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“It’s just a little detour,” Hal had said. “We’ll be in and out before you know it!”
Clark narrowly avoided a freeze ray from a giant seahorse-looking alien, bitterness creeping into his thoughts. ‘Sure, Hal, because your “little detours” always end well.’
This was why Clark usually didn’t trust Hal’s judgment. They’d been on their way home from a gruelling two-week mission on the far side of the galaxy. Clark was desperate for a warm bath, his own bed, and maybe a quiet evening reading before having to go back to back to his actual job at the Daily Planet. Not that the long haul Javelin’s facilities weren’t top-notch—Bruce had ensured they were—but after weeks away, all Clark wanted was home. Even if it meant walking into a dusty, stale-smelling apartment, it’d still be his space.
Then Hal had piped up about being called on “Lantern business.” Apparently, the planet Atlahua needed help, and since it was technically on their route, Hal thought it made sense to stop and help. And of course, everyone had looked at Clark to decide.
‘Rao help me, why do they always do this? I’m not the only founding member here! Diana’s right there, and Bruce—’ He’d glanced at Bruce, silently pleading for backup. No one ignored a logical excuse from the Bat. But Bruce, ever infuriating, had said nothing. And Clark, too exhausted to fight it, had caved.
Now they were fighting three giant seahorse-like aliens that had been thawed from millennia-long imprisonment in the ice due to global warming. Because, of course, every planet in the universe has global warming. And, of fucking course, Hal’s “little detour” had turned into yet another intergalactic disaster.
Clark dodged another blast, muttering internally. ‘Why couldn’t the Green Lantern Corps handle this themselves? Or better yet, where the hell is Aquaman when you need him?’
The aliens’ attacks were as chaotic as their appearance. Freeze rays, fire, psychic attacks—honestly, they felt like something out of a cosmic Pokémon battle. Worse, they were clearly magical, one of Clark’s few real vulnerabilities. ‘Because why wouldn’t this day get better?’
One of the seahorses was already subdued, bound for an aquatic sanctuary, the second one almost under control as well. That left the third—the one Clark was pretty much handling alone since Stargirl had been taken out of commission and the Ray had whisked her away to safety. He ducked as the seahorse fired a beam of purple stars, the blast leaving a crater in the ground.
‘All right, think. They were frozen before; freezing them again should work.’
Clark aimed his freeze breath at the seahorse’s head, but it countered with a torrent of flames, melting the ice almost immediately. He switched tactics, freezing its lower body to immobilise it first. Slowly, its movements began to slow. As its temperature dropped, the creature sagged, finally stilling as it succumbed to the cold.
‘Finally. Only one left to go.’ Clark hoisted the creature toward the transport, and readied himself to help subdue the last one using the same exact tactic.
Then he heard Bruce’s voice, sharp and uncharacteristically urgent, “Elongated Man, look out!”
Clark didn’t think—he reacted. It wasn’t just the words; it was the concern in Bruce’s tone. Whenever Bruce’s calm cracked, Clark’s instincts went haywire. He moved without thought, flying in to shove Elongated Man out of the way just as the multicoloured beam struck him instead.
This one was a magical beam, because of fucking course!
Pain seared through him, bright and unbearable. As his strength faltered, only one coherent thought made it through the haze: ‘Shit.’
Clark woke up in the medbay. Not the Javelin’s, but the Watchtower’s—meaning he had missed the rest of the battle and the entire trip back to Earth.
Great.
He just hoped it was still the weekend. If he had missed even a single day of work after already being “out for family reasons” for two weeks, Perry would have his head on a platter.
“I fucking hate magic…”
“Good morning, Clark,” Dr. Leslie Thompkins greeted him cheerfully. “Feeling a little grumpy, are we?”
Clark frowned. He didn’t think his face looked that bad, but Leslie was sharp—probably sharp enough to notice just how much he hated waking up in the medbay. He was a notoriously bad patient, second only to Batman.
“I’ve had worse,” Clark said honestly, sitting up and stretching. To his surprise, he felt fine apart from a mild headache. Maybe they’d stuck him under a sunlamp, but that never worked against magic. “I actually feel fine, but I’m dreading hearing how long I’ve been out.”
