My Guilty Pleasure

Fic: Table For Two, (An Intermission)

2007-05-27T21:33:25Z

And now a quick intermission in the ongoing First Time For Everything series. I actually don't know what the real name of this full series is going to be, but for now we'll go with that.

I wanted to have a little interaction between Bruce and Harvey Dent, without it interfering with the quality Bruce/Clark time. So I wrote this little vignette to bridge parts 2 and 3 (coming soon). I wanted to give a little more meat to the Sal Maroni storyline, especially since we know that the trial will not end well for poor Harvey, if canon has taught us anything (acid in the face!!!). That stupid new picture of the movie version of Harvey Dent really crushed my enthusiasm for this vignette. He just doesn't look as sexy as I'd hoped. So I would suggest maybe picturing someone other than Aaron Eckhart here. I was.

So here we go with a quick dinner date between Harvey and Bruce. Part Three is in the works. I plan on making it the final installment. Probably.

Title: Table For Two, An Intermission
Pairing: Bruce/Kal (implied), Bruce/Harvey (implied), Harvey/everyone (implied)
Rating: PG-13 or something (language)
Word Count: 1323
Summary: After Bruce gets back from Metropolis, he meets with Harvey Dent for dinner for the first time since his old friend became District Attorney. Conversation happens.

Bruce made sure he was at least fifteen minutes late for his dinner date with Harvey Dent. He had to maintain the illusion of breezy playboy. He also had to keep in mind that, though Batman had met with Dent several times in the past couple of months, this was the first time Bruce had seen his friend since Harvey had become Gotham's youngest ever District Attorney.

Despite his careful timing, Bruce was surprised to find himself waiting alone at the secluded table for two for almost twenty minutes. He couldn't help but be concerned. He was about to pull out his phone when he finally saw Harvey enter the restaurant. He watched him stride toward the table, smiling as he noticed Bruce. Bruce stood to meet him, extending his hand.

"Harvey," he said. His friend ignored the hand and went in for a full embrace, even thumping Bruce on the back a couple of times.

"Bruce! It's good to see you again. Listen, I'm sorry I'm late, I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"No, I-"

"I'd like to be able to say that I have a noble excuse for my tardiness, but I'm afraid I can't. The truth, Bruce, is that," Harvey leaned in and whispered between his teeth, "My love life is a little crowded at the moment." When he pulled back, Bruce could see the familiar sparkle in Harvey's eye, and that same wicked grin that got Bruce in trouble all those times in college.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I didn't expect it to, Brucie. You know me. I'm all about balance...and equal opportunity."

Bruce smirked. "And who are the lucky two? Each of whom, of course, assuming that they are the love of Harvey Dent's life."

"One is the lovely Selina Kyle, who I believe you are quite familiar with if the gossip columns are true."

"They rarely are, but, yes. I know Selina."

"She's really something, Bruce."

"I know."

"The funny thing," Harvey said as he took his seat, "is that she's obsessed with the Maroni trial. Always asking me questions. I've got to say, not what I expected."

"Well, she has a brain. I know that may come as a shock to you."

Harvey ignored Bruce's comment and leaned forward across the table.

"The other one, and the reason why I'm late, is a rookie cop. Bruce, you should see him. Beautiful, and so full of hope it's heartbreaking. It's so rare to find anyone with an unbroken spirit in this town."

Bruce took a sip of water, studying his friend. He always had a playful, disheveled look to him, even in the courtroom. This could usually be attributed to the fact that Harvey had just fucked someone. Even now, Bruce felt himself drawn in by the gleam in his friend's hazel eyes, and the soft wave of his chestnut hair. He was quite stunning. For an Earthling.

"It's nice to know you haven't changed, Harv."

"So, what about you, Bruce. Breaking any hearts?"

"We can talk about me later. Let's order. I'm starving."

Bruce kept the conversation focused on Harvey's job during the meal, hoping to avoid discussing his own life. Fortunately, with Harvey, it wasn't hard to do.

"Bruce, we have so much on Maroni right now," Harvey said excitedly, waving a chunk of asparagus around on his fork, "so many witnesses coming out of the cracks, he's never getting out of jail. When this trial is over, he's finished."

Bruce noticed Harvey evenly dividing the food on his plate into two halves. It was strange behaviour, but he didn't say anything.

"And all it took was the best District Attorney this town's ever seen," Bruce said.

"I wish I could take all the credit, but I have to admit, I had some pretty outstanding, if not bizarre, help."

"Are you talking about this mysterious Batman fellow?"

"You're going to think I'm crazy, but that's exactly who I'm talking about. I've seen him, Bruce. I've talked to him. As close to him as you are to me right now."

"You're kidding," Bruce was enjoying himself now, "And what does he look like. Wings? Fangs? Red glowing eyes?"

"No. None of that. He's just a man in a costume, Bruce. I mean, he must have some sort of superpowers, but he's definitely a man."

"So it's probably safe to assume you've slept with him," Bruce joked.

"Very funny, but I don't do crazy."

"You think he's crazy?"

"Of course! He dresses like a bat!" Harvey took a moment to even the food out on his plate, "That doesn't mean he isn't doing a good job cleaning up this town, though."

"So you're ok with what he's doing? Doesn't it conflict with the law and order you're sworn to uphold."

"I don't expect you to understand this, Bruce, but being the DA of Gotham City really makes you re-think the difference between right and wrong. This Batman guy might not play by all the rules, but in the end he's taking down the bad guys, and he hasn't killed anyone. I don't mind looking the other way."

"How do you know he hasn't killed anyone?"

"I suppose I don't," Harvey frowned, "But I believe he hasn't. I don't think he would. He just wants people to think he would."

Bruce was warmed by his friend's words, even if he couldn't show it. If this was how Harvey viewed Batman, then Bruce was doing something right.

"Besides," Harvey continued, smiling, "I don't think we could bring him in if we wanted to. I wouldn't want to be the cop that tried."

Bruce laughed, grateful to have an authentic reason to.

"So," Harvey said, pointing his fork at Bruce, "You still haven't told me about your love life."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off.

"And don't say there's nothing to tell," Harvey warned, "You know I won't believe that."

"Actually, I was going to say that there is someone."

"Someone?"

"Yes."

Harvey raised an eyebrow. "You say there is someone and to me that means it's serious. We're not talking about the usual Wayne arm decoration, are we?"

"No. We're not," Bruce said, annoyed, "You jackass."

"Well, who is she?"

Bruce leaned back in his chair, smirking. Harvey studied him a moment before his eyes widened. He then suddenly, and very loudly, slapped the table with his hand.

"You're dating a man!"

"Jesus, keep it down, Harv."

"Sorry," Harvey whispered, leaning in, "But, you have to tell me about him."

"Fine, just shut up."

"So, you're actually dating a man. Not just fucking a man. We're talking about dinner and movies here, right?"

"Yes," Bruce said in a low voice, "I mean, I think so. There might be...that stuff."

"Well?"

Bruce smiled, "He's from Metropolis. He lives there. He's a reporter. I...I don't know how much I should disclose. We haven't really talked about...this whole thing..."

Harvey smiled, "God damn, Bruce. This is exciting. You're clearly crazy about the guy. I can tell."

"Yeah."

"So you're happy?"

Bruce considered this a moment. When was the last time anyone used that word to describe him?

"Yeah," Bruce said slowly, realizing for the first time that it just might be true, "I think I am."

Harvey rested a hand on Bruce's arm across the table. "That's all I ever wanted for you, Bruce. You know that, right?"

"I know, Harvey. You've always been a good friend. Even after...everything."

Harvey studied the table for a moment. Bruce could tell he was searching for words.

"Listen, Bruce. I know that things were weird between us, after we..."

"It's ok, Harvey. We don't need to talk about it now."

"I know. I just want to say...I never regretted it. And I'm glad we could move past it. I would hate to lose your friendship."

Bruce rested a hand on top of Harvey's. "You won't, Harvey. I promise."

Fic: On Second Thought

2007-04-27T02:17:59Z

Ohmygod it's finally done. The sequel to First Time For Everything, which I have been trying to write since December. This is part two of a three-part story. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to write more. Sorry it took so damn long.

Title: On Second Thought
Author: evangelene
Email: evangelene.fic@gmail.com
Pairing: Batman/Superman (Begins/Returns movieverse)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, sex, a little violence
Wordcount: 10,360
Summary: About two months into Bruce's decision to limit his and Kal's time together to one night per year, Bruce has second thoughts.

He had made the right decision.

There was no reason for Bruce to even keep telling himself this. He couldn't afford distractions, and Kal was a definite distraction. Bruce knew when he started his mission that his own happiness would always come second. If that.

"You're mine."

Kal's words from that night looped in Bruce's brain. Kal's arrogance grated him. He knew it was just bedroom talk, crazy with lust and

not to be taken seriously, but the words haunted him. Two words whispered between dark, wet lips. Deep blue eyes locked on Bruce's own, giving the words substance and turning them into a promise. Bruce belonged to Kal, and maybe Kal even belonged to Bruce.

Bruce cut off this train of thought for the hundredth time. Shook his head. Arrogant. The alien was so arrogant.

