Chapter Text
It was two thirty-eight in the morning when Clark woke to his League communicator rattling on his nightstand. On the other end was a frazzled Dick Grayson already halfway through a sentence.
“-ou seen B? Heard from him?”
“Uh,” Clark mumbled, dragging up the answer from his half-asleep brain, “no, not since last week.”
“Shit.”
This is what he gets for trying to sleep through the night like a regular person. “What’s going on?”
“He’s been missing for almost two days.” The anxiety in Dick’s voice was enough to snap him awake.
“That’s not all that unusual for him. Are you sure he didn’t go off on a case somewhere?”
“I don’t think so? It’s just- he’s been acting weird lately. Robin thinks he’s in real trouble.”
Even though Bruce liked to brag about his kids he didn’t really exaggerate, and according to him his youngest was sharp as a tack with intuition that exceeded even his own. If Tim thought something was wrong, it probably was.
“What can I do? Have you asked around?”
“Yeah, but no one operating out of the Gotham area has seen him. I hoped he was with you doing Justice League stuff. Maybe I’m overreacting but Robin is worried which means I’m worried, and just, do you think you could come over here? I’m kinda starting to freak out a little.”
Chances were still good that Bruce was just caught up in a project or case and would reappear any minute oblivious to the worry he’d caused. Even so, considering the kinds of things Batman involved himself with, Clark couldn’t afford to brush this off. At the very least he didn’t want to leave Dick and the rest of the family worrying.
“Give me three minutes.”
“Thanks.”
Clark was in Gotham in two and a half.
Dick was pacing on a rooftop when Clark found him, already talking the second he was in view. It’s one of the many habits he’d picked up from his adoptive father.
“No one has seen him since the night before last. Even Babs can’t pick up the trail and I have Tim and Cass combing the city, but this is Bruce we’re talking about. We don’t have a chance in hell of finding him if he really doesn’t want to be found. I just need to know whether he’s in trouble or just hiding, and if he’s hiding then why. Because heaven forbid he actually talk to us, so I don’t know what to do but look, even though we checked the usual places and-”
“Okay Dick, slow down. Tell me what happened before he went missing.” It was always easiest to start at the beginning of the story, in his experience. Coaxing out answers was a skill he’d honed as Clark Kent even before Superman.
Dick gestured wildly. “I don’t know! He went overseas last week chasing something, I’m not even sure what. And he was late getting back which isn’t a big deal, but ever since he’s been weird. Cass said that his body language was different but she doesn’t know why. None of us have seen him more than a minute or two and never out of costume. There’s no activity in town that would warrant him going AWOL. All the planes are still here so he can’t have gone that far. And right before he disappeared, Tim said that he went way overboard on some nobody mugger who didn’t even have a gun. I don’t know, do you think I’m overreacting?”
He squeezed Dick’s shoulder. “No, I don’t. You’ve always had good instincts. I think you’re right to trust them.”
Nightwing sighed, tapping his fingers on his eskrima sticks. “I hope I’m wrong. But if I’m not, he could be mind-controlled or bleeding out in a sewer for all we know. He’ll be pissed at me for asking, but I don’t care. Can you please just find him? See if he’s okay? Hate to bother you but I’m low on options here.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. This is Bruce we’re talking about. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him home.”
Dick relaxed a fraction. “Thanks Clark. If he’s doing something crazy, as usual, try to talk some sense into him. You’re one of the only people he actually listens to. If anyone can help him, it’s you.”
“If you say so.”
Despite Dick’s worries, Clark stayed optimistic. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had disappeared. Compared to all the gut-wrenching moments Batman had gone missing during apocalyptic battles or off-world missions, holing up in Gotham was almost trite. Nevertheless Clark wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to give him a hand. It wasn’t often he got to.
Helping Batman was like pulling teeth, especially if that help was coming from anyone on the Justice League. It wasn’t fair- the number of times he’d had to rescue Superman from kryptonite was frankly embarrassing. But whenever Clark tried to repay the favor it was treated like a personal insult. It wasn’t that he thought Batman needed protecting, or some human vs. metahuman thing, or whatever other contrived garbage Bruce had come up with.
It just seemed no matter how close they grew, what they went through together, or how much Clark ached to ease the burden on those shoulders, Bruce still refused to accept help without a fight. Why couldn’t he understand that Clark just wanted him to be safe and happy? Simple as that; no agendas, no strings attached.
Well… maybe he did have one other motivation.
But that was more of a pipe-dream than anything, and… Clark was still working on making the leap and confessing exactly how much Bruce means to him. One day he would, or at least, that’s what he’d been telling himself for the last three years.
He was a darn coward for putting it off and he knew it. All there was to lose was… his relationship with his best friend, his partner, the unity of the JLA, his dignity, and his heart.
Right. No big deal.
Dick was right about one thing: finding Batman in Gotham would be a fool’s errand for most people. Luckily Clark wasn’t most people. Finding a quiet bit of air above the city, he closed his eyes, listening for that familiar heartbeat.
And didn’t hear it. Gritting his teeth through the stab of panic, Clark forced himself to concentrate and widen his range. Five miles outside of city limits he was still coming up empty. Dick had been sure he was still in Gotham. Could he just be missing him? No, he knew Bruce’s heartbeat as well as his own- his breathing, his voice, even the grind of the plate in his knee and the pins in his shoulder.
