Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason lies.

Not all the time, mind you, but sometimes – when it’s important and efficient – he lies. When it comes to his family he lies a little more than the average person, probably, but he’s found peace with that. So he doesn’t really feel guilty lying to Bruce. It’s not even a big lie. And he did just tell Bruce he loves him, which… God, he’ll have to take a thousand showers to get that feeling off his shoulders.

Bruce knows Jason lies; he should be prepared for it. He is prepared for it, if Jason knows his old man. And he does. So what’s another lie, really? It’s the tamest of lies he’s told and to be fair, it’s for Bruce’s own good. That has to counter the lying part. It’s not like he just leaves Bruce on the street, telling him specifically that he won’t go after Clark. No, of course, he makes sure Bruce gets home first, because Jason can’t trust Bruce not to just stay in that hellhole he calls an apartment.

And then Jason obviously stays long enough to hear Alfred tear Bruce a new one. It’s the perk of being Jason. He just wishes he’d been better prepared. If he goes to the kitchen to make popcorn, he’ll miss too much. He has to make sure he gets every detail of Bruce’s shameful expression and Alfred disappointed father look. The others will ask what went down, Jason has no doubt, and he needs to be able to relay every word perfectly.

“Of all the irresponsible things you have ever done,” Alfred starts, and Jason holds a hand over his mouth to make sure he doesn’t accidentally laugh loud enough to disturb his speech. “Do you have any idea the havoc you left behind in your absence?”

“Damian is with Talia, I thought-” Bruce tries, but Alfred isn’t letting him get many words out.

“You did not think, Bruce, as per usual you forgot your brain in the streets and acted on pure foolish instincts. The kind that would have the Batman put someone in prison or the mental hospital.”

Jason desperately wants to congratulate Alfred for the sick burn, but he’s so upset that he forgot to call put Master in front of Bruce’s name, so Jason opts to stay quiet.

“You threw everything on the ground and just left. You did not even have the mind to tell anyone where you went. And right after a kidnapping as well! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

“I know, Alfred, I’m sorry.”

“And you should be! The only sign of life we’re given is that damn suit flying around between rooftops. You even turned your tracker off with no word, no warning.”

There’s no way in hell Bruce has any sort of answer to Alfred’s stern expression. Even Jason is starting to feel sorry for him; he would rather swallow one of Damian’s swords than ever have Alfred look at him like that.

“You absolute fool of a child,” Alfred says softly. He pulls Bruce into a hug and that’s Jason’s cue to leave. He doesn’t want to see Bruce cry twice in one day, and he knows he’ll be crying by the end of that hug. Alfred’s hugs are the best, whether you’ve fucked up or not.

“You got him?” He asks before leaving just to be sure. Just to make sure they’re both okay.

“I always have,” Alfred says, and Jason knows it to be true.

He’s not worried about Alfred handling Bruce; the old man will strap Bruce to a gurney if he tries to leave again. And Jason does have other things to tend to. Mainly, he has to make sure Clark suffers for making Bruce into this pathetic, crying mess. Jason wants his awkward, stoic, idiot Bruce back. This heartbroken excuse of a man isn’t who Bruce is supposed to be. And Jason is ready to make sure he gets over it fast.

Now, Jason is well aware that he can be temperamental at times. A little dramatic in certain aspects of his life. He might even go as far as to admit that he has a tendency to overreact sometimes.

Barging into the Daily Planet on Monday to either humiliate Clark or outright push him out a window so that his secret will be revealed as revenge for making Bruce cry? That’s nowhere near his top ten of dramatic reactions.

Jason doesn’t have a whole “Brucie Wayne” part of his persona, but he is an excellent actor, nonetheless. Getting security to let him in is a breeze. Especially since he’s bribing them with his homemade brownies. He’s been stressed lately, alright, and it works perfectly for him so shut it.

He dials his “I’m here to grab lunch with my dad’s boyfriend. He told me he has something to tell me. I really think he’s going to propose tonight, isn’t that exciting, John?” speech up to eleven and the security guards are aww’ing and ooh’ing for several minutes. Of course, they know Clark. He’s getting married? That is exciting. Of course, Jason is allowed to go see his stepdad at his workplace.

It’s pathetic, really, that it works just because Jason is charming, but he’s not going to tell these guys how to do their job. Especially since they’re helping him gain access to the building. And by default Clark as well.

The look on his face is almost enough to have Jason’s heart sing with glee. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, or maybe like he’s trying to swallow his own tongue to keep from blurting something stupid out. Either way, it’s a good look on him. It has Jason grin.

“Jason,” Clark greets, his voice a little squeaky. Ah, the beautiful sound of anxiety. “What are you doing here?”

“What, can’t a guy come see his future stepfather at his place of employment?” Jason asks innocently. His voice is just loud enough that the nearest people are watching them curiously. So maybe Clark hasn’t told his colleagues that he’s dating? That’s too bad; Jason was really looking forward to being introduced awkwardly to all of them.

“Um,” Clark says, very intelligently. Jason grins wider.

“Listen,” he says. “I have something super important to talk to you about.”

While Jason would love to scream to the entire world that Clark is Superman just to get back at him, he knows it’s not that simple. Clark has loved ones, he has family. And Jason may be angry, but he’s not a psychopath. He’ll give Clark a chance to speak before he makes the final decision. That doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun at Clark’s expense though.

“Okay?” Clark says.

“I just talked to my dad, daddy-o, the big papa-saurus, and let me just say, Clark. He’s not doing super good.” Jason plops down on Clark’s desk. He’s pretty sure he’s messing up some papers, but Clark probably won’t cause a scene over such a trivial thing. “It’s almost like he’s got a case of the super sadness, ya know? I feel like you and I should talk. Man to man. If that’s possible.”

Jason hopes Clark chokes on the realization of what he’s saying as he smiles brightly at him. Clark’s a clever man, it won’t take him long to figure out how Jason is really related to Bruce. It takes him less than a heartbeat from Jason’s count.

“I, uh, yeah, yes,” Clark stutters. “Let’s talk. Not here though.”

“Oh? I don’t think your coworkers will mind us talking, do you?” Jason can’t help but ask. He might not want Clark to suffer (yet), but it would be a shame not to take advantage of having the strongest man on Earth be a little nervous. “It’s not like you have any big secrets you don’t want them to know about.”

“What do you want, Jason?” Clark asks through clenched teeth. So he does have a limit to his patience. Good to know.

“I want you to take an early lunch,” Jason says with a shit eating grin. He always gets what he wants, and this is no different. Dealing with Superman is like dealing with any other man. Piece of cake – or brownie, if you will. “Spend some quality time with your future stepson, doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Hilarious,” Clark says although his face is conveying the opposite.

“Shall we then?”

“After you.”

Jason almost expects Clark to shove him out the door and lock it behind him (not that that would save him), but then again, he’s used to spending time with three gremlin creatures and their emotionally stunted guardian. And Alfred. So you can’t really blame him for expecting the worst of people. Oh, yeah, there’s also the whole vigilante thing, but Jason thinks he’s got a good handle on that aspect, so that probably doesn’t have anything to do with his paranoia.

They’re barely out of the building before Clark drags him into a nearby alley. This, Jason will admit, does make his vigilante senses start tingling. Will Superman fly him high up in the sky and drop him? It’s not very Superman of him, but Jason’s been kind of a menace to him already. Joke’s on Clark though because Jason has been dropped from significant heights before and that’s not what’s killed him in the past.

Clark looks around the surrounding buildings with this odd look in his eyes and – how the hell did Bruce not see that this guy is Superman? It’s so pathetically obvious now that Jason knows that he can’t believe nobody’s figured it out. He barely looks human as he scans over the buildings and Jason wonders if his eyes have always been so blue? He can’t really remember what Clark’s profile looked like but he’s pretty sure his eyes were more muted than this. He files that knowledge away for another day.

“Checking to see if I’m alone?” Jason asks innocently. He is, of course, but maybe he should have brought back up just to mess with Clark. Dick wouldn’t have approved though and there’s no way Jason is voluntarily spending any more time with the demon spawn or Timmy. They might start getting attached.

“Checking if we are alone,” Clark corrects. “Now, what did you want to talk to me about? Is Bruce okay?”

“You know he’s not.”

“Does he need help? I can-”

“Ah, ah,” Jason interrupts. He makes a point of wagging his finger in front of Clark’s face. There might even be a slight hint of annoyance to his face. Not so Superman all the time then. “No running away from this.”

“What is ‘this’ exactly?” Clark asks. It’s odd to see him frown. No, that’s not true, it’s odd to see Superman frown. God, how do those glasses fool anyone?

“This can go one of two ways, Supes,” Jason says, speech well-prepared. “You can either tell me what the fuck happened, or I can tell you how the fuck I’m going to ruin your life. Your call.”

“Threats don’t really work on me, Jason.” It’s almost as if Clark doesn’t believe that Jason holds any power at this point. And that might’ve been true if he wasn’t who he is. If Bruce isn’t who he is too. As if that old stick in the mud hasn’t taught Jason all of the dirty tricks to play. Batman may not kill but he’s done his fair share of murdering reputations over the years.

