Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The League gathered in the conference room in the Watchtower for their monthly meeting. Everyone except Diana and J’onn were already there, as it was these two’s turn to run the meeting.

Waiting for their arrival, Clark busied himself with drafting his next article for Daily Planet. He already got all of the interviews, he did all the research, all he needed to do now was to expose a bunch of inconsiderate businessmen that thought dumping the waste from their factory into a river, causing harm to both environment and people, was a good idea.

They were going to pay once he would be done with the article. And he had years of evidence to back it up.

The other League members found ways to pass the time too. Although focused on his writing, Clark caught scraps of conversation between Flash and Arrow, and Lantern and Aquaman. Cyborg dug in his arms, fixing whatever problem he was having with it, and next to him, Hawkgirl played Candy Crush on her phone.

The only one doing completely nothing, which was unusual, was Batman. Clark noticed he hadn't moved an inch for the last ten minutes since he arrived, silent and stoic as always.

His friend sat on Clark's right, always in his line of vision, so it wasn't hard to keep an eye on him, even by accident.

Clark would've been creeped out by Batman's stillness if he didn't know because of his heartbeat that The Dark Knight was napping.

He must've had a rough night and needed this rest if he fell asleep in the open like that, among other people who could endlessly tease him for it if they knew.

But they didn’t know, they had no way of knowing. Batman's cowl hid his closed eyes, he wasn't snoring, and due to his excessive training, he was able to stay completely straight and look awake despite not moving. 

If anything, he looked like he was just trying to creep everyone out with his mysterious act.

And it was working, because no one dared to question his stillness or joke about it, and so Batman was allowed to keep sleeping.

Good, Clark thought to himself, smiling around the tip of the pencil in his mouth. He deserves it.

When the door to the conference room slid open with a quiet hiss, Batman took a deep but barely audible breath, his heart speeding up slightly. Just like that, he was awake, his head turning to watch Diana and J’onn entering inside.

They stopped together at the head of the table, in front of a big screen that came to life with a click of a remote in Diana's hand.

Clark put away his notepad and pencil to give his teammates his sole attention.

“The Earth got invited to a summit between representatives of other planets from our galaxy,” Diana announced as the invitation written with alien runes appeared on the screen. “We need to send someone.”

“I assume one of us needs to go?” Cyborg asked.

“Two of us, actually,” J’onn corrected, walking around the table and handing out files with more details of the mission. “The invitation is for a leader of Earth and their spouse.”

Clark thanked J’onn for the file and looked into it, finding a copy of the invitation from the screen and basic information about the summit. It appeared to be a regular meeting, one that had been happening for centuries now, and progressively, there were more planets invited to join.

This time it was Earth.

“Don’t they know our planet isn’t exactly united under one ruler?” Hawkgirl asked without even checking the file.

“They assume the League is in charge and I decided to not correct them,” J’onn explained, returning to Diana's side. “They would still require our presence.”

“And you know how that would end if we would have to send one of the world leaders into space,” Diana added with a grimace. “No matter who we would pick, the others would not be happy, and we wouldn’t be able to go with them to keep them in line.”

Lantern raised an eyebrow in surprise. “No security? That’s a lot of trust they’re putting into this meeting.”

“Those meetings have been happening for centuries, everybody is respectful,” J’onn assured. “There were some tense situations in the past, but no assassinations."

“So far,” Aquaman mumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

“Just another reason to not send a regular human,” Diana decided.

Arrow leaned back into his chair with a grin, kicking up his legs onto the table. “Well, that’s it for me and Grumpy then.”

Batman looked up from his file and glared at him. “We’re not regular humans, Arrow.”

He actually sounded offended from the implication.

“Wait, you said it’s for spouses only,” Flash pointed out, looking at everyone at the table. “None of us is married! As far as I know. Certainly not to each other.”

Diana shrugged. “We would have to pretend.”

“We should send Lantern,” Cyborg suggested. “They probably know his pals.”

J’onn shook his head. “That would be disrespectful. Green Lanterns aren’t supposed to be political, and they’re seen more like soldiers. Sending one among the group of royalties and politicians would end badly."

Clark could see why. It would be a threat or a display of arrogance.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Arrow sighed dramatically. “I’ll sacrifice myself and pretend to be married to Diana.” He sent her a charming smile. “I am rich, she’s a princess, we can pull off being royals together.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “How thoughtful of you,” she commented. “But I was thinking about sending Kal.”

Startled, Clark looked up from the file. All eyes except Batman's, were on him. “Me? Why me?”

“Yeah, he's a one-man army,” Hawkgirl pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be insulting too?”

“He’s not openly a member of the military squadron. He’s one of the League’s founding members. He knows alien languages,” J’onn listed the pros one by one. “And he’s Kryptonian, some of those other representatives are old enough to remember Krypton.” 

“From what I heard, you guys were invited in the past,” Diana added, looking directly at Clark.

Clark blinked in surprise. Krypton was invited before? He didn't see it in the files, but that made sense. Their civilization was well respected while it still existed, of course they would've been invited in the past.

He already knew a lot about his home planet and their culture thanks to Jor-El, but going to a meeting like that, talking with individuals that knew other Kryptonians, and hearing about those interactions, felt really tempting to Clark right now.

It was a good opportunity to listen to outside opinions about his place of origin. 

“And since Kal is the Last Son of Krypton, currently living on Earth, he would represent us the best,” J’onn concluded, smiling slightly at Clark.

“Makes sense,” Clark heard Batman's drawl from his right.

“Thank you, Batman.” Diana nodded in appreciation, even though Batman couldn't see it because he was still invested in the file. 

He was the only one, actually.

“Certainly more sense than sending Arrow,” Batman added after a beat.

“Hey!” Arrow protested.

Clark grinned when he noticed Batman's lips twitching just slightly in amusement. 

“So we gonna go together?” Clark asked Diana, returning his eyes to her.

She was an obvious choice. She had powers like him, she was a princess, and she was competent enough to act her part.

“I volunteer Bats,” Arrow grumbled, sulking in his chair and clearly looking to jab back at the Caped Crusader.

Instead of dismissing this idea with a stern look, Diana smiled widely. “That's a great idea. We were actually thinking about him with J’onn.”

“Wait, seriously?” Arrow gaped at her.

Clark tensed, feeling heat rushing up to his face.

Him? Pretending to be a couple with Batman? 

Oh boy.

That was a bad idea. An unbelievably bad idea. 

Pretending to be a couple with Diana would've been easy. She was his friend, and he felt comfortable being affectionate with her.

But how do you pretend to be in love with your best friend without making him realize you're actually not pretending?

He had a crush on Batman since their first encounter, and even before that. Clark was sure he felt the tug of fascination and attraction from the first, grainy photo of The Dark Knight he saw in the newspaper.

He told himself it was nothing serious. Batman was mysterious, dark, gloomy, and looked good in black, especially perched on rooftops, silently guarding his city. 

It was normal to be attracted to that. Clark was sure it would pass, especially as he continued with his life like that crush didn't exist and dated like normal.

It didn't pass. 

He began to know Batman better, with and without the cowl. They became friends, and Clark's crush evolved into full on love. 

And that love didn't plan to go away either.

Batman looked up as well, and Clark carefully and discretely watched for his reaction. But Batman's face was a perfect mask of stoicism like always.

“He's good with politics, it's a lot like running a company. He's a good strategist and he's pretty.” Diana smirked while she said that. “He could score us some sweet treaties.”

The room went quiet, and everyone stared at Batman, waiting for him to say ‘no’. Clark wouldn't blame him if he did, but part of him hoped he wouldn't.

He liked working solo with Batman.

Doing so while trying not to reveal his feelings would be a challenge, but one Clark was ready to face. 

Was it selfish of him to want to have a taste of what he could never have? Just for a little while?

“I will do it,” Batman said finally, sounding almost bored.

“Really?” Flash asked, surprised. “You gonna be Supes' wife?” he snickered, nudging smiling Lantern with an elbow.

Batman slowly turned his eyes to him. “His husband,” he corrected. “Don't be homophobic, Flash.”

The visible part of Flash’s face became as red as his suit. “I'm not! T-that was a joke!”

Batman ignored him. “Do we have the files of the nations that will be there?” he asked Diana. “So I can prepare?”

She nodded. “Yes, I will send them to you in a moment.”

“When will the summit be?” Batman asked next.

“In two Earth weeks,” J’onn answered.

“Great.” Batman stood up in one fluid movement. “Come on, Kal.”

“Huh?” he looked up in confusion. “Where?”

“We need to discuss our marriage,” Batman replied and headed to the door.

Clark forgot how to move for a second, but once he shook off the shock, he gathered his things and followed his friend, using a bit of his superspeed to catch up.

Hopefully, he didn't look too eager to follow. 

“Aww, Superman and Batman, sitting on a tree, kissing!” Flash sang after them.

Clark and Batman both stopped in the doorway. 

“Come on, Flash, you'll make him quit,” Clark warned, nervously glancing back at Batman.

“It takes more than a kindergarten level of teasing to make me quit,” Batman assured him, glaring at Flash and Lantern who seemed amused the most. “Besides, I’m not a quitter.”

“That’s him saying he will fight for your marriage no matter what, Big Blue!” Lantern joked.

“Oh, shut up,” Clark hissed, the tips of his ears burning.

When he turned away from the conference room and the laughter, Batman was already halfway through the hallway.

“B, wait up!” he called after him.

Batman didn't slow down, but Clark caught up to him anyway.

Together, they reached Batman's private lab, and its owner went straight to the computer to pick up the tablet laying on the desk. 

The files Diana was supposed to send him were already there, and Batman started reading.

Clark hovered slightly above the floor, peering over Batman's shoulder. 

“I should probably read those too, huh?” he asked.

“Ideally,” Batman answered, scrolling through the file of the first alien nation.

He didn't say anything else. Certainly not about their ‘marriage’. He probably only agreed to it for the sake of the League and wasn't happy about this mission.

Clark moved away, standing a few steps behind Batman to give him space. 

“Sooo,” he started carefully, noticing the smallest shift in Batman's posture that told him his friend was listening. “What do you want to discuss, exactly?”

“I thought we should make a contract.”

“A contract?” Clark repeated. 

“To list what you’re comfortable with while pretending to be married,” Batman elaborated, having no trouble keeping up with the conversation and reading at the same time.

“Me? What about you?” he asked, watching Batman with narrowed eyes.

“I’m used to doing things that are uncomfortable.”

Clark felt a twist in his stomach.

Batman said it so calmly and without care. As if his comfort didn't matter.

Maybe to some, but certainly not to Clark.

His palms curled into fists, itching to hit the person that made Batman think that way.

“Okay.” He didn't know what else to say. “You shouldn’t have to. But okay. So what should I write?”

“Anything you like,” Batman simply said. “Or don’t like, rather.”

Clark sighed. 

“B, I’m fine holding hands or kissing or whatever.” More than fine, he kept to himself, face tingling with the growing blush. Thankfully, Batman had his back to him. “We don’t need any contract unless you want one. But you can just tell me what you don’t want me to do, I’ll respect that.”

The last thing he would want to do during that mission was to hurt his friend. Especially by making him uncomfortable with touch. That seemed much worse and damaging than simply punching him.

Clark watched Batman angle his head slightly towards him.

“I know you will.” A beat of silence. “I trust you.”

Clark knew that, yet that knowledge didn't stop a warm flutter from occurring in his stomach. 

“No contract then,” he said, grinning.

“No contract,” Batman agreed.

“I’m sure we don’t even need to oversell it anyway,” Clark said and floated forward, sitting on the corner of Batman's desk. “Political gatherings are usually chill.”

“Except that one party on Horlom,” Batman reminded him and without looking up from the tablet, sat down as well, only in his chair. “They were having an orgy.”

Clark rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I forgot about that,” he murmured.

“You don’t forget.”

“Right.” Clark cleared his throat. He wished he could forget. Watching all those aliens going at it was not something he wanted to remember forever. “I’m sure it won’t be like that tho.”

Dating Batman for a mission he could handle without ending with a broken heart, hopefully. He was already a touchy guy, and Batman knew that they were both used to Clark's affection. Beside occasional kissing, it wasn’t going to be anything new between them in terms of PDA. Batman would only have to drop the scowl when hugged. 

Having sex with him though… Clark doubted he could come back from that. 

More importantly, he doubted he would be able to separate the physical act from his feelings. And lost in a moment of ecstasy, he could say one word too many.

Three words too many, to be exact.

“No, it won’t. Just a regular, boring political gathering.” Batman looked up with a rare smirk. “Maybe next time.”

Clark laughed. Batman making jokes about it made him think his friend wasn't forcing himself to do that mission after all.

“I assume we can’t go dressed like… us,” he pointed at both of them.

Batman hummed in agreement. “Probably not. We look too much like soldiers.”

And that was apparently bad. Clark could pass as non-threatening in his suit. But Batman with his cowl, gauntlet blades and utility belt, looked too much like a soldier.

And a deadly one at that.

And their suits didn't exactly match like spouses’ clothes should.

“I don’t know if any of Earth’s attire would fit either,” Batman admitted and stared thoughtfully at the empty computer screen. “Something traditional perhaps. Colorful. Maybe Slavic. Polish, Ukrainian. Something like that.”

Clark nodded. Those seemed like good options, elegant yet colorful, but not too flashy. Then again, they were going to meet with royalties, they should try to shine at least a little bit.

“We could wear Kryptonian robes,” he suggested.

He felt self-conscious about his idea when Batman looked at him silently.

“I have some in the Fortress,” Clark explained shyly. “We would have to make one for you too and we would be good to go.”

‘Or we could follow your idea’, was already at the tip of Clark's tongue as he waited for Batman's decision.

He was prepared to hear ‘no’. Because Kryptonian clothes were nothing like Batman's usual attire, be it his batsuit or civilian clothes. 

Too flashy, too attention-drawing.

But then Batman nodded. “Sounds good.”

Clark beamed at him, shooting up into the air. “Great! Come to the Fortress whenever, I’ll ask Jor-El to help us.”

Batman, already deeply invested back in reading, nodded in response.

It didn't falter Clark's smile even slightly.

“Send me those files later, I’ll read them too,” he told Batman and moved toward the exit. “I guess that’s it then?”

“For now.”

“Cool.” Clark licked his lips nervously. “See you at home, honey.”

Batman straightened up in his seat, clearly not looking at the tablet anymore. Clark panicked.

Shoot, shoot, shoot!

Why did he say that? Now he made Batman uncomfortable and for what? For a bit of indulgence before the mission even started.

Clark opened his mouth to apologize, but then, in the reflection in the monitor, he saw Batman smirking. 

Clark wanted to exhale a whole hurricane with how relieved he was that Batman took his words as a stupid joke. 

Instead, he just fled before he could say something even more stupid and headed straight to the Fortress.

Flying through the Arctic would help him cool off and get himself back together.

Chapter Text

The gentle taps on the keyboard have been one of the two sounds filling the Batcave for the last hour, as Bruce completed the notes for his latest case he cracked last night.

The evidence were in Gordon's possession already, and the criminals responsible for drug production were being arrested as he typed the details.

While typing out the last words, a notification from Commissioner Gordon flashed in the corner of the screen. 

‘Got them.’

Bruce turned it off, finished the report, and leaned back in the chair with a satisfied sigh. 

Without typing to echo from the walls, he could hear the bats squeaking in the alcove of the cave. Every now and then, one of them flew around, fluttering its freaky little wings. 

The sound of their presence was calming, and Bruce found himself closing his eyes for a moment of rest. He didn't have time to sleep, so this would have to do.

He rested for maybe ten minutes when the sound of footsteps on the stairs pulled him out from the state between sleep and lucidity.

“I'm deeply offended, sir.”

The words Alfred greeted him with were highly unusual.

“Why is that?” Bruce asked and lifted himself from the chair with a quiet groan. 

Alfred stopped in the center of the cave, a tray of food in hands. He watched Bruce go past him on the way to the case with the Batsuit. 

“I raised you like a father, and you didn't even invite me to your wedding,” the older man elaborated.

Bruce started unbuttoning his dress shirt. “I'll invite you for the vows’ renewal.”

“You're forgiven.” He heard Alfred moving behind him and setting down the food tray. “Your lunch.”

“I'll take this to go.” Bruce tossed the shirt to the side and moved to take off his pants next. “I need to meet with Clark in his Fortress.”

“Social call or mission preparation?”

“Mission,” he replied. “Kryptonian robes fitting.”

It's been only two days since the League meeting when they found out about the summit, and they still had plenty of time to prepare. But both he and Clark had free time today, so they took advantage of that.

Bruce preferred to be done with it sooner than later anyway, since he couldn't be sure how long it would take to prepare the robes for him.

“You're already sharing clothes,” Alfred observed. “How romantic.”

Bruce turned around just so Alfred could see him roll his eyes. “We need to look the part.”

He took off his pants, socks, and shoes all at once, leaving him only in a pair of briefs. He reached into the case and pulled out the pants of his undersuit.

He could feel Alfred watching him, and he didn't have to wait long for the butler to say whatever was on his mind.

“Are you sure you can do this mission, Master Bruce?”

Alfred sounded cautious while voicing his worries. 

Bruce stepped into the pants. “What do you mean?”

“I just want you to be sure you'll be able to separate business from personal feelings,” Alfred elaborated, coming up closer. 

“I'll be fine, Alfred.” He didn't look up during the assuring. “I'll treat it like any other mission. Never failed me before.”

He wasn't going to let it fail him now.

“But you never had a mission like this before.”

Worry was practically oozing out of Alfred. Bruce was both touched by it, and annoyed.

“I'll be fine,” Bruce insisted. 

He was perfectly aware of what he was getting into, and he was ready for it. 

Alfred silently watched him dress up, looking for cracks in Bruce's composure. Any sign that would tell him that no, Bruce wasn't as ready as he thought he was. 

Bruce didn't give him the satisfaction.

“If you say so,” the butler gave in eventually and went to pick up the tray again. “I'll pack these into a lunch box.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said, adjusting the top of his undersuit so it cladded his body like a second skin.

He started to slowly take out the pieces of Batsuit while listening to Alfred's footsteps fading away. 

When he heard the sound of the door to the cave locking, he let out a sigh and allowed his mask to slip.

Alfred didn't need to worry, Bruce had everything under control like always. It was just another mission. Unusual, but still a mission.

It wasn't even going to be a complicated one, all he needed to do was act. He's been acting his whole life, making a fool of himself in front of the whole Gotham as Brucie Wayne.

This was just another role. A bit different, too close to home perhaps, but a role nonetheless. And it wouldn't be the first time he would have to keep his emotions in check either.

If he could handle Clark in normal circumstances, he could handle pretending to be married to him. After all, marriage, good marriage, was a lot like friendship. And he and Clark were friends. 

Best friends even.

Bruce just sometimes wished it was more than that.

But that wasn't going to affect the mission. Or his and Clark's relationship after this. Bruce was in perfect control of himself. It was his mind that was leading the heart, not the other way around. 

That was simply a biological fact, and you can't argue with those.

Everything was going to be fine.

Bruce was adjusting the cape around his shoulders when Alfred returned to the cave, carrying a bag that clearly held more than one tupperware and more than one travel cup with coffee.

“That’s lunch for two,” he pointed out bluntly.

Alfred didn't even blink. “I thought you would appreciate sharing with Master Clark.”

“I was going to eat in the Batwing.”

“Now you can eat in the Fortress with a company. Like a civilized person.”

Alfred extended his hand and waited for Bruce to take the bag. 

He considered turning around and going to the Batwing without lunch, but that would be giving Alfred ammunition.

And he was hungry.

He took the bag with an annoyed huff. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Alfred smiled. “My pleasure. Enjoy your robe fitting.”

Cowl off, Bruce boarded the Batwing and sat in the pilot seat, lifting the jet into the air and flying through the tunnel under the Manor.

In just a couple seconds, he flew out above the open water and quickly climbed up, turning the jet towards the Arctic.

Even with the highest speed, it still took almost an hour to reach the Fortress, located deep in the land of snow and ice.

It was snowing, the whirlwind of white shortening the viewing distance only to a couple of feet. 

The Fortress appeared in Bruce's line of vision later than on a cloudless day, and its rough, pointy edges appeared through the falling snow like a skeleton of some ancient monster.

Even like this the structure looked beautiful and Bruce admired it as he slowly put the Batwing to a stop, just before the Fortress.

The strong wind caused the jet to falter and shake uncontrollably, but Bruce sat it down safely and opened the ramp.

He climbed down into the Arctic cold, the freezing wind hitting him on his bare face. Bruce grimaced but didn't put the cowl on, just walked to the gate to get in and escape the storm.

There was a lump of snow right next to the gate and it moved when Bruce came closer. 

Krypto stood up and shook off the snow that accumulated on his body while he slept, guarding his master and his home.

Barking happily, the dog trotted to Bruce.

“Hey, boy,” Bruce greeted him and leaned down, scratching the mutt behind the ear.

Krypto’s tongue lolled out and his tail wagged, shaking his whole butt. Bowing playfully with another bark, the dog turned around and returned to the pile of snow, sniffing it for a moment before biting down.

When he returned to Bruce, he had a bright tennis ball in his jaws. He dropped it in front of Bruce.

“I’m afraid I can’t throw it as far as your master,” he said while picking up the ball.

He still threw it as far as he could, and Krypto launched himself into the air, flying after it.

With the dog busy, Bruce approached the gate to get inside. He could already feel the snots in his nose freezing from the cold.

He stopped right in front of the gate, letting the security system acknowledge him.

“Identify yourself,” the robotic voice demanded.

“Batman, code 03301939.”

A stream of light from a port above the gate scanned him, confirming his identity.

The scanner turned off, and the gate began to open.

“Welcome, Batman,” the same voice as before now greeted him. “Kal-El is expecting you.”

Bruce entered the Fortress the moment he could squeeze through the gap in the gate, not wanting to stay out in the cold any longer. 

It was warm inside the Fortress, and Bruce's body slowly warmed up as he walked among the crystal walls, shaking off the remains of the snow from his suit. 

He knew his way around, it wasn't the first time he was here, so he found Clark quickly. Even without the earlier knowledge of the layout he would've found him thanks to his voice alone. 

Clark and Jor-El were talking.

Rounding the corner, Bruce was going to stride into the main hall where Clark was, but he came to a halt right before crossing the doorway.

He couldn't move, caught by surprise by the sight of his friend, talking in Kryptonese with the holographic image of his biological father while dressed in white, Kryptonian robe.

Bruce only ever saw Kryptonian robes in the image of Jor-El, but what the image of the AI presented itself in was nothing compared to what Clark wore right now.

Elegant and sleek, with sharp edges, it hugged Clark's body perfectly. The long gown was the first layer, going from his neck all the way to his feet, ending right at his ankles, allowing to see the black boots he was wearing.

Around Clark's waist was a black sash, tied neatly under a short, buttoned jacket with high, pointy collar and black lapels. Black thread swirled on the fabric, decorating it with geometric shapes. Among them, right over the heart, was the symbol of the House of El.

The last layer was a cape - white on the outside, black on the inside, with thousands of specks looking like stars in the night sky. Draped over Clark's broad shoulders, it ended just above the floor and seemed to flow gently behind him like a veil as he walked back and forth in front of Jor-El. The constellations on it changed with every ripple of the fabric, as if a real fragment of the universe was trapped in it. 

Clark's hands were in constant movement as he talked, speaking words Bruce couldn't understand, but he liked how they sounded spoken in Clark's voice. His forearms were covered entirely by the sparkling white fabric of his sleeves, reaching all the way to the top of his palm where it ended just above his knuckles in the shape of an arrowhead.

He looked, for the lack of better words, out of this world. Bruce couldn't stop staring, tracking Clark's every movement. 

He was robbed of his breath by the sight in front of him, and his heart sounded like a war drum right now.

It was a miracle Clark didn't hear it yet because it was so loud even Bruce was able to pick its sound. As if someone took the heart out of his chest and held it right next to his ear. 

Whatever made Clark so oblivious to his surroundings he didn't notice he wasn't alone anymore, Bruce considered it lucky for him. It gave him time to compose himself and try to ignore how good Clark looked in his traditional clothes.

Once his heart slowed down to a satisfying speed, Bruce announced his presence by clearing his throat.

Clark swirled fast to face him, and with him, his cape moved too. Despite Bruce surprising him, the movement of the cape made Clark's twirl look elegant and planned.

Bruce's heart skipped a beat, but his face betrayed nothing. Hopefully, Clark was still too surprised to hear it. 

But once that surprise passed, a blinding smile matching the sparkle of his robe split Clark's face in two at the sight of Bruce.

“Oh, hello Bruce!” He floated forward to meet Bruce in the middle of the room. “I didn’t hear you enter.”

“That’s a first.” Bruce looked at him, unimpressed. “You’re getting sloppy.”

Clark let out an annoyed huff and crossed his arms across his chest. It only made the sleeves of his gown that covered his arms in the best way more prominent. “Give me some slack, I’m at home.”

“You should always be vigilant, even at home,” Bruce scolded, giving him a side eye while passing him to the computer console where Jor-El still resided.

“You should learn to relax,” Clark countered, following after him. “Let’s switch to English, Jor-El.”

The AI nodded. “As you wish.”

Bruce looked between them both, trying not to look at Clark and his robe too much. “What were you talking about?”

“Jor-El was teaching me about the social customs of Krypton,” Clark answered eagerly. “I thought we could use some of them during the summit.”

That seemed reasonable. The representative of the other planets would most likely expect Clark to act in a Kryptonian way.

“I don’t see why not.”

His approval made Clark grin happily, but that joy quickly turned into confusion when he noticed the bag in Bruce's hand.

“What’s that?”

Bruce gave the bag to him. “Alfred insisted I brought you lunch.”

The grin returned as Clark accepted the bag. “Sweet! I love Alfred’s cooking!”

Bruce's own lips curled into a small smile when he watched Clark rummaging through the content of the bag. “Don’t get too excited, those are just sandwiches and coffee.”

Clark already pulled out one cup and opened it, taking a big sip. “Still a win,” he said with a pleased sigh.

As they stood in front of each other, Bruce couldn't help but give Clark a once over. In his mind, he was justified because Clark didn't know he already ogled him rather thoroughly. 

“I see you’re prepared.”

Clark's face turned the slightest shade of pink. He put their lunch and his coffee away.

“Oh, yeah. I thought I would get ready while speaking with Jor-El,” he explained with a nervous chuckle, suddenly self-conscious about what he was wearing. There was absolutely no need, he looked gorgeous. “I wore those robes only once or twice, so I want to get used to them.”

Bruce nodded, keeping his expression neutral.

Clark didn't make it easy when he suddenly got unusually shy, looking at him from under his lashes with doe eyes. 

“How do I look?” he asked, sounding a bit hopeful while giving Bruce a little twirl, showing himself from every side.

Bruce took a careful, deep breath, pretending to be thinking.

“Regal.”

That was the only word he could come up with without revealing what he really thought.

Clark snorted. “Come on, be serious.”

“I am serious,” Bruce assured. “If I didn’t know you don’t come from the royal family, I would take you for a prince.”

Clark considered his words, still wondering if Bruce was mocking him or not. When he smiled, Bruce knew his friends believed him.

His voice was soft when he spoke. “Thanks.”

Bruce nodded in reply. “So how do we do it?”

“That’s a good question.” Clark turned to the AI. “Jor-El?” 

“Spouses usually match when dressing for a formal event,” the AI explained, looking at Bruce. “Depending on what Kal-El will be wearing, you’ll have to match him, Batman.”

“Alright.” Bruce nodded at Clark. “What will match this one?”

Jor-El turned his gaze to Clark. “Your choice is either black or midnight blue, with white accents to match the main color of Kal-El’s robe.”

“He’ll pick black,” Clark smirked.

“I think I like midnight blue better.”

The corner of Bruce's lips twitched when Clark looked at him in surprise.

“How unorthodox of you,” his friend teased.

“I don’t even like black that much,” Bruce admitted.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Clark chuckled.

Bruce smiled openly now. “Not my fault black and grey blends in with shadows and Gotham architecture better.”

Clark chuckled again, and for a moment, they forgot what they were even doing here.

“Shall I prepare a midnight blue robe?” Jor-El asked, kindly reminding them the purpose of this meeting.

They both looked away from each other to face Jor-El.

“That would be great, thank you,” Clark answered with a small nod and a little smile.

Bruce shook his head in amusement. Only Clark could thank the computer as if it was a human.

“You’re so polite,” he commented, making Clark smile bashfully. “I guess I better take off the suit.”

Clark tensed like Ollie’s bowstring.

“Y-yeah,” he agreed in a shaky voice, then cleared his throat.

Bruce walked to a corner where there was enough flat surface to put on his suit for the fitting. He started peeling off the armor piece by piece, treating it with care. 

The entire time, he could feel Clark's eyes on himself, but whenever he turned his head to him, his friend was looking elsewhere.

Which didn't mean he wasn't looking, but rather that he was fast enough to look away in time. 

Bruce had good reflexes, but they were no match for the second fastest man alive. Clark could shake his head left and right so fast right now that to Bruce, it would look like he wasn't moving at all.

But even without catching him in the act, he was sure Clark was glancing at him as he undressed. He was fast, but he couldn't fool Bruce's perception with speed. 

