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(Metropolis, 2:46 PM)
Bruce didn’t want to do this, per se. He would much rather be in the manor, or in the batcave, or anywhere else. But Brucie Wayne owed a public appearance, more like a statement, so against his wishes, here he is standing before the looming yet warm building of The Daily Planet. The place is familiar, he’s been here plenty of times to know his way around, but today is a tad bit… different. His usual b-line for Lois Lane’s desk was interrupted by a very excited toddler who tugged him around. Little Dick Grayson had his hand wrapped around Bruce’s pointer as he practically dragged the adult to every corner he found interesting. Not a word was said however, he only stared with the brightest of eyes while his knees bent and straightened repeatedly.
Now, both stood before a painting, it was clear the figure in the middle was the one and only Superman, but from his stature, Dick couldn’t gaze at it well enough. So he tilted his head enough to stare at his adoptive dad, and then extended his arms, making grabbing motions with his hands. Bruce, who was inspecting the picture mildly amused, turned, a soft smile grazing his features.
“Up you go..” He muttered, hoisting the child up. Instinctively, his limbs settled under him, keeping him balanced against his chest. “You really love Superman huh..?” The vigilante mumbled, more to himself than to his kid.
For a second, he got lost in the moment. Staring at the painting of his teammate with tired yet tender eyes. They captured his smile perfectly, his bright eyes and those dimples on his cheeks too. His hand began to reach up, and his breath got caught in his throat as his fingerprints just barely grazed the picture.
“Superman!”
Bruce pulled his hand away, shoulders suddenly tensing when his kid shouted so suddenly. Dick’s brows lifted, his mouth hung agape and eyes shone in amazement. “Superman!” He repeated, pointing at one of the reporters, he was tall, taller than average, he had soft curls that layered on his forehead and squared glasses to finish the look, and now he shook his head in confusion. The bat however, didn’t pay no mind to this, he simply cast the worker a tired glance before focusing his attention back on his kid.
“We can’t watch Superman right now kid, we have to talk to the nice report man..” He explained gently, and the man opposite of him let out a sigh of relief. “I apologize for my son… he’s a big fan of the Super.” His arms tightened around his son, not yet making eye contact with the other man.
“I-I noticed!” The journalist answered, the stammer giving away his lingering nerves. “But don’t worry, Mr…Wayne I assume?”
Bruce nodded, fixing his child’s position against his torso. “Yes.. that would be me.” He gave an akward pause, taking one good look at the stranger before him. When he realized he was staring he cleared his throat, continuing. “I’m here for an interview with Lois Lane…”
“Ah! Right about that…She was unable to arrive at work today… So I will be taking her place..” The reporter’s fingers fiddled with one another, and his eyes darted around as he addressed the millionaire. “I hope that isn’t a problem, you could always reschedule with Ms.Lane if you feel uncomfortable—“
“No.. no that won’t be needed—“ He looked down at the ID hanging from his neck. “Mr.Kent.”
Clark short-circuited, his mouth resting mildly ajar as he processed it all; the way he said his last name was… not exactly neutral. “Right.. right that’s my name..” His blue eyes glanced down, before he rose his gaze with a smile bright enough to light up Gotham city. “Alright! Let’s not waste any time!”
“Superman!”
Bruce was absolutely dumbfounded. That smile, the way his cheeks lifted and narrowed eyes… the dimples. Oh crap. His neck turned towards the painting, the movement fast and hasty, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt; apparently the soreness from a night of crime fighting lasts longer than he expected. Still, that was thrown to the back of his mind, now his suspicion held the forefront. His attention shifted from the picture, to the reporter, and back to his son. “Kid… you might be onto something…”
***
“I’ll just put this here…” Clark murmured, placing the recorder on top of the small coffee table. They had moved to a secluded office, the warm lights casting a comfortable ambience that made the Bat want to talk, somehow, or maybe it was the man sitting across from him.
“Oh! And I brought this for the kiddo…” He continued, trying his best to ignore the way the millionaire seized him up while he offered Dick a box of crayons and paper. That he could brush off, but not the steady sound of his heartbeat. Now in this enclosed space, shielded from any outside noise, the rhythm was… familiar. He’d heard it before, and he didn’t want to accept it or jump to conclusions, but it did sound eerily similar to his teammate’s, to Batman’s, heartbeat.