“Just a few hours. According to Bruce, the battle wrapped up shortly after you pushed Elongated Man out of the way. The team realised freezing the creatures was the way to go—Ice helped the Lanterns finish off the last one,” Leslie explained. “You were physically fine but unresponsive, so when they brought you here, Zatanna had a look. She found lingering traces of magic but said they’d flush out naturally. I’ve just been keeping an eye on your vitals since.”
“So it’s still Saturday?” Clark asked, hopeful.
“Yes,” Leslie confirmed with a nod.
Clark sighed in relief. “Thank Rao, Perry won’t cut my balls off for missing work.”
Leslie froze mid-check on her tablet, blinking up at him in surprise. Her expression hovered between amused and alarmed.
Clark stared back, frowning. What the hell was that reaction for? Thankfully, before the awkward silence could deepen, Bruce walked in, fully decked out in his Batman regalia.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Bruce said, his tone as flat as ever. But if Clark squinted, he could almost detect a hint of relief beneath the gruffness. “Just in time for the mission debrief. Let’s go.”
“No… Please kill me.” Clark groaned internally. He wanted to go home, not relive the nightmare of the missions. If they’d been back for hours, why hadn’t they done the debrief without him?
“That’s the exact opposite intended mission of the medbay. Now let’s go,” Bruce replied without missing a beat.
Clark froze.
Wait.
Had he said that out loud?
No, he couldn’t have. But… how else would Bruce have known? Then again, Bruce could practically read his mind after nearly a decade of friendship. They’d had entire conversations through a single look before. Maybe this was just another example of that uncanny connection.
Except… Leslie had looked at him funny earlier too.
Clark hesitated, staring at Bruce.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Are you coming, or are you going to sit there all day?” Bruce said over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.
Clark sighed and got up. He decided to keep quiet—for now. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was seriously off.
The Founders’ Hall was quieter than usual, the soft hum of the Watchtower’s systems providing the only ambient noise as the founding members settled in for the weekly debrief. Clark leaned back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed despite the growing headache caused by whatever magic residue still lingered in his system.
“Glad to see you back in action Big Blue,” Flash told him jovially as he zipped into his usual seat.
“Thanks Flash.”
Bruce took his customary place at the head of the table, his presence alone commanding attention. “Let’s begin. First up, the peacekeeping mission on Vectran-IV. Diana?”
Diana inclined her head, her voice measured and professional. “The mission proceeded largely as planned. Kal, Hal, Batman and I worked to mediate the dispute, and thanks to Ice’s suggestion, we introduced a cooling-off period for both parties, which helped ease tensions.”
Clark nodded, remembering the long hours spent in the negotiation chamber. “That was not thanks to Ice. That was Diana diplomatically rephrasing my idea so it didn’t sound condescending. I should’ve gotten credit for that.”
Diana paused mid-sentence, glancing at Clark. “Kal… are you feeling alright?”
He blinked. “What? Yes, why?”
“You’ve been a bit… curt.”
Clark frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”
Diana exchanged a glance with Bruce, but she resumed her report. “Stargirl handled herself well for a first-time diplomatic mission, though she struggled with the protocol. The Ray adapted quickly to the cultural nuances, but Ice’s intervention was the most impactful.”
Hal smirked. “Impactful? She froze the negotiation table when things got heated.”
Clark chuckled. “Still better than when you tried to hit on the Vectran ambassador’s spouse. Awkward for everyone involved.”
Hal’s head snapped up, looking at him. “What the hell?”
“What?” Clark asked, confused by the outburst.
“Nothing,” Bruce interjected, cutting Hal off with a sharp glance. “Let’s move to the sea creature engagement in Atlahua.”
Diana smoothly took the reins. “The plan went smoothly. Kal’s quick thinking gave us the opportunity to neutralise the threat without casualties.”
Clark nodded, keeping his face carefully neutral. “Quick thinking? More like sheer dumb luck.”
Bruce’s head tilted ever so slightly. “Noted.”
Clark frowned but said nothing.