This couldn’t mean… no. Clark shook his head. He couldn’t think like that.
Not many knew how to block his senses, which probably meant Bruce was hiding from him on purpose. And if Bruce was hiding, he was using lead. All he had to do was use x-ray vision and look for the dark spots. Clark had to work the city in a grid, moving up and down, so it was close to an hour later before he finally spotted it.
A rectangle of lead was embedded in the coastline just outside of town. It was perfectly silent inside, likely hermetically sealed. No one besides Bruce or Lex Luthor would build something like this, and considering Bruce would never let Luthor this close to Gotham, it was safe to bet on the former.
Clark had long since stopped being bothered by Bruce’s anti-Kryptonian measures. Or, maybe he was a little bothered, but it was outweighed with the relief that if Superman ever turned on humanity, the world wouldn’t be helpless against him.
Anyone else would have missed it camouflaged into the sheer cliff-side. Tucked behind a jut of rock was a small metal door textured to blend right in with the stone. An unassuming pane of black glass was set into the wall- definitely Bruce’s design, the lack of identifying marks being his signature on things like this. Clark put his hand on the glass. It illuminated “A-01” and then “administrative access granted”. The doors slid open with a soft hiss.
“Nightwing,” he said, turning on the com in his ear, “you can stop looking. I found him.”
“Oh, thank god. Where? Is he okay?”
Clark didn’t know yet. Overhead lights flickered on as he floated inside and the door slid shut behind him. While there weren’t any blood splatters or other signs of a fight, the place was a mess: chairs and tables on their sides, papers strewn on the floor, and even a motorcycle tipped over in the corner. The freshness of the air and lack of dust meant it was a new mess. Another metal door set into the back wall.
“He’s in one of his bunkers. I’ll handle this, alright?” Clark tried to keep his tone light hiding something from Dick was almost as hard as with Bruce.
“Are you sure? Something’s wrong, isn’t it? What is it?”
“I’m still figuring that out,” he said honestly. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Trust me. B would want you to focus on looking after the city while he’s… unavailable.”
There was a beat of silence. “Okay, fine. Just let me know if you need backup. You have my permission to knock some sense into him. He can be a real jerk when he’s in trouble, you know.”
“I’m well aware. Don’t worry about us. I’ll bring him back, I promise.”
“You’d better.”
He muted his com. Despite what he’d said to Dick he had a bad feeling about this. Clark’s keen eye fell on the bunker again. The back room must be sealed off as effectively as the rest of the bunker because he wasn’t getting anything from it. Nothing indicated that anyone besides Bruce had been in here recently, so why had he made such a mess? When he spotted the utility belt tossed haphazardly over a chair, confusion turned to fear.
Bruce would never willingly part with his belt if he was in trouble. Not in a million years. Something was going on here, something big, and there was only one way to find out what.
Clark put his hand on the second scanner in the back of the bunker.
“A-01”, it said in a female voice, then “Administrative access denied.”
“Denied? What do you mean denied? Why can’t I open it?”
“System is in total lockdown.”
Which meant the door couldn’t be opened from the inside either. “Who put it in lockdown?”
“Designation A-02.”
“Why would- you know what, never mind.”
Clark dug his fingertips into the seam of the metal door and pulled. He didn’t like ruining it, but this was an emergency and Bruce could buy a new damn door. The gap was an inch or two wide before he heard a familiar voice and froze.
“Get the fuck out of here, Clark!”
Ignoring the pure venom in the voice, he focused on his friend’s racing heart. Something was wrong. He had been right to come after all. “Bruce, what are you doing holed up in there? Everyone’s worried about-”
“I said get OUT!” Something shot through the narrow gap. A human would’ve had their head sliced open. As it was a shard of tile bounced off Clark’s forehead and clattered to the ground.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
“None of your damn business.” Years of experience told him that Bruce’s clipped monotone was actually tight with pain.
“You better believe it’s my business! Dick sent me after you vanished for two whole days. Besides, I’m your friend and you’re worrying me.”
“If you were my friend then you would leave, Kal.”
Usually when Bruce used his Kryptonian name it was warm, nearly affectionate. This was not one of those times. “Bruce I’m-”
“I am not asking! Get out of here now!” Any other time Clark would have bristled at being ordered around like one of the kids. But he could hear the racing, irregular heartbeat, the tremors racking his body, the hoarseness of his voice. Sometimes when dealing with a man like Bruce Wayne the only course of action was to just keep pushing.
“Bruce,” Clark said as gently as he could, “I get that you want me to leave, but you’re really worrying me and I don’t know if you’re thinking clearly right now. I’m coming in to make sure you’re okay.”
Not giving him a chance to argue, Clark tore open the titanium door like wet cardboard. The scene wasn’t pretty. At some point this room had been a bunk area or storage room, but the thin mattress was ripped in half and the bedding in tatters. Shelves were smashed to pieces and craters scattered the linoleum floor. Curled in the corner with his hands over his head was Batman.
“Bruce!” Clark blurted, flying over without thinking. A cold fear bloomed in his chest. While he couldn’t see any injuries, something was clearly terribly wrong.