Once Bruce was only in his tight, black undersuit, he returned to Clark's side. His friend smiled at him before looking away, staring at Jor-El instead. The image was eerily still, waiting, doing nothing. Clark stared anyway.

Two bots approached Bruce and took his measurements while two others carried over rolls of fabric and thread for his robe.

“How much fabric do you have here?” Bruce asked, curious.

“Surprisingly a lot,” Clark answered, giving Bruce another glance before once again looking away.

The robe was ready in just a few minutes. The bots worked fast and simultaneously with each other. The moment all measurements were taken, the robe was already halfway done.

And when it was complete, the bots once again approached Bruce and started dressing him. 

Jor-El’s voice filled the chamber.

“Formal robes need to be put on in specific order,” the AI explained while Bruce raised his arms so the bots could put on the gown first. Made in the same style as Clark's, only dark blue, it felt slick and cool against Bruce's skin. 

It was unexpectedly heavy once it settled on his body but felt comfortable too.

“Dressing together is a ceremony," Jor-El continued. “During it, spouses help each other. It strengthens the bond.”

With a corner of his eyes, Bruce noticed Clark tensing again. 

“We don’t need to dress each other, I dressed myself,” Clark said quickly, nervously smiling at Bruce. “It’s not like we’re going to get our clothes on in front of other representatives."

It was a logical course of action. Their marriage wasn't real, there was no need to play along that hard, especially with no audience to witness it.

It was for the best considering Bruce's situation too. But that didn't stop the tiniest prickle of disappointment from stinging his chest.

After the gown, the bots wrapped a sash around Bruce's waist.

Jor-El, once again, provided the thought behind another part of the outfit.

“The sash is the most important part of any outfit. During Kryptonian weddings, spouses exchange wedding sashes and tie them around each other’s wrists to seal the marriage.”

Bruce touched the sash he had on, white like Clark's robe. Images of his friend tying it gently around his wrist, and him returning the gesture, flashed through his mind, but Bruce shoved them away. Into the drawer of his mind palace he labeled as ‘implausible’.

“A sash is present in almost every attire and the way it is tied can mean different things.” Jor-El spoke like a professor during a lecture, while the bots carefully tied the sash with precision. Bruce watched it. “This one is a formal knot, used for events such as social or political gatherings.”

When he and Clark scheduled this meeting, Bruce didn't expect to learn this much about Krypton. He thought he would put on a robe or two and that would be it. Meanwhile he found out about parts of Kryptonian culture he didn't even know existed.

He wasn't impressed, he already knew Krypton was a rich and advanced civilization. But he didn't expect them to pay so much attention to their clothes.

“You have a rich culture, Clark,” Bruce told his friend when the bots finished with the sash.

Clark smiled warmly, his eyes looking at Bruce earnestly. “I guess I do,” he agreed, preening a little.

“What are the other types of knots?” Bruce asked Jor-El. The bots were preparing the jacket for him.

“Marriage has a special one. It’s hard to untie to symbolize the strength of the union,” the AI replied. “There are knots that Kryptonians use to show they’re mourning or to celebrate the birth of a child.”

“Interesting,” he mused.

The bots finished quickly. The jacket felt a little tight, but that must've been the purpose. Made from a white thread, the El symbol was on his chest just like on Clark's, and Bruce wasn't sure how to feel about carrying it. 

He was honored in a way. To carry a symbol so important to his friend. His family crest. Even if it was only for a show. 

Some other part of him felt… pleased. The symbol felt like a mark.

He glanced at Clark, who watched the whole dressing process. He too was focused on the crest right now, looking deep in thoughts as he stared at the symbol of his house displayed on Bruce's chest.

It must've been strange to see it on someone else, and not in a marketable way. 

Maybe they should just ditch it.

With the heavy cloak in place, Bruce was dressed completely. The bots brought a mirror, and he and Clark stood in front of it side by side, their robes matching perfectly, both in style and color. 

White and dark blue complemented one another nicely, and Bruce’s cloak had the same black, starry underside as Clark’s. The only thing Bruce was missing was a pair of his own boots, as he was currently barefoot. But even without boots, he looked good like this. 

Bruce was used to wearing well-tailored suits, but the Kryptonian robe felt completely different. 

He himself felt completely different while wearing one. He wasn't Bruce Wayne, he wasn't Batman. He was someone else, but he couldn't pinpoint who.

When he glanced at Clark, he realized he wasn't the only one having an identity crisis. Clark was analyzing the reflection as if he was trying to solve a problem.

His friend turned to Jor-El.

“How do we look?” he asked.

Bruce mirrored Clark, and they both looked at the AI, waiting for the verdict.

Jor-El smiled proudly.

“Like a Kryptonian couple. You look like you were made for each other.”

Clark turned red all the way to the tips of his ears. Glancing at Bruce, he laughed in a tense manner.

“He’s just an AI and he still manages to embarrass me like a real father would,” he joked.

Bruce huffed in amusement. “He’s not wrong, we do match well,” he admitted, and although Clark’s blush didn't go away, he had an easier time accepting Bruce's opinion than that of a computer. He looked proud now. 

Bruce took another look at himself in the mirror, his eyes landing on the sash, tied meticulously around his waist. Ha glanced at Clark’s, tied the same way. He wondered if his friend did it himself or asked the bots for help. 

“I should probably practice tying my sash.”

Even if they went with ‘spouses dress each other’ act, he still would’ve to know how to do it to tie Clark’s. 

Clark nodded. “Be my guest.”

Standing in front of a mirror, Bruce untied the sash and took it off completely, determined to really start from the beginning. Wrapping it around his waist was a reasonable starting point. The cape was in a way of that, but before he could take it off, Clark was behind him, carefully unclipping it from his shoulder and easing the weight off.

He didn’t say a thing when Bruce caught his eyes in the mirror, he just smiled as he folded the cape with care and hung it across his forearm. Stepping back, he let Bruce continue. 

He watched the bots do it, he remembered every sequence and had no problem recreating them. Finishing in half a minute, he turned to Clark so he could tell him how he did.

Clark took his time, watching Bruce’s whole attire closely from up and down and back, not only the sash. He was checking Bruce out. Which wasn’t anything new, he was checked out by everyone he met, he was used to it. Clark might have been the strongest being on Earth, but he wasn’t immune to Bruce Wayne’s charm and sex appeal, so Bruce didn't look too much into it like his hopeful heart wanted him to.

“Seems good,” Clark said eventually, eyes finally landing on the sash for longer than a second. “Oh, wait, you got it wrong.”

Bruce raised his eyebrow at him. “Did I?”

“Yeah, let me just…” Clark fumbled with the cape he was still holding. He finally handed it to one of the bots and stepped closer to Bruce, undoing his sash quickly before redoing the knot. 

Bruce wasn’t looking at Clark’s hands, his eyes fixated on the expression of complete focus on Clark’s face as he worked, mumbling each step of the knot under his breath. Like a little kid tying his shoes on his own for the first time. 

It was endearing, and Bruce couldn’t help but smile a little while a warm sensation coiled around his heart.

“From left to right first, then through a loop,” Clark kept muttering. Bruce expected him to stick out his tongue at some point during this, but he didn’t. “Then straighten it up a little, now right to left and done. Traditional, Kryptonian knot.”

He smoothened out the sash for good measure and took a step back, admiring his work proudly. When he looked up, Bruce was already staring at him. He never stopped.

“Thank you,” Bruce said. 

Clark smiled, happy to be able to help like always. Bruce almost felt bad for messing up on purpose and tricking him into fixing the sash. He couldn’t help himself, he wanted Clark to do it for him at least once. 

“You look good, by the way,” Clark said suddenly, once again letting his eyes roam over Bruce’s body. “I thought it would be too flashy for you, but it suits you.”

“You imagined me in those robes before?” Bruce was deadpan when he asked that. 

Clark stuttered as he struggled to give an explanation. “Y-you know! For a mission!” 

A smirk broke out on Bruce’s face, letting Clark know he was only joking. “I'll try on my own again,” he informed his glaring friend, untying the sash again. “Let me know if I mess it up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Clark agreed with a loud huff. He didn’t hold a grudge long. His face softened as he smiled encouragingly at Bruce. “I'm sure you got this.”

Bruce was already in the process of tying the stash. “Can't be harder than Eldredge.”

A fluttering sensation erupted in Bruce’s stomach when Clark laughed at his joke. 

He almost messed up again, this time accidentally. 

Clark watched his hands closely as Bruce skillfully tied the sash, this time perfectly. 

“Told you you got this,” he grinned at Bruce. 

Bruce allowed himself to smile back. “The summit will last three days, we should probably have more robes,” he noticed. 

“Yeah, probably,” Clark agreed, looking down at his robe. “I also have one that’s dark green and dark red. What would fit those?”

He aimed that question at Jor-El, his image still present, but they completely forgot about him until now. 

“For dark green, I suggest purple, either dark or lavender,” the AI supplied. “For red, best would be black or a lighter tone of red.”

“No yellow?” Bruce asked. That seemed like an obvious pick for red. 

“Yellow is for funerals,” Jor-El explained. 

Bruce didn’t expect that. “Interesting choice. What about gold?”

While similar, gold was distinct enough to stand out from some tones of yellows. 

“Gold robes are worn only during weddings. The color is connected to the yellow stars and symbolizes the new life for the wedded, as well as the strength of their union. Gold and yellow robes are forbidden to be used for anything else. However, both gold and yellow can be used for accents on other colored robes.”

“My red robe is decorated with gold thread and accents,” Clark supplied. 

“Do you ever wear anything the color of kryptonite?”

While dangerous on Earth, on Krypton, the bright green rock was completely harmless and had no negative connotations like it had for Clark. 

“Bright green is often worn to celebrate,” Jor-El answered.

“Why do you ask him so much about the colors of the robes?” Clark questioned in confusion. 

“It’s interesting,” Bruce simply said, then looked at his friend. “And I like knowing about your heritage.”

Both out of detective curiosity, and out of care for Clark. 

Who didn’t seem to expect such an answer. 

“Oh.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. “Should I stop?” 

Clark shook his head quickly. “No, I was just curious,” he explained with a gleeful smile. 

Bruce had two more robes done for him - one lavender with silver accents to fit dark green, the other black with gold details. He didn’t try them on, the bots made them exactly the same as the first one, so he knew they would fit. 

He eventually undressed from the first robe, letting the bots fold it and add to the other two. Dressed only in his undersuit, he and Clark sat down to eat. 

Clark took off most of his outfit, staying only in the long gown. Without the jacket, sash and cape to divide his attention, Bruce could now see how well and tight the gown fitted his friend, especially around waist and torso, widening only at his hips and around his legs to allow mobility.

They chatted over the sandwiches Alfred prepared, catching up on their civilian lives. It was their little tradition, they tended to leave League and other superhero business out of their meetings. 

Although they were in the Fortress, and everything around them reminded them of the extraordinary lives they had, they stuck to their rule and only talked about Clark’s articles and news from Smallville, as well as Bruce’s business and Dick’s A in chemistry test from Monday. 

Bruce liked those moments when he could only be himself. A businessman and a father to a teen. A friend to Clark Kent, a reporter from a little farming town. 

“Well, that was fun,” Clark declared after finishing his coffee. 

Bruce put his cup down too, done as well. “It was interesting.”

Clark snorted. “I forgot you’re allergic to the word ‘fun’.”

“Not true,” he argued, but decided to humor his friend. “It was really enjoyable.”

“Now that’s better,” Clark grinned, tilting his head. “Didn’t think you like dressing up.”

“Usually, I don’t, but your robes are comfortable,” he confessed. They were a little heavy together, but still lighter than his Batsuit. “And I enjoyed learning about Krypton.”

Clark’s expressions became soft, a faint blush adoring his cheeks. 

“That’s nice to hear.”

Bruce nodded before standing up from the table. “I’ll be going. I need to deal with Wayne Enterprise business before patrol tonight.”

Clark stood up as well. “Yeah, sure, I won’t hold you back,” he said, packing tupperware and cups back to their bag. “I’m glad you visited.”

“I had to,” Bruce answered from where he was already putting on his armor back.

“But you didn’t have to stay for lunch,” Clark pointed out, not dismissed by Bruce’s pragmatic answer. 

Bruce looked at him over his shoulder. “I wanted to.”

Clark grinned in response, and there was a squeeze in Bruce’s chest. Damn that smile. 

“I guess I’ll see you around for another lunch,” Clark said when Bruce was fully suited up. He handed Bruce the bag to one hand while a bot passed the robes into the other. “This weekend?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “I’ll call you.” 

“Great. Fly safely, Bruce.”

“You too,” he said back, knowing Clark would be back in Metropolis soon. 

Clark gave him a little wave as he was disappearing around the corner, and Bruce smiled all the way to the Batwing because of it. 

Krypto was back, catching the snowflakes in the air. With his hands full, Bruce could only praise the dog for keeping an eye on the Batwing, but it was enough for Krypto who flew closer and gave Bruce’s face a lick. 

Bruce chuckled, barely escaping the happy mutt and his tongue. 

Safe in the warmth of the jet, Bruce turned on the heating system on the wings to get rid of the accumulated ice, before heading back home. Krypto chased after him, flying next to the Batwing till it was out of the Arctic. 

Back home, Bruce took off the suit and dressed back in civilian clothes, carrying the robes upstairs with him, deciding to leave them in his bedroom. The grandfather clock moved out of the way to let him pass, and Bruce stepped out of the cave, greeted by the sight of Dick doing his homework on the coffee table. 

The boy lifted his gaze from the papers in front of him and he looked at Bruce, his attention immediately caught by the robes. 

“Hey, B,” he greeted, still eyeing the robes. “What’s that?”

“Kryptonian robes,” Bruce answered plainly. 

Dick frowned in confusion. “Clark is staying over?” He looked at the clock, expecting it to open again and let Clark in but that didn’t happen. “Since when is he wearing them anyway?”

“These are mine,” Bruce elaborated, moving towards the door to leave. “For the mission.”

“Oh, the fake marriage one, right?” 

“Yes.”

Dick nodded, having nothing else to say seemingly. Bruce knew him better than that. He was almost out when the teen giggled. 

“That’s so cute, you gonna wear matching clothes,” he teased, making Bruce stop in the doorway. 

Why did he even tell Dick about this mission?

He turned to glare at the boy in warning. “For the mission,” he said again.

Dick smiled cheekily. “Wasn’t that what I said?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes further. 

“Stick to your calculus, not my love life,” he growled and left the room.

“I didn’t say anything about your love life!” Dick shouted after him, another giggle present in his voice.

Damn teenagers. He liked Dick better when he was ten and cute.

Chapter Text

“Lois!”

Clark flew inside the apartment through the open window, barely managing to fit in without ripping it from the wall. The whirlwind of papers in the air that greeted him obstructed the view of his friend.

“Clark!” Lois’ furious shout reached Clark from behind the cascade of papers that he watched fall down, finally revealing his friend. She was as angry as she sounded. “I just finished categorizing them!”

Clark winced at her tone. “Sorry, sorry. Let me just…”

Quicker than a blink of an eye, he cleaned up the chaos, placing it on the table the way it was before he barged in. Nervously fixing his crooked glasses, he smiled apologetically at glaring Lois. 

“They better be in the exact order I put them,” she said and sat down on a recliner behind her. 

“Yeah, yeah, I saw how they flew,” he assured, second-guessing himself for a moment. 

Lois sighed. “Care to explain why you burst here at the speed of sound?” she asked, rubbing at her tired eyes.

“I didn’t pass the sound barrier,” he deadpanned. 

“Clark.”

He knew that tone. One that said ‘don’t play games with me or god help me’.

“I’m getting cold feet, Lois,” he confessed, falling onto the couch dramatically. 

“Over your marriage with Bruce?” she asked, brow raised. 

Clark scoffed at her. “Don’t call it like that. Sounds like we’re actually getting married.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Lois smirked, noticing his blush.

It grew bigger. 

“Lois.”

Rao, he whined. He was so pathetic. 

The smile vanished from Lois’ face, and she became more serious, leaning back in her recliner. “I thought you didn’t have a problem with that mission,” she pointed out. “You said, and I quote, ‘I got this’.”

Clark stared at the ceiling. “Well, I don’t get this!” he admitted and surged forward, hunching in his seat. He fumbled with his hands, looking to the side. “I’m scared I’ll say something compromising.”

That perspective couldn’t leave his head. He thought of it every second of the day, right after waking up, and just before falling asleep. While buying muffins for breakfast, while working, while doing grocery shopping on his way from work.

He couldn’t mess it up. He couldn’t scare Bruce away with his silly, unrequited feelings. The number of times he imagined Bruce’s angry face after finding out Clark loved him more than a friend, was so drilled into his brain he sometimes questioned if it didn’t happen already. 

He was losing it, and the mission didn’t even start yet. 

“So what?” 

Clark turned his head so fast it created a little gust of wind. Lois watched him in confusion. 

“So what? So what?!” he repeated, standing up abruptly. “We’re talking about Bruce here! He reacts to feelings like a vampire to the sun!”

He started pacing, waving his hands around. “He sniffs an ounce of love on me, and he’ll hiss like a hellish cat and escape to the Manor!”

“You’ll be in space,” Lois reminded him.

“He’ll find a way,” he dismissed her point with a wave of a hand. Stopping, Clark let his shoulders drop. “He won’t want to be friends with me anymore.”

Clark couldn’t even remember the times when he and Bruce weren’t friends anymore. No, scratch that, he remembered it perfectly, that’s why he didn’t want to lose it. Bruce was his best friend, he loved every second they spent together - talking, cracking a case together, sharing a meal, joking. 

He could live without Bruce’s romantic love, he already was. He was ready to love him from a distance for the rest of Bruce’s life. But he couldn’t live without their friendship. It was too important, for both of them. 

Clark liked to think his friendship changed Bruce, even if just a little. Dragged him out of his shell, from the dark and into the sun. He knew he wasn’t the only one responsible for Bruce doing better mentally, he had so many more people than just Clark that helped him. 

But he did help, and he didn’t want to imagine what losing Clark, having him betray Bruce’s trust he never gives out easily, would do to his friend.  

“You have a very bad view of your boyfriend, you know that?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he muttered in a dejected voice. 

But oh, how he ached for him to be. 

He heard Lois getting up and then she was next to him, rubbing his back in a comforting way. He looked at her, 

“Clark, you’ve been friends for close to a decade,” she said softly. “He’s not the same man that growled at you whenever you followed him like a lost puppy, trying to start a conversation.” 

Clark’s mouth twitched in an attempt at smiling. It was funny now how Batman - because it was only Batman back then - snarled and avoided him like a plague, telling Superman to get out of his city. 

It took months and eventually fighting a villain side by side for them to become allies. Allies turned into friends and teammates with the creation of the Justice League, and now here they were - comfortable enough to pretend to be a couple. 

Or so Clark thought. 

“You have weekly lunches for Christ’s sake,” Lois continued, her palm still moving, easing the tension from his body. “You slept at his house multiple times. He has solar lamps installed in a cozy bedroom in his Cave for you in case you’re suffering kryptonite poisoning.”

It was probably silly, but it was one of Clark’s favorite memories of their relationship. Bruce invited him to the Cave under the excuse of giving Clark some insight about a criminal group operating in Metropolis. It was still early in their friendship, so Clark was quite surprised when Bruce casually mentioned the existence of the solar lamps. 

He showed Clark a room he made out of one of the side caves, transformed into a fully functional bedroom, with medical equipment and with solar lamps on the ceiling and walls, ready to create the healing glow if he ever needed it. There was even a stocked bookshelf, with some of Clark’s favorite titles, so he wouldn’t be bored while recovering in a more lucid state.  

Clark almost cried then, barely holding back the tears. He definitely scooped Bruce up and hugged him though, ignoring Bat’s grumbles and requests to be put down. 

That was the moment Clark knew he just gained a best friend for life. And when his crush turned into love. 

“Clark.”

Lois’ speaking his name brought him back to the present. He looked at her, now standing in front of him. She took his hand in hers and squeezed gently, smiling at him. 

“He’s been raising a kid for years, he’s not afraid of feelings, he doesn’t shy away from them anymore,” she assured him. “I’m pretty sure he knows you love him. Maybe he doesn’t suspect it’s not a platonic love, but he knows. And he loves you too.”

He shyly smiled back, a bubble of warmth spreading inside his chest.

“You think?” he asked in a whisper. 

“I’m sure of it.” Lois patted his cheek playfully. “You’re a lovable guy, Bruce Wayne isn’t immune to your charm. And I know you know all that because you’re not stupid. You’re just panicking.”

Clark’s face started feeling hot. “Maybe a little.”

“Try like a lot,” she corrected him. 

She still held his hand, so Clark squeezed it gently, accepting the comfort she was offering. “I really don’t want to mess it up, Lois,” he confessed again with a trembling voice. “Us.”

“You won’t.” She cupped his face with her palm and stroked his cheek tenderly. “Even if the cat is out of the bag, he won’t abandon you.”

She was probably right. She was Lois Lane after all, she was rarely wrong. But Clark couldn’t help but fear she was this time. 

Lois noticed. 

“You can always cancel,” she suggested, pulling her hand away from his face. “Say your mom is sick or something.”

Clark shook his head. “I can’t, the summit is tomorrow.”

He was to arrive at Wayne Manor in the morning and then go to Watchtower with Bruce. Cancelling now would mess up two weeks of preparations. 

“Diana can replace you. She’ll put on some sexy, backless dress and she’s good to go.”

Diana would do it, no question asked. Maybe just a raised brow. And she and Bruce would look gorgeous together. Like a couple of Hollywood stars on the red carpet. They would enter the room together, Bruce’s arms around her waist, flashing his charming smile that could make even the straightest men’s knees go weak. 

And Diana would lean down to kiss his cheek, clinging to him through the entire first day of the summit. And other days too, both of them looking like the happiest, most in love and powerful couple in the universe. 

Lois hissed, pulling her hand away from his bone-crushing grip. “Careful, Smallville, you’re starting to look a little green,” she teased.

Clark’s eyes went to her red palm she was rubbing soothingly. 

“Sorry,” he said, blushing. He took back her hand in his and brought it to his lips, gently blowing a cooling breath onto it. Lois sighed in relief. “I will do it.”

Lois smiled at him and gave his shoulder a few pats with her good hand. “Attaboy.”  

Clark smiled back, letting go of her palm, glad to see it wasn’t swelling. “You put that picture in my head on purpose, ain’t you?” he questioned.

She turned, getting back to her recliner, throwing a smirk at him over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She sat back, reaching for the papers on the coffee table. 

“I better go,” Clark told her. He took enough of her time already. “Leave you to your work.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a whole night of research ahead of me,” she groaned, scanning one of the pages before glaring at him. “Meanwhile you’re on a three day long holiday.”

Clark rolled his eyes at her. “It’s my other job, Lois.”

“A date with Bruce Wayne,” she snorted and then sighed dreamily. “Man, I wish I had a job like this.”

“Wanna switch?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“Do you?” she challenged with a glint in her eyes. 

Clark choked on his own spit, making Lois laugh. “Alright, good luck, Lois,” he said quickly, avoiding looking at her amused face and hiding a blush on his. “Thanks for the help.”

She really helped him with his doubts about the mission, he felt calmer already. Still nervous, because it was a mission with Bruce, and those always made him nervous in a giddy kind of way, but he was ready to face whatever was in front of him tomorrow. 

“Anytime,” she replied sincerely. 

Clark smiled at her and rushed out the way he came in. He was already climbing through the window of his apartment a second later, ready to call it a day, when he heard Lois screaming angrily.

“Clark!”

He returned quickly, immediately noticing all her research papers littering the floor of her place. And in the middle of it, Lois was fuming at him. 

Clark covered under her furious gaze, cringing. “Sorry. Let me…”

He cleaned up again and when he left this time, he did so through the door, closing it gently behind him to not create a wind. 

Before flying to the Wayne Manor the next day, Clark stopped by at the Fortress to take his robes. He packed them into a simple duffle bag, giggling a little at how ridiculous that was. Clothes of highly advantaged civilization packed into a bag you put your gym clothes in. 

When he was ready to leave, the bag hoisted onto his shoulder, Krypto trotted up to him to say goodbye. Clark went down on one knee in front of him and petted the dog’s head. 

“Alright, Krypto, you hold the fort while I’m gone,” he told the mutt seriously. “Try not to chew the walls, okay?”

Krypto barked once, tail wagging lazily behind him. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he chuckled, ruffing the dog’s fur. “Wish me luck.”

He really needed it. 

Krypto let out another bark and jumped at Clark, licking him. 

“No! Not the face, ugh!” he protested, pushing the mutt away. “Bad dog!” he scolded, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket. Pulling out his phone, he looked at his reflection and groaned seeing the state of his hair, bangs standing up messily.  

“You messed up my curl,” he complained to Krypto and tamed his hair as best as he could, slicking it back. It wasn’t his favorite look, he seemed too serious and threatening like this, especially without a single lock over his forehead, but it would have to do. 

Krypto was sitting in front of him, tongue lolled out in carefree expression. Clark looked at him tiredly, but also with a little fondness. 

“I wasn’t going for the gelled look, you know?” he asked the mutt and petted him one last time before leaving, flying straight to the Manor. 

With every mile covered, his heart was beating faster and faster, and by the time he arrived in Gotham, he was sure it was going to jump out of his chest right into Bruce’s hands the moment he would see the man. 

“I’m hopeless,” he sighed to himself, beginning his descent. 

He landed in front of the main door to the Manor and knocked. He adjusted the strap of his bag while waiting for someone to open. 

It was Alfred. 

“Welcome, Master Clark,” the older man greeted and stepped to the side to let Clark in.

Clark smiled at the butler. “Hi, Alfred. Is Bruce ready?”

“He’s getting there,” was Alfred’s response as he closed the door. “He’s in the Cave with Master Dick.”

A chuckle escaped Clark’s chest. Of course. Three days off world without Batman was a torture for Bruce. He was probably trying to solve the last of his cases before he would have to leave it all for Robin. 

“I’ll find my way there,” Clark told Alfred, but to his surprise, the butler followed after him. 

“How are you feeling before the mission?” Alfred asked casually, walking next to him, hands folded behind his back. 

“Nervous,” Clark admitted, playing with the strap of the bag. “I have never done something like this before.”

It wasn’t just about his feelings for Bruce, but about the mission as a whole. 

He kept telling himself it wasn’t that hard of a job. They just had to be friendly but with a bit more intimacy than normal to pass as a married couple. And yet Clark feared he would let their cover slip at some point. Or that he wasn’t going to be good with negotiations. 

Which was stupid, he was good at politics. It was a lot like being a reporter, which was all about asking the right questions and probing when necessary. 

And he was a damn good reporter. 

Besides, he would have Bruce by his side - master manipulator, a man who had backup plans for backup plans, and a CEO of his own company. He knew how to negotiate. There was really nothing mission wise he had to fear. 

Okay, so maybe it was only about his feelings for Bruce. 

“Master Bruce did. Undercover I mean.” Him and Alfred stopped in front of the grandfather clock and the butler leaned towards him. Clark leaned in return. “But just between me and you, he’s nervous too.”

Clark’s lips parted in surprise. “He is?” 

Alfred didn’t answer, just smiled before walking away to take care of his chores. Clark stared after him for a while, rubbing his neck in confusion. He finally shrugged and turned the hands of the clock to let himself into the Cave.  

He listened to the two loudest hearts down there, Dick’s faster than Bruce’s. He found out why when he finally arrived at the bottom. Bruce, dressed already, was at his computer, typing - which Clark expected. 

Looking up, he found Dick as well, swinging on the training equipment under the Cave’s roof. 

“Hey, Clark!” The teen acknowledged him first with a dashing smile. “Catch!”

Dick swung forward and let go of the trapeze, flying gracefully through the air with his hands outstretched like wings. 

Clark caught him effortlessly, giving the boy a stern look. 

“You’re too big to still be doing that,” he noted, holding Dick bridal style. 

Dick grinned. “You can still catch me tho.” Using Clark’s shoulder as leverage, Dick flipped himself over his head and landed on the ground behind him. He picked up a towel from a nearby pommel horse and wiped his sweaty face. 

“So, how’s it going?” he asked Clark. 

“Good. You?” Clark asked back. He always liked talking to Dick.  

Bruce was still typing on his computer, ignoring them both. 

“Free house for three days!” Dick exclaimed and jumped onto the pommel horse, swinging his legs around, another big grin on his face. Clark laughed from his excitement. 

Just a few years back Dick would’ve begged to go on a mission with them, now he was happy being left alone to care for Gotham by himself. Without Batman breathing down his neck. 

“Try throwing a party and you’ll be grounded till you’re forty,” Bruce growled from his chair without turning around. 

Clark and Dick both looked at him, amused. 

“Maybe you can make him stop being so grumpy,” Dick suggested, continuing his exercises without losing a beat. “He’s been having an attitude since he woke up.”

Clark raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You slept the night?” he asked Bruce. 

“I wanted to be rested,” his friend grumbled back. 

“For youuu,” Dick sang-song to blushing Clark. 

“Dick, I’m warning you,” Bruce snarled again.

Clark just laughed at the shenanigans of the dynamic duo. 

“Clearly a good night's sleep didn’t help his mood,” Dick huffed with a smirk. “I think his brain works backwards and too much sleep is actually bad for him.”

