Work Text:
It was stupid, he knew that.
He knew it didn't make sense.
Except. Except it did.
Because Bruce flirted with him. Not him him. Not Clark Kent him. If it were Clark Kent him this wouldn't be a problem. But it wasn't. Bruce flirted with Superman him. And Clark didn't know how to feel about that.
All of this began two weeks ago. 13 days, to be precise. Bruce had come over to Metropolis for some gala or other, the details of which Clark wasn't exactly sure.
The point was, Bruce was in Metropolis at the gala when said gala was attacked.
You’d swear the man was a trouble magnet or something. This was not the first time he’d had to save Bruce and it would not be the last. If he was wrong, Clark would eat a car.
The point was, in the aftermath, a short 15 minutes later, Clar- Superman bumped into Bruce Wayne. In his sleek gray suit that absolutely cost more than Clark’s entire salary for a couple months, with a smile that made Clark want to drop t-
The point was, in the aftermath, Bruce put a hand on Superman’s chest, looked up at him with those eyes, and said, “Did the sun come out, or did you just smile at me?” And Clark, because apparently he's an idiot who still isn't immune to Bruce’s eyes after months of dating, got tongue-tied and blurted out, “We’re in Metropolis, Mr. Wayne. It's probably the sun.”
Wow.
Great job, Clark.
But that’s the point! Bruce flirted with Superman. Bruce flirted with Superman, while in a relationship with Clark.
Sure, okay, Brucie Wayne is known for being a flirt. A playboy. Whatever. But he’d assured Clark that he’d dialed it back. For him. Because it made him uncomfortable. Because what they had going on was serious and they were thinking of going public soon. And that had been such a thoughtful gesture that Clark had taken it at face value, not sparing any thought to whether or not it was the truth.
And maybe that had been a mistake.
~*~*~
Clark was very aware that Batman was glaring at him.
He was also very aware of what was causing the glare.
It wasn’t his fault, okay? If anything, blame it on Bruce. It was because of him, anyway.
Clark was just a bit more jumpy and high strung than usual. He’d been thinking and thinking and overthinking every single little detail of that encounter yesterday and wasn’t exactly feeling at his best. Anyone who thinks that Superman never has off-days has gravely miscalculated.
This time, Batman had the dubious honor of seeing this stressed out, irritated, miserable version of the Man of Steel.
And he clearly wasn’t enjoying it.
“Kal. Stop.”
Clark paused from where he was pacing holes into the ground. Was that a scorch mark? Maybe he’d been going faster than he’d initially thought.
“Sit.”
“Can’t do that B. Are you hungry? I could eat. I’ll go get food. Greek? I want Greek. Gyro? Beef? Good. I’ll g-”
“Kal.” Batman, who hadn’t made any indication he’d wanted a gyro or Greek or food in general, grunted. “What happened.”
Was that a question? It was structured like one. He also seemed like he did not want an answer, though. He probably just said it to keep Clark in the room. What were they doing here? Oh. Monitor duty. He hadn’t glanced at the monitors once since entering the room. B was definitely annoyed at him. For more than just the obvious reasons. See, B was easy to read. Well, no. That was a lie. But Clark had years of experience in interpreting Batman’s body language and various grunts. Bruce, on the other hand, was an enigma. Was it attractive? 100%. Did it make Clark’s job of figuring out what the hell he was feeling any easier? Not at all. It was actually having the opposite effe-
“Kal.” See, that? That’s a genuinely pissed grunt. Grunt #8, as Clark had taken to calling it. “What. Happened.”
And, now, Clark could tell Batman. He could pour out his heart and soul to his best friend and wallow in his misery. The issue with that plan, of course, was that Batman didn’t do relationships. Which meant that he would get no valuable insight into his predicament. Lois would shove a pint of Triple Chocolate ice cream in his hand along with a spoon and they’d marathon Star Wars. Diana would give him useful advice and talk some sense into him. Batman would listen silently (begrudgingly) and then probably add a note to his file on Superman that he could indeed suffer from heartbreak.
