Bruce mock shuddered. “Call me ‘Bruce,’ please.”
“Clark,” Clark said. Bruce wasn’t sure if he was doing it to be polite, or if he actually wanted Bruce to call him by his first name. Could be either, knowing that he was a Midwesterner. Polite to a fault, them.
Bruce gave Clark the crooked grin he knew drove everyone crazy. Clark’s eyes darkened, and his tongue touched his lips. Bingo. Bruce shifted until he was slightly closer to Clark, and leaned forward. Clark leaned forward, completely unconsciously.
“So, Clark,” Bruce said, using his best seductive tone, “would you like to join me for lunch?”
“Why, Mr Wayne, I’d be delighted,” he said.
“Perfect,” Bruce said, getting to his feet. Clark blinked a few times. Bruce’s lips quirked; Clark clearly knew his reputation.
“Meet me in the lobby at noon?” Bruce asked, already turning towards the elevators. “And don’t worry about the cost; my treat.” He left a gaping Clark Kent at the desk behind him. First touch to Bruce.
Lunch was torture, as Bruce kept flirting with him. The meal was full of come ons and innuendos, with the occasional brush of feet. But every time Clark thought Bruce might be going just a step further, he backtracked, leaving Clark a little frustrated. It was a relief when his Justice League alarm went off. He took a moment to listen to Wonder Woman asking him to come in immediately, and missed Bruce’s eyes taking a similarly far away cast.
“I’m so sorry, that was Lucius,” Bruce was saying when Clark zoned back into lunch. He was frowning at his phone, which, for the life of him, Clark didn’t remember hearing ring. Perhaps he had a silent mode that actually worked. Or maybe he was having second thoughts about inviting Clark to lunch. Either way, Clark wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He needed to change and get to the Watchtower before Batman could Zeta up from Gotham. The Dark Knight did not like the Man of Steel, which was something that frustrated Wonder Woman to no end.
Not that there was anything she could do, as the feeling was, most assuredly, mutual.
Which was something that bothered Clark, as the Bat was his Soulmate. Not that the Bat had any idea, of course, since Superman was not the Bat’s Soulmate. The Bat hadn’t so much as twitched when Clark spoke to him for the first time.
(Clark was very thankful of that, though, as he’d hate for his soulmate to bare the words “Nice weather we’re having, eh?” on his right shoulder. Truly not his best attempt at small talk. But it was cold, dark, and raining. And Clark was far too much of a Midwesterner not to comment ironically about the weather.)
Though it did ask a few questions that Clark couldn’t answer. How could the Bat be his Soulmate while he was not the Bat’s Soulmate? Maybe he said something to the Bat after his rescue? Midwestern politeness was as encoded into his DNA as the Kryptonian Codex. It was entirely possible that he’d offered a polite “thanks” after being gently deposited on a roof and told that he needed to be more careful.
Actually, it was entirely probable that he did, the more he thought about it. He shrugged as he landed at the airlock, letting himself into the Watchtower. He’d have to engineer another meeting between Batman and Clark Kent. Far easier said than done.
Lunch was going great, Bruce thought, though Clark seemed a little rattled by his flirting. Bruce wasn’t sure if he should tone it down, or turn it up. One had the potential to send Clark running for the hills, but he also didn’t want him to get the incorrect assumption that Bruce wasn’t actually interested. Things were going well enough that Bruce was going to ask if Clark wanted to skip dessert and head to Bruce’s hotel room to get to know each other a little better, when Bruce’s Justice League comm chirped in his ear. Wonder Woman needed him. And Superman. Bruce was not interested in seeing his Soulmate any time soon. But duty called.
Bruce pulled his phone out, sending Wonder Woman a heavily encrypted text, and noticed that Clark was staring, his eyes unfocused, as if his attention was elsewhere. He snapped back into awareness when Bruce stood, saying something about Lucius and a board meeting. As if Bruce Wayne hadn’t made a point of never attending board meetings. Clark simply nodded a few times, before pulling his own phone out and saying it was his boss.
Funny; as far as Bruce could tell, his phone hadn’t rung. It was almost as if Clark was doing the same thing as him. Clark’s eyes were unfocused as he poked at his phone, and they were a startling shade of blue under his unfashionably large black plastic glasses. He was sitting a little straighter than usual, his broad shoulders down, showing off what must be a fairly muscular physique, hidden under those wrongly fitted suits. There was an odd tension in his frame, and his normally wide and open expression was closed, his eyes tight. There was something… alien in his features.
Bruce waved a waiter over, and asked for the check to be expedited, while keeping half an eye on his phone and half an eye on Clark. Clark’s expression was odd, as though he was focusing on something that he could barely see or hear. Bruce had seen that exact expression on only one other person’s face, when he was concentrating as hard as he could. And that was Superman, and it was one of the few times Bruce could stand his Soulmate, as he wasn’t making inane small talk.
Bruce narrowed his eyes before shaking his head. Clark Kent - the bumbling disaster of a polite corn fed Midwesterner - was not Superman. Clark Kent was not his Soulmate. It was far too ridiculous to consider seriously.