“Oh no,” Jason says quickly. “You misunderstand me, I’m sorry, let me be clearer. I will ruin Clark Kent’s entire life. Everyone you know and love will be put in great danger for the rest of their very mortal lives.”

“W-”

“Don’t even try to play dumb with me,” he says quickly. “Bruce isn’t the only one driving around Gotham at night, okay? I’ll find a way to hurt you, so why don’t we just skip past all that and you tell me why the fuck you targeted the old man? More importantly, how the hell did you do it?”

“I didn’t,” Clark says.

“Explain.”

“Would a please kill you?” There’s that frown again. It almost feels like a real stepfather frown. At least as far as Jason can imagine a stepfather would look at his stepchild after being threatened a little. Okay, a lot. Jason doesn’t half-ass things, not even threats to superpowered aliens.

“No, but it might kill you.” Jason smiles sweetly. “Explain. Please.”

“I only found out yesterday,” Clark tells him.

“That?” Jason prompts. He needs to make sure they’re on the same page. He’s been through the whole identity reveal more than once and it can get messy and awkward really quick.

“Who Bruce is,” Clark clarifies. Okay, good, same page then.

“So you didn’t know either?” Now it’s Jason’s turn to frown. Has Bruce really gotten it wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time, but this is his personal life; his love life. Somehow Jason can’t see Bruce simply throwing it all on the ground just because of a hunch. Then again, he is the king of self-sabotage.

“Of course not,” Clark says. “Do you really think I’d start dating a coworker?”

Jason raises an eyebrow and tries not to look too disapproving. He knows Superman is rumored to be this goody two shoes, always honest and kind, but come on. Jason has seen the articles and by the looks of it, Clark has absolutely no qualms about dating coworkers. Ms. Lane is a beauty, he’ll admit, so he can’t really fault him.

“I didn’t know,” Clark repeats stubbornly. He seems to be telling the truth; there’s that slight desperation to his eyes – which are back to normal now, thank God – and the way he holds himself doesn’t scream intimidation or aggression. It just reads like Clark trying his very best to make Jason believe him. It’s the stance of an honest man. Alien. Whatever.  

“I guess I believe you. For now. Why does Bruce think you did know?”

“I have no idea, he just suddenly stopped talking to me after he found out who I am. And he won’t let me explain,” Clark says, shoulders drooping down. Damn, he’s almost pitiful to look at.

“Of course, he won’t.” Jason sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. So Bruce has gone into a pity spiral. Again. Great. “And have you actually tried talking to him?”

“He punched me,” Clark says in leu of actually answering.

“He punched you?” Jason gapes. “You? He punched Super-”

“Yes,” Clark interrupts with panic tinging his voice. He looks past Jason, like he’s half expecting another reporter to come bust him. “He punched me and then fainted. I told him to call me when he’s gotten some rest.”

“You are aware that he won’t, right?” Jason asks, as he tries his hardest not to find anything Clark says hilarious. Bruce fainted? Just because he punched Clark? Classic grumpybat behavior. He smothers the smile threatening to spill onto his face. He’s here to help Bruce, not laugh at his pathetic actions. That’ll have to wait until later.

“A guy can hope.” Clark shrugs. He doesn’t believe it himself, that much is clear.

“Dream, you mean,” Jason says. “Listen, big guy, he won’t call you. He’ll probably never talk to you again.”

“Is that what you came to tell me?” Clark almost sounds hurt at the prospect of Jason being so cruel. Oh, if only he knew. But alas, today is not about being mean just for the sake of being mean, although that’s nice sometimes too.

“No, I came here to make your life a living hell for hurting Bruce,” Jason says easily. No need to beat around the bush. Also he’s pretty sure Superman can hear lies or something; he should’ve probably read up on his file before coming here. “Maybe out you in the process, make sure your life couldn’t be fixed.”

“Jesus…” It’s not exactly fear on Clark’s face, but Jason will take mild discomfort and shock from Superman any day. It’s quite the ego boost.

“Don’t worry, I don’t usually punish the innocent,” Jason reassures with a wave of his hand. “Anyhow, new plan. Do you want to talk to him?” He wouldn’t blame Clark for just giving up at this point. Bruce is… a handful, even to those who love him.

“Of course,” Clark says.

“And do you think you’d be able to make him actually listen to whatever explanation you’ve got for this mess?” When it comes down it to, not even Superman can make Bruce listen to reason. Jason is convinced the only person on the planet who can actively make Bruce do anything is Alfred. And even that’s a stretch.  

“You’re the one who matched with me, Jason,” Clark says with a small smile. Well, he’s not entirely freaked out then, that’s good. He’ll need his entire strength if he’s going to convince Bruce to come out of his pity-hole.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ll never live this down. The question still stands though – do you even want to explain yourself? Will you make him listen?” Jason doesn’t say that it might take a little force on Clark’s end, but he’s sure Clark gets the picture anyhow.

“I can’t exactly get anywhere near him.”

“Why not?” Jason frowns. Clark is Superman. There’s virtually nothing he can’t do; Bruce might be smart, he might be Batman, but he’s just a human. Clark shouldn’t have any issues with him.

“Batman carries Kryptonite on him these days,” Clark says.

“Ah.” Okay, that explains it. Why the hell wouldn’t Bruce let Jason grab a piece for himself then? Hypocrite. But this does pose a problem. Jason thinks for a second. “And if he just so happens to be Kryptonite-less? Will you make him listen then?”

“I really like him, Jason.”

“That’s not an answer,” Jason points out because, duh. Their affection for each other can be seen by human eyes from the damn moon. It’s disgusting and it needs to go back to that, so Jason can keep complaining about it. What else do they have to talk about at family dinner? Jason has become quite accustomed to spending Thursdays at the Manor, okay, it’s his own selfish need to fix this shit. It has nothing to do with the fact that Dick looks like a kicked puppy looking for his owner all the time, or that Tim’s nightmares are back or the fact that even Damian seems to not enjoy torturing criminals anymore. Nope, it’s purely for Jason’s own benefit. The rest is just… happy accidental fixes.

“I’ll make him listen,” Clark says. There’s a determination in his voice that has Jason believe him. It’s not Superman, it’s Clark who will fix this.

“Good,” Jason says with a nod and then turns around to leave the alley. “That’s all I need.”

“Where are you going?” Clark asks, a slight panic to his voice. God, he doesn’t still think Jason is going to ruin his life, right? That was like, five minutes ago.

“Back to Gotham,” Jason says, because he’s raised to be polite. Ish. “I’ll text you when and where to go.”

“You don’t have my- never mind.”

“Never mind is right. Don’t underestimate me, Kent. Just be sure to show up on time.”

“As long as you keep the Kryptonite away, I’ll be there.”

“See ya super soon.” He doesn’t have to look around to see Clark rolling his eyes at him. It’s a talent he has; he simply knows.

He also knows he has to work fast to fix this pity party before Bruce closes down emotionally. The guy is too good at that part of heartaches. Bruce’s love motto has got to be hide, ignore, forget. The moron. It’s not like Jason would ever do something so stupid. No, he’s simply too busy fixing his sort-of-dad’s love life to text Roy back, that’s all.

It isn’t hard getting Bruce to show up where Jason wants him to be. The hard part is making sure he won’t have a heart attack on the way because Jason actually calls him for help. Willingly.

***

Jason never texts Bruce, much less to ask for help. It has to be an emergency for Jason to reach out like this. Even if they had a bit of a breakthrough the other day, Bruce doesn’t expect anything to change. Perhaps he’s wrong, because Jason doesn’t send the message over the shared communication system Bruce has set up between all the bats; he reaches out to Bruce specifically. There is no way Bruce isn’t dropping everything and come running. This is Jason, after all.

Which is why Bruce should have known better than to blindly come see him without asking for any details. It’s Jason. Breakthrough or no breakthrough, he should have seen this coming.

It’s a trick, because of course Jason can’t leave well enough alone. And what better way to get Bruce to see Clark than have his most stubborn son reach out for help. It’s a smart plan but Bruce can’t really be impressed when he’s trying to figure out if he can get away fast enough that they don’t notice him. Maybe if he simply falls off the roof?

“It’s too late to run,” Jason’s voice reaches his ears before he has a chance to backtrack to the edge of the building. There’s no use trying to run away, so Bruce walks up to them and then crosses his arms over his chest. Just because he’s here, he doesn’t have to like it. 

"Jason," Bruce says through clenched teeth. He must be getting old – how did he fall for such a newbie trick? Who even has an emergency on the top of a roof? God, he needs to brush up on all of his training soon, he must be slipping.

"Don't be mad at him," Clark says softly. "This time I'm in on it too."

"Of course, you are." Bruce wants to leave, he wants to yell, to scream. But he can't. Jason is looking directly at him, waiting for his reaction. If he's gone to these lengths, there must be something important for Bruce to hear.

There’s a long moment of tense silence. Bruce isn’t going to be the one to cave first, that’s for sure. If they want to say something, either of them, they should just come out and say it. Bruce has other things to do than stand here in full Batman gear in silence.

“I had the privilege of Jason showing up at my work,” Clark finally says.

And that is not one of the opening lines Bruce has been imagining in his head.