And then Clark would definitely get an hour long lecture on the importance of keeping your personal life separate from your work life.
Yeah, he’d rather avoid that.
He would just vent to Lois afterward.
“Nevermind. Doesn’t matter.”
He could tell B wanted to push, but his need for silence and calm clearly preceded that. So Clark sat down on the chair that had gone un-sat-on since he walked in here, stared at the monitors, and tried as hard as he could to stop fidgeting.
Judging by Batman’s expression, it wasn’t working.
~*~*~
True to form, the moment Lois stepped over the threshold into his apartment, she walked over to the freezer, grabbed the tub of Triple Chocolate, pulled two spoons out of the drawer, and dropped down on the couch.
Then she looked up from where Clark was still standing next to the open door and said, “Well? I don’t have all day, Smallville.” She did. She always did. Because she was the best person ever and she never left Clark alone when he was having a bad time.
The door closed and Clark walked over to sprawl next to her, reaching for a spoon.
He’d be okay, whatever happened. Because he had Lois. And Triple Chocolate ice cream.
~*~*~
Clark’s phone rang. He knew even before checking the caller ID that it was Bruce. Of course it was. Bruce had called him quite a few times over the past four days, and Clark… hadn’t picked up. Don’t give him that look. It’s been a rough few days. He’d always let the call ring out and text back a while later, giving some vague excuse about work being busy and sorry Bruce, I’ll answer next time. And then next time would come around and Clark would stare at his phone until the call rang out.
This time, Clark sighed. He’d have to answer at some point, and brooding wasn’t helping. He wasn’t sure how Batman did it so much.
He grabbed his phone from the counter and hit the big green “answer” button that had never looked more ominous.
“Bruce?”
“Clark?” Bruce’s tinny voice on the other end sounded hesitant. “Hey.”
“Hi.” There was a pause, neither one of them knowing exactly what to say.
“Is everything okay?” asked Clark.
Bruce huffed. “Funny. I was gonna ask you that. How’s work? I feel like I haven’t talked to you at all this week.”
Clark winced, suddenly feeling the guilt from all those missed calls weighing down on him. “Yeah. Sorry. Work’s uh- work’s been- busy.” That sounded every ounce like the flimsy excuse it was, and Bruce definitely knew it.
“Right. Of course. Are you at work now?”
No. Because it was 6 in the evening and Clark would have come home 40 minutes ago. If he’d gone to work at all. But he hadn't. Because work has not, in fact, been busy.
Clark was just a lying liar who lied to his boyfriend because he didn’t want to live in any reality in which their relationship didn’t work out.
“Mhm.” Liar.
Another pause.
“Right.” Bruce’s voice was terse and Clark knew he’d messed up. “I have to go. Love you.”
And then he hung up.
Clark didn’t realize until he was getting ready for bed that he hadn’t said “I love you too”.
And it would be too awkward to text it, four hours after the call ended.
So he just… didn’t.
~*~*~
Batman was snappier than usual. Most of the League had been avoiding him all day, except for Diana.
The two of them were standing in the corner having what looked like a very serious conversation. Clark had tried to join them once and had been glared at. Hard.
Diana was the only one among them who knew everyone’s secret identity (apart from Batman probably, although that had never been confirmed), so he assumed it had something to do with B’s other half. His secret identity, not his partner. If he even had one.
Clark did have enough self-control that he didn’t eavesdrop, so he was just sitting off to the side watching Barry and Wally arm-wrestle.
He noticed when Batman stalked off and he shot a questioning look at Diana. She looked back at him, seemed to deliberate over something, then flicked her eyes over to the door that Batman had disappeared from.
Clark got the idea.
He stood up and followed B out.
It took a while to find him without his x-ray vision (he was still respecting privacy), but he got there eventually.
“B?”
Batman barely glanced up from his computer.
“Is everything okay?”
He stiffened minutely, but otherwise reacted as though Clark hadn’t spoken.