“Go on kid… go and play.” Bruce encouraged, a subtle smile playing on his lips as the toddler hopped off his lap and hurried to the coffee table with a wide smile.
“Guess he likes to draw..” His expression warmed at the scene, before he cleared his throat. “But back to business, I’d hate to waste more of your time Mr.Wayne..”
“Oh no you surely aren’t… and please… call me Bruce.” The Bat shifted in his seat, bringing his left leg over his right knee and leaning back against the oddly comfortable couch.
“Right, Bruce… So, most of the world is already aware of the ‘dilemma’ with the last gala you hosted…” The reporter mentioned, cocking his head to the side as if waiting for a response.
“I would say ‘dilemma’ is an understatement.. given that it was attacked by a monster.” His heartbeat barely wavered, as if another worldly alien crashing his event was just another Tuesday for him.
“You’re right.. I think disaster would better describe it..” A small nervous smile grazed his sharp face, and he shifted in place, finding comfort in sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees. “But the people want to know… do you have a personal relationship with Superman? Everyone there saw how he scooped you up and carried you to safety when the monster went for you.”
Bruce’s brows shot up, subtly, but Clark heard the way his heart sped up. “I wouldn’t say personal, and there’s no reason to think it’s anything more than another instance of Superman being… Superman. He simply saved me from danger, as he usually does.”
“So you can assure all of us there’s no relationship at all..? Just good ‘ol Superman?” The reporter pressed, leaning forward an inch more.
“No relationship..”
“And…” He swallowed, and the vigilante noticed, he’s nervous, hesitant. “Would you say Superman did a good job?”
“Well I am alive and unscathed.. I’d say he did.”
“Good to know..” Clark cleared his throat, shaking his head to fix the curls that nearly obscured his vision. “Now, many fear attending upcoming galas because of this… disaster. So Mr.Way—Bruce, can you assure these people that all of the events you host from now on will be safe?”
The millionaire nodded softly, throwing one arm over the backrest. “Well of course. After this incident I will take extensive measures to prevent any other attack, from criminals or monsters alike—“
He continued speaking, using his hand to emphasize his words. Yet Clark wasn’t paying attention, he was too busy convincing himself not to use x-ray vision. ‘Just a peak…’ ‘NO!’ He scolded himself, trying to focus back on the man’s rant about security and galas, but he just couldn’t. And just like that he fell into the temptation, casting a fleeting glance under the mildly wrinkled surface of the other’s button up. His eyes widened a fraction, any normal person would not have noticed such a subtle change, but of course Bruce did, he was the Batman after all.
“Did I say something wrong?” He questioned, stance suddenly tense.
“No.. no… I’m sorry I was just… lost in thought. Please continue..” The reporter explained, his x-ray vision momentarily flickering at the surprise. As the man opposite of him began to speak again, going on tangents, and saying public appealing statements, Clark activated his powers again. He would feel extremely guilty if he wasn’t secretly Batman, as he invaded his privacy without taking him out for dinner first.
Well shit. He recognized all those scars, the gunshot on his shoulder, the slash on his hip, the stab on his chest. He was there when they all happened, well Superman was, but him anyways. For a moment too long he stared, taking in all the healed injuries that he couldn’t prevent, all the pain he couldn’t soothe; and it frustrated him. All this power, and he couldn’t protect the man he… he cared for.
“That’s a great quote actually, write it down just like that.” Bruce lazily pointed at the recorder, snapping the reporter out of thoughts.
“Dad…” Dick mumbled, immediately getting his father’s attention. He always did when he spoke after all.
“Yeah? What is it Dick? You okay?” The Bat fussed, uncrossing his legs and scooting closer to his son’s position on the floor.
The kid only grabbed a piece of paper, raising it to show his father the crayon scribbles that resembled Superman, and then getting up with a grunt. Quickly, he tip toed around the table, holding the drawing next to the reporter’s face. “Superman!” He insisted, to which Clark chuckled, a bead of nervous sweat running down his temple.
“I’m honored you think I’m him kiddo… but I’m just your everyday man..” Another drop of sweat ran down the side of his face, and the millionaire focus shifted to his expression now. The similarities were there… if only he could confirm it.. take off his glasses and brush his curls back, maybe slip some kryptonite into his pocket…
“Are you hungry? I know a good ice cream place down the road.” Clark asked, standing from the couch and reaching for the recorder.