He had made the right decision. And he was making the criminals of Gotham pay for it.

---

By removing Falcone, Batman had only made things easy for Salvatore Maroni. Maroni was now the reigning crime lord of Gotham, and Bruce was devoting himself to relieving him of this title. Crime had recoiled after Falcone. Even the police department was looking half-way respectable. There was no way Bruce was going to let things go back to the way they were. Ever again.

Heroin had flooded back onto the streets, and Bruce couldn't understand how that had happened under his nose. It infuriated him.

He slammed his fist on the console of his newly-upgraded computer system.

"How can I stop this?" he growled.

"Sir?"

"Every time I think I'm getting ahead..."

"If I may, sir, no one ever suggested that you could single-handedly put an end to crime in Gotham."

Bruce ignored him.

"Maroni's obviously got inside help. Police officers. Possibly even the mayor's office..."

Alfred cleared his throat. "Master Bruce, I've tried to hold off as long as possible, but I'm concerned for your well-being, sir. These past few weeks you have been...more driven than usual. You have hardly been eating or sleeping, and I believe it is affecting your health."

"My health is fine."

"I was thinking more of your mental health, sir."

Bruce spun in his chair to face Alfred.

"You think I'm crazy?"

"Of course not. I simply..."

"You simply what, Alfred?! You think I should just turn my back on my city? Spend my days golfing and my nights clinking glasses with morons? I was under the impression that you understood the importance of my mission. I never imagined that you're just laughing at me behind my back."

Alfred's voice was stern. "Master Bruce, please get over yourself. I shouldn't have to tell you that everything you are saying is utter nonsense. Yelling at me like this insults you."

Bruce stayed silent.

"And on that note," Alfred continued, "Your mood lately has been abysmal, even for you. I already raised a sullen teenager, and have no interest in doing it again."

Bruce huffed and rolled his eyes. "So what exactly is the point that you're making, Alfred?"

"That perhaps it's time you rely on your allies more. When's the last time you consulted with Commissioner Gordon? Or...your friend Clark Kent?"

"Alfred-"

"I believe he was a good influence on you. When he was here, you seemed relaxed. Even happy."

"I don't have time to be relaxed and happy."

"I hope you don't mean that, sir. I think your parents would be very disappointed to hear you say that."

Bruce stood. "You know I'm doing this for them."

"And it's very noble, sir, but it doesn't mean that you can't take time for yourself."

As far as Bruce was concerned, that's exactly what it meant, but he was tired of arguing. He agreed with one thing Alfred said. He should talk to Gordon.

"Another matter I've been meaning to bring up, sir. My vacation. I believe I'll take it next week, if it's alright with you."

"Vacation?"

"Yes, sir. The one you gave me for Christmas. Unless, of course, you need me to stay."

"No. It's fine. Go. Take two weeks, for all I care."

"I think not, sir. I shudder to think what the dust situation in the library might look like were I absent that long."

Bruce wasn't going to argue that. Dusting books would likely be pretty low on his priority list.

He pulled the cowl down over his face.

"Going out again, sir?"

"Yes."

"Would I be able to persuade you to take a sandwich?"

Bruce sighed.

"Fine. Bag it up. I'll try to remember to eat it."

---

Bruce was always careful to make sure that he didn't enjoy himself when he was working. It wasn't supposed to be fun, just necessary. Despite this determination, he couldn't help but get a little bit of pleasure from surprising Jim Gordon on a regular basis.

He had been in the corner of Gordon's office, concealed in the shadows, for over twenty minutes. Gordon had been in his office for the last eight of those, on the phone about a planned heroin bust. Bruce watched him rub his eyes after he hung up before he made his presence known.

"I should have brought coffee."

"Jesus Christ!" Jim yelled, jumping and spinning to face Batman.

"Sorry to startle you."

"You know, I really doubt that," the commissioner said, his hand still resting on his heart, "I think you just hide in my office thinking up fun ways to scare the hell out of me."

Bruce didn't answer.

"So I suppose you heard that phone conversation. That private phone conversation, I might add."

"I did," Bruce rumbled in his low, quiet tone, "Hold off on that bust, Commissioner. I want first crack at these guys. I want to ask them something."

"And I can assume your question will be asked with a minimum amount of force that is well within the confines of the law."

Bruce knew that Jim didn't really want an answer to that question.

"Give me an hour," he said instead, "These guys are nothing. They'll lead us to the real problem."

"Sure. But I'd rather not have that trail drawn with blood, if that's alright with you."

"You know what I'll do, and what I won't do. I didn't really come here for permission."

"Just professional courtesy," Gordon said dryly, "Well, thanks Mr. Batman. I appreciate that. But, you know, I like roses."

"I'm wasting time here. I'm telling you to hold off for one hour. I know what I'm doing."

"Well that's a relief, because I have no idea how to do my job."

"You know I don't think that."

The older man sighed.

"I know," he glanced up at Bruce, "Are you alright? You look tired."

"I'll be fine. I certainly don't look any worse than you do."

"Yeah, well. I'll sleep a lot better when Maroni's behind bars."

"That makes two of us."

Gordon nodded. "Just...take care of yourself."

Bruce raised a hidden eyebrow.

"Don't worry, Jim. You're not the only one who's concerned about me."

"What? You mean someone besides me gets the pleasure of talking to you? I'm hurt."

Bruce moved for the window.

"One hour, Jim."

"Fine. You'd better be right about this."

Bruce looked back once without answering before dropping through the window and out into the night.

---

Their last meeting hadn't ended well.

Bruce had meant everything he said when he decided he and Kal could only meet once a year. He believed his reasoning to be solid, and non-negotiable. Clearly this relationship couldn't happen. It would be a self-indulgent distraction at best, and dangerous at worst.

Kal had heard every word Bruce said. He acknowledged his reasons and reluctantly agreed to Bruce's terms. Bruce was sure that had happened. In the morning Kal chose to ignore everything Bruce had said the night before.

"I think you're being ridiculous," Kal had argued as Bruce got dressed.

"I'm not having this conversation again."

"This is the best I've felt since I came back to Earth. The most normal. Being with you makes my life make sense."

The words wounded Bruce. He wanted so badly to admit that he felt the same way. Kal was so earnest, it made what Bruce needed to do very difficult. He didn't want to hurt Kal, but Kal wasn't giving him much choice.

"I'm sorry, Kal, but that's not a good enough reason."

"Reason for what? What would be the worst that would happen? We could help each other!"

"Please, Kal. Just-"

"Why doesn't what you want matter?"

"Because it doesn't!" Bruce was almost yelling. Something snapped inside him. "You might be able to take off every time you get bored of this planet, but I can't! There are things more important than my happiness and I'm sorry if you don't understand that!"

Kal was silent. Bruce regretted his words immediately. He almost apologized, but stopped himself. This is what it would take to end this argument. If Bruce had to be a jerk to get Kal to walk away, then that was just one more sacrifice he had to make for his mission.

Kal strode toward the balcony door of the hotel room, cape floating behind him. He turned and glared back at Bruce, eyes dark and angry.

"Let me know when you decide to stop being an idiot, Bruce."

It wasn't what Bruce had expected, and he had nothing to say to it. It didn't matter anyway because Superman was already a dot on the horizon. Bruce had been left with only the cold wind blowing in through the open door for company. He was painfully aware that it wasn't the only door Kal had left open.

---

Bruce caught himself glancing up at the sky. He'd been doing this more often than he wanted to admit over the past couple of months.

The warehouse was in the East End. The whole area was dark and quiet. No signs of people or vehicles. It felt like a trap or a mistake, until Bruce got inside.

It was the right warehouse, he had just gotten there too late. His work seemed to have been done for him. Five men, Maroni's men, were bound together with chains in the middle of the empty floor. They all seemed to be unconscious.

"Do you like my gift?" a familiar voice purred above him, "I wrapped it myself."

Bruce looked up, spotting Catwoman in the rafters.

"Just don't start expecting this everyday," she continued, "I really prefer receiving to giving."

"Where are the drugs?"

"In a truck. I parked it in the river, if you want to go look at it."

"What are you doing here?" Bruce asked, walking to where he could get a better view of his nemesis.

"This is my turf. You know that." In one swift acrobatic feat, she landed silently on the ground in front of him.

"I also know that you're a criminal."

"Please, Batman," she said, smiling in a way that annoyed Bruce and softened him at the same time, "I steal from people who don't deserve the things they have. It's victimless."

"And Sal Maroni..."

"Is a disease." Her eyes flashed angrily. Her tone lost its playfulness. "Now he's made the mistake of moving his business and his drugs into the East End. And that means he has to deal with me."

"I didn't know you cared," It came out gruffer than he had meant it to. Too sarcastic.

"Of course you didn't," she said coldly, possibly a little hurt.

Bruce decided to risk using her real name. She knew that he had figured out her secret identity, but she still hated it when he reminded her.

"Selina," he said slowly, "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I just..."

She held up her hands. "Just stop it. Stop trying to see the good in me. It only confuses things. Assume I'm doing this for selfish reasons, because I am. A friend of mine is in trouble. She's hooked on heroin now that Maroni's thugs have been pushing in the East End again. That makes it personal. Don't think I'd be taking an interest if it wasn't."