Plus, he’d met Clark Kent. He’d been Batman at the time, but they’d exchanged words. He was sure of that. He’d said something snarky to Kent about being more careful in Gotham, and Clark had thanked him, right?
He paid absently for lunch, thinking about their first meeting. Clark smiled, thanked him for lunch, and said something about seeing him around. Bruce nodded absently, watching as Clark’s beat up loafers left his line of sight. He stood, pulling out his phone to call Alfred.
“Alfred, I need the Tumbler at my location in less than five minutes,” he said as he left. He couldn’t let Superman beat him to the Watchtower. Superman would be all too happy to beat Batman to the Watchtower, and he wouldn’t let Bruce forget it. The smug prick.
Clark smiled at Batman as he stormed his way through the airlock. Batman grunted at him in return. Wonder Woman did the thing where she didn’t roll her eyes, but made it clear that she wanted to.
“What did you need our help for?” Batman asked, his voice heavily modulated. “I’ve told you time and again that I have commitments in Gotham that I can’t be pulled away from willy-nilly.”
Clark’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Willy-nilly” was far more of a Superman expression than a Batman expression. Regardless he had a point.
Wonder Woman sighed, and Clark began to have a bad feeling about this. He was right. Anything that started with, “the Green Lantern Corps on Oa have detected…” was never a good thing. It was going to be a long… however long they needed.
It took a little over three months to deal with the situation Oa discovered. A little over three months of navigating being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, of playing the billionaire playboy and falling out of clubs at all hours, of nightly patrols as Batman, of traveling to and from the Watchtower on a semiregular basis, and of regular travel to Metropolis for dates with his… for his dates with Clark. Bruce was exhausted. At least he’d long ago established his tendency to skip anything related to Wayne Enterprises, which meant he sometimes got a few hours of sleep.
There were times when Clark looked just as exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. He almost fell asleep on Bruce one night, curled up on his rickety couch, watching a sports game Bruce pretended to care about. He was pretty sure he was supposed to care about the Gotham Knights playing the Metropolis Meteors, but he wasn’t even sure what sport they were watching.
Then there were the times when Superman got snippy with him. Superman, the paragon of kindness and virtue, got snippy with him. After the second such out of character response, Wonder Woman sent Superman back to Metropolis, telling him to, of all things, get some more sun.
Which was how Bruce learned that his Soulmate was partially solar-powered. He made sure to schedule their meetings in the conference room with the most sunlight, and noticed how the dark circles under Superman’s eyes slowly faded. He suspected Superman was getting about as much sleep as he was getting, since Superman also had a day job. He was spending almost all his non-day job time at the Watchtower, in between saving every cat up a tree in Metropolis.
Once, while half asleep at the conference table, Superman let slip that he had a date in a few hours. Bruce knew that life, of hiding who one really was, while dating them. Superheroes were not cut out for dating non-capes. No wonder Green Arrow and Black Canary were dating.
Maybe it was time to tell Superman that they were Soulmates. The alien seemed to have no idea, and it would make both of their dating lives easier.
Bruce’s brain made a record scratch sound as that thought occurred to him. What the fuck, brain? Why the fuck would he want to date Superman? He shook his head, sighing. Clearly, he wasn’t spending enough time with his actual boyfriend. Luckily, they had a date in a few hours. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to make excuses and rush off to the Watchtower this time. Thankfully, Clark hadn’t broken up with him, and had even had to rush out a few times himself.
“What is that on your face?” Superman asked, propping his head up on his hands. His lips quirked into a slight smile. He looked young. Dangerously young. His bright blue eyes were a little dimmer than usual, ringed with dark circles, suggesting he hadn’t gotten enough sleep recently. But the sleepy, jokey grin made him look like the superhero people said he was. And, he was cute, to boot.
Bruce was seriously not spending enough time with his actual boyfriend, if he was finding Superman cute. It was definitely past time to see if he and Clark could round the bases without him getting called back to the fucking Watchtower. Maybe he’d hide his comm, just for the night. He seriously deserved the break.
Wonder Woman came running into the room, a huge smile on her face. “The Lantern Corps called: the situation is resolved! The two of you can go home and get some rest. I’ll stay on the Watchtower and do the necessary Justice League wrap up.”
Superman practically leapt to his feet, levitating a few inches off the ground. He thanked Wonder Woman and headed towards the airlock, heading back to Metropolis with a spring in his step.
Wonder Woman tilted her head to one side, a soft smile on her lips. “He’s in a hurry.”
“He said he has a hot date tonight,” Bruce said with a shrug. Wonder Woman’s eyes narrowed, so Bruce answered her unasked question. “No, I don’t know if it’s with a man or a woman. He didn’t say, and I’d hate to make an assumption. You know, with the tights.” He grinned. Wonder Woman laughed like a bell.
“One should not make assumptions,” she agreed.
Bruce gave a half smile. He liked Wonder Woman, and was glad she was the leader of their rag tag group of superheroes.
“Speaking of,” Bruce said after a few moments, “I must return to Gotham. I’ve left her alone far too long.”