A batarang whizzed right in front of Clark’s face, nearly avoiding hitting Dick on the forehead, the teen ducking just in time. The blade punctured into the stony wall just behind him. 

“Leave the boy alone, Bruce,” Clark sighed, approaching his friend. “He’s hoping for a reaction.”

“Hmm.”

Clark shook his head, but a small smile curled his lips upward. “I’m gonna change and we can go to the Watchtower. Give me a minute.”

He went into the changing room, hoping leaving these two alone won’t end up with more batarangs flying. He didn’t hear anything, so he assumed it was good. 

Clark put on his white robe since he noticed Bruce already was dressed in his midnight blue one. He left the others in the bag and put away his civilian clothes in the locker. 

His heart clenched with fondness when he touched the symbol of his house engraved on the door.

Other League members could use whatever lockers they wanted if needed, but this one was just his. Bruce put it in his Cave, marked it and secured it so no one but him could open it.

Lois was right. Bruce loved him. 

And this and the solar room just a few feet away, were his way of showing it.  

Dressed in his Kryptonian robes and smiling, Clark left the changing room, instantly coming to a stop, smile slipping, replaced by a shock. 

Everyone was alive, Dick trained, no batarangs were flying. But not everything was as he expected.

Gaping, Clark stared at Bruce, fully dressed, now out of his chair and leaning against it with arms crossed across his chest - waiting. His face was emotionless, but it was far from being bare. 

“Are you… wearing make-up?” Clark asked, the shock slowly leaving his brain and letting it work properly. 

Dick snickered from the side, amused. They both ignored the teen. 

Bruce’s brows furrowed. “Problem, Kent?”

Clark shook his head quickly. “No,” he replied and wetted his dry lips. “Just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

He had no problem at all. Bruce in make-up, artistic one, not the one he wore for the press or to cover the dark bags under his eyes, was not something Clark expected to ever see. He had many dreams about Bruce over the years, and in those he was without make-up as well.

But now that he witnessed it, Clark wished Bruce could wear make-up more often, because he certainly could pull it off. And whoever made it was clearly talented, not a single thing was out of place. 

Bruce wore a perfect eyeliner, perfect dark blue and sparkling eyeshadow, and his lashes were curled in a way that would make professional eyes models green with envy. 

Did he always have such long lashes and Clark never noticed or were those extensions? He was going to think about it before sleep for days.  

Rao, he couldn’t stop staring, not even trying to hide it. He barely noticed Bruce began to talk.

“I wanted to add some Earthly touch to my image,” he explained, adjusting the cape around his frame as he walked to Clark. He stopped right in front of him and with a little smirk, raised his hand and pushed Clark’s chin up, closing his mouth with an audible snap.

Clark’s entire face got on fire. 

“Love the dedication,” he admitted a little breathlessly, trying to sound normal and not completely awestruck. “You even pierced your ears.”

A pair of long, silver earrings with some black gems were dangling from Bruce’s ears. Clark didn’t expect something like that either. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I did.”

Now Clark wanted to know about the other time Bruce pierced his ears. In high school? They talked over the years about so many things, how did it never come up?  

“You look good. It suits you,” he said, uncertain if his words of appreciation were welcome. But he just needed to express it. Tell Bruce how good he looked. “The earrings and the make-up.”

“Thank you,” Bruce replied flatly. Still, Clark considered it a win, showing it with a pleased smile. “We still have time, I could put some on you too.” 

Him? In make-up? Did that mean Bruce put it on all by himself? Now Clark was even more impressed by his look. And curious how and why he learned this kind of skill. 

“Oh sure, I wouldn’t mind,” he agreed, eager to see what Bruce was going to cook up for him. He never wore make-up, he was curious how he would look. 

“Ugh!”

They turned to Dick at the same time, the teenager eyeing them with disgust. 

“Want to say something, Dick?” Bruce dared, one of his perfectly trimmed brow elevated.

Dick lifted his hands in surrender and smirked. “Yeah, no. I’m going to barf upstairs,” he informed them and headed to the exit. “Have fun on your honeymoon!” he called from the stairs. 

Warmth rushed to Clark’s face. “What’s up with him?” he asked, pointing at the leaving teen with his thumb. 

“He’s being a teenager,” Bruce sighed, walking away. 

“I don’t remember being like that,” Clark mentioned, watching Bruce pick up his own bag.

“Of course not, boy scout.”

“Hey!” he protested. “I was getting in trouble from time to time!”

Just because he was one of the good guys didn't mean he wasn't causing troubles as a teenager.

Bruce turned and gave him a doubtful look. “Crossing the street at a red light is not getting in trouble, Clark.”

Clark crossed his arms defensively on his chest. “I’ll have you know, I never did that.”

Bruce snorted, and Clark realized his argument wasn't the gotcha moment he was aiming for. Far from it.

“Of course you didn’t,” Bruce replied, smirking, heading to the zeta-tube.

Clark followed him, definitely not pouting.

They arrived in Watchtower together, still having an hour until their ride would be there. Clark thought it was nice that those organizing the summit took care of transportation. The League had a way to travel through space, but that way they didn't have to worry about getting lost. 

It was just a regular day at the Watchtower, only those on watch duty should be there. Maybe Diana and J'onn too, since they were invested in the whole mission the most.

Yet upon arriving, Clark wasn't surprised when their whole team, even those on monitor duty, was present and clearly waiting for their arrival.

Clark grimaced when he and Bruce were welcomed with a wolf-whistling from Flash, Lantern and Hawkgirl.

“Damn, Brucie, you look fine!” Lantern hollered. “Kal, I’m jealous.”

“You still don’t have enough of the teasing?” Clark asked him, an irritated growl slipping into his voice. “Come on, give him a break.”

He knew Bruce hated this kind of attention, and he didn't even have his Batsuit to hide from it. 

Clark was tired of this teasing as well. He thought Flash and Lantern would get bored over the two weeks that led to the day of the mission. It seemed seeing him and Bruce all dolled up - Bruce even in make-up - reignited their interest in teasing. 

And they were joined by Hawkgirl this time.

Clark checked on Bruce, stepping closer to him, even having a brief moment when he considered standing in front of him. 

Thankfully, Bruce looked fine, not even an eyebrow twitching, no clenched jaw. 

“Aww, I love how protective you are of your hubby, Kal,” Hawkgirl teased.

Clark's fist clenched. He was a peaceful man, but after listening to those jokes for two weeks whenever he bumped into his teammates, he was really losing his patience.

They were making jokes about the whole situation, but he felt like his feelings were being mocked instead.

A hand lightly and briefly tapping his right wrist almost made Clark jump out of his skin. When he looked to that side, Bruce was standing there, slightly behind him and closer than before.

He was looking at Clark.

“Come on, Kal,” he said with another tap and nodded towards the door to the hallway. “To my room.”

Another series of whistles and snickering erupted in the room. Someone let out a loud ‘ooohhh’, and Clark tried to turn off his hearing as he followed Bruce out, face burning with humiliation.

“Did you have to say that?” he asked when they were out of earshot. “Now they’ll think we’re having sex or something.”

Like they needed more teasing.

“Let them think what they want,” Bruce said in reply. “Doesn’t make it true.”

Clark observed Bruce as he walked behind him. He couldn't see his face, but his body was relaxed, not even a tiny bit of tension present.

He worried so much about the teasing affecting Bruce, and he didn't even care. Clark should’ve expected that. This was Bruce Wayne, a man who had wild speculations created about him several times a day. 

If he cared about every single thing people thought about him, he would've ended up in Arkham by now.

Ignoring the teasing was a good strategy, but Clark wasn't sure if he could use it. It was too personal.

But right now, he didn't need to worry. They were alone in the hallway and soon enough, safely locked in Bruce's private sleeping quarter, where the rest of the team couldn't get them with their teasing.

Clark relaxed and found himself smiling again the moment the door locked behind him.

He stood by the door a little awkwardly, unsure what Bruce wanted to do here. Clark watched him put his bag on the bed before looking inside. He pulled out a little case, setting it next to the bag.

Clark kept watching with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, head cocked to the side. Bruce grabbed a chair standing by the small table next and carried it to the bed, setting it down.

“Sit on the bed,” he told Clark while taking the chair for himself.

Clark dropped his bag by the door and quickly followed the order. Bruce opened the box, and Clark realized it was a make-up case. And it was filled to the brim.

Bruce grabbed the first tool without a word and leaned close, his warm, callused palm placed firmly on Clark's cheek, keeping his head still as he began to work.

There was no need for that hold, Clark could stay perfectly still for hours. Which he did now, freezing like a statue when he felt Bruce's breath on his lips. 

His own got stuck in his chest, and there was no way to release it in a natural manner, without showing how nervous he was. So he just stopped breathing completely, staring into Bruce's focused eyes.

They were so close, framed by those long lashes - definitely natural - and surrounded by the sparkling eyeshadow that made the greyish blue of his irises pop up like jewels among ash.

Clark swallowed the lump in his throat. “Who taught you to do that? Selina?”

Bruce moved his palm up Clark's face, rubbing something into the skin under his eye. “I taught myself.”

“Oh?” 

He hoped it was enough encouragement to have Bruce continue.

“Needed it for a case once,” he elaborated, repeating his earlier actions on Clark's other eye.

Clark fought the desire to use his face in the conversation. He didn't want to mess up Bruce's work. “You needed to wear make-up for it?”

“I need to know how to put make-up on others,” he corrected, choosing the color of Clark's eyeshadow. “I infiltrated the human trafficking ring a few years back. I was responsible for making the merchandise presentable for the buyers.”

Clark smiled. It was so typical of Bruce to learn something new to help people with it.

“I remember that case,” he said, closing his eyes when Bruce brought a brush to his eyes. With a steady and gentle hand, he began to apply the eyeshadow. “Been on the front page of Daily Planet. I think Lois even wrote a longer piece about it a few weeks after. You saved a lot of women and men back then.”

It was huge news. More than hundred people were saved, some just teenagers. Thanks to Batman and GPD, they got reunited with their families.

But before Batman entered the picture, Bruce went in without any armor, armed only with his wits and a make-up brush to gather enough evidence to bust the operation and bring those responsible to justice.

Every day, Clark was more and more amazed by this man. And more in love.

Clark was the one carrying the names of Superman, but it always fitted Bruce more.

“Yeah,” Bruce husked out, almost shyly.

Clark opened the eye Bruce wasn't working on right now to look at him. His face was full of focus on the task at hand.

He looked very handsome like this.

“Who did you practice on?” Clark asked.

“Myself, mostly.” Bruce put away the brush and used some other tool Clark didn't know the name of, to add finishing touches. “And Alfred.”

It was very hard for Clark to stop his eyebrows from raising up to his hairline. “You put make up on Alfred?”

He tried to imagine it, but he just couldn't picture such a serious man as Alfred agreeing to be a guinea pig for make-up practice.

Despite their eyes being on the same level, Bruce didn't look into Clark's even once since they started. Until now, the cool blue of his eyes sparkling with mischief, lips curled into a smirk.

“Don’t tell him I told you.”

Clark smirked back, making a zipping motion over his mouth. “Your secret is safe with me,” he promised, and Bruce nodded in acknowledgement.

They sat in silence for a few beats.

“Do you have a picture?” Clark couldn't help but ask.

Bruce chuckled, as if expecting it. “I do.”

Clark squeaked. “I wanna see!” he demanded, pulling another little laugh from Bruce.

The warm sound made him lightheaded and his chest bursting with love.

“Close your eyes now.”

He complied without question, feeling a tiny brush running just at the edge of his eyelid.

“So. Make-up,” Clark started a little teasingly. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I can’t cook,” Bruce revealed.

“I knew it!” he grinned, though Bruce's lack of talent in the kitchen was hardly a secret. He never saw his friend cook.

Bruce huffed, placing another line with the brush. "Nobody can be as perfect as you.”

“Come on, B. You sound like Lex.” Luthor's name left a sour taste in his mouth. “I’m not perfect.”

He never aimed to be. He was a simple guy from Kansas who just happened to have godly powers.

“Perfect enough,” Bruce hummed, thoughtful.

Clark smiled at him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he pointed out carefully. “Good husband material, even if you can’t cook.”

Bruce snorted. “Thanks.”

Clark couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the make-up application.

It didn't take long after for Bruce to finish. He picked up a hand mirror and let Clark see himself.

Just like they matched with robes, now they matched with make-up too when it came to style. Bruce put on him a silver eyeshadow, drew perfect black lines around his eyes, ending them with some fancy twirls, and applied mascara to make his lashes longer and curly.

Clark almost didn't recognize himself.

“Wow,” he breathed out in awe. “This is really pretty. Thanks, Bruce.”

He looked at his friend with a big smile, wanting to show him how really grateful he was for this. 

“You're welcome,” Bruce replied, packing back his equipment.

Clark gave him back the hand mirror and was about to stand up, when Bruce's hand suddenly landed on his shoulder and made him stop.

Bruce stared intensely, with something akin to irritation. Clark was very confused about what provoked such a reaction, but before he could ask, Bruce was opening his case again.

He scooped something onto his index finger, spreading it around. Clark finally released the breath he was holding all this time when Bruce unexpectedly twirled a lock of his hair onto the slick finger.

He let it stay for a dozen of seconds, and when he released it, a perfectly curled strand of hair fell upon Clark's forehead.

Bruce hummed with satisfaction.

“I knew something was askew,” was his only explanation, then he returned to packing back his make-up case.

Clark's eyes went cross eyed when he tried to look at his lock. He barked out a laugh.

“Yeah, Krypto decided to give me a makeover,” he told Bruce, another chuckle escaping.

Bruce looked back at him. “He shouldn’t fix what doesn’t need fixing,” he said seriously and zipped his bag before lifting it up. “Come on, let's go back to the jesters. Unless you want to avoid teasing and stay in here till our ride is here.”

Staying here with Bruce was tempting. They could talk, have fun in the privacy of the room. But if there was something Clark hated with passion, it was hiding. 

“Nah,” he refused Bruce's offer and stood up as well, smugly pointing at himself from head to toes. “Hiding this would be a crime.”

Bruce's eyes glinted dangerously, lips curling into a smile. “I’m a bad influence on you, Kent,” he joked, heading towards the door.

Clark walked by his side, picking up his own bag before they left the room. “Or maybe you just give me confidence,” he countered with a soft smile. 

Bruce shook his head, as if disagreeing, but Clark spotted the tiniest curl of his lips before his friend made it vanish like it was never there. 

They walked the halls relaxed and confident, and Clark realized he wasn’t nervous about rejoining with their friends and hearing more teasing. And Bruce’s presence next to him - steady and strong, full of authority - definitely had something to do with it.  

Bruce suspected everyone moved to the landing dock, waiting for the arrival of their ride, so that's where they headed. Just like Bruce predicted, the team was there, chatting.

All conversation stopped when they arrived.

“Damn, Kal,” Aquaman was the first to break the silence. “You are supposed to negotiate deals, not go and be a heartbreaker.”

Clark fought the urge to shy away from the compliment and smiled proudly instead. “I assume you like my make-up then?”

Aquaman nodded. “Looks good.”

“Bruce did that?” Cyborg asked.

“He's really talented, isn't he?” Clark noticed tenderly, smiling at Bruce who was back to being the embodiment of stoicism.

It was amazing how quickly he went from joking with Clark in the privacy of his quarter to being completely emotionless among the rest of the League.

“Aww!” Flash’s voice cut through the silence that followed Clark’s admiration. “Kal already sounds in love, guys.”

A cold weight dropped to the bottom of Clark’s stomach. He quickly glanced around the League members nervously, eventually settling his eyes on Bruce.

Was he that obvious? Did they know? The mission didn't even start yet and he already messed up?

He desperately wanted to deflect with some joke, but his mouth wasn't working. 

“It's called acting, Flash,” Bruce spoke for him. Calm and collected like always. “We're getting into the roles.” With a charming smile, Bruce looked at Clark. “Aren’t we, darling?” he asked Clark, voice sweet like honey. 

That expression, that pet name said in that voice, were going to be frequent residents of Clark’s dreams and fantasies for a while after this. He just knew it.

Red on the face, he could only nod in agreement, not trusting his voice just yet. Thankfully, their teammates, and most importantly Bruce, didn’t seem to suspect Flash’s little quip wasn’t just that. 

“Alright, jokes aside, you really look good, you two,” Diana said, stepping forward and breaking the awkward atmosphere.

“Thanks, Diana,” Clark responded carefully, relieved his voice didn’t quiver. 

“Yeah, you’ll be the star of the summit,” Arrow added, looking them up and down with an appreciative gaze.

Clark blushed. “Ah, I don’t know about that.”

“Don’t be so humble, Kal,” J’onn said with a small smile. “You two look really good and distinguished. Other guests are going to notice.”

“Use your looks to make some good deals,” Lantern reminded.

“And keep an eye on each other. Everyone will want a piece of you two,” Flash chuckled, back to teasing.

Better than noticing things that were supposed to be hidden. It was toned down now compared to what happened earlier. Clark suspected Diana had something to do with it.  

“Thanks, Flash,” Clark replied tensely, avoiding looking at Bruce at all costs to not give himself a chance to slip again. 

They discussed more of the summit and what they wanted to achieve with it while waiting for their ride.

They saw it long before it called out, asking for permission to dock. It was a simple, oval ship the size of a small yacht. A quick scan with x-ray vision revealed to Clark there was no weaponry on board, and the crew was made entirely out of robots.

The ship docked slowly onto the Watchtower, and once it was secure, the door opened, and one of the robots, humanoid in appearance, stepped out, followed by two other, smaller ones.

“Welcome, Earthlings. I am TRX-3000, you can call me Trix,” the robot introduced itself, looking at the League with glowing, orange eyes. They eventually landed on Bruce and Clark, standing next to each other. “I’ll be responsible for escorting you to the summit and answering any of your questions regarding it.”

Clark stepped forward with a friendly smile. “Thank you, Trix. That’s very kind of you.”

“That’s his programming, Kal,” Bruce said, following after him as if glued to his side. 

“Shush,” Clark hissed, still smiling at the robots in front of them.

“May we take your luggage?” one of the other two asked, pointing at the bags in their hands.

“No need, I go-”

“Yes, you may,” Bruce interrupted him, already handing his bag to the robot.

Clark had no other choice but to do the same. “I could’ve done that,” he told Bruce.

He wasn't used to someone doing simple tasks for him. He often felt awkward even when Alfred was taking off his coat from him.

“Let them do their job.” Bruce turned to him and smiled sweetly. “You’re an important, political figure. You don’t carry your own bags, dear.”

Clark blushed at the pet name again, and the heat in his face became even stronger when he heard their teammates snickering behind them.  

“Fine.”

“If you could follow me, we will board now,” Trix instructed. “The trip will last approximately eight Earth hours.”

They nodded and turned one last time to their teammates.

“Good luck, guys,” Hawkgirl told them. Next to her, Diana and Arrow were waving.

“Thanks,” Clark replied, waving back. Bruce remained silent, just waiting for Clark. “We won’t let you down.”

With goodbyes out of the way, they followed Trix onto the ship, their hands brushing with how close they were walking to each other.

Before the ramp closed behind them, Clark slipped his hand into Bruce's.

Without a word, Bruce squeezed it as they walked deeper into their intergalactic taxi.

The show was on.

Chapter Text

Trix led them to their cabin, which, judging by its size, took most of the space on the ship, clearly made only for transportation. Bruce quickly ran his eyes all around, cataloging every spot, piece of furniture or other object as potential cover or weapon. Next to him, hand still in Bruce’s, Clark looked around as well, although more out of curiosity than safety.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Trix said from the door where he stood. Bruce didn’t like that the robot was blocking the only exit of the cabin right now, but he didn’t show any concern on his face. It was probably just his paranoia speaking. “If you need anything, just call. We’re here to answer your every need and question.”

The smaller robots placed their baggage in the corner and retreated from the cabin. Trix remained, watching them and being watched back by Bruce while Clark sat down on an edge of a spacious couch.

Bruce joined him, plopping down without any grace but with plenty of swagger. He sprawled himself, immediately putting his legs in Clark’s lap, surprising him for just a second before the Kryptonian relaxed and leaned back. He placed his palm on one of Bruce’s crossed ankles. 

“Thank you, Trix,” Clark smiled at the bot, idly brushing his fingers up and down Bruce’s legs.

Bruce concealed a shiver. 

The bot nodded his head, still standing in the doorway. “I would like to explain a few things about the summit if it’s alright with you, your majesties,” he offered. 

“Oh, no need to call…”

“We’re listening,” Bruce quickly interrupted Clark’s obvious attempt at sabotaging their cover. 

He sent his friend a subtle glare, satisfied when Clark’s jaw shifted in irritation. 

“First, in the name of the Furkan Empire, who organized the summit this season, I would like to thank you for accepting the invitation on behalf of Earth,” Trix started grandly. “We’re happy to have such a strong civilization as yours join the treaty.”

“We didn’t agree to any treaty just yet,” Bruce pointed out coldly, his expression softening when he turned his head to Clark. “Did you, dear?” he asked in a much sweeter tone. 

Clark looked spooked for half a second, blush dusting his cheeks. “Uh, no. No, I haven’t…” he answered and swallowed thickly. “Love.”

Bruce barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. They should’ve practiced acting instead of Kryptonian customs before this mission. 

“Yes, of course,” Trix apologized, bowing his head once more. “Forgive me, your majesty.”

Bruce waved his hand dismissively. “Nonetheless, we’re glad to be joining your summit,” he told the robot. “We’re curious what it's about.”

“What should we know about it before we arrive?” Clark asked, looking a little bit better than just a moment ago. 

Bruce missed the blush already. 

“As you know, the summit will last three days, starting today with a traditional feast,” Trix began to explain. “The time will be counted based on the Furkanian clock, which means each day will last approximately 22 Earth hours. After all guests arrive today, they’ll have time to get accustomed to the space station where the meetings will take place. The first day is always a bit more of a social than political gathering, so if you want, you can of course choose to retreat to your own room upon arrival, but it would be a great honor if you joined everyone for the feast and party afterwards.”

And here Bruce thought it would be purely political. He should’ve known better. When a bunch of royalties meet up, there is always some sort of party involved. The question was whether it was going to be civilized, focused on keeping up an appearance, or more… hedonistic. 

He met enough aliens by now to know the universe didn’t have an infinite bag of behaviors to choose from, and the dice of fate rolled the same numbers pretty frequently. If human politicians could participate in parties that end with a member of a European Parliament escaping naked down the gutter from police, so could aliens. 

It could end up funny to watch.

“We’ll think about it,” Bruce said, not making the decision yet, although it would be in their best interest to attend. Not only for entertainment. “Anything else?”

“You’ll have free access to all of the space station and its comforts, except for the suits of the other guests,” Trix continued. “Each suite will be open only with bracelets I will hand out now.” 

Their guide opened the compartment in his belly area and two bracelets emerged. Trix took both and walked to Bruce and Clark, securing the bracelets around their wrists. Bruce wasn’t happy having it on, his guts screaming at him it was too much like restraints. 

Clark, staring at his own bracelet, must’ve sensed his tension through his other hand, still on Bruce’s ankle, because he looked up at him with a question. Bruce gave him a look that said he’s fine and that was enough for the Kryptonian.

“They’re more than keys, they’re also translators, so you can communicate with other guests,” Trix explained, stepping back from them. “Bracelets automatically translate the words you speak or hear.”

“Can I turn the translation option off?” Clark asked with a polite smile. “I know quite a lot of alien languages.”

“If you wish, your majesty.” Trix returned to stand in front of him, hands already extended. “Allow me.”

Clark offered him his hand and the robot quickly changed the settings. Bruce watched his bracelet, already thinking how to dissect it. He wondered if they could let him keep it after. The only other device with such translation power he saw before was Hal’s ring, but he would never let Bruce touch it. 

Idiot, Bruce could only improve that thing. 

“Thanks,” Clark’s voice pulled Bruce from his thoughts.

He would have to teach his friend to drop the politeness. While it was desirable on Earth and didn’t bother anyone, Clark really needed to step up his kingly game. Right now, he acted more like Bruce’s boy toy than a spouse. 

“Any faux pas we need to be aware of?” Bruce asked, playing with his sash, twirling the end around. Clark’s eyes followed the motion, transfixed.

“We’re hosting twelve delegations this season, including Earth, all with their own distinguished cultures.” Trix lowered his head apologetically. “I’m afraid it would take more than eight hours to explain all of them.”

Good thing they read the files that had plenty of tips to ensure neither he nor Clark would start any conflict. 

“That’s fine, I’m sure those mistakes happen but nobody takes it to their hearts,” Clark pointed optimistically. 

“Most of the delegations already know each other and are aware of what behavior to avoid,” Trix assured them. “And everyone is aware of the issues you brought up, your highness.”

“As long as no one will actually start a war with us, we’ll be fine,” Bruce sighed, faking boredom.

Trix picked up on it instantly. 

“That would be all,” the bot informed. “Unless you have any more questions or requests, I’ll leave you to enjoy your trip.”

“That would be all,” Bruce dismissed him, not looking in his direction.

“Thank you, Trix!” Clark added as the robot began to leave.

The moment the door locked behind him, Bruce was up from the couch, looking around the room more thoroughly. 

“How did I do?” Clark asked, looking like an eager puppy when Bruce glanced back at him. 

He didn’t hesitate. “Terrible.”

Clark’s shoulders dropped. “Aw, man,” he pouted. 

Bruce examined a vent just under the ceiling. “You need to relax,” he advised Clark. “And act kinglier.”

“There were nice kings in Earth’s history,” his friends protested. By the tone of his voice, Bruce guessed he was still pouting. 

“Disney doesn’t count,” Bruce replied, moving on to check under the table. No obvious bugs. 

“Can’t I be a nice and polite king to your tyrant one?” Clark suggested. “Like a good and bad cop.”

Bruce turned to him, noticing an eager look on his friend.

“I guess,” he agreed, and Clark grinned. “You don’t need to be a jerk, just be more confident.”  

Bruce continued his exploration as he kept giving Clark more tips.

“In those aliens’ eyes you’re a ruler of an entire planet, act like it. Take all the space in the room with your presence alone. When you enter the room, command it, make them look at you in awe. Don’t let them think they can walk all over you.”

It wasn't in any way different from how Bruce played his playboy persona, only his confidence came from how frivolous he acted. Whenever he entered the room, he flirted with everyone to assert dominance. He was as loud as possible, so everyone’s eyes were on him and only him, eating straight from his hand. 

Clark was too shy for that. Too much of a boy scout to purposely play with peoples’ attraction if he himself wasn’t interested. But he didn’t need to copy Bruce, he just needed to be more like Superman, but at the same time less like him. 

More super, less man. 

When he checked on Clark, his friend was listening and watching closely, letting the tips sink in. 

“I’ll try to balance you, but I can’t do all the work,” Bruce finished, showing his support to not only berate his friend. “We’re supposed to be a team.”

Clark smiled sadly. “Easier said than done,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You know I don’t like to intimidate people. That’s my whole shtick, be as friendly as possible, unless to enemies.”

“I know,” he assured. “But you can do this.”

Clark still looked unsure, but as he kept looking at Bruce, confidence replaced the insecurity in his eyes. 

“Alright,” he said, determined. “I can do this.”

Bruce smiled. “Good boy.”

He enjoyed how fast and bright Clark’s face flushed. 

“You don’t have to play right now,” he murmured, another emotion taking over his face - bashfulness. 

It suited him. Bruce liked confident partners that could keep up with him, and Clark could most of the time, especially in banter. But there was something about how shy he could become that was endearing instead of off-putting.

“I know, that was to mock you,” he explained with a smirk.

And another shift, this time irritation.

“Ass,” his friend mumbled with a huff, but his anger quickly resolved. “Saw anything interesting?”

“No.” He walked through the whole room and found nothing. “You?”

Clark did a quick scan with his x-ray vision. 

“Nah,” he replied when he was done. “If there is a camera or a mic here, my x-ray vision can’t detect it.”

Bruce pulled out a little device from the inner pocket of his coat. “Neither can my scanner,” he said, the screen completely black. 

“You have batarangs stored in those robes as well, do you?” Clark asked, amused. 

Bruce sent him a smug smile. “Never leave home without them.”

A chuckle escaped his friend, and Clark stretched his legs in front of himself. “Take your own advice and relax,” he told Bruce, getting comfortable on the couch. “We have a few hours to pass.”

Sitting restless wasn’t something he liked to do, but there was really nothing else to be done here. Unless he wanted to perform a search of the room for the remains of their flight through space. 

He pocketed his scanner and returned to the couch, sitting down next to Clark, leaving a couple inches of space between them. Clark smiled at him, pleased that he managed to convince Bruce to actually relax. 

Bruce wasn’t relaxed at all. “Should’ve brought a book,” he said, more to himself than the Kryptonian. 

“Oh, I did!” Clark was already up, but just as fast as he stood up, he sat back down just as quickly. “Only one tho.”

“You can read it,” Bruce told him and folded his legs under himself. 

Clark watched him curiously. “What will you do?”

“Meditate,” he replied and closed his eyes, forcing his heart and mind to slow down. 

Clark snorted. “You’re so boring.”

“Suit yourself, it actually clears my mind.”