"If you say so," Bruce said, glancing at the chained men, "Did they say where the drugs are coming from?"

"Among other things," she said slyly, "But you'll have to talk to them when they wake up. I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"You can't take Maroni alone, Selina."

"Says who?"

"He'll destroy you."

She walked toward him, smirking. "Why, Batman. I didn't know you cared."

"This doesn't change anything. I'll still be watching you."

Her mouth was against his ear, her voice low, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

She leaped back onto the pile of unconscious men, using them as a springboard as she vaulted back up into the rafters and out a window. Bruce caught himself fighting a smile as he watched her leave, considering what Alfred had said about allies. Perhaps this was less of a one-man fight than he thought.

---

The thug responded to the smelling salts immediately. Bruce wondered which would make him scream first: the fact that Batman had a firm grip on the front of his shirt, or the fact that this grip was the only thing keeping him from plummeting backwards off the roof.

"Ah! Jesus! Not you!" the loser yelped before glancing down and noticing the greater danger.

That answered that question. Bruce had chosen his favourite out of the men Selina had chained up and brought him up to the roof. He wanted to make this quick. He held out the alien disc that Kal had given him months ago.

"Puh-please don't drop me! Oh God, oh God..."

"God's not here. I'm all you've got," Bruce kept his voice even, but dangerous. "You are going to answer some questions for me."

"Christ, please..."

"Do you see this disc?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. I'm going to ask you some questions. If you lie, the disc will glow. If it glows, I will hurt you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, please, anything!"

"Do you work for Maroni?"

"He'll kill me! Please!"

"Do you think I won't? Answer the question."

"Yes! Jesus!" The thug was pale and frantic. Bruce didn't like his eyes.

"If you pass out, I will drop you. Where is the heroin coming from?"

"I...I..."

"You know what will happen if the next words out of your mouth are 'don't know'."

"Metropolis. It's coming through Metropolis."

The disc stayed dark.

"That sounds like a risky place to be operating out of."

"S-Superman doesn't notice the drugs and stuff. H-he's busy with bigger stuff. That's why the ships are heading there instead of here now. Please don't kill me! That's all I know, I swear!"

Bruce hauled the guy back from the ledge and stood him up.

"You can rejoin your friends now." He said calmly before knocking the asshole out with a hard right hook.

Bruce dragged the guy downstairs. When he reached the bottom he heard the sirens. His hour was up. He left quickly, wishing the thug had said any city but Metropolis.

---

Bruce called Jim while he was driving home.

"You know," the commissioner said, "It's really a lot easier to make an arrest when there's some evidence."

"There's a truck full of heroin in the river."

"Well, that's perfect. What did you do that for?"

"I didn't. It was Catwoman." Bruce glanced over at the passenger seat and saw the bagged sandwich that Alfred had made for him. His stomach growled desperately.

"The jewel thief? What does she have to do with this?" Jim asked.

"Apparently she doesn't like Maroni or his drugs any more than we do."

He could hear Gordon sigh. "Did you get any information out of these guys?"

"The drugs are coming through Metropolis." Bruce kept his eyes on the road as he reached into the paper bag and pulled out half a sandwich. He didn't even look at it before biting into it. When was the last time he ate anything? Yesterday? Did he even eat yesterday?

"Metropolis? That's strange. Usually it's the other way around."

"I'm looking into it."

"Well, I guess I can relax if Batman and Catwoman are on the case."

"We're not working together." Bruce's words were muffled by a mouth full of food.

"I didn't catch that."

Bruce swallowed. "We're not working together."

"Whatever you say. I've got to call the dive team. I'm sure they'll be thrilled to hear from me."

"Alright, commissioner. I'll be in touch."

When Bruce got home, he realized he may be as tired as everyone kept telling him he looked. He finally got the last of the uniform off and put away as he considered his options about how to handle the Metropolis angle of the drug problem. He stretched his arms and shoulders, the constant pounding of the waterfall behind him making his eyelids heavy.

The sound was inviting.

Almost like sleepwalking, Bruce drifted toward the cascading water, stripping off his undergarments. He felt the cool spray brush his chest and face before he walked through the curtain of water. It pressed down on his tired body, heavy and freezing. It was rejuvenating, peeling away the grime of the city as it massaged his over-worked muscles. He wondered why he didn't do this more often.

He thought about everything. Catwoman's unexpected interest in taking out Maroni, and in the well-being of the East End's citizens. Gordon's implication that, while Batman's help was appreciated, the police department was more than capable of dealing with most crime on their own. He thought about Alfred's suggestion that he be more accepting of help, and of companionship. He thought about his parents and what life they would have wanted for him.

And he thought about Kal.

Kal wanted to help him, and Bruce knew he could. Bruce also knew that, despite his lack of superhuman abilities, he might be able to help Superman as well. He thought about what Kal had said, about needing someone to talk to. How he just needed a friend, or he risked losing his true self. Bruce hadn't noticed until he was with Kal how much he craved someone he could be himself around. He'd always had Alfred, but to have someone who understood why he did what he did. Who shared the same need, and who he could relate to. He never thought it would be possible to have someone like that in his life.

So why, when he learned that it was possible, did he run away? Because it wasn't part of the plan? Because he had accepted long ago that the life of Batman would be a life of solitude with no room for happiness? Because every time he smiled he felt guilty, like he was offending the memory of his parents?

He had lived while they had died. How could he possibly allow himself any happiness?

He stayed under the falls until his body couldn't take the cold anymore. He emerged, shivering, quickly throwing on some work-out clothes he kept in the cave. He went to the elevator, his mind racing.

It had been over two months since he last saw or heard from Kal. No matter how busy he kept himself, Bruce thought about him everyday. He always watched the skies while patrolling. He checked the Daily Planet everyday for his articles. He watched the Superman highlights on the news. He had thought about contacting him many times, wondering if Kal was still wearing the earpiece.

He had promised Kal one night a year. At the time it had seemed reasonable, even generous, but each day that went by caused Bruce to doubt himself a little more.

He got into bed, still shivering. Still tormented by his conflicting emotions.

He could boil it down to one question: Would his parents want him to be happy?

He knew the answer already, of course. It just seemed too easy to accept it.

---

"Good morning, sir," Alfred called cheerfully as Bruce entered the kitchen, "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?"

"I'm leaving town for a couple of days."

"Disney World, perhaps?"

"Metropolis. Maroni is running his drugs through there."

"If I'm not mistaken, I believe Metropolis has its own superhero. I think you might know him. He ate five servings of my French toast here on Christmas."

"I'm going as Bruce Wayne," Bruce said, ignoring him, "So I'll need the plane ready in about an hour. Book my usual room. Actually, Alfred, that reminds me. I want to buy a place in Metropolis so I don't need to stay in hotels there. I do a fair amount of business in that city, and now that I own the Planet...what?"

Alfred was smiling to himself. "Nothing, sir."

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I am only going to Metropolis because I need to stop a drug ring. You know I hate that city."

"Of course, sir."

"It has nothing to do with...anything else."

"Or anyone, sir?"

Bruce glared. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just pack my bags."

"I live to serve, sir," Alfred said as he left the room. Bruce sighed and grabbed a handful of grapes from a bowl on the counter. How did Alfred always know what he was thinking?

---

Bruce adjusted his sunglasses as he stepped out of the car in front of the Daily Planet. The late afternoon sun bounced off the windows of endless glass buildings. This city always gave him a headache.

He walked through the immense front doors and into the bustling lobby. He approached the front desk, where a very professional-looking young woman sat.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I hope so," Bruce said, turning the famous charm on, "I'm wondering what floor the editorial department is on."

"That would be the thirty-sixth, sir."

"Thirty-sixth! That must be quite a view they enjoy."

She smiled, "I imagine it is. I've never been up there, to be honest."

"Never? Well, it just so happens I need a guide,” he lowered his voice, “I'm afraid I'll get lost."

She giggled a little, "I can't leave my desk. I'll be fired."

Bruce leaned in, "I can assure you, you won't be," he nodded toward the elevators, "Let's go check out that view."

She lead him to the elevator, smiling, but eyeing her desk nervously. Bruce was enjoying himself. If he had to act like a brain dead playboy, he was at least going to do a few good deeds while he was at it. Besides, what good was owning a company if you couldn't surprise the employees from time to time.

"Well," she said as the elevator stopped, "Here you are. Thirty-sixth floor. I really need to get back to-"

"I think I see a window over there," he said, gently placing a hand on her back, "Let's have a look."

"I really shouldn't be here..."

"What's your name?" Bruce asked as she reluctantly followed him through the busy office.

"Samantha."

"Pleased to meet you, Samantha, I'm..."

"Bruce Wayne?!" a loud voice barked behind him. Bruce turned to see Perry White.

"Mr White," Bruce smiled and extended his hand, "Just dropping in. No need to panic, I was just in town and I've always wanted to see a real news room."

"Well," Perry seemed flustered, "Of course you're free to look around anytime, Mr Wayne."

"Call me Bruce. And this is Samantha. She helped me find my way up here."