“Stay back!”
He stopped still.
“You can’t be here right now.” Bruce was sounding more desperate than angry. “Leave.”
“Not until you tell me what the heck is going on!” Clark didn’t mean to snap but this was starting to really freak him out. He’d never seen Bruce like this before. The hiding and the refusal to explain himself were pretty standard, actually, but everything about his body language screamed “fear” and Clark was painfully aware of how few things truly scared him. Dick would have mentioned if someone in the family was hurt- what else could make him react like this?
No, Bruce was more than just afraid, the tremors racking his body and the strain in his breaths seemed closer to a sickness. Was it poison? Fear toxin? That would actually explain a lot. A drug, at least, he knew how to deal with. Bruce had pages of protocols for every kind of toxin exposure.
“Okay Bruce, I need you to take some deep breaths for me,” Clark said steadily, floating towards him, “I think you might have been drugged.”
“That’s not- this isn’t a toxin. You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand. If it’s not a drug then what’s the harm in letting me look you over?” Toxin victims couldn’t think clearly but if Bruce fought him it would only make things worse. God, had he really been suffering like this for two whole days? All alone? The thought made him sick to his stomach.
“Because of the damn smell, you idiot! Get away from me!”
“You’re not making any sense, just let-” Bruce swung at him, Clark catching his arm to keep him from hurting himself. “Calm down, I’m trying to help you!”
Covering his mouth and nose with one hand Bruce yanked frantically against the iron grip on his bicep. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing! Let go!”
It happened fast even to his eyes. In a quick twisting move Bruce somehow pulled him off balance. Clark tried to grab his shoulder for a better grip and missed, pulling off the cowl. For the first time since entering the bunker Clark saw his face. They both froze. Bruce flinched away, but the damage had been done.
He was clearly exhausted, skin ashen with dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes, but that wasn’t what knocked the breath out of his lungs. Bruce’s eyes were no longer their beautiful silvery blue; instead his irises were dyed a striking, vivid scarlet. In his mouth gleamed long, white… fangs was the only word.
“What… happened to…?” Clark spluttered, still staring in open-mouthed shock. At just a glance he could tell this was no disguise, these new features were real.
“None of your business,” he muttered.
“Bruce, enough!” Clark snapped. He was out of patience with this man. “What happened?”
Wrenching his arm out of Clark’s numb grip, Bruce only made it a few steps before stumbling against the wall. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asked without turning around. “I’ve become a monster.”
“A monster?” Clark hovered close behind, ready to catch him if he fell but reluctant to touch him again without asking. “What are you talking about? Just tell me what happened to you, please!”
Bruce took a breath. “I was working overseas with Zatanna and Constantine. We were investigating a group of supernatural beings. I misjudged my opponents. They… injured me. I was infected. Changed.”
Wait. “You don’t mean… are you seriously…?” That would be just, there was no way that… but all signs pointed to it. “A vampire.” Clark half-laughed, stunned. “You’re telling me Batman became a vampire?”
Of all things- it would be almost funny if it weren’t for Bruce’s palpable misery. He already felt bad for his reaction. Clark knew vaguely that vampires existed but had never seen one before, so he knew hardly anything about them.
“What was your first clue?” Bruce snapped. “Believe me, I’m well aware of the irony. Spare me the witty commentary. The only thing you need to know is that I’m dangerous.”
“You’re not dangerous,” he said reflexively.
“I am, Kal! Why the hell do you think I locked myself in here? I can’t be trusted around people right now. I’m a danger to everyone around me. This is the only thing I could do to keep them safe, don’t you see that?”
And then it clicked. “Wait, you’re not talking about blood?”
Bruce hunched his shoulders and said nothing, which was the clearest answer he could give.
“Holy moly. Okay. You’re a vampire.” Clark pushed his hands through his hair because wow this was kind of a lot to take in at once. “A real-life vampire with fangs who needs to drink blood.”
“I don’t need blood,” he snarled.
“You don’t? Then what’s wrong with you? Your vitals read like you’re going into shock.”
“Abstaining has… side effects. It’s nothing. I don’t need blood,” Bruce repeated. From his tone one would think the symptoms were nausea or dry mouth, not a full-body shut down. Any normal person would be on their way to the hospital right now with that kind of heart rate and body temperature.
“By which you mean you do need it.” For such a brilliant man Bruce could be infuriatingly stupid sometimes. “Alright, we can handle this. What about animal blood?”
“I tried that and it doesn’t work. It… made me sick.”
Which was Bruce-speak for ‘it almost killed me’. “Okay. Got it. Human blood. We can-”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“At least think about it, Bruce! If you really do need blood then that’s, you know, not the weirdest thing we’ve ever seen.” Clark tried to sound reassuring but it was hard when internally he was still kind of freaking out. Bruce was a vampire. Bruce was a vampire who drank blood and had fangs and who knows what else. Was he even technically human anymore?
“For the last time, I’m not drinking human fucking blood!” Bruce rounded on him suddenly, jaw clenched and scarlet eyes blazing. It was all Clark could do not to flinch away; he looked different, sharper and intense, almost feral. The contrast was unsettling, not that he would admit as much out loud.