He could already feel the effects, first strokes of calmness brushing down. 

“The one that’s in constant motion?” Clark questioned with a smirk in his voice. “I don’t believe it.”

The strokes vanished in an instant. Bruce opened his eyes to glare at the one responsible for it. “You should try it once.”

Maybe it could help Clark with his confidence. 

“I guess. Nothing better to do.” To his surprise, Clark mimicked his position, and once he was settled, he turned to Bruce with an earnest smile. “Lead me through it.”

How could he say no to those puppy dog eyes? 

He explained the most basic mediation technique and Clark listened eagerly, matching his breathing with Bruce’s. After a minute or two, they were sitting side by side, meditating together. 

Bruce was surprised how nice it was to do that with Clark’s company. He tried to get Dick to meditate a few times, but every time he found the boy’s presence distracting, even when Dick was completely still and not getting bored after a few minutes. 

But Clark had this calm aura around him that seemed to cling to Bruce right then. 

At least until his friend opened his mouth. 

“Hey, it really works!” he announced happily. “I actually feel myself relaxing.”

“You're not supposed to talk during it,” Bruce pointed out flatly.

“Right, sorry,” he replied quickly. 

Clark stayed quiet after that, but he still managed to be distracting. Bruce could feel his eyes on him, and at first, he ignored it, thinking the Kryptonian was just making sure he was doing everything correctly. Not that it was possible to mess up such a simple task, but he gave Clark a benefit of the doubt. This man could be graceful one second and clumsy the next. Another annoyingly endearing trait of his. 

But minutes passed, and while there were breaks during Clark’s observation, he definitely was staring at Bruce more than meditating. And Bruce had no idea why. 

“You're staring,” he said without opening his eyes. 

His imagination supplied him with a vision of Clark’s face turning red in embarrassment and mouth gaping like a fish out of the water. 

Bruce smiled. 

“How do you know?” Clark asked, voice quivering slightly. Definitely flustered.

“I know everything.”

I’m Batman, he left unsaid, but he could bet Clark finished it in his mind for him. 

“I highly doubt that.”

He said it in a joking manner, but there was a certain tension in his voice, barely noticeable, that told Bruce something was bothering his friend.

Opening his eyes in an instant, he faced Clark, not surprised when he saw him far from relaxed and deep in thoughts.

“Got any secret you hide from me, Clark?” he asked softly. 

The corner of Clark’s mouth twitched, but the smile died before it even properly lived. “Maybe.”

A twist began to form in Bruce’s stomach. Did something happen just before the mission? Or was it some long time secret that somehow Clark never told him about despite both of them knowing everything about each other?

Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. 

Without hesitation, he placed his hand on Clark’s shoulder. His friend tensed for a fraction of a second before relaxing and looking at him with the most vulnerable gaze Bruce has pleasure ever seeing. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and gentle. 

He wasn’t always best at giving advice, he was too messed up himself. But he was a good listener, and maybe whatever bothered his best friend, this could be enough to help. If not, Bruce would still try his best. 

He couldn’t stand seeing Clark like that. 

Many emotions flashed through Clark’s eyes, too fast to recognize - his mouth open but no voice coming out. Bruce gave his shoulder a squeeze, encouraging him. 

He was sure he got to him when Cark’s eyes settled on one emotion. They twinkled with his famous determination, and he inhaled deeply, preparing himself to whatever was weighing on his shoulders. But the only thing that came out of him was an equally deep exhale, taking all of Kryptonian’s resolve with it. 

Clark smiled sadly. “Maybe some day.” he settled on eventually. 

Bruce returned the smile, cautiously. He was still worried, but at least he made sure Clark remembered he was here whenever he needed. “Whenever you're ready.”

“Yeah.” Clark placed his palm on top of Bruce, still on his shoulder. His smile became a bit more cheerful. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded, slipping his hand from under Clark’s hold. His skin instantly felt too cold for comfort. 

He had no problem meditating for the rest of their trip. To him, it was a lot like sleeping, he could - and had - spent hours doing that. 

Clark was a different story. Sometime after the first hour, Bruce was pulled out from his trance by a sleepy Kryptonian falling onto him, dead asleep. 

“You better not drool on my fancy Kryptonian robes,” he whispered to not stir his friend awake. 

But Clark remained asleep, breathing softly with head resting on Bruce’s shoulder. He should wake him up and tell him to lay properly on the couch, but he couldn’t make himself do it. A small, egoistic part of him enjoyed Clark being this close - comfortable and peaceful against his side. 

This was the only chance to have him like this, and Bruce was taking what he could get. 

The proximity of their bodies was making his heart flutter, and Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to meditate anymore. He carefully maneuvered his body, so he was sitting properly, tucked into the corner of the couch, with Clark now resting his head on his chest. 

Somehow during all the movement, Clark not only didn’t wake up, but he stretched out his body like a big cat, placing most of his weight on Bruce and wrapping an arm around his waist, snuggling it under the cape. 

Bruce felt like his heart was going to wake Clark up any moment, it was beating so fast and strong against his friend’s ear. His really sensitive ear. But the Kryptonian remained asleep, and Bruce’s heart eventually calmed down to a sensible speed, although his chest felt way too small for it now. 

Taking a deep breath, Bruce glanced down at his friend and smiled fondly. He was completely at ease, face relaxed, hair soft looking. Bruce remembered how it felt when he returned Clark his little curl earlier. Tempted to feel that softness again, he gently brushed his fingers through the dark locks, his smile growing and heart returning to the thumping rhythm when the other man nuzzled closer with a soft sound of content. 

It scared him how much he would give to have this every day. 

With a tired sigh, Bruce closed his eyes, hand now resting on Cark’s shoulder, holding him securely against himself, letting sleep take him too. 

But a light one. He wasn’t going to let down his guard completely in this place. 

He woke up when Trix was still outside their cabin, the robot's feet making a quiet, thumping sound on the metal floor of the ship. 

Clark stirred at the same time, eyes half open, lifting himself from Bruce and stretching, yawning. Bruce already missed his weight. He too sat up and looked at his friends, trying to see if he was aware how they slept just now. 

“Man, sorry I fell asleep,” Clark apologized, clearing his eyes from sleep and smiling a little loopy. “I think meditating worked a little too well.”

“That's fine,” Bruce assured and stood up. Apparently, Clark was oblivious to their sleeping arrangement. “You didn't snore.”

“That's a relief,” he chuckled and joined Bruce's side, just as the door opened before Trix.

“Your majesties, we'll be boarding the station in five minutes,” he informed them.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Clark beat him to it.

“Very well, we'll be ready,” he answered, standing tall and proud, hands folded behind his back.

Trix nodded and left, and Clark immediately lost his demeanor, turning to Bruce.

“Better?” he asked.

Bruce nodded. “Better.”

The proud look on Clark's face made Bruce's lips twitch. The Kryptonian was so easy to please.

“What do you think we can expect?” Clark asked as they waited to dock, sounding both nervous and excited.

“Hard to tell,” Bruce admitted. Nothing bad ever happened during those summits, but it wouldn't be the first time one of them brought trouble with them. “That's why we need to be ready for everything.”

“Good thing you're with me.” He sounded actually relieved. “Diana and J’onn were right, you were a perfect choice for this mission.”

“So were you,” Bruce noted, watching Clark only with the corner of his eye.

“You think so?” he asked eagerly.

“I told you to not be overly friendly, but you just have something in you that makes people trust you,” he explained, still looking straight ahead at the door. “Hopefully it'll work on aliens too and we can use it during the summit.”

Bruce huffed in surprise when Clark suddenly wrapped an arm around him and tugged him against his side. Like for one of those silly, superhero posters the League sometimes did for kids that loved them.

“See, I told you!” Clark exclaimed. “Good cop and bad cop! It'll work!”

Bruce grabbed Clark's hand and lifted it from his shoulder like a wayward leaf. “You're ridiculous.”

Clark instantly entwined their palms together like when they boarded the ship. “From you, that sounds like a compliment.”

There was a slight shake of the whole ship when it attached to the space station. Once everything went still, the door to the cabin opened, with Trix and his little helpers at his side.

The little robots retrieved the bags and Trix invited Clark and Bruce to follow him through the station to their suite.

It wasn't a long walk, the hallway from the docking station led directly to their room, and Bruce assumed each arriving party had their personal docks to arrive. He liked this sort of efficiency.

Trix presented them with the door to their suite, which Clark immediately opened with his bracelet, smiling when it worked.

“Should we expect your presence during the feast?” Trix asked while his helpers carried the bags inside the room.

Bruce turned to Clark. “Dear?”

He could've answered himself, but he wanted Clark to practice.

Apart from blushing again because of the pet name Bruce used, he did well. 

“Yes, we will be there,” he answered, using the voice he normally reserved for commanding the League during battles.

“Very well. Your personal servant will come in half an hour to take you to the dining hall.”

Trix left after that, taking his helpers with him. They entered an elevator at the end of the hallway, and as the door closed behind them, Clark and Bruce were alone.

They entered their room together, still holding hands, but Bruce let go after crossing the threshold and pulled out the scanner from his cape.

Clark stayed by the door.

“There is only one bed,” he pointed out.

“Yes, married couples tend to share a bed,” Bruce replied dryly, walking to said bed. His scanner didn't show anything.

Clark was still rooted to the floor near the door. “You can take the bed, I can sleep in the air,” he offered.

Bruce stopped his exploration and looked at him like he was being ridiculous. Which he was. He stood there stiffly.

“Clark, it's big enough for the two of us,” he stated. “We'll share.”

They could probably squeeze Dick there with them if they wanted to, there was plenty of space to sleep without bumping into each other.

“Just making sure you're comfortable,” Clark explained softly.

“I'll tell you if something isn't,” he reminded his friend.

Sleeping together with Clark certainly wasn't on the list of the things he found uncomfortable.

A relieved smile slowly appeared on Clark’s face, and he finally joined Bruce’s exploration of the room that was going to be their home for the duration of their stay.

While Bruce was still busy checking the main room for unwanted devices, Clark headed straight to the door on the other side from the main one.

“Geez, that's a huge bathroom,” he pointed out, impressed. “I think it's even bigger than the master bathroom in the manor.”

He disappeared inside but quickly peeked his head from behind the wall.

“We'll have to figure out how the toilet works,” he informed Bruce with a sheepish grin.

Bruce stared at him for a moment, then pocketed his scanner and walked to his friend. He needed to scan the bathroom next anyway.

“Leave it to me, I'll crack it,” he sighed, entering the bathroom.

It really was bigger than his, with a huge pool in the middle for washing. On one of the walls was a device he assumed Clark somehow deduced was a toilet.

Bruce approached and kneeled in front of it to figure out how it worked. He could feel Clark's eyes on his back.

“Darlin’, I’m glad you’re here with me,” he suddenly drawled in his full, unbound Kansas accent. “I would’ve been so lost without ya.”

Bruce snorted, glancing back just to see another proud look on Clark's face. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he teased back, earning a laugh in return.

Chapter Text

Clark was surprised when he didn't find himself nervous as he and Bruce waited to be fetched and led to the welcoming feast.

He expected to be at least a little bit uncertain, but he actually felt thrilled to participate in the summit, compared to before.

Maybe it finally got to him that there was nothing to be scared of. Maybe it was Bruce and his constant support that did wonders to Clark's confidence. 

Even if it didn't always look like it, he could always count on Bruce no matter what. With his friend by his side, everything felt possible.

“Any last rehearsals?” Clark asked as they stood in front of the door, waiting for their servant.

Bruce smiled. The kind of smile he showed just before defeating a villain that was sure had already won. 

Faster than humanly possible, Bruce was against him, chest to chest, the weight of his palm on Clark’s neck, holding it almost possessively. Their breath mingled because of how close their faces were, and Clark found himself blushing furiously, captured by the greyish blue of Bruce’s eyes, half lidded in passionate expression. 

Clark was going to faint. 

“Relax, honey,” Bruce purred, slowly drawing circles on Clark’s chest with his finger. “No one will believe we’re not doing it the first time if you’re so tense.”

Clark needed water. The entire lake. Bruce went all Brucie Wayne on him. More than he ever did for fun at the galas. He was absolutely not ready for that. And the longer he stayed tense and silent, the bigger Bruce’s impish smile was growing, making Clark’s heart race like a herd of wild horses. 

He had way too much fun with this. 

“Y-yeah,” Clark croaked finally and smiled nervously. “Sorry, you j-just surprised me.”

He placed his shaking hands on Bruce’s hips, returning the intimacy and ignoring how good it felt to hold him like that.

“Better,” Bruce whispered and leaned closer. 

Clark held his breath, thinking for a second Bruce was going to kiss him. He did, but not on the lips. His mouth barely ghosted the hot skin of Clark’s cheek, and then Bruce and his warmth were gone like they were never there, a respectable distance between them. 

Clark finally relaxed. Somewhat. He breathed out rather loudly and put a hand on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. When he looked at Bruce, his friend was a perfect picture of composure. 

Except the smile. He was still smirking, pleased with himself. 

Jerk, Clark thought fondly to himself.

A moment later, there was a call at the door. Clark was still too stunned to move, so Bruce opened the door. On its other side stood a robot, about the size of a twelve years old, with tracks instead of legs.

“Your majesties.” He bowed in greeting. “I’ll be your servant for the duration of your stay. The traditional welcoming feast starts in five minutes. If you could follow me, I will lead you to the dining hall.”

Clark looked to Bruce, confirming if they were still going to attend the feast. Just to make sure. With no reaction or acknowledgment from his friend, Clark got his answer and grabbed Bruce's hand confidently before turning to the robot again.

He gave it a nod. “Lead the way.”

They followed the robot to the elevator, riding up. Shortly after staring, the shaft became glassed, and Clark and Bruce could finally take a look at the part of the universe they were in.

What caught their attention first was the closest star - not yellow, but thankfully not red either. Instead, a white dwarf was casting the space station in the faint light long past its prime.

There were no planets around, just debris and asteroids - either caught in the gravitational field of the dwarf while flying by, or those were the remains of what was once a planet.

Either way, they spent the whole ride admiring the vast darkness of the universe. Clark saw it plenty of times, flew through it just as many, but it never failed at putting him in awe.

When the elevator stopped, it opened its door to a room with what looked like a metal detector just outside of it. 

Clark was glad Bruce decided to leave his batarangs - he actually brought batarangs with him, Clark thought he was joking! - in their room. But Clark couldn't be sure his friend didn't have any other weapon stored on him in whatever hidden pockets he added to his Kryptonian robes.

He exhaled in relief when they walked through the detector without any problem. Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, but Clark decided to not elaborate.

Their private servant stopped in front of a tall, glass door through which they could see the dining hall and other doors like theirs. Behind them, stood the representatives of other planets. 

Clark couldn't help but think of it as cells, and hoped it actually wasn't that. That the whole summit wasn’t some big scheme to trap him, Bruce and other aliens.

The probability of it was small, but never zero. 

“You’ll be called, and the door will open,” the servant explained with another bow. “Enjoy your feast.”

With that, he left them, returning to the elevator.

Clark looked through the glass door, moving his eyes from each alien pair in their own waiting compartments. Some didn't even look like spouses, standing away from each other and not touching, but he probably shouldn't look at other species through human customs. 

Even on Earth every culture had different ways to show affection, and this was a political gathering after all, not a group date.

Maybe he and Bruce should drop hand holding. Or any form of affection. The other couples wouldn't think anything of it anyway, they probably knew nothing about human romance. 

But the sensation of Bruce's hand in his was too good to let go. 

And it was better not to risk it. He and Bruce might've not been the only ones researching other representatives.

Hand holding was staying.

“Wonder what we’ll get to eat,” Clark said, his eyes moving from the other guests to the long table in the middle of the hall, covered with food he had never seen.

“Hopefully not poison,” Bruce responded.

Clark smiled at him. “You have anything stored inside those robes that could help us identify poisoned food?”

Bruce turned his head slightly to him. “I’ll see if you won’t drop dead first before eating myself.”

“Oh ha ha,” Clark mocked. “I’ll probably get tipsy from the toxin that could kill you.”

Bruce shrugged, a little smirk playing on his lips. “Good sign as any.”

Clark shook his head fondly and looked back to the hall. One of the doors opened, and as it did, they heard a robotic voice introducing the first pair of spouses - their names, planet, and planetary system.

“I really hope it’s not a trap or something,” Clark admitted.

“Me too,” Bruce agreed, and Clark could feel in his posture he was agitated a little. “But if it is, remember to use your powers sparingly. There is no yellow star to recharge you if you run out of juice.”

Clark felt his chest squeeze because of his concern. “I’ll be careful,” he promised with a soft smile.

Bruce nodded.

They watched the other pairs being introduced and taking place by the table. Five got called in before it was their turn, and the glass door opened before then.

Hand in hand, they walked out as the robotic voice introduced them.

“Batman of Gotham and Kal-El of Krypton, from Earth, Solar System.”

Clark narrowed his eyes, turning to look at Bruce.

“Batman, really?” he questioned in a whisper. “Couldn’t you use your name?”

“This is my name,” Bruce deadpanned.

Clark let out a huff. “You know, honey, any psychiatrist would have a field trip with you.”

“Doubt it. I would send them to Arkham.”

“Already getting yourself your own jester, Puddin’?” he joked with a grin.

Bruce inhaled sharply, and Clark feared he went too far with the joke, already opening his mouth to apologize, when his friends glared at him.

The kind of glare that said ‘you’re a goof and annoying’ rather than ‘I’m going to punch you if you won't shut up' kind of glare.

Clark mastered the ability to read Bruce's various glares over the years. It was an essential skill if you wanted to work with the man.

“I hate you,” Bruce said, but his voice lacked any poison.

Clark grinned. “Love you too.”

And he meant it, in whatever way Bruce was comfortable with.

They reached the table, their spots just at the corner, with only one couple to their left, as the head of the table was empty. Clark wondered if it was deliberate to not overwhelm them as the new representatives.

The couple that was going to be their companion through the feast, were taller than them even while sitting, with long cloaks covering their entire frames from necks to whatever limbs they used for locomotion.

Covered in short, yellow fur with stripped markings that could be both natural or dyed, their oval heads rested on long necks and ended with narrow snouts. With bright green, cat-like eyes they observed Clark and Bruce as they took their seats.

Clark immediately went for the chair closer to the aliens, almost bumping into Bruce who had the same idea.

Smiling smugly, Clark took the seat, placing himself between the other couple and Bruce. He nodded respectfully at the aliens while Bruce took the other chair, sulking.

“It’s always nice to see new faces during this event,” the alien - Clark remembered from the announcement that their name was Zita - spoke to him. “After some time, the usual guests can get a bit boring.”

The language they spoke consisted of lots of sawing noises. Clark recognized it from hundreds of other alien languages Jor-El archived for him. He understood it, but he wasn't going to attempt recreating it with his vocal cords. 

That's when the bracelets came into play.

“I can imagine,” Clark responded in English. “We’re excited to get to know all of you.”

Zita made a clicking sound with their tongue, something Clark assumed was a friendly sound.

“You’ll enjoy it, if not the summit itself, then everything this station has to offer,” they assured.

“Such as?” Bruce asked, leaning his shoulder against Clark, who felt his heart skip a beat.

Zita looked at Bruce curiously.

“My dear heart and I can give you a tour tomorrow before the meeting, if you would like,” they offered, making that clicking noise again.

“It’s a lovely idea,” Clark chirped, turning to Bruce. “Don’t you think, love?”

Bruce gave him a polite smile. Clearly fake and only for their audience. “Why not,” he agreed.

Clark could already see the cogs in his friend's head turning, thinking of ways to question the couple for valuable information without making it obvious.

Zita once again looked at Bruce.

“Forgive me for my forwardness, but your name is quite interesting, and I researched beforehand what it means,” they said to him. “Do you change into a real bat?”

Bruce looked them straight in the eyes. “Only when my hunger for blood isn’t satisfied.”

Clark turned to him slowly, dumbfounded. Bruce didn't even blink, his expression perfectly blank.

“Interesting,” Zita mused, glancing at their partner before returning their curious eyes to Bruce. “I heard Earth has many unique Earthlings. Guess the rumors were true.” 

Their attention was suddenly caught by the newest announcement. Clark enjoyed talking to Zita so much he forgot to listen to the names of the other guests. 

The table was already fully occupied, except for two seats.

“There are our hosts for this season,” Zita informed, nodding at the representatives of Furkan Empire, heading to the empty spots. 

“Thank the Nova,” Zita's partner spoke for the first time. “We will finally be able to eat.”

“Long trip?” Clark asked sympathetically.

“My mate doesn’t like traveling in general,” Zita informed, and their partner hissed in agreement.

The representatives of Furkan began a speech, which wasn't that different from speeches Clark heard hundreds of times from politicians on Earth, so he focused more on the guests, trying to figure out something about them.

He didn't have to look to know Bruce was doing the same, still resting against Clark's shoulder like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Clark tried very hard to not smile like a lovesick fool that he was. 

When the speech ended, and Furkans sat at the table, the feast officially began, and chatter and clutter of utensils filled the hall.

Robots stood all around, ready to serve if needed, some already holding jugs with drinks to refill guests’ goblets.

Zita and their partner began to eat, still not revealing their limbs and using telekinesis to lift food from their plates.

Clark and Bruce had their own plates each, filled with the same food as everyone, composed in the same, deliberate way.

Some of the food looked good and tasty, some straight up disgusting. Clark couldn't decide on what to start with, but remembering Bruce's comment earlier, he pushed away his own plate and moved Bruce’s, so it was between them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes on him.

“What would you like to eat first?” Clark asked, picking up the utensils.

“Something nutritious.”

Clark rolled his eyes. Of course that was his answer.

“If I could recommend,” Zita chipped in. “The traditional Furkanian golgol is to die for.”

They made the food on Clark and Bruce's plate float a little, so they knew which one it was.

“Thank you,” Clark said to them and started cutting what he believed was a piece of meat, not looking very appetizing due to the dark green color, but he wasn't going to judge. 

He ate raw fish occasionally, at least this was cooked.

Popping the first piece into his mouth, Clark chewed slowly, waiting to see if he would be able to taste any poison, but all he felt on his tongue was chicken.

And not a very good one, his Mama could make a much better one.

Among all of his superpowers, poison detection wasn't one of them, but he couldn't feel his body reacting in any way, so he decided the food was safe.

He cut the next piece and offered it to Bruce, whose eyebrows rose in question at him. Clark blushed a little and gave Bruce an awkward smile, hoping what he did wasn't weird. 

It probably was, but that was beside the point, he just wanted to make sure Bruce wouldn't get poisoned.

He was ready to just pass the fork back and forth between them when Bruce actually leaned in and took the bite.

Clark hoped the sounds in the hall masked the gulp he did when his throat went dry at the sight.

Oh, this was a bad idea. But he couldn't back away now. Especially with Bruce clearly leaning back in his seat, expecting Clark to keep feeding him.

Clark watched him chew slowly and eventually swallow.

“Your Ma makes it better,” he commented.

A grin slowly appeared on Clark's face. “I know, right?” he responded and went for something else to taste this time. 

“How do you like it so far?” Zita asked after a while when they tasted most of the food on their plate.

“It’s good,” Clark admitted. “But we miss Earth’s meals.”

He would love to eat some lasagna right now.

“For the next summit, you can propose a dish from your planet,” Zita suggested. “We like to share our cultures.”

It sounded like a fun idea! Clark was already thinking of all the lovely food from all over the world they could introduce to those aliens, and was ready to respond enthusiastically, when he stopped himself at the last moment.

He composed himself quickly. “We’ll see if it’s worth returning to the next summit first,” he replied, his tone devoid of excitement. “The food is not enough of a reason.”

Zita nodded in understanding, and they all returned to eating. When Clark handed Bruce his next piece, his friend gave him a little proud look.

Clark beamed in response.

After the feast, the remaining food and the whole table were quickly cleaned and the dining hall became a drawing room, allowing the guests to mingle.

It was clear that all the other representatives knew each other for a while as they began seeking out each other to chat.

But despite well established relationships, Clark and Bruce, as the new blood, were the main event of the meeting and they weren't alone even for a moment.

The hosts approached them first, welcoming them personally to the summit and wishing them good stay.

After that, Clark felt like a hot potato, tossed with Bruce from one pair of hands to another. Every couple wanted to meet and talk to them without the pressure of politics that would come tomorrow. 

After another couple left - sixths - they were immediately replaced by another. 

“Finally, we’ve been waiting to talk to you through the whole feast,” one of the pair exclaimed, waving their tentacle-like arms as they approached, sliding across the floor on three other pairs of similar limbs.

“Flattering,” Bruce responded, eyeing the couple, but focusing on the one that spoke. “General Torum, right?”

The title was fitting. A ceremonial, gold and black armor, with lots of decorative fabric and jewelry covered the alien's scaled, red body tightly. From his waist, hung a replica of a sword on the right, and some sort of firing weapon on the left.

“That’s right,” the general confirmed, flashing his sharp teeth in a smile. One of his tentacles curled around his spouse. “And this is my lovely wife, General Elliada.”

Elliada, covered in similar armor, nodded her arrow shaped head at them.

“When I heard we’ve been welcoming a Kryptonian this season, I was quite excited,” she admitted with a thrill in her voice, eyes locked at Clark. “Granted, I didn’t expect to meet him as an Earth representative.”

“Earth’s been my home since I was a child,” Clark explained proudly. “I didn’t have the pleasure to live on my home planet.”

Torum and Elliada gave him sympathetic looks.

“We heard what happened to Krypton,” Torum said, sharing a look with his wife who nodded in agreement. “It was before our time at the summit, but previous rulers of our empire had the chance to meet Kryptonians during those events. I heard they were lovely people.”

Clark smiled sadly. It wasn't often that he met someone who had interacted with Kryptonians before, but they've all been saying nothing but praises. 

Every time it made him wish he had at least a few years on Krypton to find out if all those stories weren't exaggerated.

“You’re the last of your kind, are you not?” Elliada asked, her milky white eyes looking into his.

“Last son,” he corrected, losing his train of thoughts for a moment, when he suddenly felt Bruce drawing soothing circles with a thumb on the top of his palm, as well as shifting slightly closer, leaning into him. Clark didn’t look, but he squeezed Bruce’s hand gently in gratitude. “Um, there’s also my cousin Kara Zor-El,” he continued after a moment. “She travels a lot.”

Talking about him and Kara being the last ones of their kind was never easy, and he didn't like to do it. It always put him in an awful mood, mourning the home and family he never got to meet and know.

He was lucky to even have Kara. For years, he was sure he was the only one.

“How long have you been coming to this summit?” Bruce asked the generals, switching the subject before they could continue it.

Clark was grateful for the assist. 

“This is our third season,” Torum replied.

“Do representatives stay the same?” Bruce immediately followed with another question.

“Most do. Our empire’s been one of the first to join the idea,” Elliada explained. “We try to avoid conflicts, but they happen sometimes and some of the guests drop out.”

“I assume someone dropped out after the last one?” 

“Yes, representative of planet Y’ornu,” she answered. “They couldn’t come to an agreement with Hobtors, so they quit after the first time.” She smiled at them. “Hopefully, we’ll be seeing more of you two though. Earth seems like a promising ally.”

“We’ll see,” Bruce responded coldly.

“So far the summit is very welcoming,” Clark added, returning her smile and softening Bruce's attitude.

“Just wait for tomorrow, the discussions can get heated, and you may change your opinion,” Torum informed with amusement. “You wouldn't be the first, but it would certainly be a loss.”

Both he and his wife looked to the side, noticing a couple that didn't get to talk to Clark and Bruce yet.

“We better be going, I see many more of our allies eager to meet you two,” Elliada pointed out, giving them another shark-like smile. “Enjoy your stay and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

The generals left, and it took only a couple of seconds for the next pair to take their place. 

Maybe they should've skipped the fest and stayed in their room. Meditate again to pass the time.

Eventually, they met every couple at the summit and Clark was absolutely exhausted emotionally. He did most of the talking, Bruce joining the conversation only occasionally.

Other times he was listening and observing quietly, both the couples they were currently talking to, and those that were scattered around the hall, having their own conversations.

He stayed attached to Clark's side through all of that, and Clark wondered what his reason for it was. Was he trying to paint their picture as an attached couple? Or was he trying to comfort Clark after he became a little gloomy because of Krypton?

Maybe both. Bruce always loved to hit two birds with one batarang.

After the last couple left them, the other guests didn't show any signs of stopping their little socialization. Some even looked like they were ready to return to Clark and Bruce and have another conversation, constantly casting glances their way.

One couple actually started walking their way, but they only crossed half of the distance before stopping when Bruce turned Clark around, heading to the door they came through.

Clark let out a breath of relief.

Maybe it was a bad thing they were leaving early while being new to the summit, but Clark didn't care. It was just a social event today, they showed up, let others meet them, that should be enough for now. 

They met their servant in front of their room, and it asked if they needed anything, but Bruce told him to leave them alone until tomorrow.

“Phew,” Clark breathed out after the door closed after them. He began to lose the cloak off his shoulders. “I don’t know how you do this during your galas.”

As if he needed more reason to admire Bruce's strength. But he was really impressed that his friend was able to do this kind of thing for hours, and playing the role of a dumb, spoiled rich boy at the same time.