Perry looked at her blankly, "Alright. Well, I've got a paper to put out, so...let me know if you need anything. I'll be in my office."

As Perry walked away, Bruce glanced at Samantha.

"Oh my God. You're Bruce Wayne. I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you. I am such an idiot."

"I highly doubt that. Stop apologizing. Now, what do you think of this view? Everything you thought it would be?"

"It's pretty good," she agreed, "But I should get back downstairs. People won't know where to go. There'll be mass confusion."

"If you insist," Bruce smiled, "Sorry to pull you away. You can tell the confused masses that you had to show a rich jerk how to use an elevator."

"Thank-you, Mr Wayne. Enjoy your stay in Metropolis."

"It's Bruce!" he called after her.

"It certainly is," said a female voice beside him.

"Lois! I didn't see you there."

"Come to shut us down, Gotham?"

"I was hoping if I did it would convince you to leave all this behind and come away with me to the Mediterranean."

"Tempting," she said, her eyes playful even as she kept a straight face, "But my husband hates olives. And I'm afraid he'd have to come too."

"Well, that would ruin everything," Bruce teased, "Unless...he's open-minded, isn't he?"

Lois laughed, "Ok, this conversation is over." She turned and walked toward her desk. Bruce followed.

"So why are you really here, Mr Wayne?"

"Mmm, I don't know. Wanted a change of scenery. Heard there was a new restaurant in town that I haven't tried yet."

"Uh-huh" she sat down. Bruce leaned against the corner of her desk.

"I know you desperately want to believe that my life is more interesting than it is, but I'm afraid that I truly am very dull."

"Oh the agony of the jet-setting billionaire. The world cries for you."

Bruce laughed and turned to see Clark Kent standing a few feet away, mouth open and staring. Bruce's mouth went dry. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out on this plan.

"Bruce?"

For a second, Bruce didn't respond. He just...looked. He had forgotten how stunning the man was, even in this ridiculous disguise. Oversized glasses matched with an oversized suit, neither able to make Bruce forget what was underneath. He quickly snapped out of it and went into the act.

"Mr...I'm sorry. I forget your name. We met once, didn't we?"

It took Kal a second, but Bruce could see in his eyes that he understood.

"Right, yes, sorry Mr Wayne. Clark Kent. We met at your Christmas party last year in Gotham." He extended his hand. Bruce met it with his own, and immediately felt it wrapped in warm, strong fingers. The contact was brief and chaste, but Bruce's breath hitched.

"Of course," he said smoothly, reluctantly separating their hands, "I remember now. I'm a big fan of your writing, Mr Kent. I especially liked your recent coverage of Lex Luthor's arrest. Who'd have expected him to be so sloppy?"

"Yes, well...thank-you, Mr Wayne."

"You can call me Bruce."

He could see Kal's mouth twitch, fighting a smile. "Bruce."

Lois stood. "Right, well. I've got to get home. I promised Jason we'd have pizza. You know, a month ago he could never eat pizza, but his allergies are just disappearing. It's such a relief."

"Th-that's great, Lois," Clark stammered, "Tell him I said hi."

"Sure, Clark. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Uh, Lois? It's Friday."

"Right. Forgot. See you Monday, then. Try to stay out of trouble this weekend, Smallville."

"I will, Lois."

She turned back for a second, "If you really want to stay out of trouble, Clark, my advice would be to stay away from that guy." She gestured toward Bruce and winked, "He's a bad influence."

Bruce could feel Kal's eyes on him, but he refused to meet them. He watched Lois walk away like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. He kept staring even after the elevator doors closed behind her.

"What are you doing here, Bruce?" Kal's mouth was close to his ear, his voice low.

"I have business to attend to here."

"Day business, or night business?"

"Night," Bruce turned to look at Clark. He was so close.

"Do you need help?"

"I don't know. What do you know about drugs?"

"They're bad?"

"I think I can handle it on my own."

Kal settled himself into Lois's chair. Bruce rested against the desk again and watched the office clear out for the evening. Both men were silent a moment.

"How long are you in town?" Kal asked.

"I don't know. Not long, I hope."

More silence. Bruce noticed that Kal was smiling.

"What?"

"Well, I've got to ask. If you're here for...night reasons...and you don't want my help...why are you here in my office talking to me?"

Smug bastard.

"I don't know," Bruce said, frowning, "I guess I wanted to see you."

Kal was beaming now.

"The sun is setting. I have to go," Bruce said stiffly, trying to ignore Kal's smile. He moved past him and walked quickly toward the elevators. His stomach was in knots. His fingers were twitching. This was ridiculous.

The elevator arrived quickly and was miraculously empty. Bruce stepped inside, closing his eyes as he heard Kal calling after him.

"Mr Wayne!...Bruce!...Wait up! You forgot something!"

He turned to see Kal jogging across the office toward him as the doors closed. Then his hand was between them, and they opened. He moved toward Bruce as they closed again.

"You forgot something."

"What?" Bruce asked, eyes on Kal's mouth. So close. He could feel his mind crumbling again.

Kal crushed Bruce's mouth with his own as he pushed him against the wall. Both men reached out and hit the emergency stop button. Bruce's hands were immediately untucking Kal's shirt and finding the skin underneath as he heard Kal's glasses clatter on the floor.

Kal was kissing him so relentlessly that Bruce had to hold his breath. He knew it would be like this. He was lying to himself if he said he hadn't planned on this. He knew he wouldn't be able to see Kal without needing to touch him and taste him.

Kal was smiling. Bruce could feel him smiling as he kissed him. Bruce couldn't smile because he was terrified. This uncontrollable need that gripped him whenever he saw Kal was too much. He couldn't control it, and he hated things he couldn't control. He had to stop this right now. They couldn't just tear each other's clothes off in an elevator. This isn't why he came here.

Kal's hands were on Bruce's belt. It would be so easy to not say anything. To just let Kal do whatever he wanted. To just let Kal's mouth travel down his neck, and find his collar bone under his unbuttoned shirt. To listen to Kal murmur breathlessly in his ear that he knew Bruce would change his mind. That he'd hoped for this everyday, and thought about what he would do to Bruce when he saw him again.

"Kal."

Kal smiled against Bruce's neck.

"It's so good to hear that name again, Bruce. God, I've missed that. I've missed you."

Kal just wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"Kal, you need to stop. We need to stop. Just...I need to talk to you."

Kal sighed and pulled back. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Look, I just...alright. You're right. I want this. I want you. Obviously. I just...can we..."

Kal's hands were on Bruce's shoulders. "Take a breath, Bruce."

Bruce hated Kal for being so calm and in control when Bruce was such an obvious mess. He tried not to let his humiliation show.

"Listen, would you mind if we got something to eat? I haven't had a meal in days and it's catching up with me."

It was like a switch had been flicked on Kal. Lust became concern. Kal became Superman.

"Bruce! You have to eat! What do you mean you haven't eaten in days? Have you been sleeping? I didn't notice until now, but you look exhausted!"

"I didn't ask you to make a big deal about it. Forget I mentioned it."

Kal smiled, "No way. We're going out for dinner! I know a great-"

"Nowhere public. Not right now. I don't feel like being Bruce Wayne."

Kal remained cheerful. "Well, in that case I know a great apartment. It's nearby, and the delivery menu selection is the best in the city!"

Bruce re-buttoned his shirt and tucked it in. "Sounds perfect."

---

"What did I tell you? Best pizza in the city!"

Bruce tried to remember the last time he ate pizza. "It's pretty good," he agreed.

Kal's apartment was surprisingly small and normal-looking. There was very little furniture or decoration. No one who walked into the one-room apartment would ever guess that Superman lived there. The only thing hanging on either of the four walls was a map of the world. Both men were sitting on the floor, leaning against Kal's bed.

"Sorry about the seating arrangement. I haven't gotten around to buying a table or anything yet."

"S'ok."

"Do you want some more milk? Sorry I don't have more to offer. I wasn't really expecting company."

"Don't worry about it."

Their ties and jackets were strewn across the bare floor. They hadn't touched each other since leaving the elevator at the Planet. It was awkward.

"So..." Kal said slowly after finishing his fourth slice, "What brings Batman to Metropolis?"

"Heroin. It's coming into Gotham through Metropolis."

"That seems strange, but I'll admit I don't know much about the drug trade."

Bruce frowned. "I know. That's exactly the problem. You've created a perfect place for these assholes to operate out of."

"What do you mean?"

"They know you don't pay attention to drug-related crime because you're too busy with bigger things. Plus, you've made the Metropolis police force notoriously lazy."

"That's not fair! I can't be held responsible for every criminal act taking place."

"I didn't say it was fair. I am simply explaining why Sal Maroni has chosen Metropolis as the port city to bring his drugs into."

Kal was silent. Bruce didn't come here with the intention of hurting him, but he had to be honest. Now what was he supposed to do? Apologize? Why did Kal have to take everything so personally?

"So, what's the plan?" Kal asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"I want to help. If Superman takes an interest in what they're doing, it will help, right?"

"I don't-"

"Think about it. We'll go together and destroy the operation. I mean, what's scarier than Batman?"