“What?” He says, forgetting for a moment that he’s supposed to be angry. He’s supposed to be hurt and upset and frustrated. But the thought of Jason wrecking Clark’s entire life is… not pleasant.

Jason doesn’t look phased at all.

“He stormed into my workplace, Bruce,” Clark repeats. “And he made it very clear that if I didn’t come with him, he was going to have a very open conversation about our relationship right there in front of everyone.”

“Jason,” Bruce scolds instinctively.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Jason says nonchalantly. “You told me I couldn’t kill him; you didn’t say I couldn’t out his ass.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” Clark interjects politely.

“You followed my orders,” Jason says with a shrug. “I don’t punish obedience.”

God, Jason really has been spending way too much time with Damian. Even their vocabularies are starting to mix up.

“I also don’t make a habit of sticking around to hear about Bruce’s love life. So.” He looks at Bruce. “Hear the alien out, B. If you don’t, I’ll have to drag your unconscious body to him next time and we all know how messy that can get. Be a big boy now and listen to what Supes has to say.”

To Clark’s credit he doesn’t even flinch when Jason jumps off the roof. Then again, he could probably catch him mid-fall if he was sure Jason wouldn’t be able to handle it himself. Still, Bruce doesn’t fully relax until he hears Jason’s grabble hook grabbing onto a nearby building. It’s been like this since Jason was Robin; Bruce has to make sure he’s safe. Especially after what’s happened.

He finds himself wishing Jason stayed. What is he supposed to say at this point? Clark and Jason are the ones who made him come here, it should be Clark who starts talking. Not that there’s anything he can really say that will make any of it right. Still, Bruce is a little curious.

“So,” Clark says, finally.

“So,” Bruce mutters back.

“Is there anything you want to ask me?”

“Not particularly.” Bruce isn’t the one who called this trick-meeting, why would he have prepared any questions? It’s not like he’s dying to hear why exactly Clark felt the need to humiliate and use him and since most of his questions revolve around that, he’s good saying nothing.

“Of course not.” Clark sighs and shifts on his feet. Which just so happens to be the only part of Clark Bruce has looked at so far. “Then let me start. How are your burns?”

“Fine,” Bruce says at Clark’s shins. He’s getting there, okay, he just needs a minute. He wasn’t exactly expecting to have to look at Clark’s face of all things today. He doesn’t really have the mental energy to talk about his injuries, and really, he’s fine. Mostly. Alfred took care of the worst burns and it’s not like Bruce hasn’t been hit with worse than a laser beam before.

“You jumped in front of the beam to save me,” Clark says, like Bruce wouldn’t remember. Clark must’ve been talking to Diana again because there’s no way for him to know why Bruce did what he did.

“A foolish decision on my part,” Bruce says. There’s no reason to get stuck on the fact that Clark would’ve probably been fine even without Bruce’s intervention; he is Superman, after all. A fact that still makes it almost impossible for Bruce to lift his eyes higher than Clark’s chest, where that bright S is glaring right at him.

“So if you had the chance to change it, you’d let it hit me?” Clark shifts on his feet again and moves a hand to his other arm. Bruce is reminded of one of their first dates – this is how Clark stands when he’s nervous, when he’s unsure. It tugs at Bruce’s heart, because it might’ve been fake, but the feelings associated with Clark’s movements are not.

“Of course not,” Bruce says softly. No matter how he feels, he would never intentionally let a team member be hurt. It doesn’t matter what’s happened between them personally; if Clark is in danger, Bruce will come to his aid. Even now.

“So you do still care,” Clark says, and suddenly all thoughts of saving him are drained from Bruce’s mind. And with it goes the inability to look Clark in the eye because what the fuck.

“I’m not the one who stopped caring,” Bruce spits, because that’s not fair. He isn’t the one who started this mess, Clark is. Bruce glares at him, hoping his eyes will convey just how angry he is. He’s not about to yell at Clark, he doesn’t need the extra humiliation, but by God, it’s a close call.

“Finally got you to look at me,” Clark says. The relief in his voice doesn’t show on his face and it somehow just makes Bruce angrier.

“Is that all you want? Me looking at you?” He asks harshly. He tightens his arms over his chest, trying to keep himself together. It won’t do any good to expose just how upset he is.

“No, I want you to talk to me,” Clark tells him. God, how can he sound so honest?

“Fine, I’m here, let’s talk,” Bruce says, anger burning underneath his skin. He just wants to forget about it all, why can’t Clark just let it go? He’s already won, what more does he want? “Was it fun?”

“Was what fun?”

“Using me?” It hurts just admitting it out loud but there’s no turning back now. Clark wants to talk? Fine, Bruce will talk. He’ll get the answers he’s been wanting and then he won’t ever have to talk to Clark again. He tries to ignore how much more that thought hurts.

“Using- Bruce, I never used you.” It looks like genuine hurt on Clark’s face, but Bruce knows he’s a good actor. He’s seen it firsthand. He can’t be swayed by the way Clark looks at him – he’s already made that mistake.

“My experience tells me differently,” he says.

“Tell me your experience then,” Clark demands. “Because my experience was that my boyfriend suddenly stopped answering my calls and disappeared for weeks and then threatened me with Kryptonite the moment we were alone together.”

Bruce huffs out a bitter laugh. “Boyfriend, huh? Is that what we were?”

“Yes? What did you think we were?”

“You making sure the human knew his place on the team,” Bruce says because why else would Clark go through all of this? Bruce still has no idea why he wants them to talk when there’s nothing left to say. The prank’s over, there is no them anymore. If there ever was.

“What?”

“I don’t understand why you’d go to such lengths,” Bruce continues. “There are easier ways to boot me off the League. Telling me to fuck off, for example. I’m not there because I don’t have enough hobbies.”

“You’re doing it again, talking about things I don’t understand. What does the League have to do with us?” Clark asks, his confusion clear on his face. His mock confusion? Bruce shakes his head and carries on. No need to second-guess himself now.

“You tell me,” he says instead of focusing on Clark’s expressions. He knows he can’t trust his own judgement when it comes to Clark’s face. He focuses back on his own anger. The betrayal, the broken trust. They’re supposed to be a team.

“I can’t, Bruce, because I don’t know,” Clark says. This time there’s clear frustration in his voice. It’s almost like he’s trying not to sound upset, but there’s no reason for him to be. So, the game ended before he wanted it to. It’s not the end of the world.

“Was this some fun little game to you that you all came up with together? Make sure my spirits were broken, that I know my place? I get it, there’s no room for a human on the team.”

“Would you just-” Clark closes his eyes for a moment and breathes slowly. Then: “Please explain to me what it is you think I’ve done. What the League has done. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you dating me, making me spill my secrets, my weaknesses. Saving me to prove your point,” Bruce says. He’s seriously getting pissed off. Why does he have to spill every single detail when this is Clark’s plan? Is this part of the game, having Bruce spell out how awful he’s been feeling? Well, Bruce won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I don’t have a point, damn it, Bruce,” Clark snaps. “I’m dating you because I like you, what the hell have you been telling yourself? This is ridiculous.”

“Well-”

“No,” Clark interrupts. “No, you are done talking, it’s my turn. What the hell, Bruce? Jason told me you think I knew who you were when we matched but I didn’t. I didn’t know who you were, I just found someone I clicked with – or thought I clicked with, the thing with your kids was really weird, but still.”

“So you want me to believe that this was all just a weird coincidence?” Bruce asks incredulously.

“It was! Christ, Bruce. Nobody in the League knows who you are, because you’ve never told them. I didn’t know until I saw that damn scar on your arm. What did you think? That I dated you to break your heart?”

“You- There’s no way they don’t know,” Bruce says, but his confidence is faltering. Why is Clark so angry? It’s Bruce who should be angry, who should be outraged.

“They don’t! And I didn’t until two days ago, what is wrong with you? I thought you freaked out because of the Superman thing, but you knew and, what?” Clark prompts.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asks, feeling less and less angry as the seconds pass. He doesn’t understand any of this; there’s no reason for Clark to be this upset about Bruce ignoring him. Isn’t it natural for the heartbroken party to retreat? To hide? Why does he suddenly feel like he’s the one who should be apologizing to Clark?

“I mean, how long have you known?” Clark asks.

“Since the kidnapping,” Bruce says honestly. It’s months after they started dating, months where Clark knew exactly who he was. Clark is the one who humiliated Bruce and used him. Clark is the one who hurt Bruce. Right?

“And you just chose to cut me out of your life? Without as much as a goodbye?”

“You were the one who-”

“I didn’t know, Bruce!” Clark takes a few deep breaths. “I didn’t know, but you did. You chose to stop answering my calls. You chose to ignore me; I didn’t make any of those choices for you.”

“I thought-”

“You thought I dated you to humiliate Batman? Well, I didn’t know, so what now? What was my big evil plan now that you realize I didn’t know, huh? Did I want to humiliate Bruce Wayne? A guy I met online, oh, wait no, I didn’t. Because your kids catfished me, not the other way around.”