“Ice cream? Alfred would—” Bruce started, but the words died in his throat when his son stared up at him wide and hopeful eyes. “Alfred doesn’t need to know…” He relented with a heavy sigh, yet a soft smile graced his features.
“Then that settles it! We’re eating ice cream!”
***
To say the streets were bustling was an understatement. It was at moments like these where Bruce would much rather the dark alleys of Gotham City. But there was one saving grace, the reporter, who had by now managed to befriend Dick, walked by his side. He was like a looming presence, but the Bat didn’t feel threatened by it, the opposite actually, he felt oddly assured. Even though Clark was carrying his kid up in his arms, over the heads of the people like he weighed nothing at all, he knew his child was safe.
“It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No it’s—“
“Robin!”
The millionaire’s neck instantly swiveled up at his son, who had his arms and legs spread open as if he was flying into the night sky in Gotham, or into the bright sun of metropolis. He couldn’t help the surge of emotion that bubbled in his chest, that was a new word, now he wonders where he got it.
“Robin!” The reporter followed along swiveling the toddler side to side as they swerved through the crowd, nearing the ice cream shop with is each step.
Once they were a few feet away, and Dick was saddled against the taller man’s chest, Bruce decided to set his plan in motion. It’s now or never. His own legs tangled against one another, one foot getting stuck on the uneven cobblestone sidewalk and ‘making’ him topple over towards the reporter. He made no attempt to stop his fall, he did however extend an arm to knock over those stupidly hot glasses from the soft arch of his nose. A sharp gasp escaped him, that was definitely not planned, as those toned arms wrapped around his torso and lifted him up.
He recognized that grip.
And Clark recognized that waist.
Said man was now scrambling to get his ‘disguise’, but in between the kid and the man in his arms, he found it nearly impossible. “Oh! Uhm— my glasses! I-I can’t see them!” He stammered, keeping his head low so his curls hid most of his face. Perhaps a bit too strongly, he set the millionaire back on his feet, scrambling to find his glasses in the sea of pedestrians.
“Maybe if you.. just..” Bruce’s hand reached out, carding through the dark coils, pushing them back enough to reveal his forehead—
“Ah! There they are!” Clark pulled back, bending down with the child to grab his glasses. His face was flushed, all the way to his ears, because of the situation, but also because he heard the man’s heartbeat quicken when he almost caught a peak.
“Great.” The tone was more brusque than anything, but Bruce was disappointed he didn’t get a good look. Maybe he could get away with ‘accidentally’ hitting the other’s face twice… surely.
There was a curt cough from the reporter as he slipped on his glasses again, and it was after he fixed his curls that he motioned to the door. “Well.. ice cream here we come!” He exclaimed, smiling cheekily at the boy in his arms, who giggled and kicked his feet.
The bell at the door jingled obnoxiously, much to the Bat’s dismay and mild irritation. All the workers here were so filled with… light, it nearly blinded him. “Welcome to Metro Ice Cream! Would you like to try any of our new Superhero sticks?” The woman at the counter beamed, her fluffy and sweet uniform matching the overall feelings of the business.
Dick nodded, head bobbing rapidly as he pointed at the ice cream sticks in the display freezer. They were shaped like various heroes, one for Wonder Woman, one for Green Lantern, one for Superman, even one for Green Arrow, but there was no Batman in sight. “Superman!” He exclaimed, imitating the trademark flying pose with his arms.
“The Superman one it is!” Clark was enjoying himself, but when he turned, and saw his companion brooding, he sighed.
“I’m guessing you wanted a Batman one..?”
“Why would you think that?”
The kid was gently set down, and upon touching the ground, he ran to the counter to retrieve his dessert. “Well you are from Gotham so… I just assumed you’d like Batman..”
“Not necessarily. But he does deserve an ice cream stick…” Bruce grumbled, crossing his arms as his toddler munched on the snack, immediately regretting it. His arms wrapped around his dad’s leg, clinging to his slacks as his head was engulfed by cold. “Woah— Dick it’s okay it’s just a brain freeze… it’ll pass…” The adult murmured, crouching yet before he could reach a comforting hand, the child had already wrapped his digits around his parent’s pointer and middle finger. His eyes shut tightly, willing the brain freeze away, and the second he was back to normal he resumed biting off Superman’s eye.
“He’s… quite the kid.” The reporter shifted in place, approaching the cashier with the millionaire trailing beside.