“I clench my teeth a lot,” Bruce revealed, ditching his cape as well - quickly but folding it with care. 

Clark snorted. It was good to be just with Bruce again and not having to hide who he was. 

“No wonder you have a permanent scowl,” he chuckled, walking to his bag. “Wanna take a bath first?”

Bruce waved his hand. “Go on.”

Smiling, Clark grabbed a change of clothes and things for a bath before heading to the other room.

“Kal.”

He stopped, turning to look at Bruce.

“Huh?”

Bruce tossed a package at him, which Clark caught no problem. They were wipes. He gave his friend a questioning look. 

“For the make-up,” Bruce explained.

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled. He forgot he ever wore it. “Will you do it for me again tomorrow?”

Bruce looked surprised. “If you want.”

“I do. I think it intrigues other guests.”

He noticed the other couples looking at his face a lot when talking to him.

Bruce’s expression suddenly became far from pleasant. “They’re intrigued because you’re one of the two last Kryptonians,” he corrected. “You’re basically an exotic pet to them.”

Being called this way made Clark's stomach flip uncomfortably. 

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” he told Bruce.

He had no doubt there was some curiosity due to his origin, but he really didn't think the others only saw an extinct species in him.

Bruce’s expression hardened. “Trust me.”

“I trust you with a lot of things, but this I will treat with a grain of salt,” he replied with a reassuring smile to calm his friend’s nerves. “I’ll try to be quick, don’t fall asleep without me,” he said before disappearing into the bathroom.

He was glad they figured out how everything worked before the feast, because he was too tired to think about alien technology right now.

He let the pool fill up slowly while he wiped off the make-up and undressed. The warm water with some soothing, scenting oil was ready just as he dropped the last piece of clothing.

A warm bath was the closest thing to sun rays he could get here, and while it wouldn't recharge him if he needed to, it was soothing enough, especially for his tired mind.

But while the tiredness of social interaction faded into the background after a while as he washed, there was still a nagging thought poking around his head.

Bruce was angry.

Not at him, which was good, he didn't like to argue with his friend. But nonetheless, something pissed Bruce off.

No, not something. Couples at the summit. He was convinced they didn't show Clark deserved respect and only saw him as something curious.

Which Clark really didn't think was the case. Certainly not with everyone. Zita and her mate, as well as the pair of generals, were really kind and welcoming. Maybe Torum and Elliada were a little curious about Krypton, but Clark couldn't really blame them.

It was an interesting subject. Not everyday you meet with one of the last members of a society that perished suddenly decades ago.

They were respectful enough, and they couldn't know it was a sensitive subject to Clark.

Bruce was certainly overreacting a little. Then again, maybe he saw something when Clark was busy talking with other guests. He was good at noticing subtle things like that. A wary smile here, a hateful glance there. It was Bruce’s expertise, that’s why he was chosen for this mission, so maybe he was onto something.

Clark would have to wait for tomorrow to see it for himself, for now, he decided to forget about it. Hopefully, Bruce would too instead of letting it ruin his night.

This man needed to finally learn how to stop worrying. 

Already in a better mental state thanks to the hot bath, Clark dressed himself for bed and tried to tame his curls that always went wild after being wet. He didn't want to look like a mess in front of Bruce who, no matter what, always looked perfect, like from the cover of a fashion magazine.

Like the Prince of Gotham he was.

Only partially satisfied with his hair, but not wanting to hog the bathroom for too long, he returned to the bedroom.

Bruce was propped on the bed, tablet in hand. He was already down to only his gown, make-up and earrings gone. After an entire day of watching his face with both, he now looked eerily bare without them, and Clark already missed the dashing look.

He still looked good though, especially in the Kryptonian gown that hugged his toned body just right in every place, the crest of the House of El displayed proudly on his chest.

Clark ogled a little.

“The bath is all yours,” he informed his friend.

Bruce put away the tablet, no doubt already writing the first report of the mission or categorizing important data he gathered during the feast and socializing.

While Bruce was in the bathroom, Clark finally took advantage of bringing a book to this place and started reading while laying in bed. He could've easily had it finished in a second, but he enjoyed reading a book at normal human speed. It made the entire experience more enjoyable.

He just finished a chapter when Bruce emerged from the bathroom, but Clark forced himself not to look.

Bruce stopped in the middle of the room.

“Percy Jackson, really?” 

Clark looked at him over the top of the book. “It’s entertaining,” he said, watching Bruce join him in bed. He couldn’t help himself but admire the man a little. Yup, perfect like always. “Remember that teenage boy I saved from the bridge last week?”

“Mmm,” he responded, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“He had this book with him,” Clark explained, keeping his finger in between pages as he closed the book to look at the front cover. “I kept asking him about it to keep him calm and his mind off jumping while waiting for his parents and authorities. It sounded fun so I decided to try.”

Bruce didn't say anything to that, he just laid down on his back and closed his eyes with a big sigh, hands folded on his belly.

He was either really tired, or really restless.

“Should I turn off the lights so you can sleep?” Clark asked when he realized his friend was going to sleep. 

“I can sleep anywhere,” Bruce murmured back, not opening his eyes. “Keep reading, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Alright. Good night, Bruce.”

“Night, Kal.”

He tried to keep reading, he really did. But Bruce turned out to be a bigger distraction than he thought.

Bruce kept his distance, which was a bit strange to experience after spending a few hours with him glued to Clark's side. But even with space between them, Clark just couldn't forget his friend was here. He kept focusing on his breathing and his heartbeat, both slowing down after a while.

His eyes kept glancing from the words on the book’s pages to Bruce's naked chest or the curve of his hipbones where the sweats he was wearing hung low on his body.

And the longer Clark looked, the hotter he was feeling. Like a creep too. So he did the only thing he could in this situation and went to sleep too.

Faking a yawn in case Bruce was still awake and just slowed down his heart, Clark put his book away, turned off the lights and laid down to sleep with his back to Bruce.

He couldn't fall asleep for a while, his thoughts still running wild, but one of the things that kept him awake, eventually put him to sleep - Bruce's heartbeat.

Chapter Text

Bruce woke up with a living, Kryptonian heater laying on top of him. Sometime during the night, Clark moved all the way from his side of the bed onto Bruce’s and proceeded to cuddle him - arm and leg thrown across him, face nuzzled into Bruce's neck, breathing soft puffs of air onto his skin. 

He wouldn't have minded such circumstances, enjoying Clark's closeness and touch more than he probably should when the other man wasn't even aware what he was doing, if it wasn't for Clark's knee digging into his abdomen. 

“Kal,” Bruce said quietly to wake up the Kryptonian, but not startle him.

Clark mumbled something, his hold tightening around Bruce who groaned in discomfort. “Five more minutes,” the reporter sighed groggily.

Bruce started at the ceiling, counting from ten to one before trying again.

“Kal, you’re pressing on my bladder,” he said, more urgently again.

Clark's body jerked slightly, and he raised his head to look at Bruce, eyes just a pair of little, sleepy slits.

“Wha…” he frowned. He blinked sleep out of his eyes and he finally realized what was said to him and in what position they were. “Oh, shoot! Sorry!”

He sped away to the opposite side of the bed, his expression apologetic and flaming.

“Didn’t mean to hug you,” he explained, nervously picking at the hem of his t-shirt. Bruce sat up slowly. "Man, all this wide bed, and I still somehow ended up right next to you,” he laughed awkwardly. "Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it," Bruce dismissed his panic. “Wasn’t the first time I woke up like this.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a sexy supermodel,” Clark pointed out, still embarrassed with what happened, shoulders dropped yet tense.

You’re so much better than any woman or man I ever slept with, Bruce thought and rubbed at his face to hide how he checked Clark out.

He sat cross-legged on his side of the bed, clothes rumpled from sleep, hair messy and wild. Bruce’s fingers twitched on his knee, yearning to run through those dark locks, feel their softness again and try to tame them.

But the best part of the image was Clark's face - blushing, with a small little smile, eyes sparkling like always.

No supermodel could rival this pretty face.

“I meant Dick when he was younger and had nightmares,” Bruce elaborated before his silence could become too long.

“Oh.” Clark's smile widened. "That’s adorable.”

Everything Dick did was adorable to Clark. Even when the boy would become old and wrinkly, he would still think the same, Bruce was sure of it.

There were times when he questioned who was more of a father to Dick - him or Clark.

Getting up from the bed, Bruce finally headed to the bathroom, leaving Clark to finish dealing with his embarrassment.

When he returned to the main room, Clark was just done accepting breakfast from their servant, walking the robot back to the door.

When he turned around to face Bruce, the blush from his face was gone, but not the smile. 

Sometimes Bruce wondered where Clark got all that energy to smile so much, but whatever that secret was, he was glad for it. 

Those smiles affected his life more times than he could count. Sometimes after a hard patrol, seeing one of them while having breakfast together before both of their works, was enough to help Bruce go through his day.

Just like one of those times, they sat to share breakfast, and despite the food being completely alien, the familiarity of eating together made Bruce feel like he was back on Earth. 

“We’re still up for a tour from Zita and their mate, right?” Clark asked sometime after starting breakfast.

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Bruce replied, taking a sip of some alien drink that tasted like green tea. “It could give us some valuable info.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “Geez, relax a little, Bruce,” he said with amusement. "Treat it for what it is, a tour.”

“Don’t make me stop you from enjoying it,” Bruce insisted.

“Oh, I won’t,” Clark assured with a teasing smile. "You party pooper.”

Predictably, Clark ignored the glare Bruce threw his way. 

Their servant returned to take the dirty dishes, and once he left again, he and Clark got ready for the second day of the summit. Official one this time.

He let Clark choose which combination of colors they were going to wear today, and since the Kryptonian picked dark green, Bruce pulled out his lavender one and started dressing up. 

Clark lost himself in his book while Bruce applied his make-up for today. He went with green and purple for the eye shadow, wanting to match both his and Clark's robes.

Just to spice things up a little, he colored his right eye mainly purple, the color swiftly turning into green, and opposite on the left eye. It was going to catch the attention of whoever would talk with him.

After getting his earrings on - silver, shaped like snakes, curling around the lobe, with bright green emeralds as eyes - Bruce interrupted Clark's reading to apply his make-up next.

He couldn't help but smile when his friends eagerly got up from the bed.

“I didn't expect you to like it so much," Bruce noticed when preparing his tools.

Clark blushed a little. “Who wouldn't like to look pretty?”

“You don't need make-up for that," he noticed, hoping he didn't go too far with the compliment.

Clark laughed cheerfully. “Are you seducing me, Mr. Wayne?"

"Don't need to, we're already married,” he replied, picking up the brush. "Now stop smiling, it messes up your eyes.”

"Yes, sir.”

Bruce didn't like what hearing those words did to him.

Or maybe he liked it too much.

He just finished Clark's black and purple make-up when there was a ring at the door. 

Clark rushed to open, Bruce following slowly after him. He was still a bit behind when his friend greeted Zita and their mate. 

“Greetings,” Zita replied to Clark, but they looked above him at Bruce. Their mate was silent like always. “I hope you remembered about our tour?”

“Certainly.” Bruce nodded at the pair of aliens. "We just got done getting ready.”

Zita gave them a once-over, their eyes curious. “Does everybody on Earth dress like that?”

“Only us, and not even all the time,” Clark answered, smiling at the pair. "Earth’s fashion is really diverse.”

“I would love to see it,” Zita admitted. "Maybe one day, we can arrange a meeting just between our two empires and you can show me your planet,” they suggested. 

Next to them, their mate hissed in displeasure. Zita snapped their teeth in warning. 

Bruce was really fascinated by their behavior and forms of communication. Animalistic, but still very sentient and with functional language.

And he really wanted to know what their bodies looked like. It wasn't in the files the League had on them.

"Of course, feel free to visit ours as well,” Zita added after a moment, and this time their mate didn't have a negative reaction.

“That’s a generous offer, we will consider it,” Clark responded eagerly.

Zita made a clicking noise at him, then turned to Bruce.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you as a bat as well,” they confessed, making more clicking.

Clearly a laugh.

“Well, who am I to disappoint?” Bruce smiled charmingly, unsure if it would work on an alien species, but it never failed him before.

With the corner of his eye, he saw Clark giving him a look.

Zita looked absolutely delighted, and without postponing the tour further, they all headed to the elevator that took them just a few floors up, the door opening to a long hallway. 

Zita and their mate left first. When Bruce tried to follow, Clark made them wait a bit before walking a couple of steps behind.

“Why do you promise them that?” he said in a whisper. "You don’t turn into a bat.”

“Don’t I?” he deadpanned.

Clark opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“I… You-...” he stuttered. Bruce watched him, face blank. “No. You’re just messing with me,” Clark decided, shaking his head.

A smirk broke out on Bruce's face. “I wouldn’t if it wasn’t so entertaining.”

“You, my friend…” Clark pointed at him with his finger. “... are a jerk.”

“Took you long enough to notice,” he responded, patting Clark on the shoulder encouragingly. "Keep it up, Kent. Maybe in the next few years, you’ll discover something else new about me.”

“Ugh!” his friend groaned.

Zita looked back at them.

“Everything alright?” they asked.

Bruce grabbed Clark's hand and made them catch up to the other pair. The Kryptonian was pouting.

“Yes,” he assured, sending a glare in Bruce's direction. "My husband is just being difficult.”

“The beauty of marriage,” Zita commented with humor. "My mate pisses me off at least twice a day.”

Clark huffed. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“But life would be boring without them,” they concluded, making a cooing noise at their mate, who lost their grumpy side for a moment just to respond in the same manner.

Bruce watched the display of affection curiously when he felt Clark looking at him. He turned to look back, but Clark quickly averted his attempt.

“This is the first spot of our tour, and my favorite,” Zita announced upon reaching a pair of doors. They opened, revealing lush foliage behind. "The gardens!”

Bruce and Clark stepped inside, looking around in wonder at alien plants and trees, both towering and tiny, in so many colors it could put any flower shop and wildflower field to shame. 

Clark whistled, impressed. “This is amazing!" 

Their guides stopped just behind them. 

"We've been collecting these ever since the first summit,” Zita supplied. "Both present and past attendees supplied seeds over the seasons, not only from their home planets, but from others as well.”

“Impressive," Bruce admitted. “It must've taken a lot of time and care." 

“The robots take care of everything, but it's still rewarding to see every flower bloom, every tree grows a little bit taller every season,” Zita explained with clear admiration in their voice.

The pair took them deeper into the gardens, with Zita filling the silence by talking about their favorite plants and the ones from their home planet. 

At one point, they showed Bruce and Clark one plant from Krypton - a beautiful flower with narrow, downward curling petals the color of bright orange and white brindle markings.

Clark almost overwhelmed poor Zita with questions about it. Their companion didn't seem to mind and answered every question, including those about who and when supplied the seed for the flower to grow.

Two years.

Just two years before Krypton's destruction, the delegation from the planet attended the summit for the last time, bringing the seed with them, an offer for the garden.

Next year, the Kryptonians canceled their attendance, justifying it with the tense situation among the Guilds.

Not long after, Krypton was no more.

Clark looked both glad for all that information, and heartbroken about it. He watched the flower longingly and touched it gently, with fear almost. 

Sensing his sadness, Zita suggested moving along, already talking about other plants. Clark was hesitant to leave the flower, but he did so, following the pair of aliens.

Bruce stayed behind, kneeling by the flower in the same spot as his friend just a moment ago. Reaching to his cape, Bruce pulled out a small test tube, and with gentle fingers, he broke down one stamen, dropping it inside the tube before closing it securely.

He had no chance to grow a new, unique specimen, unless he would cross it with one of Earth's flowers, but cloning was possible.

Bruce was sure Clark would be happy with that too. 

Standing up, he followed his friend and their guides, quickly catching up to them. Clark looked at him curiously.

“A plant caught my attention," Bruce explained, and Clark didn't ask further, just smiled, happy to see him enjoy the tour.

The station had a lot more to offer than just gardens. Zita showed them an observation deck, a bathhouse, the library with so many scrolls, books and tablets that made Bruce wish he was a speedster, a small zoo with alien animals, a whole inn ran by robots and a restaurant. There was even a gym, and one alien was currently in it, working on some gravitational device that made all of the alien’s muscles work.

“Now that’s something for you,” Clark noted. Grinning, he jabbed Bruce's side with his elbow.

“I liked the library," Bruce pointed out.

“Yeah, I saw how your eyes sparkled with interest," he chuckled. “But that's too much like work, and this…” he pointed at the gym. "This is for fun! Even you can't turn it into work related issues.”

Clark should've known better than to challenge him.

Bruce eyed the equipment and machines in the gym. 

"Some of those could be useful for League's training,” he said, and Clark threw his hands in the air.

“Unbelievable." 

Bruce smirked.

“Sometimes some of us spar in friendly matches. It really tightens the bond between our nations,” Zita informed them, pointing with their snout at an impressive fighting pit in the far end of the gym, the stands for an audience surrounding it. "It helps release some steam after tense political negotiations. I’m sure this place will be packed in the evening after today’s summit. Wanna try, Batman?”

Bruce shrugged. “Why not.”

Not everyday he got a chance to fight an alien. Sparrings with members of the Leagues didn't count. He knew their fighting styles better than they did themselves.

Next to him, Clark looked at him smugly.

“I knew you would like it here.”

Bruce stepped closer to him, their chest touching, and Clark's smug expression vanished from his face in an instant, replaced by a blush.

It was so easy to make him flustered.

“Don't gloat, sweetheart, it doesn't suit you," Bruce teased and tapped the tip of Clark's nose with his finger.

It twitched as if his friend was a rabbit, and Bruce felt the sudden urge to kiss it to make it still. 

He moved away before he felt even more tempted to do it.

Their tour ended in the common room, where the majority of the delegates chose to be right now, gathered in different parts of the room that offered books, games and other entertainment for them. Serving bots were present as well, always close to cater.

After they thanked Zita and their mate for both showing them around and sharing some of the station and summit's history, the pair said their goodbye and left to mingle with the familiar faces.

There was still time till the meeting, and Bruce didn't feel like returning to their room where there was nothing to do. He decided to take advantage of that free time and walked straight to the book corner of the room, picking one.

He wasn't happy when he was met with a language he didn't know.

“Can you read this?" he asked Clark who followed him without question.

Clark took the book from his hands and examined the first few pages. A laugh escaped him. “It's a book of poetry." 

Bruce narrowed his brows. "That's it?”

That was disappointing.

"That's it,” his friend confirmed. "Quite good, but just poetry.”

"Library it is then.”

He most likely wouldn't be able to read anything there either, but there was a computer in the library, probably with digital copies of what was handwritten. If he could hack it and transfer the data to his memory stick, Clark would have no objections to Bruce using Jor-El to translate all the alien languages into English. 

The information gathered here could be useful for the League. And for the future summits, if they decided to come back.

Bruce turned around, intending to return to the library, but after just a few steps, his and Clark's path got blocked by one of the aliens.

It was one of the more humanoid races - tall, lean and muscular, with dark grey skin and long, purple hair framing a beautiful face with sharp bone structure.

What distinguished them from humans the most weren't the grey of their skin, but another pair of functional arms just beneath the first.

The alien before them was a female, her husband nowhere in the room. Bruce remembered from the files on their race that they were warriors, and she was the queen of their people. She earned her title thanks to the high kill count in the war they seemed to constantly have with the other nation inhabiting their planetary system.

“It’s good to see you again, Earthling,” she greeted, nodding at Bruce, then moving her dark gaze to Clark. "Kryptonian." 

“We have names,” Bruce told her coldly. "Trandorian.”

The Trandorian queen grinned. “Then let's agree that you should call me Ylk,” she suggested. 

Clark crossed his arms on his chest. His voice was polite but with a bit of tension in it. “Can we help you, Ylk?”

“You certainly can,” she replied in a purr, taking a step towards him. 

Bruce’s body coiled instantly, and he moved closer to his friend without having to think about it. Years of fighting side by side drawing him near to support, shield and protect.

Even from unwanted courtship. 

“Sorry?” Clark asked, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Ylk took another step, the muscles of her arms, all four of them, displayed proudly in a tempting manner. 

“Don’t get me wrong, your husband is very appealing visually,” she continued, giving Bruce a brief glance, like he wasn’t even worth her time, before focusing entirely on Clark. "But there are millions of the likes of him, but only one of you.”

“Two, actually,” Clark corrected her, watching her closely. "Where are we going with this?”

He knew exactly where. Bruce knew too and didn't like it, his chest heaving with burning anger. Was she really flirting with Clark right in front of him? 

“I never laid with a Kryptonian before,” Ylk admitted, eyeing Clark from up and down. Bruce saw how his friend tensed from the remark. "I tried, but your planet was destroyed the same day I was going to fly there. Shame.”

Clark inhaled sharply. “Excuse me?”

Bruce stood so close he swore he could hear the solar energy crackling angrily along Clark’s skin. 

“But now I got another chance. You’ll be a jewel in my collection,” she said, words leaving her breathlessly as if she was already in bed with Clark.

Bruce felt a painful twist in his stomach. 

Before she could take another step, one of her hands already moving to touch, Bruce stepped between them, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip.

“No, he won’t,” he growled, pushing her hand away. "Cause I don’t share.”

Ylk was taller than Bruce. She glared down at him, arms flexing the muscles to show their power. Bruce firmly stood his ground. 

“You know, in my culture, we would've fought for him,” she noticed, not threatened by Bruce, just irritated.

Big mistake.

“In my culture, we don’t treat lovers as someone to win like a prize,” he countered, palms curled into fists so tightly his nails dug painfully into the skin. "But if it’s the fight you want, the fight you will get.”

He would happily fight her. Teach her to never disrespect his friend again. Clark didn't deserve to be treated like some piece of meat. Like a curiosity in a freak show to spice her sexual life. 

Bruce felt the Kryptonian’s eyes on him the entire time he stood between him and Ylk, and now his friend put a hand on his tense shoulder. 

“B, that wouldn’t be wise,” he whispered.

“Stay out of it, Kal,” Bruce ordered him.

“Stay out?” he parroted, voice raised with anger. "This is about me!”

His words were like a bucket of cold water thrown at Bruce's head.

What the hell was he doing? He never acted in such an emotional way. He knew better than that. 

But the thought of this alien seeing Clark like some conquests, like something to possess and toss away, was sickening him.

And what she said about Krypton… It was so tasteless and heartless.

His friend deserved better, even from someone to share a few hours of carnal pleasure with.

But that wasn't Bruce's battle to fight. He overstepped.

So now he stepped back, returning to Clark's side - supporting, but not taking over.

“Right. Sorry,” he apologized to his friend quietly.

He kept glaring at Ylk, and she glared right back.

“Flattering offer, but my husband is right,” Clark told her while keeping his hand on Bruce's shoulder. If he was grounding himself or Bruce, it was hard to tell. "We don’t share.”

Ylk watched them both, looking for cracks, for some hidden signs or signals from Clark that would tell her he actually wanted what she was offering.

She saw nothing.

“Very well,” she gave up eventually, and walked away, unsatisfied with the outcome.

They watched her go. 

“I could’ve taken her,” Bruce murmured, relaxing slowly as the alien kept walking farther away from them.

“I know you could.” Clark squeezed his shoulder gently and used his hold to turn Bruce so they could face each other. “But this wasn’t about it, but about avoiding unnecessary, interplanetary conflict.”

Hearing the potential consequences of his behavior made Bruce feel even worse with his actions.

But he didn't regret them. He would never regret protecting Clark. Even if his friend was perfectly capable of protecting himself.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he apologized again, avoiding Clark's gaze, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face. “I got ahead of myself.”

“This isn’t like you,” Clark noticed, concerned. “I mean, you played the part of a jealous lover perfectly, I’ll give you that, but you didn’t have to go that hard,” he joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I just hated how she spoke about you,” Bruce justified himself. “Like you weren’t even human.”

He didn't even have to play.

“Cultural differences.”

Of course Clark was trying to rationalize it.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“I know,” his friend sighed sadly. “Thanks anyway. For defending my honor, dear.”

Bruce finally looked at him and saw that kind smile on his friend's face.

It awoke a flutter inside his chest that chased away the remnants of anger, letting his breathing even out.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replied playfully, causing the smile to grow just like that.

Bruce returned it. 

While they stood by each other, Zita walked up to them.

“Very impressive, Bat,” they told Bruce, making a clicking noise at him. “Don’t worry about Ylk, she tries it with everyone. Trandorians are very sexual creatures.”

“She had no business trying to touch what’s mine,” Bruce told them. He definitely needed to punch someone in the pit now. 

Without speaking to Zita more, he continued his way out of the room that Ylk so rudely interrupted.

Clark followed after him, staring at the back of Bruce's head all the way to the library.

The summit was held in a surprisingly small room. Big enough just to fit twelve seats for all the couples, placed in a circle so no one could feel superior to the other. It was a good idea, but Bruce dealt with enough meetings like this to know even by a round table, people subconsciously know their position in hierarchy or simply think of themselves as better.

Aliens were no exception to that rule. 

He could feel in the way other representatives sat or moved, which one of them thought of themselves as more important. With no surprise on his part, Bruce noticed those that attended those meetings for a while, clearly thought of themselves as superior. Trandorian Ylk and her husband were one of them. 

She was throwing daggers at him with her gaze, but he was ignoring her, not giving her the satisfaction of his attention. If she had something more to say to him, she could do it in the pit later.

To counter the confidence of some of the attendants, Bruce resorted to his favorite weapon he used as both Batman and Bruce Wayne - body language. 

But before he could sprawl himself in their seat, preferably all over Clark to jab at Ylk for good measure, his friend beat him to it. 

Clark let himself fully relax, taking as much space with his body as possible, arms outstretched over the back of their seat, long legs in front of him, crossed at the ankles comfortably. 

It was rare to witness this type of confidence on him, arrogant almost, and Bruce felt his body react to it, a warm shiver rushing through him, pooling in his lower belly. 

And then to make it worse, Clark looked at him - his usually warm, kind eyes were now cold. 

Shit. 

Stiffly, Bruce nodded at his friend with approval. For just a second, his Clark was back, happy to make Bruce proud. But when he turned to face the room, the mask of a powerful world leader was back on. 

He was learning quickly. Bruce was more than just proud.

Getting himself - but mostly his body - under control, Bruce mirrored Clark’s confidence, sprawling himself across their seat, with legs dangling over the armrest. With back propped against his friend’s side, he leaned comfortably against him, picking up the end of Clark’s sash and playing with it idly. 

Their display caught the attention of the entire room, earning them all kinds of reaction, from disapproving, to amused. The attendants must’ve not been used to a new couple acting like that. 

Perhaps if it was Diana and Arthur sent in their place, or any of the Earth’s actual politicians, it would’ve been different. More appropriate and polite. 

But you don’t sign profitable treaties with politeness. 

After everyone came to terms with Clark and Bruce’s sitting arrangement, the meeting could finally start, as announced by the hosts - Grug and Lerto of Furkan. 

“The summit is officially in progress,” the Furkanian leader said. “Let’s start by welcoming our new guests, Earth’s representative, Batman and Kal-El. We’re glad to have you here with us.”

“We’re happy to be here as well, but we still don’t know what exactly we are doing here,” Clark replied in a steady and calm voice. 

“Then let me explain,” the alien offered. “We’re part of a treaty where all of our nations support each other in any way we may need. Political, economical, even in wartime. We have had our eyes on Earth for quite some time. We recognize your importance in the part of the Milky Way you operate in, the growth of your empire is impressive, and we would like to have such a powerful ally in this sector of the Universe.”

“That’s very kind of what you’re saying,” Bruce noticed. “But we know nothing about you, how reliable you are, how trustworthy.”

The Furkanian nodded. “That’s understandable. We will be happy to answer any question you have.”

“That’s not a very reliable source, don’t you think?” Clark pointed out with a raised eyebrow. 

“Still, we would be grateful if you give us a chance,” Grug insisted. 

“Okay then.” Bruce waved his hand at him approvingly. “What’s in it for us?”

“What would you like to receive?" he asked back. 

“No, no, you’re the one presenting the offer,” Clark noted, slightly humored. “I’m pretty sure you should be trying to convince us, not the other way around.”

Bruce smirked. “Couldn’t have said it better, dear.”

Clark looked down at him and smiled charmingly, his hand suddenly running through Bruce’s meticulously styled hair. 

Bruce held his breath, caught off guard by the intimate gesture.

“Very well. Let me present the offer,” Lerto began. “Our research showed that one of the celestial bodies in your planetary system is rich with cadmium. It’s a very valuable element in our parts, we would like to extract it with your approval.”

“Go on,” Bruce finally breathed out, lungs burning. 

Clark’s hand was gone from his hair, but the phantom of his touch remained.

“In return, we would be glad to open a trade route and station some of our forces around the Solar System,” Grug continued for his wife. “It came to our attention that you don’t possess an active interspace fleet, so you would have to take the majority of the expenses for the transport and upkeep of the base we would build, let’s say, near Neptune. You still use petroleum at great expense, right? One of the moons in Lorb’s empire-” he pointed at one of the pairs. “-is rich with it. We will gladly share it with you.”

“We’re actually trying to switch into cleaner sources of energy,” Bruce informed them, and not only to get a better offer. 

They really didn’t need more oil on Earth. It caused enough problems already. 