“Sorry. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. Do you want coffee?” It was a dance they did often. An offer made with unspoken words. Batman didn’t like to ask for help or be offered it, so Clark adjusted his speech accordingly.
‘It’s been a long week’ meant ‘I’m not at my best, you’ll have to pick up the slack’. ‘Any plans?’ meant ‘you’re injured, don’t go out tonight’. ‘Do you want coffee?’ meant ‘I’m here if you want to talk’.
Batman grunted. Grunt #3. Assent.
Clark grinned and walked out to brew a pot.
One milk and one sugar for him, two milks and four sugars for B. The same way Br- nope. Not thinking about that now. The next few hours were about Batman. Not Bruce.
30 minutes later, they were sitting in comfortable silence across from each other. Clark going through reports he’d already read, B doing… whatever it was he was doing.
Eventually, Batman sighed. Clark perked up.
“How- how is work?”
What now?
They didn’t talk about their civilian identities, it was another unspoken rule they had. Any talk about that was always heavily secret-coded and only done if it would affect their usefulness or availability for a case.
It was never small talk. Batman hated small talk.
Which is why Clark answered with a very eloquent, “What?”
Batman lifted one shoulder imperceptibly. “Just curious.”
Yeah, no. B was never just curious about something. There had to be an ulterior motive. Unfortunately, he was already having a bad time, and Clark didn’t want to push and risk being shut out. So he dropped his eyes back to his files and indulged him.
“Work’s been fine. Pretty slow lately, if I’m being hon-”
SLAM
Clark jolted. Looked up from his reports to where B had, incredibly forcefully, shut the lid of his laptop, stood up, and was in the process of making a very fast escape.
“B? Wait, what’s-”
This time, the slam came from the door closing hard enough that it shuddered against its hinges.
“-wrong.”
Everything.
Everything’s wrong.
Somehow, Clark had managed to push away two of the most important people in his life.
And he didn’t know how to fix it.
~*~*~
Clark walked out of the room and back down the corridor towards where he’d seen Diana last. She’d probably be able to shed some light on the whole B situation. Yes, he was still respecting his privacy. But he’d have to fix this somehow, and Diana would understand that.
She was still there, sitting in the chair Barry was on earlier.
He slumped on the chair across the table and put his head in his hands. “Diana. I need help.”
“You do.”
If B had said that, he would have been rewarded with a very malicious glare. But this was Diana, and she had a point.
He groaned. “What do I do?”
“About Batman?”
“Yeah.” He could figure out what to do about Bruce on his own, but he had no idea where to even start with Batman.
“Hm.” She hummed. “Someone close to him is lying to him, and he's not sure how to fix it.”
Ha. Clark could relate.
“B doesn't know how to fix something?” He said, half joking. Because if Batman couldn't fix relationship problems then- actually no, Clark took that back. Of course Batman had relationship problems. The man’s entire deal was that he was dark and brooding and he never talked about pesky things like emotions.
He shook his head. “Then why did he run away from our conversation? We weren't even talking about him, Diana. He asked me about work.”
Diana narrowed her eyes. “Did you tell him the truth?”
“Yeah. My identity’s fine, I didn't have time to get into specifics before he ran out.” He reassured her. He didn’t think she needed to be reassured, but it was more for his own benefit so he did it anyway.
She hummed again. “Maybe he just needs his person to tell him the truth too. Even the strongest of people can be hurt by lies.” She pushed herself up and walked out of the open door behind Clark.
Clark sat there for a few seconds, thinking.
Huh.
Somehow, Diana had solved his Bruce issue without giving him any insight into his Batman issue.
He had to talk to Bruce.
~*~*~
But before that, he had to do research. He was a journalist, and he’d damn well act like one.
Was Bruce actually cheating on him?
- Point 1: Bruce is known as a “playboy” by the general public
- Point 2: Bruce flirted with Superman
- Point 2a: There was definite interest in that flirting
- Point 3: When Clark stays over at the Manor, he often goes to sleep/wakes up without Bruce
- Point 4: Bruce has this whole I’m mysterious and secretive thing going on
- Point 5: Bruce has spent almost his entire adult life sleeping around without commitment
- Point 5a: It would make sense that he wouldn't want to be tied down to Clark
Now, evidence to the contrary.