“He sure is…. quite the menace too.” A soft chuckle escaped him as his son extended his arms again, imitating a flying motion.
Clark pulled out his wallet, grabbing a 20$ buck, but just as he offered it to the cashier, the millionaire did too— just that he held a black card. “Oh—oh no I’ll pay for it.”
“What? No, he’s my son. I’m paying.”
“But I invited you both here didn’t I?”
Bruce couldn’t really argue against that, but he did find a very appealing retort. “Then I get to invite you somewhere.”
oh…OH! The words were caught in the reporters throat, but his fully red face did all the talking for him. “I—uhm that— that would be nice..” Shakily, he payed for the kids ice cream, avoiding the other’s piercing blue eyes.
“Great. Tomorrow at 8?”
“Y-yeah… tomorrow… 8..”
“D-D-Dad!”
Dick’s voice rang across the shop, instantly catching both of the men’s attention. Tears rolled down his cheeks in waves, his mouth was downturned and his eyes were shut close together as he wailed. To him, this was a crime scene, the popsicle had slid off the wooden stick, splattering on the ground in an almost gruesome manner. His cries were non-stop, even as he was cradled safely in his father’s arms. “Chum it’s okay… look Clark’s already buying you a new one..” He tried, carefully tucking a strand of black hair behind his little ear.
“Zoom! Vyoom!” The kid’s whimpers began to subside as the reporter flew the new treat around, bringing it to a halt infront of his nose. “The new Superman popsicle has landed!” He cheered, feeling satisfied with himself once the toddler began to giggle.
After glancing at his watch, the Bat mumbled something under his breath, that unbeknownst to him, the reporter heard. Or known to him, he wanted him to hear anyway.
“Do you need to go?”
Bingo.
“In a few hours, yes. How did you know?”
“Oh—! Uhm… I just—saw you glance at your watch.. so I kind of put two and two together.” He scrambled over his words, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. “We should… continue the interview then…”
“Good idea… I have… matters to attend back at Gotham.”
***
(Gotham City, 11:28 PM)
Tonight was an exceptionally bad day to be a criminal in Gotham city. The Bat wasn’t only incapacitating them, he was being rather brutal with his moves. He didn’t come close to killing of course, but he surely broke a few bones. Truth be told, Bruce was frustrated, his need to find out the truth about Clark Kent —or Superman?— gnawed at him relentlessly; his mind clouded with images of him. Of that smile, those curls, the dimples, the strong set of his jaw… was it really him? Could the invincible Superman be this anxious and sweet reporter? The proof, as minimal as it was, was there, and his desire to solve a good mystery got the best of the millionaire.
The vigilante perched himself up on a rooftop, partially satisfied for the night. He pulled out a communication device, tapping the screen a few times before there was a soft ping. Not even 15 seconds had passed when the sound of wind whooshing ensued, making Bruce’s cape soar, and get stuck on his bat horns.
“Batman? Where is the danger?!” Superman fussed, head swiveling around trying to find any sort of threat. “Oh—Oh I’m so sorry Batman..” He murmured, cautiously pulling the cape away with a soft frown.
“There’s no danger Superman. Why would you think so?”
“Well— you never ask me to come to Gotham.. considering last time I came unannounced you almost ate me alive..”
“I had warned you.”
“I know I know..” The kryptonian sighed softly, floating until he sat on the ledge of the building, legs dangling down.
It all went silent. Now the noise from the streets below was nearly deafening, and Clark could hear every minuscule breath Bruce took. His heartbeat, it was the same, and the scars had proven it too. But what if he was wrong and made a fool of himself by asking? What if Batman hated him for the rest of his life? What if—
“So… Clark Kent..”
Said man twisted his neck, maintaining an expressionless face, or trying to, which he managed, but the bat read every little micro expression. The subtle lift of his brow and the minimal parting of his lips gave him away. “Clark Kent..? He’s a reporter at Daily Planet, what’s with him?”
“Well he has a few too many interviews with you.” The millionaire quipped, waiting for an answer, and one could almost feel the raised brow under the cowl.
“Oh—! Well he’s a respectable reporter..”
“Right…”
…
…
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah.”
“What gave me away?” He craned his neck, staring at Bruce with an almost ashamed frown.
“Your smile…”
Clark’s cheeks flushed, red as they have never been. He pursued his lips, now looking down at the his feet. “You must… really know my smile then..” His words were quiet, not a whisper, but loud enough for the other man to hear.
