Work Text:
1.
Overall, nothing too serious is happening.
It's a standard save-the-world mission, Bruce reassures himself. The Justice League is a team of qualified professionals who have averted major threats to Earth multiple times, Bruce tells himself.
It's just a huge meteor hurtling towards Earth, caused by Flash's careless tampering with time.
No big deal. Everything's fine. Everything's under control.
"Honestly, I don't know how it happened! It was supposed to be a simple trip, one foot there, one foot back! It absolutely wasn't supposed to create an entire meteor."
Batman doesn't answer Flash, merely squeezing his eyes shut in resignation behind the white lenses. His brain is working overtime on options: they need to destroy the meteor before it enters the atmosphere, then make sure the debris doesn't cause too much damage. Will Superman's heat vision or his super-strength be enough for such a huge chunk of rock? But who will handle all the fragments then?
Batman turns his head toward his best friend, formulating a question:
"Superman, could you—"
"I'm so glad you asked, B!" Superman looks like a puppy who's just been promised all the dog treats in the world. His eyes are sparkling, almost glowing with a dumbfounded expression of joy. "I can definitely move the Earth out of the meteor's path!"
Batman freezes, his mouth half-open, continuing to stare at Superman's face.
"That's such a great idea!" the alien continues to chatter. "I'm really proud I thought of it at the same time as you. After all, great minds think alike!"
Batman hears Green Lantern's choked, hysterical giggling in the background. He throws a sharp glance in that direction, and the sound stops instantly.
To his credit, Batman recovers fairly quickly. He restrains himself from any strange impulses—like pulling this dumb powerhouse to him by the hair, gripping the back of his neck, biting those lips—and instead takes a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.
"No, Superman, we are absolutely, definitely not doing that."
Superman has the nerve to tilt his head to the side, looking disappointed.
"Why?"
Batman holds back another sigh, having no patience to explain it right now.
"We'll talk about it in the debriefing after the mission. After I remind Flash of all the risks of messing with time."
His tone becomes dry and cold, and Flash flinches. Batman gives him a stern look, warning against any potential escape attempts.
"Does anyone remember Shazam's school schedule?" Wonder Woman interjects, and for the umpteenth time, Batman is damn glad she exists. "If I'm thinking correctly, we're going to need him."
Batman gives her a grateful look, and the woman answers with a small smile.
"So, first we need to..."
Batman launches into explaining the workable plan to save Earth, making a mental note to ask Superman later if he ever finished school.
The world is saved and intact that day, but the subsequent debriefing is damn long.
2.
Batman is giving his PowerPoint presentation on social media security one last check when the whole team of superheroes files into the conference room. He gives them a brief nod as everyone takes their seats, only half-listening to some discussion he initially pays no mind to.
When he finally tunes into the words, he immediately regrets it.
"No, Flash, you can't both kiss Bruce Wayne, and sleep with him, and marry him. The whole point of the game is the difficult choice."
Bruce would have never thought he'd be Flash’s celebrity crush—damn, he really did pick up slang from Dick— and he's not entirely sure how he feels about that.
"Anyway," Green Lantern continues, "I wouldn't go further than kissing the guy. What if he doesn't use protection with his numerous flings?"
Oh, it's getting worse.
"Hey, but I could use his money for my work if I married him! Brucie has a lot of perks beyond the obvious hotness," Flash argues passionately, munching on some protein bar.
Batman briefly contemplates taking off his mask right now and then committing suicide, but decides that's too dramatic even for him. He opens his mouth to try and change the topic to literally anything, but doesn't get to utter a single word.
"If I married Bruce Wayne, which one of us wears the wedding dress and veil? Hopefully not me, white isn't really my color."
Superman says this with concern, his face absolutely serious and straight, and Bruce can't help but picture him in a white dress. The mental image is bizarre, yet somehow appealing, and Batman forcibly evicts it from his head.
Superman, meanwhile, continues his musings about, God help him, the wedding out loud:
"Or should I just come to the ceremony in this suit?"
The picture would be even more ridiculous. Flash and Green Lantern apparently think so too, because they both burst into loud laughter, instantly forgetting their previous argument. Batman sighs heavily, catching J'onn's amused gaze. He frowns at the Martian, rising from his seat to draw the attention of those present. He rightly decides it's better to start the lecture now, before the conversation about him goes too far and he learns too much about his colleagues.