Bruce smirked, "Batman and Superman."

"Exactly! So what's the plan?"

Bruce stood and started pacing. "First I have to find out where the drugs are coming in, and where they are being stored. Where do thugs-for-hire hang out in Metropolis?"

"Hang out?"

"Yes. A seedy bar, usually. Gotham's got plenty."

"I really...couldn't say. I don't do a lot of investigative stuff."

"You're a reporter, Kal."

Kal glared up at Bruce. "I know. But I don't shake down a lot of criminals for my articles. That's your department."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"Well," Kal sighed, standing to meet Bruce, "I'd say you'd probably find what you're looking for in the lower East Side. It's more famously known as-"

"Suicide Slum."

"Right. But I try not to use that name. It's so...hopeless."

Kal's words broke Bruce's concentration and reminded him that he was standing here with the most incredible man on the planet. He was just so painfully...good. He felt Kal's hand suddenly against his face. It was so easy to rest his head against it and just close his eyes. Just for a second...

There was work to do.

"Kal," he said, snapping awake, "I need to go to my hotel room and get ready. I'll head to the lower East Side and get the information I need. Then I'll contact you."

"Are you sure you shouldn't...I don't know. Maybe think about taking a night off and doing this tomorrow night? I mean, you really look tired."

"I'm fine," Bruce said angrily, "I can't afford to take tonight off. For all I know tonight's the night the next shipment leaves for Gotham. I need to know."

Kal nodded slowly, "I know."

Bruce pulled out his phone to call his driver, glad that Kal wasn't going to argue him on this. It was uncharacteristically sensible of him.

"Kal," he said after he made the call, "I just want you to understand. I need to finish this. I won't be able to concentrate on...anything else until I finish this. And even then, I can't guarantee anything. Something will always come up. There will always be something that needs my attention. And I can't put...anything...before that."

Kal placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Ok, Bruce."

"I just want you to know, that if you want...what we're doing...I can't...I mean, it will always be..." Bruce knew he was talking gibberish. He was frustrated that his brain couldn't supply him with the right words for this important statement he was trying to make. He really did need sleep.

"It's ok, Bruce. I think I know what you're trying to say."

Bruce closed his eyes and took a breath. He could do this.

"If you want a...relationship...with me...you have to know, it will never be normal. I will never be normal."

He opened his eyes to get Kal's reaction. Kal was smiling.

"Of course it won't be normal, Bruce," Kal said, brushing fingers through Bruce's hair, "I mean, consider who you're talking to here.

Neither of us have a chance of ever having a normal relationship, whatever that means, with anyone. That's why this is so perfect. We can be weird together."

Bruce considered Kal's words and found himself smiling a little.

"My ride is probably here. We'll have to be weird together later."

He turned for the door and paused. "Kal?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to see you again."

He glanced back and was nearly blinded by the full force of Kal's smile.

"It's really good to see you, Bruce."

Bruce decided, then and there, that whatever he needed to do to take down Maroni's operation, he was going to finish the job tonight.

There were other things he would like to devote attention to.

---

"Kal. You there?"

Kal responded immediately in the earpiece. "Yeah. Go ahead, B."

"B?"

"You don't like it?"

"It's fine. What are you doing?"

"Nothing right now. I just put out a refinery fire in Mexico. Do you need me there?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to bust up a drug ring tonight."

A sudden gust of wind sent Bruce's cape curling around him. Superman had joined him on the rooftop.

"It's a date!" Superman said, smiling, “Does that mean you got the information you needed?”

For a second, Bruce forgot what he was going to tell Kal. The sight of him, in full costume, struck him dumb. No wonder the world loved him. He was spectacular.

"Pier forty-one," Bruce said finally, "The drugs are in the Pier forty-one warehouse. We'll meet on the warehouse roof."

"Why don't I just fly you there."

"I'll manage."

"But, seriously, it makes sense. It would be quick and easy. And it's not like I mind."

"I mind. As long as we're working, I don't want you to touch me. It's distracting."

Bruce could see Kal fighting a smile. It was important that Kal win that battle because Bruce might not be able to take another one of his smiles.

"Alright, go," Bruce said, "Don't do anything until I get there."

"Yes sir!" Kal smirked and saluted before taking off.

Bruce reached for his grappling gun. He would finish this tonight.

---

Kal was waiting for him on the roof, arms folded and looking down.

"There are eight men in there," Kal said as Bruce approached him. "and it looks like your information was good. There are six containers full of crates of canned pineapple. The heroin is in bags in the middle of the pineapple rings. Pretty clever, actually."

Bruce stared at him, a little stunned.

"See?" Kal said, "I'm useful. I know I'm not a detective, but I can help you."

Bruce stood closer to the man who made every tool in his belt obsolete. It was simply ridiculous that this guy existed.

"Alright," Bruce said, "I'm going to enter the building through the air duct over there."

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why bother? Why don't we just go in the front door?"

"It's hard to scare people that way. It's also a good way to get shot."

"I've never had a problem scaring criminals just by showing up. And as for bullets..."

Bruce glared, "You have a better plan?"

"Well...I go in there, round up the criminals, and call the police. That usually works."

Bruce frowned.

"Look, Br-" Kal stopped, "Batman. You already did your part of this mission. Now I'll finish it. The bad guys will go to jail, the drugs will be destroyed, and we can go back to my place and-"

Bruce wanted to argue this. It was too easy. It shouldn't be so easy. It wouldn't work. But he knew that it would. He also knew there was no reason why that should upset him, but it did.

"So, what? I'll just wait here?" he asked angrily.

Kal looked hurt. "No, I don't know. I mean, you can come too."

"Oh, can I?"

Now Kal was annoyed. "Fine! Do it your way. Crawl through the damn air vent and drop onto them, get shot at, and maybe get yourself killed. That makes a lot more sense than sending me in."

"I can do this without you."

"I'm sure you can. But you don't have to. Why is that so hard for you?"

Bruce looked away from Kal, "I don't know. Just go. Let's get this over with."

Superman was back in less than two minutes.

"Well, that's all of them!" he said cheerfully.

"I heard gunfire."

"Yeah, they keep trying. I guess they hope someday it will work."

"So it's done, then."

"It's done," Kal's smile faded, "Are you alright? You seem...strange."

Bruce did feel strange. Probably a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. Things weren't supposed to be so easy. Kal made things easy. If Kal wanted to stop some criminals, he marched right up to them and stopped them. If he wanted to be happy, he let himself be happy.

"I'll call the police," was all Bruce said in response.

Bruce made the call. When he finished, Kal was smiling again.

"We make a good team," Kal said.

"Don't get used to it. I still prefer to work alone."

"Well, now that we're off duty, how about we wrap up this date somewhere private?"

"Date?"

"Sure! Pizza. Drug Bust. Who wouldn't find that romantic?"

Sirens rang in the background.

"Well, there's the police," Kal observed. He held out his hand. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Bruce felt his senses buzzing again. He took Kal's hand like a promise that everything could be better. He randomly recalled a line in an article by Lois. She said that Superman was the living embodiment of hope. That people looked to him as a saviour. Bruce looked at him this way now, whether Kal knew it or not. He would never tell Kal that he was just one of the millions who look to Superman to forgive their sins, and save them from their pain.

He was pulled in against Superman's chest as they rose into the sky together. He almost felt like crying. He couldn't understand why. He couldn't understand anything. He just needed to be with Kal. That was all that his mind could decide on as they flew silently over the city's bright lights.

"Are you ok, Bruce?"

"Yes," he answered quietly. Kal's mouth came down on his for a slow kiss.

"My place, then?" Kal asked.

"Hurry."

---

Bruce sat, dazed, on Kal's bed. Kal had to carry him through his apartment window at super speed so no one would see. It had been an intense couple of seconds.

"Sorry about that," Kal said, suddenly wearing boxers and a white t-shirt, "You're probably a little dizzy."

"I'm fine," Bruce lied as he pulled off his gloves. He placed them on the floor next to the cowl, then started on the boots.

"You look cute with your mask off. Your hair is kinda," Kal waved his hands on either side of his head, "everywhere."

Bruce raised an eyebrow and pulled off the armor.

"I don't let many people get away with calling Batman cute."

Kal smiled and watched Bruce undress. The only light in the room was coming in from outside. Bruce noticed a stack of books on the floor as tall as the bed.

"Maybe you should invest in a bookshelf," he observed.

"That was just going to be my reading for tonight. I don't keep books. I usually read a dozen or so before bed and then donate them to the library the next day."

Was this guy for real?

"And what were you going to be reading about tonight?" Bruce asked as he leaned in to inspect the spines. "What's this?"

He held up a book from the middle of the stack.

"Oh God," Kal moaned, "I forgot about that."

"Prince of Gotham: the Unauthorized Biography of Bruce Wayne" Bruce read the title aloud and looked at Kal for an explanation.

"Well, you weren't talking to me, and I missed you. And I thought maybe I could learn something-"

"You won't learn anything from this, Kal. It's garbage." He flipped open the book and skimmed the pages in the dim light, "First of all,

this story about me buying a hotel in Gotham just so I could frolic in the restaurant's decorative pond with two unclothed supermodels is greatly exaggerated. For one thing, we were all fully clothed. And it was really more of a pool than a pond. I also have my doubts that they were supermodels."