Bruce continued, voice tightly controlled. “I lost control two days ago on patrol. There was a man, he just had a bloody nose. The blood, it just… I stabbed him when he was on the ground. Nearly cut his jugular. I could have killed him if Robin hadn’t found me when he did.” Bruce grit his teeth and looked away. Clark couldn’t stop staring at the fangs. “Clark, I almost hurt Tim. For a moment I felt myself tense up, analyze him like he was an opponent I needed to take down. I can’t do that.”
“But you didn’t-”
“It doesn’t matter if I did it or not. That’s no excuse. I stabbed an unarmed man and was a second from doing the same to Tim. He’s my son and I- I almost…” Bruce’s breath hitched. “It was my fault for thinking I was fit to be near other people. I refuse to risk that again. Ever. I will not become something that hurts an innocent person. I can’t.”
“Bruce…” Darn it. This fatalist black-and-white thinking was so like him. There’s always another way. Clark had to believe there was another way. “Even so, locking yourself away isn’t the best way to solve this. Why didn’t you say anything? You know anyone in the JLA would help you if you just asked, not to mention your family. Let me call-”
“No. It’s bad enough Zatanna and Constantine know. I can’t afford to drag anyone else into this mess. Everyone around me is at risk. The blood,” he spat it like a curse, “makes me insane. Unstable. At least in here I can’t hurt anyone.”
“And you never thought that maybe not having blood is what’s driving you crazy in the first place?” Given, Clark was mostly working off of what books and movies said about vampires, but blood (or blood withdrawal…?) seemed a safe guess as to what was going on here.
“I’m not a rabid fucking dog, Clark. It’s just an addiction. I can handle it.”
“And what’s your plan if you can’t? What if you really do need blood?”
“I can’t need this! I refuse to spend the rest of my life dependent on human blood, what kind of fucking monster-” Bruce cut himself off and leveled him a ruthlessly flat stare. “This bunker was a last resort. If in the end I can’t beat this, I’m prepared to never leave it.”
A chill shot through Clark’s veins when he realized what he was saying. “You… that’s bullshit.” His voice shook. Bruce recoiled the slightest bit. “Bullshit. What the hell are you thinking? You’re going to give up without even trying?”
“You think I’m not trying? I spent days out there looking for a cure, feeling like I was dying the whole fucking time. Do you have any idea what it’s like just to be in the same room as you? I left the belt out there for a reason, it’s all I can do not to attack you!”
“The last person you need to worry about right now is me.”
“Not everyone is you, Kal. Most people wouldn’t stand a chance. Just the sound of their heartbeats and the damn smell is-” He took a short, shaking breath with his eyes closed, in and out. “And if I slip up just once, I don’t… know if I could stop from killing them. I won’t go out there until I know for an absolute certainty that won’t happen. Period.”
Bruce was afraid, he realized belatedly, more afraid than Clark had ever seen him. Not even the most perilous or desperate battles could shake Batman’s steady demeanor. Now he was too terrified to think straight. Clark had to talk him down before he spiraled deeper into a panic. “Don’t think like that. The Batman I know has come out on top of things worse than this.”
“The Batman you knew is gone.” Bruce said flatly. “That much should be obvious. I can’t protect a city in this state. For years the rumors called me a vampire and a demon and a monster, and now it’s true.”
Clark crossed his arms. “Gotham needs you, anyone can see that.”
“It doesn’t need me like this.”
“And what about the rest of us? The League? Your team? Dammit Bruce, what about your kids?”
At that Bruce tensed, pain flashing more intensely over his features. Clark pressed his advantage desperately. “You think your family doesn’t need you? You think we- they wouldn’t drop everything to help if you just told them what was wrong?”
“This isn’t their problem.”
“And you know what is? Their dad disappearing for two days without a word of explanation! Do you have any idea how much you’re scaring those poor kids?” It felt like a low blow to use them like this. But Dick, Tim, Cass, and Barbara had been the only things keeping Bruce from a complete downward spiral in these last few years since Jason’s death.
“And what would you have me tell them, exactly? That I’m unstable and could turn on them at any moment? There’s no reason to drag them into danger over my own personal problems. I can take care of myself. And if you’re implying that I would take my own children’s blood-”
“I didn’t say that. I’m saying that there’s people who care about you. I’m saying maybe look for a solution that doesn’t involve locking yourself away until you starve to death!”
There was a long pause. Bruce had his back to him, keeping his distance like the proximity physically hurt. It probably did.
“This… thing, you should know it’s magical. An old, powerful curse that infected me like a parasite and lives off of the blood of others. Zatanna knew from the start there was no way to cure it, but she tried to anyway because I wouldn’t accept that.”
Bruce took a breath dangerously close to a sob, carding his gloves through his hair and making it spike up wildly.
“I’m an arrogant bastard, you know. Even though no one in hundreds of years has beat this, I still thought I could because I’m me. I even made Zatanna promise not to tell anyone what happened. But my condition was getting worse by the day. No one had any answers, not even Constantine or Jason Blood. Eventually I just couldn’t stay out there looking anymore. It got too- I had to come home where I have resources and contingency plans. Now, even if there is a cure out there somewhere, I’m out of time. I failed.”