Bruce stutters in his inner turmoil. Why was he so convinced Clark knew? The frustration and hurt in Clark’s eyes make him rethink everything but it still doesn’t explain why the hell Clark would be with someone like him. If not to humiliate him, to get him off the League, then why? He doesn’t have time to ask any of it because Clark keeps going without missing a beat.

“Do you think this was easy for me? Being with you when I know anyone I care about could be in danger simply by knowing me? And then the moment you realize who I am, you stop talking to me?” He asks. “And you think I’m the one who used you? You threw me away the moment you realized who I am.”

“I didn’t,” Bruce argues, but he knows it’s true. He could’ve asked Clark, face to face, what the hell was going on. Instead he ran away. “I- I was sure you knew. That that was the only reason you were with me in the first place.”

“And now? Do you really think I would want to meet with you if my only objective was to get you off the League? Why the hell would I even want that in the first place? You make us stronger, not weaker, Bruce.”

“I’m human-”

“You’re Batman!” Clark exclaims. “You make sure Wally knows when to shut up and you sit and listen to everything he has to say when the time is right. You make Diana laugh so hard her stomach hurts. You make sure Hal doesn’t get on everybody’s nerves, you make J’onn feel less alien and alone. You made sure Shayera has a weapon that can handle her temperament. You make sure I remember that I’m not alone in saving the world. You make sure there is a Justice League. Without you we’re just a group of people wanting to help someone. You make us a team; you make us strong.”

Bruce is too stunned to speak, but Clark isn’t finished.

“Why would I want you off the team? Why would anyone? Why would I risk the team just to be an asshole to you? How the hell do you think so little of yourself?” Clark takes a shaky breath and Bruce is afraid he might start crying. “How do you think so little of me?”

Bruce doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t have an answer for that. It seemed like the only logical option at the time – of course, Superman is more likely to be secretly cruel than to have actual feelings for Bruce – but now? Now he’s not so sure.

“I don’t,” he tries. Is it true? Did he really just assume everything and then took it out on Clark? Fuck, everything is so screwed up. He can’t figure out what to feel, what to say, what to do. He was so certain in his anger, in his betrayal, and now all he wants to do is go back in time. Talk to Clark properly, before hiding, before jumping to conclusions.

“You don’t what?” Clark asks.

“I don’t think so little of you,” Bruce says, despite what his actions have said otherwise. But he did, didn’t he? He assumed Clark was the worst kind of person, the kind that revels in making others hurt for no reason. That’s not who Superman is; that’s not who Clark is. God, what has he done?

“From here it seems that way.” No wonder Clark is pissed. He has every reason to be.

“I know, I just-” Before Bruce can say anything else Clark’s head tilts ever to slightly to the left. He’s seen it happen enough times to know that someone needs Superman’s help. Bruce snaps his mouth shut, certain that this is the end of the conversation. This may be important to him – now that he’s got the mind to actually listen – but he knows there are other things that will always come first.

Clark, surprisingly, doesn’t move. He just keeps staring at Bruce, daring him to speak, to defend himself. To talk to him.

Jason is right, Bruce is a moron.

How was his first thought not to confront Clark? He’s not afraid of confrontations; he knows how to guard himself well enough to avoid showing if he’s hurt. There’s no good reason for his hiding except that he can’t seem to pretend with Clark. Not seeing him was easier than having to face him and see the truth – because of course Bruce went to the darkest place possible in this situation too. He has to find a way to fix this or at the very least apologize properly. But not now, not when there’s something out there who needs Superman.

“Go,” Bruce says. He hopes his voice conveys what he wants that one word to say. Go save the day, go be a hero, go be you. Go, I won’t be gone when you come back.

“But-”

“We’re not done talking, I know,” Bruce interjects. “But you’re needed somewhere else, aren’t you?”

“Earthquake,” Clark admits quietly. His shoulders are tense, like he’s trying his best not to feel guilty for just standing here and failing miserably.

How could Bruce really think so little of this man?

“You should go.” When he still hesitates, Bruce continues: “We’ll talk more later.”

“Later?” There’s doubt both in Clark’s voice and on his face, and Bruce can’t exactly blame him.

“I promise,” he says and means it. If there is any chance of fixing this, of earning Clark’s forgiveness, he has to give it a try. He will admit that a little time to breathe and think beforehand wouldn’t be bad either.

“I’m holding you to that, Bruce,” Clark says, almost like a threat. “I have more to say.”

“I know. I won’t disappear, you’ll know where I am.”

“No more tricks?”

“No more tricks,” Bruce promises. Next time they speak, he’ll be there as just Bruce. No more hiding behind the suit or his own assumptions. He needs to talk this through honestly. If Clark will let him.

It’s with a tense nod and hesitation still on his face that Clark floats from the rooftop and then shoots up the sky. Bruce tries not to be relieved, but his shoulders droop as soon as he’s alone again. This didn’t go anything like he’d expected and now he’s left off balance. He has to rethink all of his own thoughts during the past few weeks but more importantly, he has to figure out what he wants to do now. He knows he doesn’t deserve Clark’s forgiveness, but he has to try and explain himself. He has to prepare for the worst outcome without talking himself out of seeing Clark again. Easier said than done.

Bruce really shouldn’t be surprised that Jason is waiting in the cave when he gets back, but Jay keeps making weird decisions these days. Thankfully, the sight of his motorcycle alerts Bruce to his presence before he’s parked.

“So, how did it go?” Jason prompts as soon as Bruce steps out of the batmobile.

“How long have you been waiting?” It hasn’t been that long but the thought of Jason driving directly to the cave to sit around and wait for Bruce to come home is oddly sweet. Is he here to comfort him or yell at him though?

“None of your business, now answer my question. How did it go?”

“There was an emergency,” Bruce says honestly, ignoring Jason’s hypocrisy.

“Oh what a load of bullshit!” He’s here to yell, then. “You chickened out, after all I went through to get you two together? You ungrateful-”

“A Superman emergency, Jay,” Bruce says loudly so Jason can actually hear through his own premature rage. It’s nice to know Jason cares this much though.

“Oh.”

“I promised we would talk later.”

“And you plan to keep that promise?” Jason narrows his eyes.

“Yes,” Bruce says, a little put off. Why wouldn’t he keep his promise? If nothing else then he’ll do it to show Jason he’s grateful for his support. Even if nothing changes between Clark and Bruce, he’ll never forget how much Jason has fought for him.

“Prove it,” Jason says.

“What?”

“Prove it. Text him to meet you.”

“There’s an earthquake-”

“And he’s Superman. He’ll be done within the hour.” Jason rolls his eyes in the particular way that makes Bruce know he’s being an idiot. Always a great reminder. “Sun’s still up, go for a walk or whatever old guys do these days.”

Jason’s right, of course. It would be best to continue the talk as soon as possible. Bruce has to make sure to apologize properly, to explain why he thought what he did, and hopefully make Clark understand that he didn’t mean to hurt him. It might be the control freak in him, but he wishes he has more time to prepare, to think of the perfect words, but he knows it won’t matter. There are no perfect words, and he doesn’t want to drag this out any longer than it’s already been. That wouldn’t be fair to Clark.

Jason actually looks surprised when Bruce digs his phone out of the utility belt. It’s not for his benefit though, it’s for Clark. There’s no time like the present, right? The worst that can happen is another emergency and they won’t get to talk. No, that’s not true, the worst that can happen is that Clark won’t hear him out. That the disaster of a talk they’ve already had earlier is enough to convince Clark to give up entirely on Bruce.

It won’t do any good to think of the worst outcome. It won’t do any good to take days to prepare when he can’t predict Clark’s answers and he finds that he doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want to feel awful and hurt and angry anymore; he just wants to make things okay. To feel okay. And most of all he just wants to never make Clark look at him like he did earlier on top of that roof.

Bruce doesn’t know if Clark will show up, but he types out the text anyway. He has to try.

Bruce: I would like to continue our talk. I’ll be at the Gotham boardwalk at 7.

It’s enough time that he can wait for Clark however long it takes and still make it back for patrol, even if he decides to show up. If he doesn’t… well, then that’s an answer in and of itself, isn’t it? Bruce presses send before he can change his mind. He doesn’t think about the fact that he’s memorized Clark’s number and remembers it even after getting a new phone. He’ll forget it soon enough (he won’t), if this is the last time he gets to use it.

“Well, well, well,” Jason drawls. Bruce tries not to roll his eyes. “I’m almost impressed.”

“Almost?”

“You did need me kicking your ass into gear to actually text him so. B minus for the B minus.”

“Do you want to explain that one upstairs or are you not staying?” Bruce asks as he starts taking off the batsuit. Alfred hates when he drags the entire thing through the manor. He says it leaves scuff marks, although Bruce just thinks he likes having the bat-related items stay in the cave. Not that he blames him; there’s enough vigilantism in their home as it stands.

“Alfred baked cookies,” is Jason’s reply, which means he’s already halfway up the stairs before Bruce has a chance to follow him. For an avid baker Jason really likes other people’s baked goods. Well, not other people. Alfred’s.