Wonder Woman smiled, gave a soft chuckle, and smacked his shoulder with what passed for gentleness in a two thousand-year-old demi god. He hid a wince and strode to the Zeta tubes with purpose. He had places to be. And people to do.
Clark landed on the rooftop of his apartment building with a sigh. He only had a few hours before his date with Bruce, and it was all he could do not to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. If he and Bruce hadn’t mutually had to cancel their last three dates, he’d cancel this one. He stumbled into his apartment, and face-first into bed, still in his cape.
What felt like a few minutes later, someone knocked on the door. He pushed himself to his feet, and went to the door, rubbing his eyes. A quick X-ray of the door revealed Bruce, so he opened it. Bruce gave him a really funny look, before sighing and shoving his way into the apartment. He groaned as he lay down on the couch.
“I should have known,” he said. “Your disguise is a fucking pair of glasses!”
“Oh, fuck,” Clark Kent, also known as Superman, said. “I forgot to take the suit off, didn’t I?”
There was a long pause, before what Bruce actually said seemed to percolate through Super- through Clark’s sleep-deprived mind.
“You know me… both ways?” he finally got out.
“Yes,” Bruce said, standing. He gripped Clark’s arms and slowly got him going in the direction of his bedroom. “I know you as Clark Kent, and as Superman.” Clark made a sound as he collapsed into bed. He seemed to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Bruce fussed around the bedroom, opening the blinds, so the early morning light would hit Clark and power him up.
He wasn’t sure why he was being so domestic. Until very recently, he’d hated the alien. But then the situation with Oa occurred, and he’d spent a lot of time with him. Superman was not who he’d expected him to be.
He found what looked like a handmade quilt in the closet, and gently draped it over his sleeping boyfriend. He brushed Clark’s hair away from his forehead, and gave him a soft kiss on his brow. “You’re also my Soulmate. And I am yours.”
Clark woke slowly, warm, comfortable, and very hard. Morning sunlight was streaming through his east facing bedroom window, warming and powering him up. For some reason, he was wrapped in the quilt he kept in his linen closet, the one his mother made him when he went off to college. He couldn't remember getting it out, and it was too warm for him to have left it out. The quilt explained why he was so warm, even if he couldn’t remember getting it out. He was on top of his comforter, and… oh, fuck.
It took him a far too long to realize that he was still in his cape.
Oh, fuck, Bruce. He bolted to his feet, hovering in the air as he raced to his living room. Bruce was asleep on the couch, wearing what Clark recognized as his own pajamas. He was wrapped in the blanket Clark kept on the back of his couch. He was on his left side, the oversized sweatshirt he’d borrowed from Clark had somehow slipped off of his right shoulder, revealing a very familiar handwriting.
“You should be more careful, Mr Wayne.” It took Clark a moment to realize that those were the first words he’d said to Bruce Wayne. Not the first words Superman said to Batman. They were also the first words Batman said to Clark Kent. Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose as everything came together. Bruce Wayne was Batman, just as certainly as he, Clark Kent, was Superman. Which meant that Bruce Wayne was his Soulmate. How was this his life?
At least he and Batman no longer hated each other. He floated into the kitchen, and started coffee. There was no reason to change out of his suit, but he did so as soon as the coffee started. Lounge bottoms were more comfortable than the tights, anyway. He took two mugs out of the cupboard, huffing a laugh when he realized that they were the gag mugs Bruce bought him, with the Batman and Superman logos. Bruce thought it was funny that they disagreed about the two Superheroes, and thought Clark would like the mugs.
He was right and Clark did like the mugs. Didn’t make it any odder, though, Batman buying Superman mugs with their logos on it. With neither of them knowing who the other was. Neither of them knowing that they were each other’s soulmate.
At the thought of Bruce being Clark’s Soulmate, his right shoulder tingled. He rubbed his fingers over the words, smiling to himself as he sipped his coffee. Bruce made a sound as he got to his feet and headed straight for the coffeepot. He got himself a cup of coffee, and smiled as he took a sip.
“You should be more careful,” Bruce said, his voice sleep rough. Under his fingers, Clark’s Soulmark tingled. Clark smiled, nodding in agreement.
“You should be more careful, Mr Wayne,” he agreed. Clark’s Soulmark flared hot under his hands and he felt something ‘click’ in his mind. He had the sudden realization that he was aware of Bruce in a way that was not physical, even taking into account his Kryptonian senses. Bruce was just… there. One moment, he could hear Bruce’s heartbeat, and even smell the subtle scent that was just Bruce, a combination of leather and some sort of expensive cologne. The next, he was aware of Bruce on a subconscious level.
Bruce’s eyes slipped shut, his head tilting back as the bond sank into his mind. He made a sound that was remarkably close to a big cat purring. He inhaled, opening his eyes and letting himself relax into the bond. It was a strong one. A very strong one. Perhaps the strongest one, based on how his shoulder was tingling.
Clark glanced at him, and started laughing. Bruce could feel his amusement through their nascent bond.
“What?” Bruce asked. Clark simply laughed harder, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
“What?” Bruce asked again. Clark calmed himself down enough to gasp out what he was thinking.
“And you call yourself the ‘world’s greatest detective’!”