Diana continued, “Ice’s assistance was invaluable, and we should consider including her in future missions involving large-scale containment.”
Hal smirked. “Yeah, if you need someone to freeze the bad guys after I’ve softened them up.”
“Oh, please, Hal. Your big contribution was distracting them by getting your ass handed to you in the first five minutes.”
Hal snapped his head toward Clark, narrowing his eyes. “What the hell, man?”
“What?” Clark asked, startled.
Hal pointed a finger at him. “Don’t ‘what’ me! You just said I got my ass handed to me!”
Clark blinked. “I… didn’t say that.” But he had thought it…
Hal bristled, his gaze narrowing at Clark. “You’ve got a real attitude today, you know that?”
“Excuse me?” Clark said, his confusion growing.
“You’re acting weird,” Hal muttered.
“Can we focus?” Bruce snapped, his patience thinning. He turned to Clark, and Clark braced himself for the lecture he knew was coming. “Still regarding this mission, Superman—you were incredibly reckless throwing yourself in front of Elongated Man like that. How many times have I told you to stop putting yourself in danger for no reason?”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Clark sighed. “I reacted without thinking. I heard you warning him and was there before I could process what I was doing.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I know I'm vulnerable to magic. Elongated Man could've dodged that easily. I wish I could say I won't do it again, but sometimes my body reacts before my mind catches up, and I can't help it.”
Bruce’s expression remained hard, though there was a flicker of acceptance in his eyes. The fact that Clark was virtually unharmed—apart from blacking out—probably helped. But Bruce didn't let up.
“I truly am sorry. It’s not like it was enjoyable for me to get hit by a beam of whatever that was. In fact, it hurt like a bitch!”
At that moment, Hal choked on his coffee, sputtering and coughing into his cup. Clark paused, watching in mild concern as Hal wiped his mouth. His eyes were wide, looking at Clark like he was—well, an alien—and there was a slight flush to his cheeks, but no one mentioned it.
Clark frowned, his brow furrowing. “Hal? You okay?”
Hal quickly recovered, clearing his throat and forcing a smile. “Yeah, fine. Just... something went down the wrong pipe.”
Clark didn’t give it another thought. Instead, he turned back to Bruce, who was already addressing Barry.
“Flash, your report,” Bruce said, his tone curt.
Barry, who had been fiddling with a pen, perked up. “Oh, yeah! Stopped a heist in Singapore, ran across the Pacific, and caught a boat full of smugglers. Easy stuff.”
“Wow, Barry, incredible. You ran fast and saved the day. Truly groundbreaking. Next person, please”
Barry laughed suddenly, looking half-delighted, half-horrified. “Oh my god, you really think I’m basic, don’t you?”
“What?” Clark asked, his voice rising slightly. “I didn’t say anything!”
“Yes, you pretty much did,” Hal said, grinning now. “And honestly, you’re not wrong.”
“Kal,” Diana began, her tone soft but concerned. “You’ve been… unusually critical today.”
What the fuck was wrong with everyone today? People kept saying he said things he didn’t! Maybe he was still out cold and this was just one of those awful magic fuelled nightmares?
“I was not—” Clark started, but Bruce held up a hand.
“Enough,” Bruce said firmly. “Shayera, your turn.”
Hawkgirl leaned back in her chair, clearly unimpressed with the drama. “Solo mission in Central City. Took down a Thanagarian scout. Quick and clean.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Solo missions are against protocol.”
“Oh, here we go. Batman’s Solo Mission Rule #17. Like he doesn’t bend that one every other Tuesday.”
Bruce’s eyes flicked to Clark, his expression unreadable. In the background both Hal and Barry snorted.
J’onn stepped in to break the tension. “Recon in the Omega sector revealed no immediate threats. However, I recommend increased monitoring due to subspace anomalies.”
Clark tried to focus, he really did, but his mind wandered. He still had that article on interplanetary trade agreements to finish. Perry was going to lose his mind when he got back and he had nothing to show for. He had intended to work on it while away on their mission. Brought his laptop with him and everything but he never even had time to open the lid of the damned thing once. “Why did I agree to that assignment? It’s like trying to make import tariffs interesting. Not even Lois would touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
“Superman,” Bruce said sharply.