- Point 1: He had stopped openly sleeping around, which had already garnered media attention
- Point 2: He’d promi- he- he’d promised. He’d promised.
He’d promised.
Clark hadn't known him for more than 8 months, but he was certain that Bruce didn’t take promises lightly. Which had to mean that this meant something to him.
And Clark, despite the, frankly disheartening, number of points he had for his first argument, chose to believe that. Or at least he would give Bruce a chance to prove him wrong, first.
He took out his phone and brought up their chat that had gone untouched for the past few days.
Hey, can I come over for dinner? I need to talk to you.
He blew out a breath, and hit send.
~*~*~
As Clark walked up to the Manor doorstep, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. This could go one of two ways.
One, Clark comes clean about everything from the past two weeks, apologizes, Bruce laughs at him probably, assures him that he has not been cheating, and honestly Clark, why would you ever think that? Then they’d laugh, kiss and make up.
Two, Clark comes clean, apologizes, Bruce gets weirdly cagey, leading Clark to the conclusion that yes, Bruce has been cheating. Or wants to cheat. Either way, the outcome would be the same. Clark would try to keep the break up amicable, at least.
Bruce opened the door wearing a black turtleneck and skinny jeans. And now that wasn’t fair. If he had to leave this house for the last time tonight, he’d rather be certain that he wouldn’t go running back into Bruce’s arms the moment he remembered how said arms looked in that shirt.
“Clark. Come in.”
“Bruce, listen-”
“Not- not now. Later. After dinner.”
Bruce looked slightly pained. Right, so he was aware of the presence of a certain large gray animal with a trunk standing in the room, threatening to suffocate them with the tension it brought with it in bucketfuls.
Later, then.
Clark could do later.
He nodded and followed Bruce inside.
~*~*~
After a dinner that could challenge their first date for the title of Clark’s Awkwardest Dinner, they walked up to Bruce’s office for a drink. Clark stopped just over the threshold. He inhaled. Now or never.
“Bruce. We ne-”
“I think we should break up.”
He exhaled.
This was not one of the two ways.
He hadn’t even gotten to the coming clean part.
“What?”
“I think it would be better for both of us. We had,” Bruce paused, likely searching for the right words. “A good run of it.”
Those were not the right words.
“A good run of it?” Clark scoffed. “That’s what you call seven months of a relationship?”
“Clark, I’m giving you an out. This is what you wanted.”
“No it’s not. I never wanted that!”
Clark, say it.
“Then what do you want? Clark, I haven’t had an actual conversation with you in weeks! If that’s not what you want then I am at a loss here!”
Just say it. He’d already prepared himself for this conversation. Why was this so difficult?
“Bruce-”
“I don’t know what’s wrong! If you would just tell m-”
“Because Superman!”
And wow that was not the way he meant to say it.
Oh, that was probably his League comm sounding off in the hallway where he left his jacket. Or Alfred needing help with cleaning up. Or his mom back in Smallville baking a pie. Something, anything, to get him out of this situation.
“Nevermind.” He said, and spun around on his heel, prepared to head out the door and back home and bury himself under the covers and never ever come out again.
“Clark. Wait.”
Clark thought mournfully about the new pint of Triple Chocolate ice cream in his freezer, so ready to be eaten in one go without stopping.
“Clark.” He heard a small sigh behind him. “Turn around. Please?”
He braced himself and ever so slowly shuffled around, not meeting Bruce’s eyes.
“What did you mean about Superman?”
Say it.
“You. And Superman.” He gritted out.
Silence. No one's helping you out of this one, Clark.
“You. Flirted. With Superman. Two weeks ago.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow and Clark flushed. Ah. Right. How would he have known that?