“In that case then…”

“I’m not done,” he interrupted, and the Furkanian closed her mouth. “Your offer is laughable.”

The pair gawked at him while other attendants hushed among each other. 

“Sorry?” Grug asked eventually. 

“You want us to tolerate your presence so close to Earth, while we just told you we don’t know if we can trust you,” Bruce explained generously, enjoying how uncomfortable the Furkanian were getting with every word. He always loved to make them squirm. “Not only that, you want to send your soldiers there. I’m sorry, but that sounds awfully like a plan for an invasion.”

“I can assure it’s not,” Grug responded. 

“Your word means as much to me as a speck of dust,” Bruce revealed, not even looking at the pair anymore, busy wrapping Clark’s sash around his wrist. His friend was a bit tense under him. “I don’t trust you. You didn’t give me a reason to trust you. So why should I allow you to send an army to station in our system, and some other units to happily drill the surface of one of the planets?”

When he looked up at the Furkanians again, they were openly frowning at him. 

“It’s a mutual trade,” Lerto retorted. “You said you don’t want petroleum, so we can give you something else.”

“Generous,” Clark stated, joining the negotiations. “But you still didn’t say what exactly.”

“More profitable fuel,” she replied simply. 

Clark just snorted. “For which we have to pay double because we don’t have our own ships?” he questioned with another amused huff. “Unprofitable.”

“And if we lowered the price of transport?” her husband offered. 

“Still no,” Clark refused without hesitation. “Being dependent on a source of energy you can cut off at any moment? We’re not suicidal."

“Then how about that fleet?” Lerto brought that argument back. “We could make sure they answer only to you.”

“That doesn’t guarantee they won’t turn on us if you say a word,” Clark pointed out. To Bruce, it was a pleasure to listen to him countering their arguments. “And we don’t need protection.”

“You just admitted you don’t have your own fleet,” Grug reminded.

“But I can destroy yours in seconds,” Clark deadpanned, his eyes glowing faint red with his heat vision. 

In an instant, the whole room went cold, and everyone in it froze either in fear or shock. Or both. 

They invited Earthlings who possessed no space fleet of their own, expecting them to be docile and eating scraps of their hands. They weren’t prepared for what they got instead - a Kryptonian capable of crushing entire planets and a stubborn vigilante who already hacked their station’s systems without anyone even noticing.

Those negotiations weren’t going the way Furkanian wanted.

“I don’t think you did the research on us as well as you thought,” Clark continued, returning his eyes to normal. But he lost nothing of his authority. The whole room might’ve been cold from it, but Bruce was burning inside, watching his friend with admiration. “And frankly, this offer is not only laughable, as my dear husband concluded, it’s offensive. We should just get up and leave right now.”

Clark gave them some time to react, but the answer didn’t come from Furkanian, but from General Elliada barking out a laugh, breaking the heavy silence. 

“They’re right, this offer is piss,” she agreed, still laughing. “Forgive them, Batman, Kal-El. Furkanians were never good at negotiations.” 

The Furkanian male bristled. “You…”

“How about we brainstorm a better one, so we don’t insult our dear guests further?” General Torun suggested, and the other attendants agreed, slowly relaxing after Clark’s display of power. 

Clark and Bruce shared a smug look between each other and listened to another offer. Hopefully, better than the last one. 

They didn’t come to any conclusion that day. While other offers were certainly better than the one presented by the Furkanians, Bruce and Clark weren’t sure if they should accept any and officially join the treaty. They needed to sleep on it first. 

Tomorrow was the last day of the summit and that would be the only chance to secure a trade or an aid from other nations. After that, they doubted they would be invited for the second season. Not after the stunt they pulled.

But it was necessary to secure their position in negotiations. The attendants had a clear view of Earth as a baby when it came to interspace relations. And maybe they were right. Maybe Earth didn’t have a cosmic fleet and wasn’t colonizing other celestial bodies like they did, but that didn’t mean they were helpless and defenseless like everyone clearly thought. 

And he and Clark showed it today, so the next time anyone would try to start negotiations with them, they would know to not underestimate them and treat them with the deserved respect instead.

After hours spent on discussion and arguing, Bruce and Clark were tired of interactions. So while everyone went to share a meal in the dining hall, the two of them went their own way, escaping to the station’s gardens for some well needed decompression time.

They were no doubt going to be a discussed subject during the feast, but they didn’t care. Bruce was even happy with it. He wanted them to talk, to worry. And with at least two nations on their sides - Zita and their mate, as well as Generals Torun and Elliada - maybe this little elite club of theirs could come with an offer that would be worth of Bruce and Clark’s time. 

“You did good,” Bruce told his friend as they walked through the gardens slowly. Neither said anything since they left the meeting room. 

Clark tilted his head at him. “Yeah?” he asked shyly. Such a change from the commanding king he was earlier. “I didn’t go too far? With the threatening?”

“This is a political summit, not a Sunday tea party,” Bruce reminded him. “And they were really disrespectful, someone had to put them in their place. You were just the perfect amount of threatening and demanding.”

“Good,” Clark nodded with satisfaction, smiling proudly. “I thought I blew it with glowing eyes.”

“That was the best part,” he admitted. 

He still felt heat in his belly just thinking about it. 

“Yeah?”

“Gave some of them chills.”

“Oh,” he expressed in surprise, his eyes narrowing with thoughts. “Kinda nice to be that scary.”

Bruce chuckled. “Don’t let it corrupt you. Being scary is my thing, not Superman’s.”

“Don’t worry, I know you’ll keep me in check,” Clark responded confidently. 

“Always.”

Not only because that would mean Earth's end, but because he cared about Clark too much to fail him like that. 

And if someone like Clark could go rogue, there was no hope for the rest of them.

They walked in silence again for a while, letting the peace of the gardens ease the tension of the meeting of their bodies and minds alike. 

“You did good too, you know?” Clark said suddenly, giving him an appreciative look.

“Hmm.” 

“No, seriously,” his friend insisted. “I only ever saw you in negotiation mode during League meetings, but we’re all friends there. This was different.” Clark let out a chuckle. “You ate that guy for breakfast.”

Bruce turned his head to him, smirking. “We both did.”

He started it, and Clark finished, licking his maw and asking for seconds. 

Draping his arm around Bruce’s shoulder, Clark tugged him against his side, grinning.

“There’s a reason some call us the World’s Finest,” he pointed out with a wink. 

Bruce shook his head with a huff, leaning more into Clark as they continued their walk.

Chapter Text

There was something going on with Bruce. Clark didn't want to get his hopes up, but that outburst in front of Ylk…

It was too personal to be just acting. Sure, it could've been just Bruce being a good friend, but he was too in control to let his emotions take over like that. 

Even in the most dangerous and deadly situation, Bruce was always calm and collected. 

But with Ylk he blew up. 

Only extraordinarily strong emotions cause such a reaction. Platonic affection was one of them. But Clark saw Bruce defending their mutual friends before, and he never acted in such an explosive manner.

But Clark knew someone else who reacted the same way to protect him.

Lois.

When Luthor started a smear campaign against Superman, Lois was fuming for days, ready to throw hands with anyone who agreed with all the lies spread about Clark's alter ego. And she wasn’t someone who easily lost control of her emotions. 

She was his girlfriend then. 

Clark could excuse touching and flirting, Bruce’s been doing that to plenty of people over the years, both strangers and friends at every gala he ever attended. It was second nature to him to flirt to mask his real persona. 

But he couldn’t excuse this. This… jealousy, overprotectiveness that Bruce couldn’t contain. 

It felt suspiciously rooted in love. And not just any kind.

“You're really setting yourself up for disappointment, Kent," he said to himself, walking to their room where he left Bruce earlier. 

He was probably reading too much into this. Because he loved Bruce romantically and wanted Bruce to love him the same way. He was seeing what he wanted to see.

But if there was even the smallest chance that Bruce felt the same… He needed to take it. He was Superman, he regularly faced enemies so powerful they could destroy entire planets. 

But most importantly, he was a Kent, and Kents were no cowards. His Ma and Pa didn't raise one. 

Maybe it was time to stop hiding his true feelings and take a leap? Bruce deserved to know, even if he didn't return them.

Clark stopped in front of the door to their room and took a deep, calming breath before using his bracelet to get inside.

Right upon entering, he was met with Bruce standing by the bed and going through the content of his bag.

In only his underwear.

Clark blushed, too weak of a man to not appreciate the view of those strong legs and broad backside before respectfully looking away.

“Couldn't you put a sock on the door or something?" he asked, walking deeper into the room.

“I’m changing, Kal, not having sex,” Bruce responded, not even looking up. "I don't know if you noticed, but my husband was absent until now." 

The blush on Clark's face grew hotter.

“What if I saw you naked?" he questioned further, unsure where to stand and what to do to look natural and not like he was just ogling Bruce.

His friend pulled out a pair of black, tight fit pants and started putting them on, covering part of himself.

Good. Not ideal, but Clark was used to seeing Bruce in this exact state of undress. 

His bare legs though? And ass covered only by a pair of trunks? 

Only a handful of times. And every single time he was left with an intense feeling of desire coursing through his veins. 

Clark could swear those thighs of Bruce could crush a watermelon.

“I wasn't parading with my bare ass,” Bruce pointed out, turning to narrow his eyes at Clark. "You would've been good.”

Clark stared back, brows furrowing in suspicion. 

“What are you even doing?" 

The clothes Bruce was changing into looked suspiciously like his underarmor.

“Changing into something more comfortable for a fight,” Bruce explained, putting on the top piece.

It had a sleek, red version of his symbol on the chest.

Clark sighed, and his shoulders dropped. “Don't tell me you brought the Batsuit with you." 

“Okay, I won't," he said.

“Bruce!" Clark hissed, caught between being frustrated and amused by his best friend.

Only Bruce could evoke such conflicting emotions in him at the same time.

Maybe that's why he loved the man so much. Being with him would never be boring. Bruce and Lois had that in common.

He received an eye roll for his reaction. “I didn't bring a Batsuit with me,” Bruce assured him, sounding truthful enough.

“Thank Rao," Clark breathed out.

“Not the main one at least," Bruce added immediately after, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Clark gave him the most tired expression. “You love driving me insane, do you?" 

“Why would I do that?" he asked with a blank face.

Clark shook his head with a sigh.

“What did you mean by the main one?" Clark pressed, taking a closer look at the clothes Bruce was wearing.

And the way they hugged his body had nothing to do with it.

"It's a prototype," Bruce informed, flattening some wrinkles of the fabric around his waist. “Nothing fancy yet. I'm just testing materials for a lighter suit. Which is the best to move around in. I'm going to line it with technology.”

Clark nodded in understanding. 

"You look like a ninja," he said with a smile. “Can't believe you brought a Batsuit with you." 

Bruce sat on the bed to put on his boots back on. “I wanted to be prepared if we would have to throw hands." 

Clark raised an eyebrow. “At a political summit?" 

“Politics make people very passionate,” Bruce countered and smirked. "You should ask Archduke Ferdinand. Didn't you study the history of politics in your little college for vultures?" 

"Journalists,” Clark retorted. “We're called journalists.” 

Bruce waved his hand dismissively, making Clark smile.

“Fair enough," he snorted and crossed his arms. “So, who you gonna fight?" 

He had a suspicion who it was going to be.

“Whoever will be stupid enough to ask me first,” Bruce replied, going through his bag again. He pulled something white from it and put it in the pocket of his pants.

“You're not gonna seek out the opponent yourself?” Clark probed, wishing Bruce wasn't standing with his back to him so he could monitor his reaction to the question.

Not that it would help much with the level of poker face Bruce possessed.

"No." His friend turned around, facing him, and just like Clark expected, his face betrayed nothing. “I don't seek out fights.”

"Could've fooled me earlier,” Clark pointed out innocently.

The expression of perfect composure morphed into one of annoyance.

"That was a mistake,” Bruce justified himself, glaring.

Clark's lips curled into a smug smile.

"Uh-huh.”

Bruce glared harder. "What's that supposed to mean?”

"Nothing," Clark shrugged. “Just uh-huh.”

"Uh-huh?” Bruce repeated, suspicious.

"Yup," he shrugged again, giving Bruce a little smile. "Uh-huh." 

Bruce just turned around stiffly and headed to the door, with grinning Clark following behind him.

When they reached the gym, every couple was already there, and a fight was in progress in the pit, with an excited audience watching from the stands. 

Zita wasn't exaggerating earlier, those summits really could bring up some tension that needed resolving.

And what better way to do that than punching each other in the face?

There was always sex, but Clark really didn't want to see another alien orgy in his lifetime.

He definitely preferred fist flighting.

Before they could walk to the pit and see who was currently fighting, Bruce and Clark were approached by Generals Torun and Elliada. 

“Batman!” the latter called from afar, a shark-like smile present on her face. "I heard you were going to fight, and I couldn't believe it. But I see you came prepared." 

She gave Bruce a once over, clearly appreciating what she was seeing. 

Clark couldn't blame her, but he also wished she didn't check his friend out. 

He stepped a little closer to Bruce.

“Whether I fight is yet to be decided,” Bruce said back to her. "I won't say no if someone challenges me." 

“We're eager to see how Earthlings fight,” Torun admitted, matching his wife's excitement, his tentacle arm wrapped around her tenderly.

“Rest assured, my husband can give you the show of your life,” Clark said proudly, wrapping his arm around Bruce's waist to mirror the other couple. He preened when he felt his friends leaning into him. "He's one of the most skilled fighters on our planet. Won countless battles against enemies both stronger and bigger than him." 

Clark would never not brag about Bruce's achievements. A mere human who pushed himself to every limit in existence and surpassed all of them thanks to sheer power of will alone.

Bruce was extraordinary in every way, and Clark was proud to call himself this man's friend.

Maybe something more soon.

“Strength is irrelevant,” Bruce pointed out, adding to Clark's words. "So is the size." 

Clark cleared his throat awkwardly.

“In that case, I hope someone will ask you to a fight,” Elliada said. "And if they don't, maybe I'll try for myself."

Clark would rather ask Bruce for a fight himself than watch General Elliada touching him with her tentacles.

The thought alone made his stomach clench uncomfortably.

The Generals returned to the stands, and Bruce and Clark followed. When Clark caught a sight of familiar, bright fur, he tugged Bruce in that direction.

"Planning on joining?” Clark asked and smiled, sitting down next to Zita.

They clicked at him.

"I'm afraid our species wasn't built to fight,” they admitted, amused. “But we like to watch others punch each other in the faces and snouts. It is surprisingly entertaining.”

Zita looked at their mate who huffed.

"Apart from food, that's the only good thing about this damn summit,” they grumbled.

Zita sighed tiredly at their mate, then turned, cat-like eyes falling on Bruce on the other side of Clark.

“I see you're leaning towards your bat side more,” they noticed, admiring the suit.

Clark smiled. If Bruce brought his actual suit, Zita would've probably squealed from joy.

"You haven't seen even half of it," Clark chuckled, and turned to watch the pit.

The fight just came to an end, with a robot announcing the winner. The two aliens in the pit shared a few pleasantries, both a bit beaten up, but otherwise fine and in good moods, no hard feelings between them. 

This whole idea of fighting each other to let off some steam really worked. 

Clark briefly wondered if they should include friendly spars after heated arguments between the League members. It could turn out to be good for morale.

Then again, with how often they argued, they would spend more time fighting than doing anything else. 

And Bruce would most likely wipe the floor with all of them every time, if using powers would be prohibited.

No one entered the pit after the fight, nor anyone was searching for an opponent. Not even Ylk, who Clark found sitting on the stands on the opposite side of the arena. 

The female warrior was busy talking with her partner, but when she sensed Clark's gaze on herself, she immediately returned it. 

A smile appeared on her face, and her eyes darkened, crawling up and down Clark's body with hunger. 

Clark's stomach flipped, and a shudder ran through his body. And not in a fun way. 

He's been the target of unwanted attention before, but Ylk was disturbing on a completely other level. Maybe because just like Bruce said the other day, Ylk was seeing him as a commodity. One of a kind exotic pet she wanted to sleep with to later brag about how she bedded one of the last two Kryptonians alive.

She wasn't even sympathetic that he was the dying kind. If anything, it excited her more.

At least people in bars and clubs still saw Clark as a human.

Even when he looked away and chatted with Zita, Ylk kept staring at him, and it was quickly turning from uncomfortable to annoying.

He shifted in his seat and then went still immediately after when he felt a warm, calloused hand slipping into his.

Clark looked in surprise at Bruce, already throwing daggers at Ylk, who eventually gave up, looking away.

Smiling, Clark squeezed Bruce's hand back and didn't let go of it.

He was still holding it in a gentle grip when they got approached by another attendant. And to Clark's surprise, it wasn't Ylk trying to fight for him with Bruce.

Furkanian leader stopped in front of them, his eyes steel cold. 

“Batman, Kal-El,” he nodded his head at them both. 

"Emperor Grug,” Bruce replied, standing up, his hand in Clark's hold pulling him along.

All three of them stared at each other for a few seconds, the tension already in the air.

"I wish to fight one of you, I don't care which,” Grug went straight to the point, not attempting to hide his disdain for them anymore. He was glaring openly now. “You humiliated me and my wife, and I need to restore my honor.”

Clark opened his mouth to say something, hopefully to resolve the conflict and avoid intergalactic scandal but Bruce beat him to it.

"Negotiations gone wrong are enough to strip you of your honor?” Bruce asked flatly.

"It's not about the outcome," Grug sneered. "You treated me like someone below you." 

“You started it, Emperor," Bruce pointed out. “By presenting such an insulting offer to us." 

“The offer was good," Furkanian argued. “Trade, protection. You’re just too prideful to appreciate what we offered you." 

“Don't make me laugh," Bruce said, but there was no humor in it, no hint of a smile on his lips.

Grug stood up taller, bristling, but keeping the facade of politeness. Bruce matched it flawlessly, and the two looked like old gentlemen discussing a pistol duel. 

“I see you're continuing your unacceptable behavior,” Grug noted. "Like I said, I want to fight one of you. And since you're so talkative right now, I will gladly fight you specifically." 

Clark was honestly surprised. During the meeting, he was the one that talked to Grug more, dismissing his and his wife's offer. But Bruce was more disrespectful with his responses.

And didn't threaten to blow up the entirety of the Furkanian space fleet singlehandedly like Clark did.

He could understand why Grug chose Bruce then. Only it wasn't really a better and safer choice. Different, for sure, but not safer. Never safer.

“I accept,” Bruce answered simply. 

Grug nodded, satisfied. He even smiled, and this time, there was nothing polite about it. 

"It will be a pleasure to wipe that arrogance off your face,” he spat the words at Bruce before walking away to inform the bot about the fight and prepare himself.

“Oh boy,” Clark murmured. 

He already knew how this was going to end. Bruce loved to put folks that thought highly of themselves in their place.

“Good luck, Batman," Zita told them before Clark and Bruce walked away to get Bruce ready for the fight as well.

The preparation was minimal, and during it, Clark found out what Bruce put in his pocket earlier.

Boxing hand wrap. 

Clark wasn't even surprised anymore.

He helped Bruce put the wrap on.

“Just be careful,” Clark told him when wrapping the tape around his right hand.

Bruce watched, ready to point out any mistake. “I'm always careful." 

“No, you're sometimes less risky than on some other days,” Clark corrected him with a stern look. 

Bruce returned his gaze, holding it firmly, and for a moment, Clark was lost in the blue of his eyes, and the mismatched eyeshadow surrounding them, making him forget what he was going to say.

"Seriously, Bruce, I don't want you coming back to Earth injured,” he said with concern.

He knew Bruce could handle himself against almost anyone, but just because he could, didn't mean he also couldn't get hurt while doing so.

“Worry about the other guy." 

Clark rolled his eyes at him. “I worry about him too but seeing him bleed won't hurt me." 

As long as Grug wouldn't end up dead or a fight with him wouldn't end with conflict between Furkan and Earth, Clark didn't really care in what state the Emperor would be at the end of the fight.

But he would care even about the smallest cut or bruise on Bruce, no matter how nonthreatening. Love could do that to you. 

Bruce smirked suddenly. 

“I'll be careful, sweetheart," he promised and moved forward, brushing his lips against Clark's cheek that immediately was set on fire.

He quickly finished wrapping Bruce's hands, not daring to look at him.

Once he was done, Bruce was ready to enter the pit. There were two entrances, both accessed through the stairs in the floor. Grug already went through one, but Bruce didn't approach the other.

Standing by the railing, he reached for his ears and took off his jewelry.

“Hold these for me,” he requested, dropping the snake ear piercing into Clark's open palm.

“Why didn't you take them off in the room?" Clark questioned, pocketing them.

“I forgot,” he replied and looked at Clark seriously. "Don't lose them, they're worth more than your yearly salary." 

“Yeah, because the guy that owns the Planet refuses to give us raises," Clark said, giving Bruce a pointed look.

“Go complain to the HR," Bruce advised him and entered the pit by jumping over the railing.

Silly, dramatic Bat, Clark thought fondly and stayed where he was.

No way he would be able to watch Bruce fight from the stands, he needed to be close in case he would need to intervene.

It didn't matter he probably wouldn't have to, and that he could be by Bruce's side in seconds, no matter where on the station he would be.

He needed to be close. For his own sake.

Bruce and Grug stood in front of each other, a couple of feet away, eyeing each other while the bot explained the rules of the fight. 

No superpowers, no deadly force, no weapons, not including weaponry like claws and fangs. Which Clark thought wasn't very fair, even if Bruce didn't need either to win a fight.

Grug had claws. Sharp ones at that, and he was free to use them. He also had a tail - long and muscular. He was a head taller than Bruce and probably weighed twice as much.

Logically speaking, Bruce was at a disadvantage in every or almost every way. But while Batman loved to apply logic to everything, logic didn't like to apply to him.

Grug wouldn't be the first that should've won a fight against him but didn't, so Clark wasn't worried. Not really.

Once the bot was done explaining the rules, it left the pit, leaving it to the two opponents.

Grug crouched slightly, waving his tail left and right.

“We’ll see if you’re as good in a fight as you are with words,” he told Bruce, flexing his fingers, each ending with two-inch claws.

Bruce didn't move a muscle. “If you’re so eager to be humiliated again, be my guest.”

With a snarl, Grug threw himself at him, and the fight began. 

Bruce easily sidestepped the first punch, then another, moving through the sandy ground of the pit like he was dancing. He didn't let himself get cornered, always knowing where the wall was and jumping to the side at the right moment.

He made Grug chase after him in circles, frustrating the Furkanian and causing a few amused and impressed reactions from the audience as the game of tag continued.

After another failed attack, Grug stopped, panting, the stripe of fur running from the top of his head down his entire spine and tail already ruffled from all the running. 

“Are you going to fight me anytime soon, Earthling?" he snapped before running at Bruce again.

“Careful what you wish for,” Bruce warned, and after ducking from another attack, he threw a mean punch straight at Grug's face.

The collective gasp from the audience swept through the gym as Grug stumbled from the punch, one clawed hand covering his hurting face. Between his fingers, a black liquid appeared, slowly dripping onto the sand. 

Clark smiled. 

So did Bruce. 

“Happy?" he asked his opponent, not a single hair amiss on his head, not a droplet of sweat glistening his forehead.

Grug uncovered his face, his black blood running down it. “You'll regret this,” he growled, taking a step towards Bruce.

“I doubt that,” Bruce replied cockily.

Clark's heart skipped a beat.

The fight resumed, but this time, Bruce wasn't as passive anymore. He didn't just avoid getting hit - he blocked, he countered or just faked attacks. 

Constantly on the move, eyes following Grug all the time, yet always aware of his surroundings. It was like watching a ballet dancer. A very deadly ballet dancer with a right hook capable of knocking you off your feet.

Grug was losing his patience with every second of the fight, his angry hissing sounding more like gurgling because of the blood constantly leaving his nose.

Frustrated, he swept his tail at the ground, raising a cloud of sand into the air, right at Bruce.

“Come on, that's cheating!" Clark shouted, but the bot overseeing the fight did nothing as Grug jumped towards Bruce.

Even temporarily blinded by the sand, Bruce still jumped back from the attack, instinct and years of training taking control to make him narrowly avoid getting his chest ripped open.

Grug's claws caught on the shirt of his suit, tearing it open and leaving red marks on Bruce's skin.

Clark gripped the railing so hard it bent under his hold like a warm wax.

Blinking the sand off his eyes, Bruce looked at Grug smiling at him with satisfaction, then at his ruined shirt.

With a frustrated sigh, he ripped it off completely, tossing it carelessly into the corner.

“Sweet Rao, give me strength," Clark muttered to himself, watching how his friend’s bare chest raised heavily with each breath.

Bruce looked at Grug again, eyes cold and determined.

Clark shuddered a little.

Batman was done playing.

For the first time since the fight started, Bruce was the one to throw the first punch. Something Grug clearly didn't expect if his panicked, last second dodge had anything to say about it.

Now he was the one running away, but lacking the same grace Bruce possessed even now when in attack mode. 

If anything, he was even more graceful now. Like a deadly viper, striking with horrifying precision and speed.

Clark rarely had a chance to admire Bruce's fighting style. In the heat of the battle, he didn't have time to watch his teammates fight. The only chances he had were during League's training, but Bruce always wore his suit there.

Now he was bare from waist up, and Clark could see every muscle twitch and flex with each punch, each roll and each dodge.

Clark was both enchanted on a purely admiring level, as well as getting hot all over with desire.

He was never going to forget that beautiful show, even if he didn't have an eidetic memory.

And judging by the murmurs among the audience, he wasn't the only one impressed.

Clark adjusted his hearing, letting himself listen to the conversation among other attendants. 

Zita was delighted, openly cheering for Bruce and admiring how well he controlled the fight.

Generals Torun and Elliada discussed how they didn't expect an Earthling to be able to not only go toe to toe with a stronger opponent but outmatch him easily. They thought Clark was exaggerating earlier, biased like any other spouse would.

But no, Bruce was this good, and Clark couldn't be prouder as he watched his friend overpowering progressively more panicked Grug.

The comments of admiration and in some cases even intimidation, were reaching Clark's ears from all over the audience, only filling him with more smugness. 

And then he heard something completely different from one pair on the other side of the pit.

“That tiny Earthling is tough,” the representative of Hyrpon said in a hushed tone to his wife. "I bet he wouldn't be anymore after we had a way with him. The strongest always squeal the loudest when you get in bed with them." 

The already damaged railing under Clark's hands turned into dust.

“Maybe we should ask him if he would like to join us tonight," the wife suggested eagerly. "He always looks tense. It seems he isn't well taken care of by his husband.”

They looked at Clark then, visibly startled when they already found him staring back at them, clearly not expecting that. 

The pair knew instantly. Knew Clark heard them, and quickly looked away in shame and fear, disturbed by pure anger in his eyes, glowing faintly with heat vision like during the meeting earlier.

They didn't say a word after that, and Clark could return to observing the fight with a proud smile and a thrill under his skin.

The fight was nearing its end. Bruce could’ve ended it many times by now, but he clearly enjoyed himself. Desperate Grug tried to flip the odds into his favor, charging at Bruce all of sudden. 

And Bruce let him, toppling over with the alien. The two landed onto the ground with a full thud, and for a brief second, a grin of satisfaction appeared on Grug’s face, just before Bruce used the momentum of their fall to toss him over himself. 

Grug shouted in surprise, quickly trying to get back onto his legs. 

Too slow. 

Bruce was up before Grug’s body fully landed on the sand, and just as the alien rolled onto his right side to hoist himself up, he was on his back again, pinned, Bruce’s foot pressed against his throat. 

Grug made a gurgling sound, so the pressure was no light by any means. His arms flew to grab at Bruce’s ankle instantly, trying to pry it off. His fingers curled around the leg but that’s all they did before Bruce stepped harder. 

The choke that escaped Grug was primal and full of fear. He stared up into Bruce with eyes blown wide, mouth open, gasping for air. 

“Yield,” Bruce told Grug in a cold whisper, so only he could hear. “We can both keep going, but it would be better if you spared your wife the scare.”

Bruce lifted his foot just enough to allow Grug to look towards the stands where his wife watched with horrified expression. 

Grug returned his eyes to Bruce and slowly let go of his ankle, letting his arms fall open on the sand in surrender.

Bruce took his foot off Grug’s throat completely and extended his hand towards him instead. Hesitantly, the alien accepted it and let Bruce help him up before walking away with as much dignity as he could after such defeat. 

“Batman is the winner,” the bot overseeing the fight announced, and the audience began to cheer for Bruce in whatever way their species did so. 

Clark was already gone from his spot, flying towards Bruce who still stood in the pit. 

“You won!" he shouted with a cheerful laugh and swept Bruce into his arms, squeezing him tight and twirling him around a few times in the air. Bruce’s body was warm and sweaty against him, he felt it even through all the layers of his robes.

Bruce dangled limply in his hold, like a cat grabbed by the nape of its neck, one brow raised. 

“You doubted me?” he asked, sounding actually offended. 

"Not even for a second,” Clark declared, and in a surge of euphoria from Bruce's victory, mixed with his overwhelming love for the man, he went for a kiss.

And then chickened out like a coward, changing direction at the last possible moment, and just hugging Bruce tighter instead. 

Clark felt his heart thumping wildly against Bruce's bare chest, and hoped his friend couldn't feel it as well. 