Clark snapped out of his reverie. “Huh?”
“You’ve been zoning out,” Bruce said, his tone clipped.
“Sorry,” Clark muttered. “Can I just go home now? Rao help me, this meeting is fucking killing me.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow but said nothing, though Clark could swear he saw Diana suppress a smile.
The meeting wrapped up with Bruce assigning follow-ups to various members. As they stood to leave, Diana placed a hand on Clark’s arm.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine, Diana. Just… tired,” Clark sighed. “And possibly cursed. But yeah, totally fine.”
Diana tilted her head, her concern evident. “If you need anything—”
“I’ll be fine,” Clark interrupted.
Clark couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. But he didn’t care. He could finally go home, rest, and maybe even come up with something about interplanetary trade routes that wouldn’t bore their readers to death—or make Perry want to skin him alive. All he needed was to find his laptop, beam back to his place, and zone out for a few hours.
He was halfway out the door when—“Clark, can you stay back for a minute?”
Shit. Bruce had called him Clark. Not Kal. Not even Kent. Just Clark. That was bad. Really bad. It meant he’d screwed up, probably in a big way.
He turned around slowly, trying not to look as sheepish as he felt. There he was: Bruce, sans cowl now, studying him with that intense, calculating gaze that made Clark’s heart rate spike. It was moments like this he was grateful Bruce didn’t have super hearing because, Rao, that would be humiliating.
“I feel like I’m ten again and I’ve been called to the principal’s office,” Clark thought grimly, his shoulders unconsciously hunching.
“You’re not in trouble,” Bruce said, his voice calm and measured. “At least, I don’t think what’s happening is your fault.”
Clark frowned, the confusion evident on his face. What exactly was happening?
Bruce tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Think of a colour.”
“What the fuck?” Clark blinked, utterly lost. Of all the things Bruce could’ve said, that wasn’t even on his radar.
A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Bruce’s lips. “Just humour me. Think of a colour, Clark.”
Clark’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the request. Then his gaze wandered, lingering on Bruce’s face, his strong jawline, his piercing eyes. “Blue,” Clark thought absently, caught up in the endless depths of Bruce’s irises. “Rao, his eyes are so fucking blue. And beautiful. It should be a crime to hide them under those white lenses all the time. Then again, I’d probably be useless in the field if I could see his eyes. Too distracting—”
Bruce’s breath hitched, just barely. “Blue,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Clark froze. His thoughts skidded to a halt like a truck hitting black ice. “Uh?” he managed, eloquence thoroughly abandoning him.
Bruce arched an eyebrow. “You were thinking of the colour blue,” he said, his tone as neutral as ever. But there was something in his eyes—amusement? Fascination? It was hard to tell. “And my lenses have other uses beyond concealing my identity, you know.”
Clark blinked, his brain scrambling to catch up. Bruce heard that? No, that wasn’t possible.
“You—you heard that?” Clark finally stammered, his voice higher than usual. “Oh shit!”
Bruce nodded, looking faintly amused, as if he’d been expecting this reaction. “You've been projecting your thoughts. Out loud.”
“Wait. What?!” Clark sputtered. His mind raced, horror dawning as the implications sank in. “You mean—”
“Yes,” Bruce interrupted, his calm demeanour doing little to ease the humiliation flooding Clark. “It’s not just me. The others have been hearing them as well. That’s why everyone was accusing you of saying things you insisted you didn’t. But you were thinking them out loud.”
Clark felt his face heat. “Rao,” he muttered under his breath. “This can’t be happening.”
“It’s probably not permanent,” Bruce assured him, though his tone remained clinical. “I guess we finally found the effect of the magical beam you were hit with. Zatanna said the traces of magic would be gone on their own in a day or two at most.”
Clark groaned. “I don’t even remember half the things I thought during the meeting, but I know they weren’t very Superman-y…” His voice trailed off as he recalled some of his more sarcastic thoughts.