“Bruce… you can’t give up hope yet. You tried everything you could and now you just need some help. Listen, let me take you home. Explain to everyone what’s going on and maybe we can-”
“No!” The room practically shook with the force of Bruce slamming a fist into the wall. “Did you listen to a word I said? How many times do I have to spell out that I’d rather die than risk another life?”
“You won’t hurt anyone,” Clark pleaded, “I can make sure of it. Please, let me get you help.”
“Dammit Kal, don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter! There is no help! There is no cure! I’m going to be a fucking monster for the rest of my life and there’s nothing I can do about it!”
No one else seemed to notice it, but Bruce wasn’t a loud man. He didn’t need to be, when he could cut silence into a crowd of metahumans with a single word. The last time he’d heard him scream like this was right after Jason died, Clark realized with a shiver. Back then he had barely been able to stop Bruce from killing the Joker. Seeing him so tortured hurt, but his friend needed him.
“You know, maybe there isn’t a cure.” Clark took a breath, forcing his voice to soften. “Maybe the best we can do is learn to manage this thing. That’s life sometimes. You can’t always control what happens to you.”
“But I should be able to! This is my body, Clark. My mind. If I can’t even have those, then what’s the point? I’ve lost everything. I’m not even human anymore.”
“Well, good to know that being human is the only thing that matters to you!” Clark shot back acidly. That was an old wound for him. Even now Bruce should know better than to go there.
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it. You were born Kryptonian. I’m not supposed to be this blood-thirsty thing I was turned into. Don’t act like you understand.”
“Oh, that is rich. You think I don’t know exactly how you feel, you self-centered jerk? If you’d bothered to pull your head out of your ass for a single minute, you’d realize that I’m one of the only people on the planet who gets it. You think I didn’t spend years terrified that I’d hurt someone? Thinking that isolating myself was the only way to keep everyone safe? Well I tried it, and it was awful! If there’s one thing I learned it’s that running away only makes things worse. You’ll never be able to move on with your life until you accept who and what you are, and stop being afraid of it.”
“I can’t!”
For a moment Bruce looked like he was going to keep yelling but went silent, shoulders drooping as the fight drained out of him. He wouldn’t meet Clark’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I just can’t accept this. You being Kryptonian is one thing because you’re you. It doesn’t matter if you’re human or not, because either way you’d be the best man I’ve ever known. Your nature is to be kind and good. But I’m not, Kal. These last few days, I can’t be near anyone without thinking about the quickest way to cut their throat. I can’t even be in the same room as you without…” Bruce stepped closer, reaching towards him before freezing. He snatched his hand back like it burned.
“I can’t do this. I was a fool to ever think I could.”
For Bruce that was a big admonition. If there’s one thing he never thought he would see, it’s Batman truly admitting defeat. It scared him more than anything else.
Clark had said that he understood, and in a lot of ways he did, but Bruce didn’t exactly deal with problems like most people. Contrary to popular belief the big bad Bat had a tender heart, and as much as Clark loved that about him, it was a double-edged sword. Even if he never showed it there were some scars he would carry inside of him forever. From Bruce’s perspective this curse, or whatever it was, threatened his very personhood. His identity.
Bruce would tear himself apart over this and Clark wasn’t sure he could stop him.
“Look, B. I know this is hard. But you can’t give up. No, there might not be a cure, but that doesn’t mean I’ll watch you starve to death over this. You can’t ask me to do that.”
Bruce huffed. “And what do you suggest we do? Steal blood from a hospital from people who actually need it, where there’s already shortages? Or should I roam the streets and rip the throat out of the first person I come across?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m not.” Even Clark was taken aback by the bluntness. “And if you think for a second that I’m willing to take that chance, then I don’t want your help.”
“Dammit Bruce, give me something to work with here! Use that big brain of yours. There has to be something we can do.”
“Unless you have a way to obtain human blood without stealing or hurting anyone, there isn’t.”
“What if…” Clark trailed off. What could he do? Unless- “Wait a second. Does it have to be human blood? Or would mine do the job?”
Taking a step back, Bruce blanched. “Are you insane? No. Absolutely not.”
Honestly, he should’ve thought of this sooner. “Why not? Would Kryptonian blood work?”
“Technically yes, but-
“Will it turn me into a vampire too?”
“No, just getting bitten won’t infect you. That’s not how it works.”
“Great, then what’s the issue?”
“You have to ask? Jesus Clark, I can’t do that to you.”
“Why not? Even you have to see this is the best solution. I heal quicker than any human and it’s not like I’ll die. Please let me do this for you, just for now,” Clark pleaded. He would throw himself on a kryptonite spear for Bruce Wayne. If all it took to save this man was some pain and blood, then he would count it as a blessing.
“Why would you offer that?” It’s more a demand than a question. The tremor in Bruce’s hands and breath was getting worse by the second.
“Because I care about you, you goddamn idiot! I’m allowed to help you when you need it. And whether or not you want to admit it, you need help.”
“But-”
“What’s your backup plan, huh? Because I refuse to let you die over this.”
“You don’t know if it will kill me.”
“Your vitals say otherwise. And I know you, you’ve dug up every scrap of information on vampires there is. You know exactly what happens when they go without blood for too long.”
Bruce looked away. “There’s no way of knowing if the sources-”
“Tell me what you found, darn it. Tell me how long it takes.”