He cursed himself for getting scared last second, but maybe it was for the best. Confessing his feelings through a kiss when watched by dozens of eyes wasn't the most romantic set up for such an important moment.

Clark needed a few seconds to compose himself before he pulled away and was met with a puzzled expression on Bruce's face. His steel blue eyes watched him carefully, dissecting him and whatever feelings were flashing through his eyes. 

Clark cleared his throat. 

“Let's have you checked over," he told Bruce, putting them both on the ground.

Aware of everyone's eyes on them, but especially on Bruce who just gave them the show of their life, Clark took off his cape and wrapped it tightly around his friend, covering his bare chest from unwanted gazes.

“I'm fine,” Bruce responded, giving Clark his most intense detective gaze. He must've known what Clark tried to do just moments ago, and he wasn't angry. Simply curious.

Clark's chest filled with hope.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he asked with a shy smile, before wrapping his arms around Bruce again and lifting them both out of the pit.

Grug glared at them the entire time Bruce received personal congratulations from everyone, the crowd not letting them go back to their room. 

Bruce was tense under his arm that Clark had around his shoulders. He didn't enjoy the attention, was actually annoyed by it, but allowed it for the sake of tomorrow's meeting. He didn't want to offend anyone before the critical day of the summit. 

Clark, on the other hand, fully embraced the commotion and the role of a supporting husband, standing proudly next to Bruce draped in his cape while he received the words of admiration he fully deserved. Even if Bruce wouldn't agree with that.

After everyone had their chance to share a word with the winner, with Clark making sure no one was giving Bruce any inappropriate propositions, they finally managed to ditch the crowd and return to their room.

Once in there, Clark forced Bruce to sit on the bed, and took a spot next to him, slipping the cape off Bruce's shoulders to take a look at the scratches left by Grug on his chest.

“Kal, I'm telling you, I'm fine," Bruce sighed, frustrated.

“Just making sure," Clark responded, flashing him a little smile.

Bruce huffed but let him fuss anyway. 

The scratches on his chest weren't deep or even bleeding, so they didn't need any dressing. 

His fists received some damage despite the protective tape. When Clark unwrapped it, he was met with red and bruised knuckles, in some places the skin was open. 

They looked like they hurt, but he knew Bruce would never admit that. 

“Stay," he told his friend, making a point with his finger, before vanishing in the bathroom for a second, returning with fresh water and a sponge to clean the cuts.

"So what we going to do tomorrow?" Clark asked Bruce as he gently cleaned his hands. “With the treaty offers?”

"Honestly? None is very appealing," Bruce said. Clark looked at him curiously to continue. “But accepting one anyway may grant us a better starting position for future negotiations.”

"So you think Earth should join the treaty?”

From Clark's point of view, they weren't receiving much by it. Maybe in the future, but if giving out weak offers to the potential allies was everyone's idea of good strategy, Clark was surprised the tradition of the summit survived this long and was regularly finding new members.

“Not really. They don't know much about Earth or us, but they're bound to find out we're not really married eventually," Bruce pointed out.

Not if we get married for real before the next summit, Clark allowed himself to dream.

“What do you suggest then?" 

“Making arrangements outside of the official treaty." 

Clark’s brows furrowed. “I don't think it's allowed." 

“It probably isn't, but I won't believe they all don't make unofficial deals left and right,” Bruce said. “And as long as we don't join, who cares?”

"Right," Clark agreed. “Even without joining the treaty, we still met potential business partners.”

"Exactly.”

"Zita was always kind to us,” Clark noticed, letting go of Bruce's right hand to now take care of the left one. "I like them.”

"Politics is about more than personal relationships," Bruce reminded him.

“Obviously," he rolled his eyes. "Just saying I have a good feeling about them." 

Bruce nodded.

"General Torun and Elliada seem like good potential allies too.”

Both couples were nothing but kind to them. It could've been an act, politicians were known for it, but Clark really had a good hunch about both.

And if Bruce, the most paranoid man he knew, shared that sentiment, then Clark was more than sure they didn't have to worry about being played. 

And if they were then well… It's almost merrier to be naive fools together.

“Let's leave them a way to contact the League then,” Clark suggested, happy when Bruce nodded in agreement. "If we're not joining the treaty, do we even need to take part in the meeting tomorrow?”

"It won't hurt to learn more while we can,” Bruce replied.

“Ugh, I'll have to pretend to be a pretentious jerk again," he complained.

Bruce smirked at him.

“You can leave all the talking to me," he offered.

“Rao, no," Clark responded immediately with a laugh. “You'll make everyone cry.”

Bruce didn't deny it. Didn't even look offended by the suggestion. If anything, he seemed amused.

“You know that if we get Zita to trade with Earth, they'll want to see you as a bat for sure?" Clark asked him, worried how Bruce would deal with that one.

Bruce looked him in the eyes with a serious expression. “I'll let Man-Bat fly around Gotham for a while to satisfy their curiosity." 

Clark just laughed out loud.

Chapter Text

Bruce woke up to a heavy and warm weight on his chest. When he opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of dark curls, one little lock tickling his nose.

He blew at it, moving it away. Clark didn't stir, sleeping soundly, wrapped around Bruce just like the other day.

Bruce inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of Clark's shampoo - something sweet and fruity. 

He watched his friend sleep, wondering where exactly he made the mistake. When he did something to trick Clark into wanting to kiss him?

There was no doubt in Bruce's mind that this was what Clark was going for and not a hug he ultimately went with. 

Clark tried to kiss.

His best friend. The man he trusted with his life, with the life of Alfred and Dick.

The man he was in love with.

And now Clark thought he was in love with Bruce too.

Fuck.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to just pretend to be married, but Bruce stupidly allowed himself to enjoy this whole situation too much.

He flirted, he was affectionate, he was protective beyond the point of friendship. 

And Clark, poor Clark, had no chance against that. How could he, when this wasn't just Bruce's usual facade that he used with everyone when in public?

It was real, and Clark felt it. His trustworthy heart got affected by it.

It should make Bruce happy. Shouldn't he want that? Clark finally loving him back? Wanting to be with him?

That sounded amazing, but Bruce knew it wasn't going to last. A crush born this intensely and suddenly never does. It always follows the same pattern.

You flirt, the chemistry is there, you fall in love, you spend a few days or weeks thinking this is it, only to fall out of love at the end, the relationship broken forever.

It wouldn't be any different with Clark. And maybe on his part it wouldn't stop him from still being friends with Bruce - he was friends with Lois after all - but it wouldn't be as easy for Bruce.

Because what he felt wasn't this temporary explosion of love he wouldn’t care if he lost it. This love was here to stay. Clark would move one while Bruce still would be stuck with it. Having experienced what he ached for only for it to be snatched from his grasp.

He already had a taste, and he knew it would take some time to forget all those moments he let himself share with Clark during the mission. 

But it was nothing compared to what he would suffer if he let this thing between them develop.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't let himself be tempted by something that had no future and would only hurt him - destroy his friendship with Clark.

There was too much at risk for only a few weeks of bliss.

But for now, Bruce let himself have it. Just for a moment. He wrapped his arm around Clark and hugged him, his breath hitching when the Kryptonian nuzzled closer in response.

How could something so right not be real?

Bruce basked in Clark's warmth and scent for a few more minutes, almost falling back asleep, before he decided that was enough. That if he holds Clark for any longer, he won't be able to let go.

He let his arm drop from around Clark, took one last deep breath of the sweet shampoo, and started to wake his friend up, poking him in the lower back. 

“Clark,” he said, pressing his finger harder. It didn't hurt, but Clark was bound to feel it.

And he did.

“Mmm?” he hummed sleepily and stretched his long body alongside Bruce's.

“You’re hugging me again,” he told his friend.

Clark slowly raised his head, his brilliant blue eyes blinking owlishly at Bruce. When his brain finally caught up with Bruce's words and the position their bodies were in, his entire face turned red.

“Shoot!” he exclaimed and quickly moved away. "Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m just not used to it,” Bruce assured and sat up. He smirked at Clark. "Do you hug everyone you share a bed with or am I that special?”

Clark's lovely blush deepened, reaching out to the tips of his ears and down his chest, disappearing under his t-shirt.

“I mean, you are special.” 

Leave it to Clark to say something so sweet and profound so casually. As if stating someone’s hair color. 

Bruce wished he had any control over his blood and didn't match Clark's blush with his own.

“But yeah, I’m just a big hugger,” Clark admitted sheepishly.

That didn't really surprise Bruce. If Clark was affectionate while awake, it was logical he was the same when he slept as well.

“I’m surprised Lois is still alive,” Bruce joked. "You’re not exactly lightweight.”

He didn't mind, Clark's weight was actually comforting, but Bruce was a pretty big guy himself.

“That’s why I was always a little spoon with her,” Clark chuckled, and Bruce couldn't help but smile, imagining a woman like Lois trying to cuddle this mountain of a man that was Clark.

“How are your fists?” his friend asked.

Bruce looked down at his knuckles, the bruises and tiny cuts from earlier already healed up mostly.

“They’re fine,” he answered, looking back at Clark. "They were fine yesterday as well.”

“I beg to differ,” Clark grinned. "Let me check?" 

Bruce rolled his eyes but offered his hands anyway. Clark immediately scooted closer, gently taking both palms in his.

He brushed his thumbs over the bruised knuckles, and Bruce's stomach flipped because of how careful and tender it was. 

He had a feeling it was just an excuse for Clark to hold his hands, because it was obvious they were fine. And Bruce was too weak of a man to cut it short, to pull his hands away and deny himself this pleasure. 

“Looks good,” Clark decided after a while. Longer than it was necessary for such a simple examination.

“I already told you that,” Bruce responded, wanting to curl his fingers around Clark's hands to stop him from letting go.

He didn't.

“I thought you love being paranoid,” Clark pointed out humorously.

“Exactly. So stop stealing my thing,” he demanded, making Clark grin.

“Fine. Paranoia seems tiring anyway,” he chuckled. "Maybe that’s why you constantly look like a ghost.”

Bruce glared.

“Try handling a company, a teenage son with the dumbest ideas in existence, and Gotham’s crime, sun boy,” he challenged his friend. “We’ll see how you look after a week.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Clark laughed again.

After that little banter, they began preparation for the day. Bruce was finishing his make-up when their servant brought breakfast, serving everything on the table and leaving right after.

“So, I think you should talk with Zita, and I’ll get Torum and Elliada,” Clark said when they sat down to eat. “Should we offer them something specific?”

Bruce took a sip of a drink that resembled tea. “No,” he decided. "Let’s leave it for later negotiations when all the League can be present.”

Clark cocked his head to the left, confused. “We have to at least tempt them with something.”

“You’ll come up with something.” Bruce smirked behind the rim of his cup. "I believe in your imagination.”

Clark gave him an unimpressed look. “Geez, thanks.”

They went out on their mission right after breakfast, splitting to cover more grounds and find their respective targets. Clark was probably cheating, using his x-ray vision to find the generals. 

Bruce had to use the old-fashioned way of locating someone - asking around. 

The second alien he asked about Zita's whereabouts already had an answer, and just like he was told, he found Zita in the library. They were sitting on a big couch, using their telekinetic powers to hold a book in front of their face.

Sensing Bruce's approach, they looked up from it and made a welcoming sound.

“Batman, hello,” they greeted. “How are you feeling after yesterday's fight?”

“Calm,” he answered simply.

Zita made a couple amused clicks.

“Where did you lose your lovely husband?” they asked, looking around for Clark.

“Sometimes we like to be alone,” he explained about his friend’s absence.

Zita clicked again. “Could’ve fooled me, you’re constantly touching.”

Bruce hoped he wasn't blushing and even if he was, that Zita didn't know what it meant.

“Could we talk?” he asked them.

Zita gave him a nod, putting away their book to give him their sole attention. “Of course. What can I help you with?”

“In private,” Bruce elaborated, glancing at two other aliens in the library. 

“Oh?” Zita sounded interested.

“If it’s not a problem, of course,” Bruce added, but Zita was already standing up.

“Not at all,” they assured. "Let’s go to the observation deck, no one is ever there.”

Bruce nodded, walking next to the towering alien.

The walk to the observation deck was short, and once the door closed behind them, they were alone and free to speak. Unless there was a microphone hidden somewhere. 

Stopping by the window with a view at the white dwarf, Zita turned to Bruce, waiting for him to speak. 

Bruce went straight to the point.

“I’ll be honest with you, Zita, Kal and I are not interested in returning to the summit next season,” he told the alien. “It’s been disappointing, to say the least.”

“I understand,” Zita replied without offense. "Emperor Grug is not an easy individual to deal with. That’s why we were worried about inviting a new empire while he and his wife were organizing this season.”

“It’s not only that,” Bruce corrected them. "Furkanian’s offer was laughable, but others weren’t much better,” he explained, and Zita listened closely. "You have to understand Earth isn't a space empire like all of yours. We don’t travel there regularly, we don’t explore it, so none of the offers about trades suit us. Neither does offers of protections. We’re handling that on our own just fine, as you could see yesterday.”

“I have to admit, your husband was scary yesterday,” they confessed with a set of clicks following. “So were you during your fight with Grug. I read about humans, you’re not exactly the strongest bunch. Stronger than we are, that’s for sure, but you don’t impress. No offence.”

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched. “None taken.”

“But I can tell Earth is in good hands when it comes to safety,” Zita concluded their observation. "You also have a Green Lantern protecting the planet, have you not?”

“That’s correct,” he confirmed.

“We have none,” Zita revealed. "We’re on our own, this treaty is the only thing keeping our planet safe.”

“You shouldn’t tell me this,” Bruce warned them. He and Earth were no danger to Zita, but someone else could be less friendly.

“You opened up to me, I’m opening to you,” Zita justified their sincerity. "I’m an empath, Batman, I can sense when I deal with an honest and trustworthy person.” They looked at him knowingly. “I assume you came to me to make an individual proposition between our civilizations?”

“It’s just an invitation for talks for now,” he clarified. "You don’t have to agree to anything.”

“Then I’ll gladly agree to future talks,” they responded eagerly. “I like you, Batman, and I like your husband. I would like for our planets to work together if it’s possible.”

Bruce didn't expect it to be so easy. He knew Zita liked them, they were friendly towards him and Clark from the start. But liking someone and agreeing to diplomatic discussion were two different things.

In politics, there was often no place for sympathies.

“I’m happy to hear that.” Bruce replied.

Diplomatically.

It satisfied Zita well enough.

“Very well. I’ll contact you after the summit,” they settled. "Let’s say in one Earth week?”

That was acceptable. It would give them time to figure out what they wanted from this potential partnership.

“Contact the Justice League,” he instructed Zita.

“That’s like your and your husband’s council?” they asked.

“Something like that,” Bruce agreed with a smile.

“Then we have a deal.”

From under their cloak that always covered their entire body, Zita pulled out a hand - skinny, just bones covered with a sickly looking and dry skin in brown color, lacking the bright yellow fur of their head.

Attached to the hand were mechanical parts, acting as the replacement of muscles, making the limb move. Even with this assistance, it looked like it required a lot of effort to move even one finger.

Zita extended their palm, and Bruce shook it gently, afraid that even the smallest pressure would break it. 

It probably would.

With an agreement settled, Bruce and Zita parted ways, returning to their respective partners.

After a few minutes of walking around the space station, Bruce still couldn't find Clark anywhere. Frustrated with the lack of success, Bruce stopped in the middle of the corridor and spoke into the air.

“Clark, you done?”

The subtle shift in the air announced Clark's arrival before Bruce even saw him.

“All done,” the Kryptonian reported with a pride grin.

“Did they agree?” Bruce asked.

“Yup,” he confirmed. "Didn’t even have to convince them. We made an impression on them yesterday. What about Zita?”

“They’ll contact us.”

Clark's grin widened. “Awesome. Wanna grab a cosmic coffee?”

“Before the diplomatic meeting?” Bruce questioned. "That will elevate your heart rate just fine on its own.”

Clark chuckled, already wrapping his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and leading him towards the restaurant area. “We’ll get decaf versions.”

“That’s not coffee,” Bruce noticed.

Clark tucked him against his side. “Don’t be nitpicky, you grump. Come on!” he urged, making them go faster.

Bruce wore a scowl on his face but in his chest, he only felt warmth brought by Clark's closeness.

The meeting began earlier than yesterday, due to today being the last day of the summit. By the end of it, they were all going home. This little pretend game would be over, and Bruce would be able to suppress his feelings again like he's been doing for years.

It wouldn't be easy after those three days of shared affection, but Bruce mastered ignoring his feelings years ago. 

He and Clark claimed their spot in the meeting room, Bruce once again opting for splaying himself against Clark. It wouldn't be wise to change his cocky behavior all of sudden, and it wasn't like they needed to try to be civil for better offers. They already secured those outside of the treaty.

And Bruce rather enjoyed how comfortable Clark's body was under him. He felt bad for still encouraging Clark's feelings to grow, but his friend would get over it eventually.

Unlike Bruce. So he was taking as much from the situation as he could. He couldn't have a real thing, but he could at least have memories of what could've been.

The atmosphere in the room was far from comfortable, mostly because of Furkanians openly showing their displeasure from yesterday's defeat they were subjected to - first during negotiations, then later in the pit.

Other couples noticed that, looking uncomfortable to be in the same room as the hurt pair. 

But to Bruce's surprise, there was another couple that acted strange. Representatives of the Hyrpon Empire looked downright scared, and whenever they looked around, they avoided staring in Bruce and Clark's direction.

While Clark made a big impression on everyone with his heat vision, no other couple acted like Hyrpon representatives. And Bruce was curious about what was the reason for such behavior.

After everyone was seated, Grug began the meeting, as it was his duty as the host.

“Well, let’s start the second meeting of this season’s summit,” he announced, his voice a bit nasal because of the broken nose given to him by Bruce. “Maybe we’ll finally come up with something to satisfy our dear but very picky first timers.”

Someone was asking for another beating.

“Before we start,” general Torum interrupted, standing up with his wife. "I may actually have a solution,” he said, smiling at Bruce and Clark.

Bruce was instantly curious.

And wary.

Grug didn't look pleased by the interruption, scowling openly. “Proceed,” he allowed.

Torum thanked him before returning his attention to Bruce and Clark.

“Firstly, Batman, Kal-El, I would like to apologize for yesterday,” he said sincerely, and his wife nodded in agreement. "We didn’t exactly present our regular meetings in the good light, but I’m sure we can fix that now. We may have an offer that could interest you.”

Bruce and Clark shared a look. They already made a decision to not get involved in this treaty, but it wouldn't hurt to hear the offer.

If it was presented by Furkanian, they would've refused, but Torum and Elliada didn't give them a reason to dismiss them.

“We’re listening,” Clark replied, giving a small signal with his hand for the two to continue.

“We’ll be speaking on behalf of Zita as well,” Elliada elaborated. "Our empires has been working closely for a while now and we discussed this offer beforehand.”

Now that was interesting.

Bruce looked at Zita and their mate, both perfectly composed. They must've talked with Torum and Elliada after the chat with Bruce.

He knew about the connection between the two nations, it was in the files Bruce read before the summit, but he assumed it came from being in the same treaty.

Now it looked more personal. And he hoped he and Clark didn't miscalculate in a big way by trusting them. 

Not very plausible, but it wouldn't surprise Bruce if the offer Torum mentioned was a prelude to a blackmail.

“Diplomatic conversations are forbidden outside of this room,” Grug reprimanded the two generals.

“We simply wished to save time so we could discuss other matters as well, not only Earth becoming a member of the treaty,” Elliada explained calmly, not even a smallest twitch on her face.

The other couples in the room didn't protest, so Grug allowed the generals to continue.

“As I was saying, me, my wife and Zita came to an agreement that Earth would be a very valuable ally to all of us,” Torum explained, speaking to everyone, but looking only at Bruce and Clark. "Nothing is binding yet, even if you agree to our offer, it will only last till the next summit. Sounds fair?”

“So far,” Bruce replied. 

“Wonderful. Here’s our offer.” He made a small pause before presenting it. "Our planetary system is rich with copper, cobalt and lithium, we’ve been selling it left and right for centuries and we still aren’t anywhere near running out. We would like to offer all three to Earth, with us covering the costs of transport.”

Bruce drew his eyebrows together. But it was Clark who voiced their concerns. “Generous,” he noticed. Too generous even. "What’s in it for you?”

“Not for us," Elliada corrected him. “For Zita and other Grentians.”

“Explain,” Bruce demanded.

“Grentians require a very rare mineral to survive, found only in a few places in the universe, including their home planet,” Torum began to elaborate.

“The problem is, our home planet is now dry,” Zita chimed in. "Before it happened, we scouted another one to mine from, but it quickly turned out the planet doesn’t like it very much.”

“The planet?” Clark questioned. "You mean inhabitants?”

“No, I mean the planet,” Zita insisted. "It’s not sentient, we checked, but it defends itself regardless. It regularly kills our miners under the landslides, earthquakes or releasing toxic gasses inside the mines,” they explained. "I would gladly leave it alone, but we still didn’t find another source of the mineral.”

“Do you want us to look for it?” Bruce asked.

This would require months if not years long missions in space, something only a few of them could sustain in a long run. One of them being Clark.

Bruce wasn't fond of the idea of sending his friend away for so long, who knows where. Or anyone from Justice League for that matter.

“Not at all. We need someone to protect the miners,” Zita responded, and Bruce felt himself relaxing. That was more acceptable. "Many of the soldiers of other representatives already do that, with the major help in both manpower and equipment coming from generals Torum and Elliada. Justice League is known for some very powerful individuals, we would like to ask for your protection during the mining operation.”

“Not all the time of course,” Torum added, as if reading Bruce's thoughts on that subject before he could even voice them.

They thought of it. They expected the time being the discouraging factor for their decision. Especially Bruce's.

“Of course,” Zita confirmed the general's words. "We understand you have your own planet to protect and we wouldn't want to drag you away from your duties. But every once in a while, your presence would be of great help to the miners. We will take care of the transport.”

That was very thoughtful. The whole offer seemed too good to be true, and Bruce's inner paranoia was screaming at him to not fall for it.

“And for every guarding duty, my kingdom will send you a delivery of copper, lithium and cobalt,” Torum promised. "Free of charge, like I mentioned. We will cover the price of transport.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I can’t help but think only we gain something out of it,” Bruce pointed out, suspicious. "And Zita. What do you gain, general?”

Torum waved his tentacle vaguely. “Our empires already have several trade routes established. We will simply adjust the terms after your addition.”

“If you choose to agree to this, it will continue till the next summit when you’ll decide if you want to continue being part of the treaty,” Zita explained.

“So, it’s just a trial,” Clark noticed.

“In a way. But the trial runs with every benefit of being in a treaty,” Elliada said. "Military help if needed, an aid in case of a plague or famine. And of course, the willingness to establish any trade route you want with any representative of planets present here.”

“How will it be decided when to help?” Bruce asked.

“That you will have to discuss with Zita personally.”

“I can already assure those protections won’t last more than a few Earth days and you’ll be provided with food and any other substance your kind requires to survive,” Zita promised them.

So they were gaining resources that were useful but not necessary for Earth’s survival, and in return, they would only have to protect miners for a few days. And they could always say no if Justice League was needed somewhere else, because the deliveries of the resources were dependable on the job done.

“It’s like freelancing,” Clark chuckled, looking down at Bruce. "What do you say, dear?”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” he admitted. Better than he thought it would. "And since it’s only a trial run…" He shared another look with Clark before making the decision. “We have a deal.”

“Excellent!” Torum exclaimed, and he cooed at his wife in celebration. Zita and her mate grunted approvingly, nodding their heads at Bruce and Clark. 

They nodded back.

"I’m sorry for interrupting, Grug," Torum addressed the Furkanian as he and Elliada sat back down. “You were saying?”

“Let’s discuss the Aplion war now, since this subject is over now,” Grug replied tensely.

Defeated for the third time. Bruce could only imagine how angry he was right now. He and his wife organized the summit, and it was their job to make sure the newcomers would like to return next season.

And they couldn't even do that.

Bruce would lie if he said it didn't please him to see Furkanians humiliated. And judging by the mischievous twinkles in Clark's eyes, he was pleased too.

With the deal for Earth out of the way, Bruce and Clark could focus only on listening to the other couples, remembering every detail and relations.

They were going to be in the same seat next season after all.

They retreated to their room after the meeting, Clark smiling from ear to ear.

“That went well,” he summarized, making Bruce huff in amusement. "And you didn’t even think much about it.”

He really didn't.

“I trust Zita.”

“Really?” Clark asked.

Bruce nodded. “We had a very thoughtful chat earlier.”

That and the files on Grentians helped him make a decision. They had no known history of aggression or backstabbing their allies. They were peaceful species. Understandable given the state of their bodies.

“So did I and the generals,” Clark revealed. "I think Earth will be okay with that deal.”

“We’ll see.” It was a trial after all, they should use that to their advantage. "You’ll have to go protect the miners every now and then.”

“I have no problem with that,” Clark assured. "Unless the planet is under the red star,” he added with a chuckle that Bruce returned.

“Hal will be thrilled,” he noticed.

“He’ll get over it.” Clark looked around their room. “Looks like our little adventure is over.”

“Looks like it,” he confirmed, detecting a certain sadness in his friend's voice.

“It was fun,” Clark confessed, his smile smaller now, but somehow more genuine.

“It wasn’t as annoying as I thought it would be,” Bruce admitted in return.

Clark’s whole expression lit up, radiating pure joy.

“Glad you enjoyed spending time with me and being bunk buddies,” he said, patting Bruce's shoulder.

“More like your teddy bear,” Bruce pointed out.

Clark's smile turned abashed, and his face became bright red.

“You will never forget this, don’t you?” he asked.

“That you’re a cuddler? That doesn’t surprise me, but it is good blackmail material,” Bruce teased.

“Careful, Bruce, I know a lot of your secrets too,” Clark warned humorously.

“You’re too righteous to use them,” he noticed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Clark agreed, grinning. "But so do you. Unless it’s a life-or-death situation, and I can’t imagine ever being one that requires revealing my sleeping habits.”

“You’ll never know.”

“Well, whatever the case, at least Batman will now have a contingency plan for it too,” Clark said.

Bruce smiled. Clark knew him so well.

Not long after the meeting, Bruce and Clark were already packed for their return to Earth. Trix returned to take them to their ship and back home. 

Bruce hated the feeling of emptiness that accompanied him through it. It was officially over now, they didn't have to pretend to be a married couple, and they didn't.

Clark lost himself in a book to pass the time, while Bruce busied himself with a report on the mission. But no matter how hard he tried, his eyes kept returning to Clark on the opposite side of the couch.

It was strange to sit so far away from him. To not feel his heat, his strong body next to Bruce’s.

He didn't expect to get so attached to it in such a short time.

The longing he felt towards his friend was never as strong as right now, aching in his chest, refusing to be ignored.

Not this time, it seemed to say to him.

The whole League was in Watchtower to welcome them back. Flash even threw some confetti, much to Bruce displeasure.

“Welcome back, love birds!" Arrow greeted them with a blinding smile. “How was your little trip?”

"Productive,” Bruce replied, dusting the flakes of confetti from his shoulder. Clark had some in his hair and Bruce felt the urge to clean it for him, fingers twitching to do so.

"Is this really all you have to say about it?” Arthur asked with arms crossed.

Bruce had a lot to say about the mission, but a lot of it he wouldn't tell even if waterboarded. Those moments with Clark were his and his alone.

"It was fun,” Clark repeated his previous words. "We met a few potential allies, we secured a nice trading deal and Bruce broke an alien's face.”

Everyone turned to look at him, only slightly surprised.

"You couldn't stop yourself, couldn't you, Spooky?” Lantern teased.

Bruce shrugged. "He asked for it." 

“Well, as long as it won't end up with an intergalactic war, I think it's fine," Diana chuckled. “You must be tired, we will let you go home. You can tell us all about the mission tomorrow." 

They both nodded. Bruce was especially glad to be out of here soon. He needed to get away from Clark, at least for a little bit, to feel like himself again. He craved to feel the coolness of the Cave that would help him clear his mind.

And he wanted to check on Gotham, how Dick handled the patrols alone, and to make sure the Manor was still standing. 

The League congratulated them on their successful mission, some in a more teasing way than the other, and slowly left them alone.

Free to go, Bruce and Clark walked through the Watchtower to head back home.

“Wanna grab a coffee on the weekend?" Clark offered as they walked through the observation deck.

Unlike the deck of the space station, the one in Watchtower had a spectacular view, with blue Earth rotating slowly below. 

Bruce stopped, looking at Clark with a raised eyebrow. Three days spent together, and Clark still wanted to meet him for their daily catching up.

“You still don't have enough of me?" he asked.

His friend smiled at him. “Never." 

Bruce shook his head fondly. He knew why Clark was eager for his company, and he shouldn't encourage that. He should let Clark fall out of love as fast as possible.

For his own sake.

But out of his selfishness, Bruce was going to meet him for coffee and lunch as always.

“You're one of a kind, Clark.” His comment made Clark tilt his head in a sweet, confused way. "Even Alfred wouldn't want to spend this much time with me." 

The smile that Clark gave him was so affectionate it made Bruce's heart go crazy. 