“No, they weren’t,” Bruce agreed, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. “The way you put Jordan in his place… Ten years we’ve worked together, and I never imagined this side of you existed. Who’d have thought mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent from Smallville, Kansas, had such a sharp tongue? And the mouth on you…” he tsked. “Your mother would be horrified.”
“I’d rather have my mouth on you—”
Clark’s eyes widened as the thought slipped out before he could stop it. He slapped a hand over his mouth, as if that would somehow help.
Bruce’s eyebrows shot up slightly before his smirk widened. “Well, that’s… bold,” he said, voice dry but laced with unmistakable amusement.
Clark wanted the Earth to swallow him whole.
Clark’s face burned hotter than the sun. “I—I didn’t mean—” he stammered, words tripping over themselves in a desperate attempt to undo the damage. But Bruce just tilted his head, studying him with that infuriating mix of curiosity and amusement.
“Oh, I think you did,” Bruce said, stepping closer. His voice was low, and there was a distinct challenge in his tone. “You’ve been thinking a lot of interesting things tonight, Clark.”
Clark took an instinctive step back, but Bruce followed, closing the distance between them. His heart raced, his brain screaming at him to say something—anything—that wouldn’t make this worse. But all he could focus on was Bruce’s proximity, the subtle scent of his cologne, and the way his piercing blue eyes seemed to see straight through him.
“Rao, his voice should be illegal. How am I supposed to form a coherent sentence when he sounds like that? And he’s standing so close—does he even realise what he’s doing to me? Probably. Definitely. He’s Bruce fucking Wayne. He’s so hot… No-NO! Stop thinking he can hear you!”
Bruce’s smirk widened into something positively devilish. “You’re right. I can hear you,” he said, his tone practically dripping with amusement.
“I can’t think— I can’t breathe. Does he have to smell this good? Rao, how does a man smell this good? I’m doomed. Completely doomed.” Clark groaned, unable to stop the barrage of thoughts coming through his mind, his hands covering his face in embarrassment. “This is the worst day of my life.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Bruce said, stepping even closer until there was barely a breath of space between them. His voice dropped lower, his tone almost teasing. “Something tells me it might just be your lucky day.”
Clark blinked, lowering his hands just enough to peek at Bruce. “What are you—”
But Bruce was already leaning in, his gaze soft but steady, silently asking for permission. Clark’s breath hitched, his thoughts racing too fast to catch any single one. For all he knew, Bruce was probably hearing thought-projected screaming. He didn’t need to think, though. His body answered for him, leaning in to close the distance.
The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as though they were both testing the waters. But it quickly deepened, heat building between them like a spark catching fire. Clark’s hands hovered awkwardly before finding a place on Bruce’s waist, while Bruce’s fingers brushed against Clark’s jaw, steadying him.
When they finally pulled back, Clark’s head was spinning, his heart hammering in his chest. Bruce was smirking again, but this time it wasn’t sharp or mocking. It was softer, almost affectionate.
“See? Not so bad,” he said, his voice a little huskier than usual.
Clark blinked once. Twice. His lips still tingled, and his mind spun. “Bruce just kissed me! I can’t believe I just kissed Batman. That just happened. That really happened. I’m not in a magically induced fever dream or with a Black Mercy stuck to my chest. Holy fucking shit!”
Clark laughed breathlessly, the tension in his chest finally easing. Then he looked back at Bruce, who started laughing with him at the sheer insanity of it all.
“I still think I want the Earth to swallow me, just a little,” Clark admitted.
Bruce chuckled, his fingers trailing down Clark’s arm. “You’ll survive,” he said lightly. Then, after a beat, he added, “But we should probably work on those thoughts of yours until the magic wears off before you accidentally broadcast them and traumatise the rest of the League.”
Clark groaned, leaning his forehead against Bruce’s shoulder. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Bruce replied, his smirk audible in his voice.
He pushed Clark away and started walking out of the Founders’ Hall. Clark’s smile dropped immediately.
“You’re leaving?” He wasn’t pouting—he wasn’t!
“We’re both leaving,” Bruce said over his shoulder, his tone infuriatingly casual. “I’m very curious to hear your thoughts about my bedroom at the manor.”
Clark quickly flew to catch up with him.