"Alright. Stop reading it. I'm embarrassed enough."

"No, no. Wait. This is interesting. It seems that I once flew to Italy just because I was craving some manicotti I had there before."

"Bruce, please put the book down."

"This is very well-written," he cleared his throat, "Gentlemen may prefer blondes, but no one has ever accused Bruce Wayne of being a gentleman. The breezy playboy has been romantically linked to red heads, brunettes and gorgeous women of colour." he glanced up at Kal, "Is that racist? It sounds a little racist."

Kal's face was buried in his hands. "Yes, Bruce. It's a terrible book. You've made your point. I'd really like to move on to...other things."

"I don't know, Kal. This book makes it pretty clear that I like women. You might be out of luck."

Kal was suddenly on top of him, pinning Bruce's arms down on the bed and making him drop the book.

"Let's write a new chapter."

"That was cheesy."

"I don't care," Kal kissed him.

"Maybe I should write an unauthorized biography of Superman," Bruce mused as Kal scraped teeth down his neck.

"Bruce, there are dozens of books about me. They are all terrible. According to one my favourite food is diamonds."

Bruce's laughter turned into a gasp as Kal's mouth found his pelvis bone.

"Mine might offer a unique perspective," Bruce sighed, "I have access to some pretty sordid details of Superman's sex life."

"Maybe it's time someone wrote a book about Batman. I'm sure the public would be interested to know that he's ticklish and that he won't shut up during foreplay."

Bruce squirmed as Kal traced a finger gently down his side. Kal was right. It was time to shut up. Bruce grabbed a handful of Kal's hair and pulled his mouth down on his. Bruce was afraid, angry with himself, but above all he was crazy with lust. He couldn't fight any of it anymore. He just needed Kal. It would never make sense.

His hands pressed hard against Kal's skin, feeling every rigid muscle underneath. He was acutely aware of everything that was happening. He could feel Kal's careful fingers gently tease their way down his body. He could feel Kal's eyelashes flutter against his face as they kissed. He could hear Kal's soft moans, could hear him gasp when Bruce's hand found his cock.

They moved together in the dark, any lingering clothing finally removed.

"I have thought of this everyday," Kal said roughly, "God, I'm so glad you came back."

Bruce wouldn't let himself talk. He had no idea what he might say. At that moment he was capable of saying anything. Of making any promise. He wouldn't be able to think coherently until he had release. He needed it. He needed Kal's hand on his cock like it was right at that moment, firm and hot and moving not quite fast enough. Bruce wanted to slow down. He wanted to explore Kal's incredible body, lingering on every flawless inch. He wanted to, but he couldn't. His will power simply wasn't strong enough to slow what was happening. His cock was so hard it ached and Kal had to know what he wanted.

"I'm going to fuck you," Kal breathed against his ear, "Just like last time. Is that what you want?"

"Yes...yes. Now. Please."

Lubricant came from nowhere, and Bruce didn't even have time to wonder before slick fingers were on him and inside him.

Embarrassing gargled cries were coming out of his mouth, but he didn't care. All that mattered was Kal watching him as his body jerked in response to Kal's fingers. Superman's fingers. He couldn't think about that or he wouldn't last.

"You're beautiful," Kal said quietly.

"It's dark," Bruce pointed out lamely.

"Not for me, it isn't."

An image of Superman in full costume flashed through Bruce's mind as Kal pushed into him. It was agonizingly slow, probably because Kal was afraid of hurting him, but possibly because Kal was trying to make Bruce lose his mind. The burn spread throughout Bruce's body, tearing him open. Finally Kal was all the way in, filling him. In the darkness Bruce could see him looking down at him, as if for permission. Bruce nodded silently. The first thrust was hard and Bruce knew that Kal wanted this as much as he had. He bit his lip to muffle the cries that he couldn't help. He didn't want to discourage Kal. He needed him to keep going, harder and faster because this is what Bruce came here for. This is what would save him. He pulled Kal down and kissed him furiously, making him understand. This was Bruce's surrender.

Kal's hand stayed on Bruce's cock, but at this point it didn't even need to be there. Every thrust inside of him was bringing Bruce closer to the edge. Beautiful, perfect Kal with his beautiful, perfect cock. He was hitting him so deep inside, and Bruce never dared to think that anything could be this good. Never dreamed that he could have something this good. He could feel himself falling apart, completely focused on Kal hitting that one spot again and again...

He broke his vow of silence.

"I...I won't Jesus...I won't leave you again."

"I know," Kal said softly. It was a little smug, but fuck it was hot. Kal was surprisingly possessive during sex, which Bruce would normally hate, but not now. His words sent a jolt through Bruce's body, straight to his rigid cock. It was over. He felt Kal slam into him, sending a scalding wave through his body. Everything clenched and Bruce yelled out as he came in hot bursts that fell against his stomach. Above him, Kal watching in amazement. The dim light from outside hit his face, revealing his dark, shiny lips. Bruce could almost see the blue in his eyes, even in the darkness. Kal's gripped his own head firmly as he came, not trusting himself to touch anything else as intense pleasure rocked his body. He choked on Bruce's name while Bruce watched and struggled to catch his breath.

Kal fell on top of him in the darkness, kissing his hair and eventually finding his mouth. Bruce's chest heaved. Nothing would ever be better than this.

"You'll stay here tonight, won't you?" Kal asked between kisses.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Good. You promised."

Bruce was silent. He could feel his thoughts returning to him. His old companions, logic and reason, were showing up to ruin the party. Bruce wouldn't let them.

"I promised. I won't leave."

They took turns freshening up in the bathroom. Bruce returned to find Kal standing at the window, naked with one arm extended above him, his hand resting on the top of the window frame. The bright city lights played on his skin in the darkness, as Bruce could only stare in quiet appreciation.

"It's a nice view," Bruce said finally, joining him at the window, "But that's not what you're looking at, is it?"

Kal smiled in the dark. "Not much gets by you."

Bruce waited for his answer.

"I just noticed some platform damage on a passing satellite. I should go up there tomorrow and patch it up."

Bruce stayed silent, unsure of how to respond to that.

"Huh," Kal said, squinting at the sky.

"What?"

"It looks like I dropped my keys on Jupiter."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Kal laughed and wrapped his arms around Bruce, standing behind him. "Relax. I was joking."

"You're weird," Bruce grumbled, feeling idiotic.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you." Kal kissed his hair and held him tighter. Bruce closed his eyes. He was exhausted.

"Let's go to bed," Kal said softly. Bruce nodded.

They both lay facing each other, Kal running fingers gently through Bruce's hair. Bruce wanted to keep looking at him, but the days without sleep mixed with Kal's soothing fingers was making it impossible to keep his eyes open. The last thing he remembered before drifting off was feeling Kal's lips on his forehead.

---

Bruce awoke to find Kal sitting on the end of the bed, watching him.

"Good morning," Kal said, smiling as Bruce took a moment to remember where he was.

"You were watching me sleep?"

"Only for a little while. I got some bagels and some newspapers. I think you'll be interested in the front page of the Gotham Gazette."

Kal handed Bruce the paper. The headline read that Sal Maroni's mansion had been burned to the ground last night.

"Selina," Bruce said quietly.

"Catwoman? She did that?"

"I'm sure of it."

Bruce read further. Maroni had survived. So had his family. They had all been at his nephew's wedding. He breathed easier. Selina wasn't a killer. She knew the house would be empty.

"So what does that mean?" Kal asked.

"I don't know yet," he put down the paper and looked at Kal, "Between us and Selina, Maroni certainly had a bad night."

Kal moved to lie down next to him, "Well, I sure didn't."

Bruce kissed him. "Me neither."

"Do you want a bagel? They're fresh. There's a place down the street that makes them. I could eat a hundred of them."

"Sure."

Bruce watched him walk to the kitchen to retrieve a large paper bag.

"Kal?"

Kal stopped.

"No," he said.

"No what?"

"No. I don't want to hear what you're going to say. We're here after an incredible night together, both completely happy and ready to eat bagels and this is where you tell me that you can't see me anymore. And I'm just supposed to accept the fact that you think you don't deserve to be happy. I don't want to hear it."

Bruce was surprised by Kal's outburst.

"That...wasn't what I was going to say."

Kal turned and folded his arms. "What, then?"

Bruce couldn't help but smile. "I was just going to ask if I could borrow some clothes until I get back to my hotel room."

"Oh...Ok," Kal paused, "Is that all?"

"That's all."

Kal was back on the bed with him, beaming.

"I was sure you were going to tell me we could only see each other once a decade or something crazy! So...you're really ok with this? With us?"

"I don't know. I think so. I want to be," Bruce noticed Kal's disappointment. "I'm sorry. I know you want a better answer than that. You deserve one. I just...I can't do any better. Not right now. Not yet."

Kal leaned forward and kissed him. "That's alright, Bruce. I'll take it."

He went back in the kitchen.

"Do you want the bagel toasted?"

"Sure."