“Alfred doesn't love you like I do," Clark whispered, and with one step, he was in Bruce's space, his hands cradling Bruce's face.

Clark gave him a moment to pull away, to deny him what he was about to do, but Bruce was too stunned to move. One beat later and there was no escape when Clark's lips met his in a tender kiss.

Bruce shuddered - a tremor so powerful it made him weak in the knees. Heat filled out his body, pooling in his chest where his heart pounded as if it was going to break through his chest. 

He never felt so out of control of his body as right now, when everything narrowed down to Clark - to his lips pressing firmly into Bruce's, the warmth of his palms framing his face lovingly.

It was everything Bruce ever imagined Clark's kiss would feel like - sweet, loving and absolutely perfect. And Bruce wanted more.

He wanted to wrap his arms around Clark and kiss him back. Drag him into his quarters in the Watchtower and let Clark love him fully.

He wanted to. So badly.

And he couldn't.

It wasn't going to last. Clark had no idea what he was doing, Bruce couldn't take advantage of him like that.

Couldn't let himself dream.

So he did none of the things he wanted, and Clark eventually pulled back, still smiling, completely unaware of the storm raging inside Bruce.

“See you on the weekend,” Clark whispered again, slowly letting go of Bruce's face.

“Yeah," he breathed out.

With one last smile, Clark walked away, and Bruce watched him go, his lips still tingling from the kiss his friend placed on them.

This was never supposed to happen. How was he going to forget about something like that? To move on from this?

“Damnit, Clark," Bruce whispered into silence.

Chapter Text

Bruce didn't meet with Clark on the weekend. 

In fact, he made sure to avoid Clark at all cost, and even when handing his report from the mission, he did so when he was certain the Kryptonian wasn't at the Watchtower.

He ignored every text Clark sent him and didn't pick up any of his calls, especially ones that began to come after he didn't arrive for lunch.

He felt terrible doing it to Clark, his friend must've been so confused by all of this. And hurt. The number of calls made it obvious. 

But it was for the best. Even if causing Clark pain brought Bruce his own suffering that he could barely stand. 

The whole situation was a mess. Bruce thought he was ready for the detox, but he underestimated how hard it would be.

Every second of the day, he kept thinking about the summit, about how close he was with Clark during it. Touching him, holding his hand, showering him with affection.

He woke up every morning missing the heat of Clark's body next to him, his scent. But it wasn't only that. He missed even the smallest things.

Breakfast together, hearing Clark's footsteps around, having his presence next to him at almost every given moment.

It was ridiculous. How weak fondness and love were making him.

And he could only blame himself for his misery. Not Clark who only responded to his advantages, only himself. It was exactly what he feared would happen. But not to this extent. 

No amount of distraction could make him stop thinking about the Kryptonian and how amazing it felt to be with him, even if just pretending. How good it was to finally feel his lips. 

He thought about him at work, on patrol, when working on the case. He thought about him every time he saw the sun shining, wondering if Clark was enjoying it. 

Despite trying his best, the amount of work he did ever since returning to Earth, both as a CEO and Batman, was pathetic.

And it showed. Lucius was complaining he was unusually distracted, Robin led the patrol as if he was still in charge while all Batman did was beat up criminals harder than usual. And Alfred kept looking at him like Bruce personally disappointed him. 

He probably did, but just like everything else about this situation, Bruce was ignoring it. Or trying to. He couldn't exactly ignore the pain, no matter the training he went through to suppress it. 

Pain of the soul was different from physical pain. Much different, but Bruce was familiar with it already since he was eight years old. He was used to it, he could handle it.

He had to.

Another day in the office went unproductive. Bruce spent some of it reading Clark's new article, one he worked on even before the mission. It was finally out, and it was good as always, exposing a bunch of businessmen for destroying the environment.

Bruce managed to answer a few emails, had a few calls, but he was aware the groundwork of running the company was done by Lucius and other board members.

It was as such for a week and a half already. Hopefully, Bruce would move on from the apathetic part of the grieving process soon and he could start feeling normal again. Or as normal as it was for him.

He left the office on time, and drove himself straight home, eager to lock himself in the Cave until patrol. He didn't really want to spend time with anyone, that's why he's been avoiding Dick and Alfred almost as much as Clark himself. 

The two's been dying to talk with him about his behavior. They meant well, but Bruce didn't need a conversation. He needed to just accept this new pain in his chest.

Bruce parked his car in the garage, and leaving his briefcase inside, he entered the Manor, intending to head to the Cave.

Alfred and Dick had a different idea. 

They waited for him in the foyer standing together - Alfred polite and professional as always, but Dick was didn't bother to hide his irritation, wearing the scowl proudly like a medal. 

“Clark called me," the teen said. "Again.”

Bruce hummed. "Did you have a nice chat?” he asked, trying to walk around them.

They simply blocked his path again, and unfortunately for him, they weren't scared of his glare.

"No, because every time he calls, he keeps asking about you, and I don't know what to tell him anymore,” Dick hissed, bristling.

"That I'm busy,” Bruce replied.

Clark's been calling him less than at the beginning, contacting Dick and sometimes Alfred instead to figure out what was going on.

Surprisingly, his friend didn't show up personally even once. Bruce was both glad for it, and a little hurt. Part of him expected Clark to barge in at some point and demand explanation on the silence.

Bruce's strategy seemed to be working already, if only a little bit. Once Clark would fall out of love, Bruce would explain his behavior to him, hopefully restoring their friendship that was taking the strain during all this.

“If I may, sir, saying that would be a lie," Alfred pointed out calmly. 

"Clark doesn't need to know that,” Bruce countered, attempting another escape.

Alfred stopped him with a palm on the chest.

"I have to disagree, Master Clark deserves nothing but truth," he insisted. “Whatever happened between you during the mission, you need to talk it out." 

“Nothing happened," Bruce growled, eyeing both the butler and Dick.

How much did Clark tell them when talking with them?

Dick rolled his eyes. “Sure, that's why you've been moping for the last week and a half, and Clark's been whining to me about how you avoid him." 

“Clark is a big boy, he can survive not being the center of my attention," Bruce told him, trying one more time to deter Dick with his glare.

Dick's glare was much worse right now. Nothing could match the fury of a teenager, not even Batman.

“Only it doesn't seem like he isn't," Alfred noticed with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce turned his gaze to the butler, and he immediately knew Alfred was aware of everything. And he most likely didn't need Clark to tell him a word. 

That didn't mean Bruce was now going to talk to him about this. If anything, he would avoid it even more now, not in the mood for schooling.

He wanted desperately to leave and hide in the Cave, but Alfred and Dick weren't done yet, watching him with determination.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Dick stated.

“Master Richard!” Alfred scolded him instantly.

The teen huffed. “Sorry, Al,” he apologized, giving Alfred a guilty look before turning to look at Bruce again, gaze hardened again. "You’re a bloody idiot.”

Alfred gave Dick a proud little smile. “Better.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Alfred. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, that’s why I’m agreeing with Master Dick,” Alfred explained. He had this disappointed look on him again. "You are a bloody idiot, sir. You have something wonderful with Master Clark and you're tossing it away.”

"I have nothing," he corrected, jaw clenched. “I went too far in my pretend game and made Clark think he's in love. That's all it is.”

Dick snorted. “I'm taking it back,” he told Alfred while pointing at Bruce. “He is a fucking idiot." 

“Dick," Bruce warned.

Even though the teen was doing it out of care, Bruce wasn't above grounding him right now for insulting him like that.

“No!” Dick shouted, marching over to Bruce and taking Alfred's role in blocking him. "You are! I'll say even more, you're not only an idiot, you're a blind idiot!” he fully exploded, stabbing Bruce in the chest with his finger. "Clark's been in love with you for ages. I was a kid when I met him and even back then I could tell something was going on." 

Dick was confident about his words. He really believed them. 

Bruce shook his head. “You're delusional." 

The teen's eyes grew large in surprise, staring up at him, before they filled with fire.

“The only one delusional is you," he snarled.

Bruce returned the determined gaze. “Let me pass," he demanded, voice low.

“No." 

Bruce was ready to use force to remove the teen from his way when Alfred stepped in, placing his hand on Dick's shoulder.

“Master Dick, step aside," he instructed, surprising the kid.

“But…”

"You won't get to him. I tried many times in the past,” Alfred told the teen. "Just let him brood by himself if that's what he wants.”

Dick let out a frustrated huff, not happy with the directions this intervention was taking, wanting to argue further. After sharing a look with Alfred, he stepped aside eventually, but he kept throwing daggers at Bruce.

"You better talk to Clark soon," he told Bruce with crossed arms. “He's my friend and I hate knowing he's hurting.”

"He'll get over it," Bruce promised him, walking past the teen whose eyes followed him.

"Not everyone is you,” he called after Bruce before he disappeared behind the grandfather clock.

Bruce walked down the stairs and went to change into his suit, leaving only the cowl off, dropping it at the workstation, right next to the Kryptonian flower.

Taking a seat in front of the computer, Bruce stared at the plant, still in the phase of growth, a single orange bud yet to blossom.

The cloning was a success, and in a few more days, the flower was going to bloom. Perfect time to present it to Clark, but after what happened, it would have to wait.

One day, Bruce would give it to him. Maybe as an apology gift. For tricking Clark into loving him, for ignoring him ever since.

Until then, the flower would remain here in the Batcave, safe and cared for - the only connection to Clark he allowed himself to have right now.

Chapter Text

“You know, usually when I think of Bruce, I think of him fondly,” Clark admitted to his friends, chewing on his slice of pizza. "Now I just want to punch him.”

Jimmy pulled away the bottle of beer from his lips. “You would kill him.”

Clark waved his hand dismissively. “Just a light tap.”

He didn't really want to hit Bruce. Sure, he was angry at him for the radio silence, but the last thing he would ever want to do would be hit Bruce.

Even if Bruce would be under control of some villain like Poison Ivy or hypnotized by some magic, Clark would still hesitate to punch him.

Clark felt Lois watching him. He sat between her and Jimmy, both invited by him to eat pizza and ice cream, drink beer and watch Brooklyn 99 on tv in his apartment.

No better way to spend Friday night, since his dreams of those being date nights crumbled before they even began.

So here he was, ready to spend another weekend healing his broken heart with food, friends and comedy.

He envied Captain Holt and his successful love life.

“Been a while since I saw you this pissed,” Lois noticed, nursing her own beer.

Clark drank too, even though he couldn't get intoxicated.

“Bruce can get on my nerves like no other,” he sighed in frustration.

“And in more ways than one,” Jimmy added.

This time the sigh that left him was one of fondness. Because even though he was angry at Bruce, he also still loved him as fiercely as ever. 

“I just don’t get it, guys,” he said, more sad rather than frustrated. "I know he feels something for me. I saw it. With my own eyes! And I felt it in every touch. This wasn’t part of the undercover, this was real. So why is he avoiding me now?”

He had a few theories. The one he favored over others was that Bruce got scared. But despite knowing the man for so long, Clark still couldn't understand some of Bruce's reasoning.

It usually didn't bother him if it was part of the superhero business, but this time it was about him! And he needed to know what was going on in Bruce's brilliant, but often backward working mind.

“Cause he’s Bruce Wayne?” Jimmy suggested.

“Because he’s an idiot?” Lois said right after.

Both Clark and Jimmy looked at her.

“What?” she questioned with a shrug. "Just calling it what it is.”

“He is an idiot,” Clark agreed, looking at the wall above the tv, where a framed photo of him and Bruce hung, taken a few years back at the Justice League Christmas party.

Bruce not only agreed to be embraced for a photo, but he also genuinely smiled when Diana took it.

Clark smiled now too.

“You said it affectionately," Jimmy noted with amusement.

Clark chuckled. “Because I still love him.”

And he would never stop.

“How much longer are you going to give him space?” Lois asked.

“I don’t know,” Clark answered. He thought a few days would be enough for Bruce to go through his panic, but apparently it wasn't. Something other than fear must've sprouted in Bruce's thick head. Clark had a bad feeling about it. "Until he finally reaches out first, I guess.”

“You gave him enough space to breathe if you ask me,” Lois stated. “Now it’s time to corner him.”

“I don’t want to scare him.”

Or rather make him lock himself in even more. From what Dick and Alfred's been telling him, Bruce’s been withdrawn after Clark's kiss and love confession. Cornering Bruce now could become the best or the worst solution to the problem.

But waiting, impatiently at that, for Bruce to reach out to him wasn't working, so maybe it was time to rip off the band-aid. Sometimes it was the only way to deal with Bruce, even if it was a nightmare to handle. Like giving a pill to a cat. 

But it would be worth it in the end. Because no matter what Bruce was going through, Clark had no doubt his friend loved him, he just needed a little push.

If a kiss wasn't enough, some words would have to do instead. Clark always loved a good conversation to resolve a problem. Bruce? Not so much. 

Oh well. Bruce had his chance to avoid a talk, he didn't take it. Now they would do it Clark's way.

“Then you’ll be waiting forever,” Lois decided, and Clark hated to admit she was right.

He never knew a more stubborn person than Bruce. Except his Pa.

Clark clearly inherited his taste in men from his Ma. 

“You’re probably right,” he muttered, glancing towards the window.

Jimmy noticed. “You want to go see him now.”

“I wanted to go see him the moment I lost him from my sight after returning from the summit,” Clark groaned, leaning back against the couch and staring at the ceiling.

Lois nudged him with an elbow. “Then go.”

Clark looked between them. He was the host, it would be rude to leave now. “What about you guys?”

“I’ll take your bed, Jimmy will sleep on the couch,” Lois replied, reaching for a slice of pizza.

“Why me?” Jimmy protested.

“I’m familiar with the bed,” she said simply and smirked. "I practically marked it.”

Clark snorted when Jimmy's face became bright red.

“Gross,” he complained. "I mean, hot, but gross.”

Lois and Clark laughed before Clark stood up from the couch, tossing the crust from his pizza back into the box on the coffee table.

Within a blink of an eye, he went to his bedroom, changed into his Superman suit, and returned to his friends who just finished blinking.

“Don’t break anything,” Clark warned them, opening the window to fly out.

“No promise,” Lois smiled and winked. Grinning, Jimmy gave him a thumb up.

"Go get your man from his self-loathing cavern,” he told Clark.

Clark smiled back at his friends and left, flying up high before rushing towards Gotham and Wayne Manor, a sonic boom exploding in the sky in his wake.

The Batcave was wide open, at least for those Bruce allowed to go in without invitation. Clark didn't encounter any security, which meant his friend wasn't actively locking himself away from him. 

It was a relief. On his way to Gotham, Clark briefly wondered if Bruce locked out the Cave to keep him away. If he didn't, be it subconsciously or deliberately, part of Bruce hoped for Clark to come to him.

He slowly flew through the dark tunnel, the security AI welcoming as always. He knew Bruce was inside still and not on the patrol, because he tracked his heartbeat.

Out of billions of similar sounds all over the world, Bruce's heartbeat was one of the few he could recognize and hear anywhere. It drew him like a moth to the flame.

Bruce already knew he was there, but he didn't turn to Clark when he entered the main cavern. He kept typing on the computer, focused on some old cases, five at once, because why not.

Clark hovered over the floor for a moment, just watching his friend. Being able to see Bruce again after almost two weeks was like a breath of fresh air. 

He desperately wanted to go to Bruce and wrap him in his arms, feel him against his body again.

He couldn't. Not yet. He needed to be careful, like with a cornered animal. 

Clark landed on the floor and greeted Bruce softly. “Hey, Bruce.”

The typing didn't stop. “Is it the League?”

Clark expected coldness, but the actual one still managed to surprise him. “I thought we were long past the stage when you thought I can’t visit you for you,” he questioned, slowly making his way towards Bruce.

He stopped when at the edge of the console, right next to Bruce's cowl, he noticed a familiar looking, orange flower.

“Is that…”

Bruce tensed in his seat. “Yes.” 

Giving Bruce a glance, Clark stopped next to him and the flower, touching the bud gently.

“You stole it?” he asked quietly.

They spent almost every second at the summit together, but there were a few times when his friend could've picked the flower.

Bruce answered without looking away from his work. “Cloned it.”

“Why?”

He needed to hear it.

Bruce's fingers flying over the keyboard faltered slightly, his voice posing as casual. “Thought you would want a piece of your home.”

Clark's chest tightened, so did his throat. He kept staring at the flower, petting the delicate bud that would soon bloom to reveal beautiful, orange petals.

That was one of the most touching and thoughtful gestures he ever experienced. And two other positions on the podium belonged to Bruce as well.

How was he supposed to not fall in love with this man? How could he only recently realize Bruce loved him back?

“Bruce, that’s…”

“What do you want?” Bruce cut him off immediately, stunning Clark into temporary silence.

Bruce just admitted to cloning a Kryptonian flower for him, and he still tried to shield himself from Clark.

It would've been funny if it wasn't so tragic that Bruce felt the need to do so.

“Talk,” Clark responded, facing Bruce fully.

Bruce didn't return the gesture. “About what?”

“About what happened on the mission,” he specified, crossing his arms over the S symbol on his chest.

“Nothing happened,” Bruce insisted, pretending to be working. "It was a success."

Clark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it was. Good job, team,” he faked a cheer. He stepped closer to Bruce's chair, but his friend stubbornly continued to ignore him. "But I’m not talking about business. I’m talking about feelings.”

“There were no feelings, it was all an act,” Bruce said, voice flat, devoid of emotions.

Clark grabbed the back of Bruce's chair and turned him around, forcing the other man to look at him. 

“Was it?” he asked. “Because I felt otherwise.”

He looked at Bruce's face, perfectly blank, eyes too. He was hiding within himself.

“I’m sorry that I misled you,” Bruce replied, still in that monotone voice.

Clark’s brows furrowed. “Is that what you think it is?”

It wasn't fear of entering a serious relationship, or relationship with a coworker and longtime friend. It was the lack of belief in Clark's feelings. 

How could Bruce doubt that? Didn't he feel what Clark felt during the summit? 

“Isn’t it?” Bruce questioned.

“No, it ain’t. Not on my part,” he swore. “And certainly not yours either.”

“I was pretending to be your husband, Clark,” Bruce pointed out. "Don’t look too much into it.”

“So did I. And we were scarily good at it. Being a couple.”

It all felt too real to be just a game for show. Bruce was a good actor, his whole civilian persona was one, big act. But Clark knew what he saw. What he felt whenever Bruce grabbed his hand. When Bruce stood up for him to protect him from being objectified.

He didn't get to pretend now all that was nothing.

“Because we’re both adults with past relationships,” Bruce explained, not even one unwanted twitch of muscles on his face. "We know what it looks like.”

“Yeah, it looked convincing,” Clark agreed. "But it felt convincing too. You honestly didn’t feel a thing from me?”

There it was, at last. A beat of hesitation.

“There was nothing to feel,” Bruce said stubbornly.

Clark could be stubborn too if he wanted to.

“That’s funny. Because I’m in love with you,” he confessed simply, and heard Bruce's heart skipping a beat. Another crack. Clark continued. "I’ve been for years. I thought I could hide it during the mission but turns out I’m not that good at hiding my true feelings, especially when I had to act on them for show. I tried, but the longer I had to pretend, the more of them bled out of me. And you’re too good at noticing and reading people to think it wasn’t genuine. That it was just an act.”

Bruce was clenching his jaw so hard Clark could hear his teeth grinding together. “It was an act.”

“Not for me.”

It never even began to be an act. And neither for Bruce, no matter how much he insisted otherwise.

“You’re just confused, Clark,” Bruce explained gently, as if speaking to a child. Clark’s eyes narrowed. "It’s been a while since you’ve been in a relationship or even had a one-night stand.”

Clark gaped at him. “I’m not even gonna ask how you know that.”

“Because you would’ve told me,” Bruce said. “Because we have lunch together almost weekly.”

“Exactly!” Clark exclaimed. "We’ve been spending so much time together for years. You know how I act when I’m just friendly.”

And what he did during the summit was far from friendly. He wouldn't do even half those things with Hal or Diana, or anyone else from the team, even if only pretending.

He did all those romantic gestures and allowed Bruce to do the same because he wanted to, not for the sake of the mission.

“If you’re in love with me, why didn’t you do anything earlier?” Bruce asked. "Why now?”

“Because I didn’t know you loved me back,” Clark explained.

“And you do now?” he questioned.

“Yes, because I witnessed it.” 

Bruce shook his head. “It was an act. Too good, apparently if it worked so well on you to convince you you’re in love with me.”

The condescending tone was getting on Clark's nerves. He clenched his fists in anger. 

“Convince me?” he repeated in disbelief. "Do you think I’m stupid?”

Bruce watched him. “You can be foolish.”

Clark stepped closer, trapping Bruce in his chair. “Do you think I’m stupid, Bruce?” he asked again, leaning over the other man with a hardened expression.

Bruce didn't flinch or get scared, but this wasn't Clark's intention. He just wanted to force him to stop lying.

To Clark, to himself.

“No,” Bruce admitted finally.

Clark's expression immediately softened. He took a step back, leaving Bruce's personal space to let him breathe.

“Then why do you think I can’t recognize and name my own emotions?” he asked. He knew Bruce wasn't being rational right now, but it still hurt to have your best friend treat you like you’re some little child. 

“It’s not some silly, puppy crush because you flirted with me a little and held my hand,” Clark continued calmly. For the sake of both of them. This conversation didn't need screaming and anger. "I’m not a child, it takes more for me to fall head over heels for someone. And I know when it’s temporary and when it’s here to stay.”

Bruce stared at him, and Clark wanted to reach for him, grab his hand and start showing him the seriousness of his words, not only speak them.

“And my love for you is here to stay because I’ve been loving you for years,” he confessed, dropping the arms from his chest. "Why is it so hard to believe I could love you? Really love you?”

Clark watched Bruce's face and eyes lose their calmness and composure. Now he looked tired. Not in his usual way, but as if years of suppressing his emotions, his feelings towards Clark finally caught up to him. 

“Because when I let myself get attached, it will hurt more when you leave than it hurts now,” he said quietly and stood up, turning his back to Clark.

“Bruce…”

His friend began to pace, head hung low.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he started talking, words lined with frustration, but at who? Clark couldn't tell. He wasn't even sure who Bruce was talking to right now. “Acting with your heart instead of mind?”

“Bruce,” he tried again, more firmly, walking towards the other man.

Bruce turned suddenly, facing Clark, and the rare, raw vulnerability on his friend's face made him step back in surprise.

“It’s been a few days and I’m still missing the heat of your body next to mine in bed,” Bruce let the words flow. “I miss waking up with you next to me. I miss spending every waking hour together. I miss your hand in mine. And it was only three days!”

Bruce stood in front of him, shaking, as if every word were draining him, taking a lot of effort to finally reveal them to the one he hid them from.

There was fear in his eyes - such a rare emotion to witness on someone who used it as a weapon. 

Clark took a step closer towards him, ready to catch him. He himself didn't speak, not yet. He could tell Bruce wasn't done and didn't want to interrupt him.

Bruce's heavy breathing echoed in the cave for a few seconds until the voice returned to him. “I can shake off when you touch my shoulder after a mission or hug me. But I can’t shake this,” he revealed, softer than previously, but not less genuinely. "I thought the distance would help but it only made it worse. And now you came here, proclaiming your love for me…” Bruce looked away from him, shaking his head. “I can’t do it, Clark.”

Clark watched Bruce for the smallest sign of protest as he approached him again, careful of every step until he was right in front of him.

“Not alone, you can’t,” he told Bruce, finally letting himself touch the other man. He gently grabbed his hand and began to take off his gauntlet. "I love you, Bruce," he said again, dropping the gauntlet to the floor. 

Bruce's palm was trembling slightly when Clark laced their fingers together, but he didn't pull it away.

It felt good to hold Bruce's hand again, and when the other man squeezed Clark's palm just slightly, Clark smiled.

“It’s not confusion, it’s not a childish crush. It’s love,” he assured, looking at their joined hands between them. He stroked Bruce's knuckles tenderly, fully healed by now. “And if you feel even slightly the same, and I know you do because I’ve seen it, then I want us to explore it. All those things you miss. I miss them too.”

Bruce slowly started to look at him again, his grey-blue eyes less scared and more hopeful.

“I want to give it a chance. Us,” Clark whispered, lifting Bruce's hand and pressing his lips to it. Bruce’s breath hitched, and his heart raced. Just like Clark's. “Please, Bruce. You know I would never hurt you that way.”

If he wasn't certain about them, he would never pursue this relationship. He would never risk exposing Bruce to another heartache.

“I know you won’t,” Bruce replied, voice steady, confident. "I trust you.”

Clark smiled. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, bringing his other hand to Bruce’s face, hovering it over his cheek. Wanting to touch but waiting to be allowed. "For real this time?”

He let out a gasp when Bruce willingly leaned into his touch, eyes half closed.

“Was it not real last time?” he asked with a tad of humor.

Clark chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bruce looked him straight in the eyes. “You can kiss me, Clark.”

That's all the permission he needed.

It was even better than the first time, because this time, Bruce returned the kiss, his hand tangled in the hair on the back of Clark's head - seeking more contact.

They stepped towards each other at the same time, bodies pressed together. There was no lust behind the kiss, just tenderness and love they could finally share - no pretending, no doubt and no fear.

Not anymore.

Clark could barely contain his joy bubbling in his chest. He fought the urge to envelope Bruce in his arms and lift them up into the air to continue the kiss there.

There would be time for this in the future. For passion, for heat, for overwhelming joy. For now, he just enjoyed this - Bruce's lips moving against his, the warmth of his body, the squeeze of his palm. 

Clark would be happy with just this for the rest of his life. Just being able to kiss Bruce, hold his hand, call him his. It already was everything he ever wanted, and it was just the beginning.

It took a long while before they pulled away, none willing to do so, not when they waited so long for this. But even when they stopped kissing, they didn't pull away from each other.

They rested their foreheads together, unwilling to separate. Clark's whole body longed to be close to Bruce, who opened his eyes to look at him.

“What have you done to me, Clark?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.

“What?” Clark was confused. "What did I do?”

“All those years I put all those walls around me to keep everyone, including you, away, and you sneaked in anyway,” Bruce explained, sounding amazed by Clark's feat.

Clark grinned smugly. “There is no wall Superman can’t get through.”

Bruce smiled. “I should’ve used kryptonite.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have left the door open,” he suggested with a chuckle. "I’m hardly the first person you let in. You leave a door for people to come in because you want them to do so. I just made myself cozy in there.”

He tapped Bruce's chest, right above his heart - steadily beating with love.

“That you did,” Bruce agreed, giving Clark a small, but loving smile.

Clark returned it immediately. “Wanna go on a date?”

Bruce was briefly surprised by his question, before huffing in amusement.

“From marriage to a simple date. How the mighty have fallen,” he concluded with humor.

“We went a little backward,” Clark admitted. “So, about that date…”

He managed to surprise Bruce again. “You want to go now?”

Clark shrugged. “Yeah.”

It was still early, and it was Friday night, so a lot of establishments were open. Plenty of places to choose from, both in Gotham and Metropolis, even without reservation. 

He could stay mad at Bruce a little longer. Show him that what he did wasn't okay, but Clark wasn't the one to hold a grudge and even if he was, they wasted enough time dancing around each other, unaware of their feelings.

Clark wanted to finally enjoy it.

“I was about to go on a patrol,” Bruce informed him, glancing towards where he left the cowl. His gauntlet was still laying on the floor of the Cave just beside them.

“Dick can take over. He did an excellent job while we were away from what I’ve seen.”

And from what Dick himself told him, bragging about all the criminals he busted during Batman's absence.

“He did,” Bruce confirmed proudly. "You know he’s at the top of the stairs listening in, right?”

“Shit!” they heard Dick's voice coming from the direction Bruce mentioned. When they looked there, the teen’s head popped from behind a corner, a sheepish smile on his blushing face. "By the way, congrats!” he yelled before running away from the Cave.

“Yeah, I know,” Clark confirmed with a laugh. "So? Date?”

He wouldn't take it as a bad sign if Bruce said "no”. He was still Batman and had a sense of duty in him, but Clark really hoped for a “yes". Kissing Bruce was amazing, being this close to him now was even better, but he missed spending time with him like they always did. 

But this time it wouldn't be just talking and sharing a drink or food. During this meeting, they could hold hands and kiss and cuddle. 

It would be a date. A real date.

Because they weren't just friends anymore, they were a couple.

Clark was practically vibrating with excitement, and he was sure Bruce could feel it.

He didn't care and wasn't embarrassed by it. He was too happy to care if he looked or acted foolish. Bruce wouldn't judge him anyway. Just tease, but that was something they just did between each other.

“Fine,” Bruce agreed, and Clark was so happy to hear it he grabbed Bruce's face in both hands and kissed him.

“Give me a second, I’ll wash and change,” he said, already pulling away to fly back to Metropolis.

“Is the second literal or figurative?” Bruce asked.

“Well…”

Bruce smiled. “Give me ten minutes,” he told Clark and gave his lips a light peck. Clark's feet already left the floor. “I need to wash and change too.”

“Great.” He let go of Bruce and took off fully, floating towards the direction Batcave’s mouth was. “See you in ten minutes, honey!” he called to Bruce and flew out.

Once he left the tunnel, he shot up into the sky with a loud cheer before heading to Metropolis to get ready for his date with Bruce.