“We have a mutua- Lois. She- she tells me things. Word. Gets around. He must have told her and she- she likes to talk.” And didn’t that make him feel like a shit friend? Because Lois has never once shared Clark’s secret. Or any secret. She was as loyal as they come, and she absolutely did not deserve her name being dragged through the mud like that.
“Are you… jealous?” Bruce asked, as though the past two weeks of Clark’s life hadn’t been Anxiety Hell.
“No! Yes! I don’t know! I just- you said- you said you wouldn’t. Or, you said you’d dial the whole Brucie act down and I know you did and I- I’m just wondering what happened to that. Or if Superman’s just an exception. And if so, why? Is-” Clark cut himself off.
Bruce looked… confused. Genuinely confused. Like he had no idea what Clark was talking about.
“Why?”
“Why am I jealous?”
Bruce nodded.
“Because my boyfriend flirted with another man behind my back?”
“But he’s not.”
Not? Not what?
“Another man, that is.”
Wait.
What.
Wait.
What?
There was no way Bruce knew. He’d kept it so quiet. He’d been meaning to tell him soon, sure, but just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
How did Bruce know?
“You-” He started, “you know. Ho- how?”
Bruce cracked a little bit of a smile, though it was more of a grimace than anything. “Your disguise is a pair of glasses, Clark. I’ve seen you stark naked.” With that, he actually gave a small chuckle. Then any semblance of mirth dropped off his face.
“I actually have something to tell you.”
Ah. Here’s Weirdly Cagey Bruce from the second scenario Clark had created in his mind.
The most likely reason for Weirdly Cagey Bruce making an appearance was…
Oh Rao, maybe they would have to break up, after all.
He braced himself as Bruce opened his mouth.
“Kal. I'm Batman.”
……ha ha.
Funny joke.
No, actually. In order to be a joke it had to make some sort of sense. Otherwise it was just a confusing statement that made people stare at you before doing their best to ignore your existence.
Clark didn’t want to ignore Bruce’s existence, so he just stared.
“Clark?”
No. Clark would have realized that he was dating his best friend. They didn’t even look the same. Well, no okay. They had the same build, and the same jawline, now that he thought about it. And B kept almost his entire body covered so there wasn’t really anything else to compare.
Except for scars. Bruce had always been cryptic about the origins of the scars that littered his body, but Clark had never wanted to pry. Maybe he should have?
“Clark.”
They had their coffee the same way, too. No, that had to be a coincidence. 2 milks and 4 sugars wasn’t… well, it wasn’t unheard of.
They were both incredibly smart. Superman was all brute strength, Batman was all strategy. It’s what made them such a good team. Clark was all clumsy farm boy, Bruce, as much as he tried to hide it, had one of the shrewdest minds Clark had ever known. Second only to… Batman.
No.
“Clark.”
“No.”
“Have you ever x-rayed under the manor?” Bruce said with a nearly imperceptible smile on his face.
What? No. Why would he?
Clark frowned at Bruce, who cocked his head a little to the left.
He dropped his eyes to the ground and focused.
And, yep. That was the Batcave. In all of its glory. Clark had been there a few times, and frankly he wasn’t sure how he’d managed to never realize it lay below where he now spent half his time.
“Believe me now?” Bruce was saying, a fond little grin settling into his features.
Clark responded with, “How long have you known?” Because he was still very much reeling from, uh, everything from the past 10 minutes.
“I’ve known your identity for years. Did research on you when we first met. And then I saw you at that charity event when we met as us.” He said, gesturing between them. “And I couldn’t stop myself from saying hi.”
“Right, so Bruce Wayne coming up to talk to me wasn’t just a stroke of dumb luck on my part.”
Bruce stepped forward. “Nope. More to do with the fact that I fell in love with you years ago.”
And really, what was he supposed to say to that?
So he didn’t say anything.
Instead, he reeled Bruce in by his waist and kissed him within an inch of his life.
They’d be okay.
Because they were Batman and Superman. Bruce and Clark. The moon and the sun.
They’d always have each other.
And Triple Chocolate ice cream.