It’s not like Jason is spending his time making sure Bruce is okay and ready to see Clark, but he does bring Bruce comfort just by being in the house. He’s loud and obnoxious, just like he’s supposed to be, just like Bruce loves him. He pokes fun at the outfit Bruce wears (there is nothing wrong with a classic turtleneck), he forces Bruce to sit and eat a cookie before he leaves, and he makes sure to remind Bruce to find somewhere private to talk to Clark. When Bruce is about to scold Jason for even suggesting he would sweep everything under the rug just to have sex with Clark – in public too – he realizes that Jason is referring to the fact that if he pisses Clark off, it’ll be easier to explain away with no witnesses. Not that Bruce is worried about that; Clark would never hurt him. Intentionally, that is. He’s realizes that much, finally.

Despite his teasing Jason sends him off with a soft smile on his face. It changes into his signature mocking grin as soon as he notices Bruce looking at him, but by then it’s too late. Bruce has already seen it, and it’s all he needs to get his ass moving.

He’s got a mission to attend.

The drive to the pier isn’t long but it simultaneously feels like it’s hours and yet only minutes long. It’s his nerves, he knows, but it’s hard to keep calm when he knows he has so much to lose. To lose again and for good this time. There’s no doubt in his mind that this is the last chance he has to make Clark forgive him for his stupidity.

It feels silly but as soon as he sees the stand with fried Oreos Bruce can’t not buy two. He know it won’t magically fix anything but there’s a small hopeful part of his brain that takes it as a sign. A good sign. It makes him feel slightly optimistic; a little braver than when he left the manor, and he needs all the courage he can get right now.

And if nothing else, then he has something to drown his sorrow in if Clark doesn’t show.

Bruce keeps underestimating Clark, because a few minutes before 7, he’s at the pier too. Bruce spots him immediately. There’s no way he’d ever be able to overlook Clark. He stands out in a crowd, even though he tries so desperately not to. If Bruce didn’t know him, didn’t know exactly why he hunches his shoulders a little as he walks past people, it might have worked.

Clark doesn’t need to search for Bruce to find him, but he doesn’t rush to his side like he used to, like he did when they were okay. There’s something hesitant in Clark’s eyes; something that Bruce has never seen before. A guarded look that makes him want to grab Clark by the shoulders and shake him until it disappears. But he knows he’s the one that put it there, the one who made Clark look at him like that.

Bruce holds out one of the Oreos when Clark stands in front of him.

“What’s this?” Clark asks even as he takes the sugary treat from Bruce’s hand gently. He’s always so gentle with Bruce. Even now, even when he shouldn’t be. It makes Bruce’s heart ache.

“It’s a peace offering,” Bruce says and instantly wants to swallow his own tongue. It’s not a peace offering, it’s Bruce’s lame attempt to remind Clark what they had, of the good times. He may have seen it as a sign but in reality he’s hoping Clark will be reminded of the fair. Of the time before Bruce let his own insecurities tear them apart.

“I’m not interested in a peace offering, Bruce,” Clark says. He’s not malicious, he’s merely being honest. It still hurts.

“No, I know, I just- thought it would be easier,” Bruce tries, pathetically. “Better. To talk here.”

“Okay,” Clark says with a nod. He doesn’t eat the Oreo, but the way he holds it makes Bruce feel awful for thinking he could ever be cruel. His hands have never been anything but soft and gentle. Even when he fights, he’s always so careful of the damage he is capable of doing. “So talk.”

It feels like a punch to the chest, but one Bruce knows he deserves. He was the one who asked Clark to meet him, of course he should be the one to start the conversation. It doesn’t make it any easier though. He breathes through his initial panic with difficulty. He’s prepared for this much; he has everything planned out in his head. He just has to say it out loud.

He’s grateful when Clark starts to walk down the pier. This way he can focus on moving his feet while he speaks.

“I know I was an idiot,” he starts. He can barely remember what he’s prepared to say. His mind is a mess, and he can’t look at Clark properly. He has to though; he owes him that much at least. Clark seems content just looking at the boats and the water. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I understand you doubting me, but you didn’t even try to talk to me about it,” Clark says. “You just assumed the worst, Bruce.”

“I know.” Bruce winces. That’s exactly what he did. As per usual. “I’m sorry. I just- I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“You weren’t thinking at all,” Clark corrects him. There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice, but Bruce honestly thought he’d be yelling at this point. He wouldn’t blame him for yelling. “I can’t believe you actually thought I’d treat you like that. Lie and betray you. For no reason at all. I can’t believe you think me so cruel.”

“I know.” Bruce grits his teeth. He hates this. But Clark is worth every bit of shame that fills his chest. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve talked to you.”

Clark stays silent but it’s clear he agrees. Anyone would agree. Hell, if even Jason can see that talking is the right answer, Bruce knows he’s fucked up. He’s never been the best at communicating, but this time he’s truly gone off the rails.

“I didn’t talk to you because…” Bruce swallows dryly and picks at his Oreo. “Because I couldn’t face you, knowing-” He backtracks. He didn’t know anything. He assumed, as he always does. “Thinking that the man I had spent so much time with would do something like that. But mostly I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Clark asks. He’s stopped walking so he can look at Bruce properly. His eyes burn where they land on Bruce’s skin, but Bruce knows it’s his own guilt, not actually Clark’s eyes.

“Of you confirming it,” he says.

“Your fear that I was only with you because I’m awful like that?” The bitterness in his voice is stronger this time and Bruce knows he deserves every ounce of it. He can’t even begin to imagine what Clark has been through the past couple of weeks.

Bruce takes a deep breath.

“…That you didn’t love me back,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” There’s a moment’s quiet where Clark just stares at him and then: “You loved me?”

“Love,” Bruce corrects softly, letting his eyes fall to the ground. He can’t look at him, but he has to make himself clear. It isn’t past tense; it will never be past tense. No matter how betrayed he felt, no matter how awful and cruel he thought Clark, it didn’t change anything. It doesn’t change anything now either, especially when he knows he was wrong. He was so wrong. “Not loved. Love.”

Bruce feels like he can’t breathe. Clark isn’t saying anything. He doesn’t know what he expected; all he wants to do is tell Clark he’s sorry and that he loves him. That’s it. He’s done that, so why is he so nervous? He can’t even get himself to lift his head to look at Clark.

“Bruce,” Clark says. “Will you look at me?”

He’s Batman. He’s the father of four messy boys. He’s been tortured, he’s been beaten. He’s fought monsters, aliens, superpowered villains. And yet it takes every single ounce of bravery Bruce has to lift his face from the crumbled Oreo to look at Clark.

“You thinking I could do that to anyone – but especially to you – really hurt me,” Clark tells him.

“I know, I’m-”

Clark holds up a hand to quiet him and Bruce shuts his mouth immediately.

“I need you to know that I would never do that. I did not know who you were when we matched up,” Clark continues. He keeps looking directly at Bruce, like he can will him to understand and believe him.

“I know,” Bruce says, because he does know now. And he does believe Clark. He knows he made it all up in his head, thinking the worst and only the worst. Logical thinking went out the window the moment Bruce had a chance to twist a situation into something cruel and awful. He never means to do it, but more often than not this is what happens when he forgets to think.

“Your kids were the ones who found me, Bruce. They’re the reason we even met up in the first place. What did you think? That I’m a good enough liar that I can trick them too?”

Bruce keeps quiet because the truth is much more horrible.

“You-” Clark pales. “You thought they were in on it.”

Never in his life has Bruce ever wanted to disappear as much as he does now. He can physically feel his own shame crawl up his throat, threatening to suffocate him. If he survives today he’ll give that therapist Alfred keeps asking him to talk to a call. He swears (and he almost believes it himself).

“You thought I made your kids lie to you? You thought I’m capable of- of such-” Clark struggles to find the right words but Bruce hears them clearly in his head.

You thought your kids hate you enough to want to break you like this .

“I don’t-” He wants to come up with an excuse, any excuse, that doesn’t sound as horrible as the truth. He never meant to doubt them, to believe the worst, it just happened and now he’s left feeling guilty and ashamed and he really hopes Clark will forgive him, but even if he doesn’t, Bruce still has to talk to his kids and God, this is a mess.

“Be quiet,” Clark interrupts. For once Bruce is grateful; he was well on his way towards a full-on panic attack. “Just- just don’t say anything for a bit. I’m not done.”

“Okay,” Bruce agrees easily. It’s probably a good thing that he has a moment to just listen, so he doesn’t start word vomiting without a brain-to-mouth filter. That never ends well.

“Bruce, we dated for months. You met my parents. I met your family. You thought that was fake? How would I have done that? Do you think I’m some sort of master manipulator? How could you even think that?”

Bruce wants to jump into the water and never resurface but he stands his ground. He deserves this, he knows he does. This is why he’s here. To talk, to listen. To make sure Clark knows Bruce is sorry and knows this is his fault. Clark asked him to be quiet, so he just looks at him. It isn’t his turn to speak yet; he has to hear Clark out.

“We slept together, Bruce,” Clark continues. He’s shifting on his feet again, like he’s trying not to pace but can’t quite stand still either. “We spent so many days together, how- how could you- Why didn’t you talk to me? How could you think those things about me?”