“You’re always smiling.” It was meant to be a quick fix, to not let himself show so much vulnerability, but it only made the super’s smile droop.
“Is… this why you called me here?” Clark questioned, pushing himself off the edge and steadily floating in front of his companion. Deep down, he wished it wasn’t, that he had pinged him for a non official reason. And it seemed selfish, but right now, he couldn’t care.
“Yes…”
A small crack erupted in the kryptonian’s heart, and he bit his lip. This was stupid, he was making a guess, and the vigilante could potentially hate him forever, but it was now or never. “So… at what fancy dinner are you taking me tomorrow at 8?”
Even with the cowl on, and without using x-ray, Superman could see the widening of his eyes. He also heard the quickening of his heartbeat, and the soft swallow he tried to hide by turning away. “What dinner?”
“Please Batman… you figured it out, and so did I… You’re Bruce Wayne..” He pressed, following the turn of his head in his flight, not allowing him to avoid his eyes. “Come onnnn, don’t deny it!”
“I’m not Bruce Wayne.”
“Really? So if I look under the cowl… it won’t be the man I had an interview with this afternoon?” Clark continued, his cape soaring behind him.
…
…
“We’re going to the fanciest restaurant in Gotham.”
The reporter beamed, his once downcast head springing up with the widest of smiles ever, the sheer light emitting from it nearly blinding Bruce. “I knew it! Your heartbeat—“
“What? Wait— that’s how you figured it out?” Batman leaned back, head tilted in skepticism.
“Well— yeah.. I’m no detective.. and your —“ The kryptonian bit his lip, settling down on the concrete ledge again.
“Your?”
“Your scars..”
“You ‘x-rayed’ me?!”
“It was only for a second— I swear! I just— I wanted to be sure..” Clark’s defense was flimsy at best, and he tried raising his arms in a placating manner, but the other remained coiled like a spring. “I just— I just looked at your torso…”
After a few uncomfortable moments, the millionaire settled back down, he did knock his glasses off and try to pry his hair back, so maybe they were hand to hand now? “and you haven’t done it now?”
“Nope… I wanted you to admit it…” Superman confessed, his expression all giddy as he turned to face his partner.
“Why?” He turned, his white-out eyes staring into Superman’s.
“Don’t know… it would be wrong to find out your identity that way…”
“But not by looking at my body?” There was no hint of jest in his tone, more like confusion.
“It’s— alright it’s dumb … I guess… I just wanted—“ His hand reached out, grabbing one of the bat ears cautiously. “—this off for once.”
Silence, not even a twitch, but Bruce’s heartbeat did sped up, and the reporter noticed. “Only if you do me a favor.”
“Of course! Of course!”
“You can… take it off, Clark.”
The movements were shaky. Slow. Hesitant. Somehow scared. It was nerve wracking for both, on the Bat’s side, he was allowing someone in, being vulnerable, and for Supes, he was being confided in, trusted with a ‘secret’, he didn’t want to mess this up. When his hands tenderly slid off the cowl, revealing those clouded blue eyes, the stubborn jaw, and the arched nose, Clark’s breath hitched. He swallowed, lowering his hand until it rested lightly over his cheeks.
“Hi… Bruce.”
“Hello, Clark.”
***
(Gotham City, 20:53)
“Dick— we settled this… it’s only a dinner, I’ll be back at 10.”
The kid only whined in response, clinging to his leg harder. He pressed his face against the fabric of his pants, shaking his head while crying.
“Please Chum… you’ll stay here with Alfred..” Bruce nearly pleaded, reaching a hand to brush back some loose strand behind his son’s ear. “I heard he’s making cookies…”
A gasp escaped the toddler, the tears dissolving instantly, and being replaced by a toothy grin. Satisfied, the millionaire smiled, but when Dick made a move to walk away, he stopped him. “Hey, wait a second Dick, I’ve got a surprise for you…”
His eyes went wider, body coiling as he so desperately waited for his father to reveal the present. The adult could only chuckle under his breath, approaching the front door. “Okay… close your eyes..”The kid nodded almost frantically, shutting his eyes and placing one of his hands over his eyes for good measure.
“Don’t peek…” There was the soft click of the lock, and then the familiar but still terrifying screeching of the door as it opened. “Open them kiddo..”
A gasp.
“Superman!”