"So, today we'll be talking about safety online..."
3.
Some time later, the members of the Justice League feel comfortable and trusting enough to reveal their civilian identities.
Superman, naturally, is among the first.
And of course, he turns out to be the most stereotypical farm boy in the world.
For the next month, Bruce studies him—stalking, as Alfred and Dick put it, but of course that's slander—Clark Kent wears glasses that practically scream 'fake,' hides behind flannel shirts and ill-fitting suits that conceal his glorious mountain of muscle, and somehow manages to take up very little space for his height and weight.
Batman spends nights searching for every available scrap of information about Superman without directly crossing any boundaries. He restrains himself from breaking into his apartment or visiting Kansas, but scrolls through his Twitter account all the way to the very first post (Clark reposted an illegal amount of cute animal video compilations, from dogs to squirrels).
To be fair, he researches everyone else who revealed their face too, though not with the same diligence. As Bruce, he is personally acquainted with Diana and Oliver, which is, of course, potentially very awkward. For them, naturally.
The rest mostly live rather quiet lives, not in the crosshairs of cameras and society. Batman carefully sorts the information into folders, ignoring how much more data he has on Clark compared to the others.
Sooner or later, the moment arrives when only Batman's civilian identity remains shrouded in mystery.
Bruce, unfortunately, notices the silence that falls when he enters a room, catches the curious glances of almost everyone—except J'onn, God bless him—hears Flash and Green Lantern's not-so-subtle whispers.
He ignores it. Revealing his identity is too dangerous for him—Gotham is too different from other cities—and yes, he doesn't have that many close people to risk even the slightest chance of a personal data leak.
Well, and Bruce feels safe in his full suit.
The others start appearing periodically without masks, in civilian clothes; Oliver occasionally shares personal parts of his biography—not that Bruce is eavesdropping, not at all—Hal and Clark discuss the difference between flying and flying, Diana gets carried away with stories about artifacts from her job and teaches the team some phrases.
Bruce does not collect this information or add any of it to the folders. It… wouldn't help in an emergency, but he remembers it all anyway.
Then they all start asking questions.
Barry practically consults him on some work-related case. Batman makes his observations, finds similarities with other cases, gets carried away with solving it—he really does love the detective part of his life—and doesn't notice right away. He quickly cuts short his monologue, Barry thanks him and disappears. This happens several more times, and Bruce can't bring himself to just not look, can't tell Barry it's not his job. He helps, but tries not to get too involved.
Oliver tries, not very subtly, to find out if they've ever been at the same party, or gala, or any other social event for billionaires. Wary after Barry's probing, Bruce doesn't take the bait and doesn't let on. His heart beats steady and even because Clark is literally two meters away, also not very subtly pretending to write a report.
Diana starts asking him about random things in different languages. She's cunning, credit where credit's due, and it always comes at the most unexpected moments. Mid-mission, when he's immersed in a report, planning the nuances of a new security system, or just dead tired. He answers without thinking, not processing in time that the question isn't in English. She extracts about seven languages out of the nineteen he knows before he stops falling for that trap.
Hal tells him about the army, intentionally making mistakes, waiting to see if Batman will correct him or not. He's also not very subtle, so Bruce successfully doesn't give away any extra information.
Clark doesn't do anything, and that's the most unnerving. Bruce knows he's curious.
J'onn doesn't do anything special either, but that's different. Arthur still shows up very rarely and doesn't seem curious at all.
Almost two months later, he accidentally—honestly, accidentally—learns what conclusions his battle companions (Batman doesn't have friends) have drawn.
The League thinks he wasn't in the military, most likely works for the police—which Clark hotly objects to, saying that just doesn't sound right—knows at least seven languages—Diana insists it's at least twice that many, and she's too smart for Bruce's comfort—and is either an ordinary man or a reclusive billionaire.
It's not much, and not entirely accurate, but still unsettling. It's already more than he'd prefer them to know.
And then he makes a mistake, choosing a quiet, late night to show his son the Watchtower. Not by choice, of course, but he can no longer endure Dick's pleading and Alfred's reproachful looks.
Halfway there, Robin starts getting excited. He can barely sit still, trying to suppress an anticipatory grin, and chatters way too much.