“I-” Bruce hesitates. Clark is waiting for an answer. Why did he assume the worst? Why didn’t he just talk to Clark after the kidnapping? Or after he came to see him in the med bay? Even yelling at him would’ve been better than leaving. “I couldn’t come up with any other reason.”

“Any other reason for what?”

“For you wanting to be with me,” he says honestly. It’s the most pathetic reason he can come up but it’s the truth. He’s always known he has issues; his previous dating history is proof of that. But he had no idea it was this bad. That he would shove all reason aside and close himself off like this. It’s painful and pathetic and Clark deserves to know that that’s who he is. That’s why he thought the worst. Because that’s what he believes is his fate. Ending up alone.

What little control he thinks he has he desperately clings to. At least this way it’s Bruce who ends things, it’s Bruce who makes that choice. Even if it isn’t the choice he wants. It’s a hard pill to swallow but he knows that’s what it all comes down to. Controlling the situation, his own emotions, even Clark’s emotions. It’s ridiculous and he wishes he’d done better. Been better.

“What?” Clark asks. Of course this won’t make sense to him. He’s not controlled by his own fear. Not like Bruce is.

“You- you’re amazing,” Bruce says. He glances around them and decides it’s worth the risk. They’re isolated enough that it should be safe to speak freely. “Both as Clark and as Superman. I couldn’t understand why else you would be with me. I thought you knew who I was and-”

“And got some sort of sick pleasure out of tormenting you?”

“You’re like a god, Clark.” Bruce’s voice breaks. “Why the hell would you want to be with someone like me? Someone like Bruce Wayne? Even without- even without Batman I’m a mess. There’s no reason for someone like you to want to be with me.”

Bruce tries to ignore the way his heart is hammering in his chest. Clark can most certainly hear it. It feels like every beat is knocking the breath from his lungs. He’s never been good with words, has never been good at explaining himself, but he wants to do this right. He wants Clark to understand, to know that this isn’t who he wants to be. He wants to change this part of himself, not just for Clark, but for his family, for his kids. For himself.

“Why?” Clark asks after a moment’s quiet.

“Why?” Bruce echoes, confused. He’s not sure what Clark is referring to and he doesn’t want to keep assuming the wrong things.

“Why do you need a reason for me to be with you?”

“Because- because that’s-” Bruce stutters.

“Why were you with me?” Clark asks. His eyes are hard as he looks at Bruce. Not cruel or mean, but hard. Like he expects a shitty answer and is trying to prepare himself for it.

“Because I- because you’re-” Bruce doesn’t have an answer. He has hundreds. Because Clark is kind and gentle. Because he’s funny and silly. Because he likes sweet things and pressures Bruce to embrace his love for them as well. Because he strong and caring in all the ways that matter. Because he treats Bruce like he’s precious, like he’s worthy of Clark’s time, of his love. Because his smile lights up Bruce’s entire heart. Because he tickles Bruce to make him smile more, to make him laugh. Because he makes Bruce happy. Because. Just because.

He can’t say all that, but it’s clear from Clark’s face that he can see exactly what’s going on in Bruce’s head.

“You don’t love because of something, Bruce,” Clark says. “You just love.”

How is he supposed to respond to that? He knows it’s true. There are hundreds of reasons and there are no reasons. He just. Loves Clark. He’s with Clark because he loves him, because he makes him happy. Why should it be any different for Clark?

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s all he can think of to say because there are no words that can express what’s going on in his head right now. He’s sorry and he loves Clark, and he can’t believe how he’s been acting. He wants Clark to forgive him, he wants to tell Clark all those hundreds of reasons. He wants Clark to smile at him like he used to, he wants to make Clark happy. He’s sorry, he’s just… so sorry.

“I know you are. I’m just not sure that’s enough.”

“I’m-” Bruce searches for words, for reasons, for anything. How can he fix this? How can he make Clark see that he knows that he fucked up, he knows his thinking was a defense mechanism? He searches and he searches, and he comes up with nothing. Because he understands. Clark is under no obligation to forgive him or ever see him again. Just because Bruce wants something, doesn’t mean he gets to have it. Especially when he threw it away in the first place. “I understand,” he says softly.

“Do you?” Clark asks. Bruce knows he’s probably imagining the disappointed look in his eyes.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me – I know I would have a hard time if I was you,” Bruce says. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. It doesn’t help. “I just want you to know that it doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t change what?”

It doesn’t change what Bruce did and that he has to live with that. It doesn’t change that the last few months with Clark has been the happiest in Bruce’s life. It won’t change the fact that all of Bruce’s kids like Clark, Alfred too. It doesn’t change what Bruce feels. It won’t change his feelings one bit, even if Clark never speaks to him again. Time might mellow his feelings out, but right now? Right now he knows exactly what he feels, and he needs Clark to know as well.

“I love you,” Bruce says. “And I’m sorry for not just talking to you when I found out who you were. I got caught up in my own head and I’m sorry you got hurt because of me. Regardless of what you decide to do, I promise to do better.”

It’s more or less what he was planning on telling Clark before he showed up, but it feels better to say than he expected. Not because it’s the fix to everything, but because he simply says what’s on his mind. He will do better, he will. Even if he never sees Clark again, he will strive to do better. He hates that this is what springs him into action, but he’ll accept any punishment for what he’s put Clark through.

“You were doing just fine before all this,” Clark tells him. There’s a hint of that soft smile he always has when he looks at Bruce and finds him particularly charming. There really isn’t anything charming about him right now, so it’s probably Bruce’s imagination again.

“But all this counts as well.”

“It does,” Clark agrees. Then, after a beat: “It doesn’t count for everything though.”

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t mean to sound hopeful, but he’s only human. If there is any chance that Clark will forgive him or even try to forgive him. If he’s willing to give Bruce another chance, in any capacity, there is no way Bruce isn’t going to do his best to make sure he doesn’t regret it.

“This isn’t something I can just forget ever happened. And you shouldn’t either.”

“I won’t,” Bruce says. Promises, really.

“You really hurt me,” Clark says. Bruce goes to answer – he knows, he knows – but Clark continues: “I was worried about you. I missed you. I had no idea where you were and or happened to you.”

“I know.” It feels like all Bruce has said all evening. He knows, he knows, he knows. And he should’ve known better than to put anyone through that, least of all Clark. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not trying to make you apologize, Bruce,” Clark says. “I know you’re sorry. I know you mean it. I just need you to understand that what you did, what you put me through, isn’t okay and I won’t forgive it a second time.”

“A second-”

“This isn’t just going to go away,” Clark interjects before Bruce can finish his sentence. “I’m not just blindly forgiving you. We can’t just go back to how we were.”

“No, of course, I understand,” Bruce says instantly. He does understand; he’s more than willing to accept any and all conditions Clark sets. He wants this to work, he wants them to work. He’ll do anything to have Clark back in his life.

“We have to set some sort of ground rules too.”

“Like what?” He doesn’t really care what rules Clark wants to implement, he’ll gladly write them all down and hang them in every room he frequents. But he knows it’s more complicated than that. There are some things he can’t do, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he isn’t able to do it. He has responsibilities and while he knows Clark would never compromise anything in Bruce’s life, he has to be logical about this. He owes Clark to make a serious effort, but more than that – he owes himself.

“I won’t know what you’re thinking if you don’t talk to me,” Clark says.

“I know.” It almost feels hollow on his tongue, but he can’t not say it. He agrees with Clark. He knows he has to do better with communication. He thought he was but here they are.

“So you have to talk to me,” Clark tells him firmly. “No more secrets or running away from me just because you made your mind up about something on your own.”

“Of course.” He can do that, he absolutely can. He will.

“And if you ever doubt me again-”

“I won’t,” Bruce says. Not about something big like this anyhow. He’s still him, he’s still going to overthink things, but he’ll try his hardest to be rational in between the bouts of paranoia.

“-you can’t just assume you’re right before talking to me,” Clark finishes with a small smile. It’s that smile that makes Bruce not feel as bad for interrupting. “It’s okay to have doubts, Bruce, but you can’t just carry them around like burdens on your back, weighing you down.”

“Okay, yes, I understand,” Bruce says solemnly. He readies himself for more demands, more conditions. Clark will surely want some sort of promise, something to prove that Bruce is willing to change, to work on himself. And he’s prepared for that, he just needs to know what Clark wants him to do.

“And you need to take me out to a fancy dinner,” Clark says.

“Of c- what?” Bruce is already nodding before he realizes what Clark said. “Dinner?”

“A fancy dinner,” Clark corrects. “As an apology.”

“You-” Bruce almost wants to laugh. How did he get so lucky? “You’re amazing.”

“So do we have a deal?”

“Absolutely,” Bruce says immediately. He doesn’t have to think about it, there’s nothing to think about. Clark is willing to give them a second chance and Bruce will not take that for granted.

“Good,” Clark says. “Now give me that Oreo before you completely ruin it.”

Bruce looks at the crumbled mess in his hands. Oh. He wasn’t even aware he was still picking at it. Then again he does do his best thinking when his hands are busy. Even if busy means getting his hands covered in sticky sugar. “I think it’s too late,” he says.

“It’s never too late.”

