Chapter Text
Mr. Perry White had been informed of the arrangement the day of the Gala itself. He ultimately decided that Clark could leverage this and write a Bruce Wayne feature article, regarding the rebuilding of Gotham and how Metropolis can power through times like this.
The call itself came 3 days later, after Clark had returned from defeating yet another extraterrestrial creature.
He was slumped against the chair, breathing deeply as he rested his eyes. The afternoon light filtered through the gaps of the fortress, rejuvenating him almost instantly. A smile plastered on his face as he recalled with great tenderness an interaction he had with a child who had proclaimed him his hero that day. It has never tired him to hear such. Then, a ring reverberated throughout the fortress, snapping him out.
“ XXX-XXX-XXX is phoning you, Superman. Call located in Wayne Tower. Caller Unknown.” #5’s voice spoke over the constant ring. Clark’s eyes shot open as he sat up, asking to answer it. He pursed his lips expectantly.
A voice twinged with an accent came through.
“Good afternoon, Mr Kent. This is Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne’s Butler. I am calling to schedule a meeting with you, as per Mr Wayne’s request.”
“Ah, yes—“ Clark cleared his throat, dropping his ‘Superman’ voice. “ Ah, yes. Mr Wayne and I had spoken at the Gala earlier this week. He has informed me it would be his assistant calling, however—“
“I take on many roles as Mr Wayne’s butler. He has no assistant other than me, as far as I can recall, Mr Kent. Now, would the following Thursday 1 pm be alright with you? This meeting can take place here at the Tower. I will email you regarding the details. Lunch will be prepared, so, if you wish.”
Clark went on to discuss the details with Alfred Pennyworth for no more than 10 minutes.
When the silence of the ended call hung in the air, Clark stood in front of the monitors, surveying the blank blue screens. His mind was adrift, deep in contemplation. After a seemingly endless pause, Clark began typing, and soon the hours unfolded into a deep dive into Bruce Wayne’s life.
He had at least a hundred Batman articles pulled up by then, cross-referencing dates, times and events. Titles such as “Bat freak scours the streets of Gotham” to “The Batman: Who is he really?” lay bright and white on his screen, and Clark read through every single one.
He scrutinised the timeline Mr Wayne’s lived, from his years abroad to other interviews regarding him. What was his state of mind after his parent’s death? ( That’s all everyone seemed to talk about, really ) How did he heal from this trauma and what had he done abroad? ( Wayne always seemed to give some vague answer that made Clark’s eye twitch at the secrecy )
Mr Wayne had avoided showing his face to the public until after the mayoral election ( and flood ) in Gotham 3 years back. He has taken part in more fundraisers and publicly donated money to charity since. He seemingly had a more charismatic personality then he let on, with every image of him showing that magnetic smile of his. Clark found himself smiling back.
It was all just research for his interview, Clark told himself.
Bruce Wayne was wealthy beyond measure. It was clear he has used his wealth to build military grade weapons for his quest as Batman. ( Clark was starting to wonder who was supplying his endless supply of Batmobiles. ) His schedule was nonstop. Days as Mr. Wayne, nights as Batman. Rarely a wink of sleep.
Clark bit his lips. He still lacked understanding as to why Mr. Wayne would choose to pursue being Batman. He had everything he required, why jeopardise that to scour the streets at night for dangerous criminals?
Clark, after all, was more surprised at why a goddamn Billionaire would choose to help people like this. In his line of journalism, ( and after that sorry encounter with Luthor ) it’s not often you’d see Billionaires pouring out millions to just help people. Both directly and indirectly.
Of course, the death of his parents might be a push factor. Motivation propelling him to keep the streets of Gotham safe from whatever he’d experienced.
Clark may as well be overthinking it, and this thinking also seemed hypocritical of him. He was the one who had proclaimed that no one required a reason to help, after all. He can recall with great fondness that from his time with Batman, he understood that the vigilante harboured deep care regarding humanity in general, no matter how much his cold, uncaring nature showed against it.
He sighed, choosing to stretch at last, and saving all his findings into a folder and two backup copies.
He pulled up two photos he had saved earlier of Wayne and Batman and just stared at them. He stared hard.
It was hard for him to study the stark similarities with the mask covering ¾ of his face, but Clark could see the shared softness of his jaw. His eyes traced up to his eyes, and God, he had the prettiest and tender eyes he’s graced upon. His eyelashes always seemed to flutter dangerously when he scowled, and the stark whites of his eyes stood blazing against the black backdrop of his mask. His lips looked soft and pliable. His personality was truly unlike his appearance.
Clark leaned back in the swivel chair he had pulled up. He had been sat in front of the screens for way longer than he intended, and the afternoon air had seeped into the night. The light from the screens was the only illumination left ( he had unknowingly ignored Gary’s question about whether he wanted the lights on ) and he rubbed his eyes. He lingered on the images a while longer before a message popped up on one of the screens;
“ Gotham needs assistance. - BM “
Clark let a smug smile crack. He wouldn’t admit to needing help himself ever, but it pleasured him to see him reach out like this. He closed the tabs with the photos and sighed contentedly.