A sigh. “The longest I could find was nine days.”
“How long has it been for you?”
“Only seven and a half.”
He scoffed, “Only seven and a half, he says. And your plan was to wait around and hope you don’t die like the others?”
“I was out of options. What other choice did I have?”
“A lot of choices! The one I’m giving you right now, for starters.”
“This isn’t a solution. I can’t just live off of you.”
“It would only be until you can come up with something more permanent. And I know you can figure it out because you’re the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. All you need is a clear head and time. Let me give that to you.”
But Bruce was shaking his head. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. You don’t want to do this."
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said simply.
Bruce was finally beginning to falter. “I can’t ask you to… I can’t… I don’t know if I could even break the skin.” But his breath was coming in short gasps like the air itself hurt him. Scarlet eyes were fixed intently on Clark. He was slipping, now only barely keeping himself in check. Honestly it was frightening to see… if not a little exhilarating.
“This is magical, so you probably can. I’ll get the kryptonite from your belt in the other room if I have to.”
Silence.
“I can help you find someone else too, if you don’t want to do this with me.”
“That’s not-” a breath that was almost a laugh, “It’s not that. You can’t imagine how much I want to. I just can’t… I don’t… you don’t know what you’re offering. What I am, what this is? It’s wrong. It’s unnatural and disgusting and it’s not your problem. I can’t drag you into this.”
And that was so like Bruce. Even now, with his body and mind practically breaking down, he was still trying to protect him. Clark wasn’t sure if he wanted to give him a hug or punch him in the face. He was leaning towards the latter.
There had always been things that Bruce decided weren’t Clark’s problem. At first it was because he “couldn’t handle what goes on at street level”. When he finally gained some of his respect, it became things that “Superman shouldn’t concern himself with”, generally categorized as whatever Bruce decided was too dark or twisted for anyone else but him. It was infuriating. Clark wasn’t a civilian or a caped kid to keep away from a gruesome crime scene. Bruce seemed convinced that getting involved too closely with certain things would taint him somehow, like he was some helpless innocent.
Apparently becoming a vampire was something he had decided wasn’t Superman’s problem. As much as Clark wanted to tear into Bruce for that, and he certainly would later, the last thing they needed was for this to devolve into a real fight. For now he had to stay focused.
“Bruce, listen to me. Sometimes weird, messed-up stuff happens in this line of work. I’m used to it. It doesn’t change how I feel about you. That is, I mean, I still respect you and value our friendship. You’re not evil or disgusting or whatever else you’re calling yourself right now. You’re still the man I’ve known and trusted for years.” The man he had loved for years. “Want to know what I really think? I think you’re astonishing. You live to protect other people, no matter the cost and without a second’s hesitation. I’d bet there isn’t another person on this planet who could have made it this far in your condition.”
Bruce was stock-still, watching him. At least he wasn’t arguing.
“I also think,” Clark continued, “that you’re stubborn as a mule and terrible at asking for help. You convinced yourself that you have to do this alone and you don’t, B. We choose to go up against the ugliest parts of this world so others don’t have to, and sometimes ugly things happen to us because of it. This isn’t your fault. I won’t give up hope for you. Please don’t give up on yourself either.”
There was a small huff that might have been laughter. “Leave it to Superman to turn this into a motivational speech about hope.”
“I am a writer, you know.”
For a few moments it was quiet, just their breathing. Bruce’s was still fast and a bit labored, his heart racing.
“Are you sure?”
This man, honestly. Without giving himself time to think Clark pulled up his sleeve and held his arm out. “Yes, darn it, will you just do it already?”
That, apparently, was enough to make him snap. He surged forward, grabbed Clark’s wrist and twisted it into a hold. It wasn’t painful but it caught him by surprise- Bruce had never been this strong. Before he could say anything long white fangs sunk into his wrist.
The first surprise was that Bruce was actually able to break the skin. Usually Clark’s invincibility didn’t work against magic but it wasn’t a guaranteed thing. His small flinch was just from shock, though, because he quickly realized that the bite didn’t actually hurt.
Honestly, Clark thought it would. A bit of pain just seemed a small price to pay given the circumstances. But after a pinch in the first couple seconds there was none. Did the magic that let the fangs pierce his skin also numb it? That was convenient. His wrist just felt strangely warm; it was actually rather pleasant. Whether that was due to magic or just the fact that Bruce’s mouth was on him, Clark didn’t know.
Don’t make it weird, he scolded himself. It’s just your arm. He’s doing it because he has to. It’s not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.
While the magic had let him bleed, it didn’t stop Clark from healing. After just a moment Bruce let out an inhuman growl and pulled away. There were only two small pink bruises on his otherwise unmarked skin.
“Wow, uh,” Clark stammered, “okay, that wasn’t so bad.”
Bruce’s sharp eyes snapped up. The red was still foreign and startling, making him look in that instant like an wholly different man. Before Bruce’s icy glare had always seemed to pierce right through him: calculating, reserved, and at times as cold as Clark’s arctic fortress. Now there was… passion might be the right word. He had never looked at him like that before, with such raw desire. Bruce wasn’t done with him just yet.