Honestly? At that point, Batman should have just turned the plane around.
Once inside the League's tower, Dick hides behind his cape. It covers him completely; only a curious nose and eyes shining behind the half-mask remain visible. Dick makes soft sounds of admiration and practically squeals when they run into Superman.
Clark immediately beams happily upon noticing Batman, but the emotion quickly fades, replaced by surprise. He crouches down to be at eye level with the suddenly silent, awestruck Robin:
"You brought your family to meet us, B? Are you going to reveal your identity? Hi, Robin, I'm Superman…"
Bruce tunes out the conversation between his son and Clark, sighing deeply. He feels an itch at the back of his neck, a soft heat on his cheekbones.
Superman's choice of words is terrible. And how is a tour of the tower related to his civilian identity anyway? Does he expect them both to take off their masks, and then the whole League will start celebrating joyfully? God, what a naive idiot.
Bruce doesn't dwell on the fact that the thought is completely unmalicious and almost affectionate. He doesn't notice the small smile on his lips as he watches his son emerge from the cape and respectfully shake Superman's hand.
Diana notices, and Bruce ignores her knowing smile.
Batman continues the tour, showing Robin all the significant places in the tower. Superman flies after them like a good-natured bodyguard, chiming in and telling some inside stories. Dick laughs heartily and, smiling, shares a little about the Batcave.
Bruce rarely sees him so genuinely happy and doesn't stop him from sharing personal details.
"Alfred makes the best chocolate chip cookies, sometimes I don't even get any because Batman eats them all!"
"Slander," Batman retorts dryly, allowing himself a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
Superman transfers his amused look from Robin to Bruce, smiling with satisfaction:
"Alfred? Is that Agent A's name?"
Batman frowns. That's already a lot of information. That's something that directly connects Bruce Wayne to Batman. He just hopes no one connects the dots.
He doesn't answer, neither denying nor confirming. Clark lets the topic drop, chatting with Robin again.
The tour ends at dawn when Batman and Robin fly back to Gotham. The next morning, there are no reporters, no police, no one under their windows. That's a good sign, Bruce Wayne decides.
+1
The Metropolis gala quickly turns into a hostage situation.
By some miracle, Bruce ends up near the staff door when Luthor's robots burst into the venue. They aren't labeled "LEXCORP" in big letters, but they might as well be. Some details on their limbs glow with a suspicious green light.
Bruce saw Diana and Oliver in the hall and Clark among the crowd of reporters. He hopes they also managed to slip away to change and save the day.
Bruce jumps out of a second-floor window into some flower bushes, rushing to find his car and change into the suit. Luthor could be a serious threat with his cunning plans. He changes in a couple of minutes, hastily putting in his comm link to the Cave.
He worries about Clark—the selfless idiot could get hurt—and as he climbs through the window of a random room, the helmet is clamped firmly between his teeth.
He tumbles onto the carpet and straightens up, immediately freezing in shock.
Bruce, neck-deep in his Batsuit, comes face to face with a half-naked Clark pulling on his Superman suit. They stand like that for a couple of seconds, then speak simultaneously:
"Why don't you use super-speed to change?"
"You have lipstick on your face."
Bruce quickly wipes his face on a nearby curtain, pulling on and fastening the helmet. Clark stares at him dumbly, then pulls on the rest of his suit in literally a second. Bruce can't help but miss the expanse of that perfectly smooth skin.
"I panicked."
Batman nods grimly and runs out of the room. Green Arrow and Wonder Woman have done a good job protecting the hostages and holding off the robots. Barely more than half are left, and Batman might not have needed to intervene, but otherwise, Superman might have rushed chest-first into kryptonite, and that wouldn't end well.
"Superman, Green Arrow, evacuate the hostages," he gives the order, analyzing the situation.
"But—"
"No 'buts.' The robots have kryptonite, keep your distance. Wonder Woman and I will handle them."
Batman joins the fight, covering Diana's back and accurately launching batarangs at the robots' limb joints.
They wrap things up in about half an hour, but the gala is over anyway. There aren't too many injured, no fatalities, and all League members are quite pleased with themselves. Batman catches an increased number of Clark's glances while talking to the police and medics. He knows Superman will definitely want to talk about that awkward encounter.
Before that happens, he melts into the shadows, leaving for the protection of his own city.