_____________
“ Took you long enough, “ The gruff voice he’s all too familiar with called out.
Clark landed softly next to him. He had tracked him down using his heartbeat and found him standing on the edge of the same building the Batsignal rested on. Batman made no effort to tell him where he was anyways, Clark always found him.
Batman was staring forlornly over the building down onto Gotham. He made no effort to make eye contact or turn to Clark.
“ Hey B, got your message, “ Clark responded with an upbeat tone, only receiving a tiny grunt in return.
As Clark’s eyes traced over the man, he recalled Wayne’s flirt with him from earlier that week. It wasn’t even a great big deal, but to see that shy face speak such words… It had him thinking. Was that really how Bruce Wayne tended to be? A flirt by day, and doing a complete 180 to a vigilante by night?
Suddenly his mind put this image of Batman is Wayne’s position in his replay of his flirting attempt and Clark could do nothing but choke back down a surprised noise.
“Superman? I would appreciate if you were listening to what I have to say,” Batman’s voice cut through his haze. He glanced back at him to realise that the Bat was now facing him, his eyes squinting and teeth in a confused snarl.
Clark realised he wore an odd expression on his face. He breathed in sharply, “Sure, sorry, go ahead,” his voice came in through an embarrassing voice crack. His face could not have flushed a darker shade of red.
If Batman had noticed it, he had chosen to ignore it altogether.
“As I was saying, two new metahumans showed up. They proclaim themselves ‘Gotham’ and ‘Gotham Girl’. From what i’ve been able to uncover, they seem like siblings. They also possess almost the same powers as you. They… do not seem to carry any harm intentions thus far and are more superheroes than anything else …however i would like to study your abilities to understand what threat they could possess nonetheless,” Batman went on.
Clark nodded along as Batman explained what he wished to do. Batman always had a straightforward plan that Clark would always listen to with his mouth slightly agape. It was all simple, but Clark always holds a blazing admiration for the man’s genius. Before he knew that Batman’s rant of a plan was over, he was asking him to follow overhead as they made their way to the Batcave.
The Batcave ran under the entire city. It was an ecosystem of literal caves, and Batman had utilised it and hidden it efficiently so it goes vastly undetected. His entrances were strategically placed, such that no one could stumble upon it on accident.
Clark had been in the Batcave before, and he had lost count of the number of entrances it possessed. Batman would always ride his motorcycle to each of the hidden entrances while Clark flew close by.
This entrance, like the rest, was new to him. The cave walls were wide and high, and no place was the same as the other. Batman led Clark through a series of passageways until they reached an opening to another cave. He dragged Clark in, signalling him to sit on a table as he probed him with a myriad of questions.
This was not the first Batman has experimented on Clark’s alien nature. He always seemed to hold some curious fascination with it, and would sometimes drop in some queries while they were in the middle of missions. Clark loved to see his eyes glint and light up with a feigned seriousness when he discovered something new about him.
There were charts, pictures of the two metahumans Batman spoke of paired with remarkable anatomical drawings. They were all put up on a cork-board and Clark could not have been more fond of this man.
Clark watched as Batman wrote down whatever he replied in a tiny journal. He watched his focused eyes, fixating on the page before him and refusing to turn in Clark’s direction.
There was not a word between them for a moment. Only the sound of pen scratches filled the open air.
Batman stopped writing, pausing, and his eyes darted to lock with Clark’s. Clark froze up immediately.
Batman did not say a word as his gaze lay unfaltering. Clark took in a shaky breath, brows furrowing at what was going on. The air between them lay hot and heavy. Batman clicked his jaws, thinking, calculating, and narrowing his eyes. His eyelashes fluttered and stood against his mask as he did so. He seemed deep in thought about something else entirely.
Clark considered speaking up, asking if he was okay or if he needed anything else, yet his throat closed up on him.
Batman made his way to Clark slowly, until his face was only inches from his. He felt his breath on his skin and it was making him so so giddy. What the fuck?
Batman raised his hand to Clark’s chin, lifting it up slightly and manoeuvring it left to right, studying it. And Clark was there letting his brain run rampant, counting every damned second in his head. His heart pumped heavily against his chest and he couldn’t hear another thing. A flush creeped down his cheeks and—
Batman looked away, dropping his hand and turning his body with an approving grunt. He sounded amused.
“ You may take your leave now, “ and it was over.
Clark fumbled a goodbye to Batman, and managed to find an exit to shoot off into the night sky.
Fuck. fuck. He was so fucked. Who knew his mind would run wild like a damn teenage boy just from being handled by Batman like that? Yet, the feeling didn’t feel too foreign. Like it’s just been buried alive, deep within him.
He stilled, taking in a breath of the midnight air, and listened.
Why does Batman’s heartbeat sound as fast as his own?