Bruce watched as Kal held the bagel in front of this face, deftly slicing it in two and toasting both halves with his eyes.

"Show off," Bruce smirked.

"Well, it's not like I own a toaster!"

"I don't know if I want to eat something you've cooked with your eyes."

"Why not? It's fine."

"How do I know that?"

"I eat them everyday!"

"You could also eat a cement truck everyday. That proves nothing."

Kal handed Bruce the bagel on a plate. "Fine. I've seen human beings eat things that I've toasted with my eyes before, ok?"

Bruce was struck by the absurdity of this statement and started laughing.

"What?" Kal asked, annoyed.

"I'm sorry, but that is definitely the best sentence I have ever heard."

Bruce was still laughing when Kal handed him his bagel, slathered in cream cheese.

"Are you done?" Kal asked, failing to hide a smile.

"Mm," Bruce said, swallowing a mouthful, "I can honestly say, best optical cooking I've ever tasted. Really. Thanks."

"Well, good. And I'm glad I could make you laugh. It's a good look for you."

"Yeah, well. I'm a little rusty."

"Pa always said that practice makes perfect," Kal said, smiling warmly, "That's why I think you should spend the day with me here in Metropolis."

"I was really planning on heading back..."

"You can still be back there for tonight. Just one day here in town. That's all I ask. Look, it's unseasonably warm, I say we take advantage."

"Don't you have a satellite to fix or something?"

"What? Oh, that took, like, three minutes. I did that before I got the bagels."

"Right."

"So, can I persuade you to spend the afternoon with me?"

Bruce sighed, unable to ignore how badly he wanted to stay with Kal.

"I'll need something to wear."

---

"Well I can tell you the first thing we're doing today," Bruce grumbled as they exited Kal's apartment building, "Either going to my hotel room or going shopping." Kal had selected a rather loose-fitting pair of jeans and a bright red Metropolis University hooded sweatshirt for Bruce to wear.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You look fine."

"I look eighteen."

"Well, on the bright side, no one will notice that you're Bruce Wayne."

"Great. A secret identity for my secret identity."

"Although, the disguise would have been better if you'd worn that ball cap that I-"

"Wasn't going to happen, Kal."

"You can take the boy out of the mansion..."

"I'm not a snob."

Kal smiled and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"I'm not!" Bruce insisted, "I've eaten rat before. A rat that I killed with my bare hands. Have you ever eaten a rat, Kal?"

"Jeez, calm down, Bruce. Fine, you're not a snob."

Bruce stuffed his hands in the front pocket of the sweatshirt.

"I'm at least buying sunglasses. I'm not used to all this sunlight."

"Fine."

"I also need to make a phone call," Bruce said as he noticed a phone booth.

"Alfred?"

"Commissioner Gordon. I need to find out what's happening with Maroni," he noticed Kal's expression, "And then, I promise, I'm all yours."

They stopped into a newsstand where Bruce bought a long-distance calling card and a half-way acceptable pair of sunglasses.

"This will just take a second," Bruce said as he dialed the number. Gordon answered on the second ring.

"Gordon, it's me," Bruce growled in his disguised voice, "I heard about Maroni's house."

"I thought you might have. Lucky for him, he won't have to worry about where he's going to sleep tonight. We have enough to arrest him today, thanks to you."

"You talked to the Metropolis PD?"

"The Metropolis Commissioner called me last night. He said Superman shut down Maroni's heroin operation. I told him that Batman probably did most of the work. Then we got into a bit of a Superman versus Batman argument. To be honest, I'm kind of embarrassed about it."

"Did you get some sleep last night, Commissioner?"

"Slept like a baby. You?"

Bruce smiled into the phone, "It was a good night."

"A great night. I got Harvey Dent coming to my office in a few minutes to discuss the charges. This is going to change things in Gotham, Batman."

"I hope so."

"I have to ask, though, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the arson job on the Maroni mansion, would you?"

Bruce paused. "No. Nothing. But something tells me you're not going to be working overtime trying to solve that one."

"Off the record, you're probably right."

"I'll talk to you later, Jim."

"Alright. And thanks, Batman."

Bruce didn't acknowledge Gordon's gratitude. He hung up the phone and turned to Kal, suddenly feeling a lot lighter.

"Alfred is going away on vacation next week. If you have some time, you're welcome to...keep me company...while he's gone. If you want, I mean."

Kal looked stunned.

"Are you serious? Does that mean Maroni..."

"Is behind bars? Yes. I'm not making any promises, but it might mean I'll have a little extra time on my hands."

"Bruce! That's great!"

"Does that mean I can expect you?"

"Wild horses couldn't stop me!"

Bruce was going to point out that wild horses couldn't ever stop Kal, but Kal had grabbed him and was kissing him. Right there.

Against the phone booth. In public.

Bruce stopped caring almost immediately, and instead started wondering how quickly they could reach his hotel room. He felt like celebrating.

"It's a beautiful day," Bruce breathed, "Why don't we..."

"Go to your hotel room?"

"Exactly what I was thinking."

"Sounds perfect."

"And Kal?"

"Mm?"

"Don't bother packing pajamas next week. You really won't need them."

To be continued...

Not dead! Still writing! Be done soon!

2007-03-06T18:52:04Z

I realize that I have been very absent from lj lately. I just want to check in and let those who are interested know that I have finally gotten the sequel to First Time For Everything rolling. I am pretty excited about it. So just so you know, I didn't forget about it. I have just been really busy with other things lately. But it's off the ground now, so I hope it will be done sometime in the next week or two. I am also hoping to read some of the fic I've been missing out on.

Old Fic: First Coffee of the Day (Clark/Lex)

2007-02-07T18:21:46Z

I am going to be posting some old fic that I wrote years ago in this lj just so all my fic is in one place. So, please, feel free to totally ignore these posts. Just so you know, it's all Smallville fic. This one is from 2003. I'm also editing these old fics, so if have some sort of machine-like memory you might notice some changes.

Title: First Coffee of the Day
Pairing: Clark/Lex (Smallville, future fic)
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Clark would swear more.
Word Count: 4412

First Coffee of the Day

Written for the Smallville Flash Fic Challenge Pairing: Clark/Lex
Scenario: A bad day at the Daily Planet (submitted by Corinna_5).

~/~

Clark hated the world.

All the superpowers in the world and he still couldn't make the line-up at Starbucks move any faster.

Well, he supposed he could, but it might give away his little secret. And people would be hurt.

The woman in front of him was asking about every item on the menu. Clark pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Rookies.

Finally.

"Tall medium roast, please."

Clark dumped three packages of sugar in his coffee and a large amount of cream. No sooner had he turned around before someone bumped into him. Clark miserably looked down at his coffee-soaked shirt. He was so busy mourning the loss of good caffeine that he almost forgot.

"Oh, um, ow. Hot," he mumbled. He knew it didn't sound believable.

There was no time to get back in that line-up now. Perry wanted to meet Clark in ten minutes. He would have to drink the swill that was brewed at the office.

He was tired. He didn't sleep a wink last night because there had been an earthquake in Turkey of all places. He didn't need much sleep, but a little was nice. The worst part was he couldn't even write exciting articles on the international disasters he witnessed everyday. Not if he wanted to hold on to his secret.

At the office Clark got a face-full of Jimmy as soon as he walked in.

"Good morning, Clark! You look rough! Did you sleep last night?"

Clark muttered something about showing him "rough" that Jimmy didn't hear.

"Where's my mug?"

"Your mug?"

"My high school mug. It's yellow."

"Oh, um...yeah. That mug was broken. Sorry."

"When?!"

"Yesterday. I didn't know it was yours. Sorry, Clark."

"Who else would have a Smallville High mug?!" Clark asked, just barely holding it together.

Jimmy looked embarrassed. "Right. I guess I should have known. Sorry."

Clark grabbed a dingy Daily Planet mug and filled it with the in-house sludge.

"Where's the sugar?"

"We're out of sugar."

Clark closed his eyes and counted backwards in his head.

"Sorry. I took the last packet."

6...5...4...3...

Clark opened his eyes. "Find out who buys the sugar. I want some here when I get out of my meeting."

"Jeez! Yes sir, Mr Luthor!"

Clark froze in the doorway as he exited. It was just a joke, Clark. Jimmy doesn't know that you know Lex Luthor as anything more than a power-hungry business man. Clark continued walking to Perry White's office. "Kent! Come in, close the door."

There was no way this meeting was going to be good. Clark shut the door, sat down, and frowned at his coffee. Awful. He couldn't bring himself to drink it.

"Kent, I've been thinking. You know that five-part feature you've been writing on the homelessness problem in Metropolis?"

"Sure...I've been working on it for over a month."

"Right, and that's great, Kent, really. The problem is, well...the problem is that homelessness doesn't sell. Now, I don't want all your hard work to go to waste, but I want you to cut your article down to a thousand words."

"A THOUSAND WORDS?! But, Mr White, it was supposed to be a five-part series! It's over 20,000 words so far!"

"That's fantastic, Kent. You should be very proud. But what I need you to do is streamline it."

"By taking out 19,000 words?"

"Exactly! That's a good boy!"

"But...Mr White..."