Bruce tells Alfred what happened, and the old butler sees no problem with it.
It's about time, says Alfred. Don't be afraid to open up to your friends, Master Bruce, says Alfred.
So, a couple of days later, Bruce calls a non-emergency League meeting.
He's the last to arrive in their usual meeting hall, and he's nervous. The last time his stomach felt this tight was during Dick's first patrol. That turned out mostly fine, so maybe he has nothing to worry about, but he can't suppress the slight tremor in his fingers.
He takes his seat at the head of the table, scanning his colleagues' faces. They look a bit puzzled but quite calm. Clark didn't say anything, Bruce realizes. Left that decision to him.
Finally, he looks at Clark. He's smiling openly and joyfully, a faint expression of hope and support on his face. Bruce looks away and takes a deep breath. He reaches for his head, quickly and habitually dealing with the six locks; his fingers aren't trembling anymore. He pulls off the helmet, placing it on the table in front of him without a word. He shifts his gaze from one pair of shocked eyes to another, enjoying the moment a little.
Arthur and J'onn are the least surprised; Flash chokes on his protein bar and is now coughing desperately, pounding his chest; Hal pats his back half-heartedly, looking absolutely stunned. Diana collects herself in a couple of moments and now gives him an encouraging smile. Bruce starts to worry about Oliver's jaw joint.
"Holy shit," Oliver finally says, closing his mouth.
"And I knew first," Clark leans back proudly in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. Then he turns to Bruce: "So, what's your name?"
Bruce hears his neck crack as he sharply turns his head to Superman. He frowns:
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're Bruce Wayne's secret twin brother, right? I scoured the entire internet, but there's no reliable information about you anywhere. Many think your name is Thomas…"
Clark continues to ramble nonsense, and Bruce just holds his head in his hands, leaning on the table. His cheeks and ears flush with very understandable emotions—he's had time to reconsider his feelings for his best friend—and he feels Diana's hand on his shoulder, hears Oliver's hysterical laughter and Hal's incredulous sigh.
He lets Clark chatter for another minute. Maybe two.
"...it's the only possible explanation! It's impossible if Wayne is just one person. Neither of you could run a company by day and beat up villains at night. When do you rest and recover?"
"Clark. Clark, stop."
Superman falls silent, still looking far too pleased with himself.
"I don't have a secret twin brother. I am both Bruce Wayne and Batman."
Superman's lips form a comical 'O' as he thinks for a few moments. He looks puzzled and concerned.
"How do you sleep?"
Bruce rolls his eyes irritably.
"Whenever possible, about three hours a day. Sometimes less, rarely more. Any other questions?"
Clark thinks for another couple of minutes, then says:
"If we were to get married, who would wear the white dress? And would you prefer me in the Superman suit or a regular one?"
Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, trying to deal with the storm of emotions under the combined laughter of Hal and Oliver (Barry is laughing too, though not as loudly or confidently). This is the unserious, naive man he's in love with? Really?
He opens his eyes, looking at Clark's face. He looks like he's sincerely waiting for an answer, and Batman—Batman, known for his self-control and stoicism (!)—can't hold back any longer.
He smoothly leans closer to Superman, cupping his cheeks with his palms and pressing his lips to his, as he's long wanted to. Out of the corner of his ear, Bruce hears Diana's cough and Barry's choked sound of horror, but none of that exists for him right now. There's only the firm warmth of Clark's lips, his wide blue eyes, and that stupid curl on his forehead.
Superman gently returns the kiss, and only then does Bruce realize it never occurred to him that Clark might push him away.
Batman breaks the kiss after a few moments, sitting up straight in his chair and adopting a stern expression. The effect is ruined by his flushed cheeks and the utterly delighted Superman to his right.
"So, don't forget to submit your reports. Does anyone have any questions?"
The League has plenty of questions, and Bruce spends two hours of his life answering most of them. He stays at the tower for the evening, talking with his friends while the cities under their protection exist peacefully below. Bruce talks to Diana in a mix of all nineteen languages he knows, happily discusses work with Barry, teases Hal about his intentional army mistakes, shares a comfortably quiet moment with J'onn, exchanges honest opinions about high-society parties with Oliver, gives Arthur advice on ruling a kingdom, and steals a few kisses from Clark.
Batman's helmet remains on the table.