Despite himself, Clark went a little weak in the knees. When Bruce pressed forward, crowding him against the wall, he didn’t resist. With one hand he pinned his shoulder while the other yanked his hair back to expose his neck. Closing his eyes, Clark held his breath for another bite that didn’t come.
Bruce was nearly ripping his hair out, forehead against his collarbone and barely breathing. “Shit,” he gasped, voice somewhere between panic and pain, “Clark, I-I can’t stop… I need, fuck… please…”
Any chance Clark had of keeping his thoughts innocent flew out the window.
He barely had the presence of mind to choke out “It’s okay-” before Bruce’s mouth was on him again. Like before there was just a short sting before he was awash with a feeling like a hot shower or the light of the sun. A contented sigh dangerously close to a moan fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Thankfully Bruce seemed too preoccupied to notice, or if he did, he had the decency not to comment. Usually Clark was able to repress his more workplace inappropriate thoughts. But between the body against him and the mouth on his neck, it was hard not to slip.
He couldn’t help it. It was just so… so. The closeness. The hand tangled in his hair. Bruce’s impossibly soft lips. The warm drag of his tongue. A slight suction that made his heart race. Clark barely had the presence of mind not to crush him; he wasn’t even sure when he’d clenched the black cape in his fists, but he wasn’t about to let go.
And yet… it was selfish and unfair of him to enjoy this and he knew it.
Even though Clark had fantasized about that mouth about a million times, Bruce’s consent was to biting and nothing more. The compulsion for blood was obviously too strong for even him to resist- and for Bruce, who had once quit venom cold-turkey, that was saying something. This wasn’t something he wanted to do. He wasn’t pressed up against him because he wanted to be. His lips weren’t on his skin because he wanted them to be. And if Bruce let out a small pleasured breath or two, it was just for Clark’s blood, not him… regardless of how his stomach did backflips.
As before the bite healed in moments, only this time Bruce didn’t hesitate before sinking his teeth in again, and again, not giving him any time to recover. Oh Rao, if this went on much longer Clark’s heart was going to burst right out of his chest.
Bruce finally paused, warm breath prickling his skin like electricity, and breathed a muted curse. When it came the last bite was slower, so gentle that he didn’t even realize it was happening at first. Time had slowed to a syrupy haze when his lips finally pulled away, leaving Clark light-headed and giddy. The hands on him unclenched as Bruce’s whole body finally began to relax.
The effect was immediate. His breathing evened out, heart rate lowered, and even his skin warmed. The gloved hand slid from Clark’s hair to rest on the back of his neck. To his shameful delight Bruce didn’t pull back immediately, just slumped bonelessly against him. Afraid to break the moment he held still even as Bruce tipped his head back and breathed a long, contented sigh. His eyes were unfocused and parted lips painted a vivid scarlet.
Clark wanted to kiss him more than he’d wanted anything in his entire life.
But he wouldn’t.
It was a reality he had accepted years ago. Just becoming friends had been hard enough. Bruce wasn’t an easy person to get close to, to put it mildly. The very idea of wooing such a man was intimidating enough to make Clark wish he could just forget the whole thing. But his feelings had stayed annoyingly consistent since he and Lois had broken up over three years ago, and if he was being honest with himself, probably before then. The fact that he hadn’t slipped up and ruined their friendship long ago was frankly astonishing. Fortunately, Superman had self-control in droves.
But it wasn’t as if Clark intended to bottle this up forever. In fact, he had nearly worked up the courage to say something when Jason had died.
Suddenly romance was the last thing on anyone’s mind. Back then Bruce had needed him as a friend, not as something potentially messy and complicated. So Clark held strong even when Bruce broke his own hand punching him, even when he screamed and raged and wept and isolated himself in his own pain and guilt.
Two and a half years had come and gone since Jason’s passing. Tim, bless that boy, had managed to steady Bruce when no one else could. That led him to reconnect with Dick and even step up as a parent in Cassandra’s life. And as happy as Clark was for him, it also meant he was quickly running out of excuses to delay.
Through all these years and some casual dating Clark’s feelings hadn’t waned, but there was no telling for sure how Bruce would react. He could be finicky about things like this. While he would never let personal feelings affect their work with the JLA, if things went poorly their friendship could fall apart. Clark could comfortably call Bruce his best friend, and he hoped the reverse was true. That relationship was too important to risk lightly.
But he wanted more. No, more was the wrong word. He wanted change. He wanted Bruce’s companionship. He wanted to sit at the breakfast table with his family and make him eat something besides those bitter green shakes. He wanted to make him laugh without restraint, to see him smile. He wanted to stay by Bruce’s side, and also maybe have carnal knowledge of him.
He wanted…
Oh, Rao. As Lois liked to tease him: he had it bad. He had it so bad.
“Are… you feeling any better?” Clark asked after what felt like minutes. Instantly Bruce went tense in his arms. He stared up at him in wide-eyed horror then flinched away a few steps.
“Shit.” He put a hand over his mouth like he was going to throw up.
“What’s wrong?” Oh no, was Kryptonian blood poisonous after all?
“Are you serious? I just- I can’t believe I…” Bruce caught sight of his palm, the black glove shiny with blood, and stared. “Oh god. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Bruce, it’s-”
“Don’t you fucking tell me it’s okay!” He snapped, scrubbing furiously at his mouth.