Clark is right. It’s not too late. It’s not perfect either, but it’s a start. And that’s more than Bruce was hoping for. He takes Clark’s outstretched hand with little hesitation and tries not to laugh when powdered sugar puffs off Clark’s face as he bites into the Oreo. At least they’re both covered in the stickiness now.

It’s a start.

It’s not easy. They have to figure out where to go from here, how they’ll handle their relationship from now on. It isn’t easy and yet it’s as natural as breathing. While the journey here has been filled with pain, it’s also been filled with joy and love, and Bruce wouldn’t change it for the world. Not because he wouldn’t mind erasing the last couple of weeks, that he doesn’t want to do better than he’s done, but because it’s led them here. Together and for the first time completely honest with each other.

It's probably the first time Bruce has let himself be this honest with a partner. He has exes who know who he is on the surface, but Clark sees right through that. He sees all the things Bruce would normally hide; the ugly laughs, the injuries after a mission, the chaos both in and outside his head.

It's not perfect. Bruce still messes up. He forgets to take calls or let Clark know that he won’t be answering. He gets so caught up in a case that it isn’t until Clark shows up in the cave that Bruce realizes he’s forgotten a date. It’s the downside of being completely honest; he’s allowed to get a little lost in the Batman side of things, but not too lost.

Sometimes he forgets to sleep or he’s simply too busy to make it a priority. Sometimes he snaps at Clark, rejects his kindness because he’s so stuck in his own ways. Every time he remembers that he doesn’t have to be though. Every time he remembers to apologize, to explain.

No matter how much he messes up, he now knows how to make up for it. Because a few missed calls aren’t comparable to disappearing for two weeks and forgetting one date is not the same as punching Clark in the face (no matter how little damage that actually did). The difference this time is that he’s not the only one who messes up. He’s not the only one who forgets to call, who has hero duties to attend last minute. He’s not the only one who gets caught up in work, who forgets to ask for help.

They still argue. The first time they fight after their talk, Bruce is certain they’ll break up then and there and in the middle of the screaming match, Clark has to reassure him that fighting is normal. It’s good even, sometimes. It means they’re at the very least communicating honestly – and they’re two different people. They don’t always agree. When it comes to the League they don’t even agree half the time but that’s what makes the team better. Bruce likes to be prepared for everything and Clark likes to handle things swift and efficiently, spontaneously. They share the same goal, in and out of uniform. Saving the world and making each other happy.

A few weeks after the night on the Gotham pier, there’s another League mission. It’s not the first mission after their talk, but it is the first mission that leaves Bruce injured. It isn’t Parademons, thankfully, but the Legion of Doom isn’t something to take too lightly either.

Which Clark apparently thinks Bruce does according to how loud he’s being in the med bay an hour after they’ve finally overpowered and captured most of the Legion.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was-”

“You weren’t thinking! As per usual!” Clark interrupts. “Once again you’re in a hospital bed when you could’ve just let the damn thing hit me.”

“Are you seriously mad that I didn’t let them shoot you?” Bruce asks incredulously. He wasn’t even hit that bad, it’s just a through and through. His shoulder will be back to normal within a few weeks. And this time it was actually Kryptonite bullets, there’s no way Bruce was about to let Clark get hit with one of those.

“I can take a hit, Bruce!” Clark exclaims.

He’s not usually this agitated by a simple mission and Bruce’s first instinct is to yell back. But he knows this isn’t about Clark not trusting his abilities. He’s learned that much already. Clark doesn’t yell when he’s angry at someone, he yells when he’s worried about someone.

“You don’t have to though,” Bruce reminds him. He tries to keep his voice level and calm, but Clark is so upset that it’s hard not to match his tone of voice. It’s a habit, he knows, and he’s working on that too. Just because Clark is upset doesn’t mean Bruce has to take it as a challenge to get riled up too.

“Yes, I do!” Clark argues. “If the alternative is that you get hurt, then I have to take the hit.”

“Hey,” Bruce says softly. He reaches out to Clark with his good arm and instantly relaxes when Clark takes his hand. No hesitation whatsoever, just like always. Clark will always take his hand when offered. It’s not often Bruce reaches out, especially when they’re at the Watchtower, but this seems like an exception he can rationalize later. “Why are you so upset? This is part of the job, you know that.”

“You getting hurt is not a part of the job,” Clark says. He sounds more resigned than actually upset now, which is a good sign. He’s calmed down a little. That’s usually what happens when he gets to hold Bruce’s hand or otherwise touch him. Physical touch grounds the both of them; Clark is just the one who usually initiates. This way is nice too though. Bruce likes that he has a way to comfort Clark even without doing much. Without saying much.

“It’s a risk though,” Bruce says as he rubs his thumb over Clark’s knuckles. “We both know about the risks.”

“I don’t like the risks,” Clark pouts.

He looks so young like this, every bit the few years younger than Bruce that he is. It makes Bruce want to pull him into his arms and never let go. It’s not a new feeling, not at all, but it still feels odd to Bruce that he can do that. He’s allowed to do that, whenever he wants to. Clark has made it clear that he doesn’t want to hide from anyone.

They’re not exactly out to the League yet but they’re getting there. Bruce assumes most of them know already because none of them can keep their mouths shut. Diana knows. Bruce doesn’t know how she knows, but she does. She’s Diana, of course she knows. She sees through the two of them like they’re made of sheer paper. It’s unnerving but kind of nice to have someone who just smiles at them when they forget there are other people in the room.

Still, they’re at work, even if the mission is technically over. So Bruce doesn’t actually pull Clark into his arms, but he does hold onto his hand until he’s satisfied that Bruce is alright. Until they get to go home, and Clark can be the worried boyfriend all he wants. He’ll be stern and stubborn, demand that Bruce stay home for at least a week. Bruce will be just as stubborn and they’ll settle of two days of rest, because that’s all Bruce can agree to. Then they’ll go to bed and Bruce will get to pull Clark close; show him that he’s here and he’s fine. It’s not the first time they’re arguing after a mission, and it certainly won’t be the last either.

So no, it’s not perfect, but what is? What matters isn’t that they mess up but that they figure out the mess together when they do. They remind each other that they’re not alone in their struggles, that it’s okay to lean on each other. Clark has an easier time than Bruce has, it seems, but Clark reassures him that it really isn’t like that. Clark needs time to adjust too; to trust Bruce again. They’re both working on it.

Bruce tries to be more open, more honest. He lets Clark know his fears before they consume him. He lets Clark comfort him when he and Jason butt heads – because they still do, a lot. He also shares the apology brownies with Clark when Jason has been particularly mean spirited. Because Jason is working on himself too and he knows when he’s gone too far. Enough that he leaves brownies at the manor.

Clark for his part doesn’t let the past define them. He doesn’t forget but he isn’t vindictive either. He reminds Bruce to be kinder to himself and to others. He lets him make mistakes but never the same twice in a row. He makes sure Bruce is held accountable for his actions, his behavior, but he also supports him through it all. He still worries, because of course he does. Maybe even more now that he knows who Bruce really is. It’s tough having a superhero boyfriend. Clark suddenly gets what it’s like to be on the other side of the relationship.

Sometimes he gets overprotective. Sometimes he falls into the headspace Bruce was so worried about; the one where he sees Bruce as human first and Batman last. It isn’t easy but Bruce calls him out on it whenever he gets caught up in his own head, and Clark is grateful that Bruce knows exactly how he feels. They’re both guilty of worrying – sometimes too much. But Clark’s first rule still stands. They have to talk to each other, especially before making any rash decisions. That means talking to each other before panicking by themselves too. Bruce might be the one who prompted the rule, but Clark has to make sure to abide by it as well. It’s harder than it sounds, but they’re getting there.

It’s not like it used to be but it’s not too different either.

They go to their coffee place in Metropolis and Jessica is so happy to see them (together) that she comes around the front to give Bruce a hug. It’s a little overwhelming, but mostly he feels happy that he gets to have this. To still have this. Bruce takes Clark to the coffee shop in front of his office, not because the coffee is better but because he wants to share this with him too. He wants to share everything with Clark.

It takes them a while to find their balance again but this time it’s easier. There are no last-minute excuses, nothing to hide. Even if Bruce does come home with a sprained ankle, he doesn’t have to make up an excuse as to why he can’t see Clark, because Clark is already at the cave; ready to force Bruce to take at least half an evening off to get back on his feet.

There’s also no more reason to come up with outrageous stories as to why he’s injured or has the scars he has. It’s actually quite fun, spending the evenings in bed, having Clark point at scars and ask how he got them. They’re not fun stories, per se, but having Clark’s hands on him, having these moments just for them is the best thing Bruce can think of.

“And this one?” Clark asks one evening. He’s tracing his fingers over a large scar on Bruce’s side.

“Sailboat propeller,” he says, because it’s become sort of a game. Bruce will tell him the cover story first and then the real story.

“And people believe that? There are teeth marks here, B,” Clark says with a chuckle. At first he was a little horrified at all the scars, not because he hasn’t seen them before, but because he now knows exactly why Bruce has them. And it’s not because he’s a clumsy rich guy with too much time on his hands. Well, the rich guy part is still true.

“Killer Croc doesn’t always have bad aim,” Bruce tells him with a shrug. “Although the suit got reinforced after this particular incident.”