“But it is!”
“Look at your damn neck and tell me that.”
Blood stains marred the collar of his suit. Clark brushed the bite marks with his fingertips. The numbness was fading quickly, leaving his neck tender and sore. He grimaced without thinking and instantly regretted it at the flash of anguished guilt over Bruce’s face.
“Don’t freak out! I’m fine, everything’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Bruce snarled.
“Yeah it is! Why can’t you just believe me?”
“Because it’s not true. You won’t let yourself see that what I just did to you was, was depraved and horrible. If that’s the cost every time, then why should I deserve to…”
“You know what Diana says. It’s not about deserving.”
“She was referring to humans. I don’t fall into that category anymore. And even if I did, I still hurt you. Helping me isn’t worth it,” Bruce stated, in that detached monotone of his that drove Clark up the wall.
“First, I’m not even going to start on how hypocritical that is, considering the kinds of people at Arkham you try to help. Second, don’t go telling me why I do what I do. I helped you because I wanted to, simple as that.” He smothered his irritation and pulled down his collar, speaking gently. “And I’m just fine. See? It’s already healed. Just a lil’ sore is all.”
That gave Bruce pause. “Just because you healed doesn’t make it okay to hurt you.”
“You really didn’t, though. I barely felt a thing. There’s something numbing on your teeth, magic maybe, I don’t know. Do vampire bites usually hurt?”
He didn’t answer.
“Well if it was supposed to, it didn’t. It actually felt good, I mean, it was pleasant. Fine. Stop worrying about me already.”
Bruce gave him a searching look. “Don’t try to tell me you’re honestly not bothered by this. I’d rather you not lie to spare my feelings.”
“What exactly do you think I have a problem with here? Getting a little bruise? Or is this about you being different now? I shoot lasers from my eyes and I can die from being in the same room as a rock. I’m in no position to judge.”
“My point is that you- I know that this is…” Bruce scowled, turning to pace the room. His movements were noticeably more fluid than before; thank Rao the blood had really healed him. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind, else I wouldn’t have allowed it. You’re under no obligation to stay here any longer.”
“Oh, please. Dick would have my head if I left you like this.” Not that he would anyway.
“Dick shouldn’t be worrying about me. It’s my job to look after him, not the other way around.” He squared his shoulders and took a breath. In the span of a few seconds, Bruce became Batman. “Now that I’m functioning again there’s work to do. Constantine said there might be someone in Tanzania that-” Bruce bent to pick up his cowl but lost his balance standing up. Clark was catching him by the hand before he made the conscious decision to move.
“Whoa there! You okay?”
“Yes. Just tired. I haven’t really slept since it happened. My body is crashing.” He sounded almost offended that his body dare have limits. Belatedly he seemed to notice Clark’s hand in his and pulled away.
“Jesus, Bruce, that was over a week ago. Looking for a cure can wait, you need to rest. I can have you home in-”
“No.”
“But you’re not, uh, hungry anymore, right? And like I said, I won’t let you lay a hand on anyone.” To be honest, he desperately wanted Alfred’s help with this. Clark felt way out of his depth here and no one could set Bruce straight like the old butler could.
“It’s not that. I can’t go back now.” He fiddled with the lenses of the cowl in his hands.
“Your family deserves to know what’s going on.”
“I can’t face them yet, okay?” Bruce snapped, voice raw. “Not like this. Not until I’ve… done something to make it better. I need to be able to tell them that I have a plan so they don’t worry.”
Clark didn’t think there was any chance of them not worrying, but let it go for the moment. This wasn’t a fight they needed to have right now. “Okay, we can deal with the kids and Alfred later. Can I at least get you out of this depressing bunker? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“I can do it myself. You don’t have to stick around.”
“And yet I shall.”
His eyebrow quirk made Clark smile. There’s the Bruce Wayne he knew and loved. Moving slowly enough for him to reject it if he wanted to, Clark went in for a hug. To his surprise Bruce not only accepted but leaned into it. Resting his forehead on his shoulder Bruce took a deep, shuddering breath. “Take me to the fortress. There’s no one I can hurt there.”
“Okay.”
Bruce glanced up, tantalizingly close with an intense yet unreadable look in his newly-scarlet eyes. Days old stubble prickled his cheeks. His skin was sallow and his eyes bloodshot and exhausted.
And he was beautiful.
But for now, he would be the friend Bruce needed. Reluctantly Clark let go. “We should move before the sun comes up. Don’t want anyone spotting us.”
The trip north was short and silent, Bruce not objecting to being carried, and even nodding off somewhere over Canada. When they arrived Clark laid him gently on a bed in the medical bay. Only when Bruce’s heartbeat lowered into a deep sleep did Clark allow himself to stumble into an armchair in another room and put his head in his hands.
What would this mean for the future of Batman? The JLA? For Bruce? There were still so many questions. The only thing he knew for sure is that Bruce wouldn’t be going through this alone. It didn’t matter if he returned Clark’s feelings or not, he loved him too much to leave him now.
“I’m in love with Bruce Wayne.” He said out loud to no one. “And Bruce Wayne is a vampire.”
He was in love with a vampire. Oh boy.