“With lead?”

“Not until after I met you, you know that.”

Clark’s favorite scar is still the one on Bruce’s wrist. It might not have an exciting story compared to the others, but it’s the one that reminds him of them. He’ll ask for the story again and again, until Bruce tries to come up with cover stories that doesn’t involve a goat.

“What about this?” Clark asks for the umpteenth time.

“Hand transplant,” is Bruce’s answer. “Doctor did a botched job with the sowing though.”

“Stuck my hand in a lion’s mouth,” he’ll say the next time. Clark laughs so loud he wakes up Alfred.

“I tried chewing off my own hand one time I was kidnapped,” Bruce tells him, and Clark tries to compare Bruce’s teeth to the bite on his arm. It’s an odd night.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” He says one evening. “I had to punch through the car window to get to the keys you locked inside the car.”

Clark’s favorite is always when Bruce is honest though. “This gorgeous guy I know dragged me to Kansas and nearly forced me to eat my own weight in pie. Then he insisted I sit down with a goat on my lap, and it bit me.”

“Because?” Clark prompts innocently. He’s smiling so brightly that Bruce can’t not smile back.

“Because I protected this ugly thing,” Bruce says and holds up the plushie that is very much still in his bed to this day. It’s become a permanent resident underneath his pillow. Clark still teases him mercilessly about it but Bruce refuses to move it.

They share more nights than they don’t, and it’s not just because of the mission and the League. Now there’s no reason for Clark not to write his articles on Bruce’s couch while he waits for him to come home from patrol. There’s no way he can talk Bruce into not going, but he can be waiting with a warm blanket and some cuddle time. It always seems to make Bruce come home faster when Clark is there waiting.

Being there in the late evenings means that Clark gets to share more of Bruce than simply the man who owns his heart during the day. He gets to see Bruce in action – and not as a teammate, but as his boyfriend. It’s a little odd seeing Bruce in the suit and not being beside him, helping out. But this is good too. Clark gets to help Alfred prepare for Bruce’s return; a few months in it somehow becomes his responsibility to make sure Bruce’s injuries get treated and that he remembers to eat dinner. Alfred doesn’t exactly ask this of him, but he seems grateful to have someone help out.

It takes a while to get used to seeing Bruce injured. Clark knows this is what it means to be Batman, to be a hero in Gotham, but he doesn’t like when Bruce comes home bruised and battered. Bruce for his part doesn’t seem to mind too much as long as he gets his greeting kiss and cuddles at the end of patrol. Clark tells him to be more careful, but his worries slide off Bruce’s shoulders like water on a rainy day. He knows what he’s doing and he’s doing it well. He does take time to reassure Clark that he’s fine, that he can handle it, but Clark still prefers those Thursday nights when some of the other vigilantes take over for Bruce.

Still, underneath the worry and anxiety he can’t help but admire what Bruce is doing. No powers, no flight, no safety net. It’s as if he’s seeing Batman for the first time and he’s more than just impressive. When Bruce comes home covered in dirt and sweat, Clark can feel his heart skip a beat, because this man – this man, who saves the world, who saves his city, who cares for his children and the children of his city… This man is Clark’s. And he’s truly amazing.

Some days Bruce can be convinced to work from home. It’s mostly on Thursdays where he knows he won’t make it on patrol anyway. Because, surprise, surprise, Clark really enjoys family dinner night. It takes him a bit to actually attend one, but when he gets not one but four separate texts demanding he show up, he concedes. None of the kids will admit to having sent a text except Dick and even he denies it for a bit first. It makes Clark feel oddly like part of the family. It’s not always that he attends but when he’s at the manor anyway, Bruce always makes sure invite him to come along.

It takes Clark a while to get used to the fact that all four boys are heroes in their own right. He can see Dick and Jason doing the hero thing – even though Bruce does make a funny face when Clark calls Red Hood a hero – but Tim? Damian? It’s a lot. He tries not to judge though. With a dad like Bruce he can see why they’d want to join him in the field. It does, however, make Clark’s stress levels to through the roof. He doesn’t mean to listen in, he doesn’t even mean to look out for them. They’ve been doing this long enough that Bruce trusts them, Clark should too. But these are Bruce’s kids, how can Clark not worry at least a little?

The first time he tries to save Red Hood, Jason shoots him in the chest. Clark is so surprised he just blinks at Jason for a whole minute. Jason in turn doesn’t move either until he realizes who he just shot at.

“You idiot!” He exclaims. “Do you have any idea how close you came to death?”

As if that isn’t Clark’s line. “I’m bullet proof,” is all he can come up with in response though.

“And you don’t think I have Kryptonite bullets?” Jason hisses. “Stay out of my business, Supes.”

So Clark does. Or he tries, at least. But the longer he’s dating Bruce, the closer he becomes with the kids too. While Jason puts up a tough front, he’s actually a really sweet kid. Sometimes, when he’s in a particularly bad mood, he will sit in the living room of the manor and just read. The first few times Clark showed up to wait for Bruce, Jason would scurry off to another room. But as time goes by he merely looks up to nod at Clark and then goes back to his book. It’s not like they’re talking but they’re in the same room and Jason doesn’t seem to mind. Clark takes the wins he can get.

He's surprised when the kids don’t immediately hate his guts, actually. He can’t imagine that they’ll be too happy to see him after Bruce’s little meltdown, but it doesn’t seem like they know much about it. It’s strange, because it was Jason who came to Clark in the first place, but he tries not to question it. He does talk to Bruce about it, because that’s the rule he set in place.

Bruce is awkward and shameful as he tells him that because Damian was with his mother, there was no one besides Alfred he had to go home to. So he hasn’t actually told the others what happened between them. That is entirely Bruce’s business, of course, but Clark makes sure to let him know that it’s okay to talk to his kids about them; even if that makes it harder for them to accept Clark.

It’s one of the first times Bruce reacts angrily towards something he’s said after their fight.

“I would never tell them what I thought,” he says. “I was the one who fucked up, not you. There’s no reason for them to ever think that you treated me badly. That was all in my head, I’m not going to share my delusion.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Clark reassures quickly. He’s touched that Bruce would take on all the blame even in front of his kids. He knows how hard Bruce tries to be perfect for them. “I just meant that it’s okay for you to tell them whatever you need to. I don’t want to be the cause of secrets between you.”

“There aren’t any,” Bruce tells him with a sigh. He’s easier to calm down these days. The talking thing is good for the both of them, even if it was mostly meant to keep them honest in their relationship. “Even if I wanted to keep anything secret from them, they’d find out soon enough. They have no respect for personal boundaries when it comes to me.”

Which Clark thinks is an exaggeration until he finds himself celebrating his one-year anniversary with Bruce without having actually made any plans. Because they’ve decided to start over, so it isn’t really their anniversary yet. The giant sign says “Happy sort-of Anniversary” which Clark can’t help but chuckle at. The added on “sort of” is a nice touch. It’s a sweet gesture and Clark knows they mean well. Bruce groans and huffs and puffs but Clark sees the way he’s smiling at the kids. And from then on Clark is always invited to family dinner – even the ones Bruce himself can’t attend.

Slowly Thursday night become their thing. They both make sure to have finished their work so they can attend the family dinner. More often than not these days family dinner is at the manor, but sometimes they still go out. They eat, they catch up with the kids and then they have the rest of the evening for themselves. It doesn’t start out like that; Clark respects that Damian is Bruce’s number one priority when they’re home, but the young boy has more personality in his little finger than most boys his age have their entire life. He’s also twice as stubborn as his father, and while he doesn’t dislike Clark, he doesn’t want to “watch them make eyes at each other all night until he has to go to bed”, as he puts it. So most Thursdays Damian spends the night with Dick or Jason. He even goes as far as asking Tim to go on patrol with him, so he doesn’t have to witness Clark and Bruce’s weekly movie night. Clark can’t really blame him; they don’t usually focus too much on the movie they’re supposedly watching.

It’s another quiet Thursday afternoon with Clark sitting at Bruce’s desk. Bruce has finished work for the day and Damian’s already run off, despite it still being early on. Clark is just finishing up an article; he has promised himself to finish work before he goes to sit with Bruce on the couch. He’s greatly motivated by cuddles, he’s realized.

Bruce’s phone buzzes and he pushes his glasses up his nose as he reads.

Tim: still on 4 dinr 2nite?

Bruce rolls his head back on the couch and turns it right to catch Clark’s eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything to get his boyfriend’s attention; as soon as he looks at him, Clark looks back.

“Are we still on for tonight?” he asks.

“We’re on forever, B,” Clark grins at him.

“God, you dork. Why do I put up with you again?”

“Because you love me.”

“Ah, that’s true,” Bruce says. Then after a moment, he adds: “Why are we going out instead of staying in then? I could show you just how much I love you if we stay here.”

“It’s the cost of being a good dad, B,” Clark says. “You have to postpone making out with your handsome boyfriend until after we’ve had dinner with the kids.”

“But I get to make out with my handsome boyfriend when we get home?”

“If you behave.”

“Hey,” Bruce says. “You know me, I always behave.”

“Sure thing, B. Sure thing.”