"I'll tell you what does sell papers: Superman. That's why I am getting Lane to write a five-part expose: The Real Superman."

"The Real..."

"She's good friends with him. Did you know that, Kent? I have to take advantage of that!"

"Yes, I know she...but Mr White?"

"Superman," Perry said distantly as he leaned back in his chair, "he's a newsman's dream come true."

"Right."

"That'll be all, Kent. Get to it!"

"Yes, sir." Clark mumbled as he left the office. He was frustrated and confused. Had he just been upstaged by...himself? Back in his office he was faced with the last person he wanted to see.

"Hey, Smallville, you look awful!" Lois said cheerfully, "Guess who was just given a five-part expose to write!"

"Not me, that's for sure."

"Me! And you'll never guess the subject!"

"Annoying reporters and the partners that hate them?"

"Superman," she said, ignoring him. "The Real Superman. The man behind the cape! I'm friends with him, you know."

"I've heard." You're not so much his friend as a someone he has to rescue all the god damn time, Clark thought bitterly. And most of the time he doubted that the situations she got herself into were accidental.

"What's wrong, Clark? You're not your usual mild-mannered self this morning."

Lois took a haul off her Starbucks coffee as Clark looked at it longingly.

"Sorry. Just...rough night," Clark sighed.

"And what's a rough night for you, Smallville? Lost every game of solitaire? Plant died? Ran out of chocolate milk?"

It would be so easy to just...kill her. One little flick of his hand, really. Hell, he could do it with his eyes. Instead he just looked at the ground, trying to stay in character.

"I wonder how I should contact him..." Lois trailed.

"Why don't you just call him, if you're such good friends?"

"You can't just call Superman, Clark," Lois rolled her eyes, "It's not like he's in the phone book!"

"What? You don't have his private cell phone number?"

"Superman doesn't have a cell phone, Clark. But I think that he knows when you want to see him. He just knows," Lois gazed out the window dreamily.

Now Clark rolled his eyes. His cell phone started buzzing on his hip. He detached it from his belt and looked at the text message on the screen.

ALIEN.
LEXCRP ROOF 2NITE. 10PM. UR ABSENCE WILL RSLT IN THE DEATH OF EVRY1 U LUV.

Clark sighed and shook his head. Text message threats. Beneath everything, Lex was really just a huge techno geek with too much money.

Really, this whole thing was getting old. Lex Luthor was the only person, besides Clark's parents, that knew Clark and Superman were one and the same. There was no way of hiding it from him. They had known each other for too long.

They had been best friends, but it had always been shaky. It was a friendship underscored by lies and, in Clark's opinion, obvious sexual tension. It was possible that Lex had even been in love with him. It was also possible that he still was.

Clark told Lex he was an alien when he turned eighteen. Lex took the news calmly, more triumphant than shocked. Lex had it figured out, but he still needed the admission. For awhile after that their friendship went better than it ever had. The lies were gone. Then the questions started.

"Clark, can you imagine what we could do together? There would be no stopping us!"

"Clark, don't you realize what your abilities allow you to do? You can do anything!"

"Clark, don't you want to fix the world?"

No, no, and no. Clark just wanted to live his life and help people when he could. He didn't want power and he didn't want attention. The only thing he had ever really wanted was Lex. And he started to doubt that, too.

Lex wanted power. He wanted attention. He probably wanted Clark too. But Clark was skeptical about Lex's reasons for wanting Clark. Perhaps his father had always been right about not trusting him.

Clark remembers the day LeXcorp bought out Luthor Corp. Lex had been twenty-five, Clark had been nineteen and in college. They were still friends, but had grown distant. The occasional phone call. Clark believed that he wouldn't even get those if it weren't for Lex's interest in what Clark was and what he could do. Clark had called to congratulate Lex that day. Lex had sounded strange. Most people would say that he simply sounded happy. Thrilled. Clark knew better.

Lex sounded like someone who was scared but trying not to show it. He had finally achieved what he had been working towards for years. He destroyed his father. He was the CEO of one of the largest corporations on the planet at the age of twenty-five. Lex told Clark that he expected to be very busy for quite awhile. He wasn't kidding. Clark didn't hear from him again for over a year.

It wasn't much of a secret to Clark why he was hired so quickly by the Daily Planet and given a full-time reporter job. A position it usually took years to earn. He had an office by the time he was twenty-three. He had tried to contact Lex to thank him. Or yell at him. He wasn't sure. Lex hadn't taken his calls. He probably expected to be yelled at. Or maybe he didn't want to admit he had anything to do with Clark's employment.

The next time Clark heard from Lex was when Clark was twenty-six. Clark had recently started wearing the uniform and had been given the name Superman by the media (the very paper that he worked for). Lex wasn't interested in talking to Clark anymore. He wanted Superman. That's when it began.

Lex Luthor. Superman's nemesis. Of course, no one but Clark knew that Lex was behind the elaborate schemes. In fact, mostly only Clark knew about the schemes at all, as they were always foiled by Superman. They were surprisingly easy to foil every time, though. Clark would have expected better from the smartest person he had ever met. Possibly the smartest person on Earth.

That's when Clark began to get suspicious. As much as he was forced to believe, and as much as Lex wanted Clark to believe, that Lex was bent on destroying anything that got in the way of his plans for world domination, Clark just couldn't help wondering what Lex really wanted. So many times Lex had threatened to kill Superman. He had even executed a few weak attempts. But never had Lex done anything that Superman couldn't easily put an end to.

It was getting tiring.

He hadn't to spoken to Lex as Clark for years. Only as Superman. Clark was twenty-nine now. Lex was thirty-five. He looked younger. Actually, he didn't look a day older than he had when Clark had saved his life the first time. But maybe Clark was unable to see Lex as anything other than that startled young man on the river bank. Clark had been sure for years that Lex couldn't see Clark as anything other than an alien. He had been having his doubts lately.

Maybe he was being falsely optimistic, but Lex's schemes were seeming less like threats to humanity and more like elaborate excuses to see Clark. He was almost embarrassed for Lex.

Clark stared at the message on his phone before erasing it and clipping the phone back on his belt. He was sure that this latest threat would be harmless as well. But he would show up at ten, just in case.

It pissed him off. It was very presumptuous of Lex to think that Clark had nothing better to do than run off to dismantle shoddy biochemical bombs and ridiculous mind-control instruments that Clark was sure didn't actually do anything. The last "poison gas bomb" he took into space to destroy smelled a lot like air freshener.

"Earth to Clark!"

"Huh?" Clark's head snapped up. Lois was smirking.

"I asked what happened to your shirt."

Clark looked down at the large brown coffee stain. He had forgotten. He really was a mess today.

"I spilled coffee on myself this morning. Someone bumped into me at Starbucks."

"So, it was hot coffee? Didn't that hurt?"

Dammit. "Uh, yeah. Actually, I am going to go...buy some lotion...at the drug store. I don't want my skin to peel."

"Let's see it, Smallville."

"No!" Smooth. He tried to shape his alarmed expression into a smile. "Trying to get my shirt off, Lois?"

"I just can't resist farmboys. Go to the store. I'll hold down the fort."

"Right. Thanks."

Clark didn't go to the drug store, of course. He went back to Starbucks to try his luck at getting coffee again. This time he made it out of the store with the biggest coffee he could get, stuffed with cream and sugar. He walked by a window that had a wall of televisions all showing CNN. There was a brush fire in Australia. Again.

"Fuck," he grumbled as he discreetly slipped into an ally. He reluctantly threw the coffee into a garbage can. In the blink of an eye he was in his Superman suit and climbing high into the sky. He could probably control the fire and make sure everyone is safe and be back in his office within the hour.

It took a little longer than he had expected. Those brush fires really spread quickly. Now he really wanted coffee. He raced back to Metropolis, stopping at his apartment to get a clean shirt before buying his third Starbucks coffee of the day.

He made it to his office with it. Lois was irritated.

"Where have you been?! Do you know how many phone calls I've had to answer?!" Jeez, thought Clark, that must have been rough. "Sorry, I..."

"You went to Starbucks?! And you didn't even bring me anything back?!"

"I, uh..."

"Perry wants you at the opening of the new library right now. Actually, he wanted you there twenty minutes ago. So get going!"

"Alright..."

Lois swiftly took the coffee out of Clark's hands. "And since you're going out, I'll take this. You can get another one."

Clark fought to keep from lighting her on fire. He liked Lois, he really did. Just...not...today.

He was about to protest and take his coffee back, but he was confronted by an angry-looking Perry White.

"Kent! Why are you still here?! The ribbon is being cut on that new library in ten minutes! Get down there! And take Olsen!"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir. I'm on my way."

Stupid boring library opening. Stupid annoying Jimmy. An hour ago Clark had been fighting a raging fire. Now he was part of a small crowd of geeks and politicians applauding the cutting of a ribbon. And that was what he was expected to write the article about.

And there wasn't even enough time to get coffee.

The mayor's speech was boring. Clark's mind wandered. It took him to Lex.

Lex was easily the most complicated and frustrating person Clark had ever met. Clark would wager that Lex was also the most complicated and frustrating person on Earth.

But being complicated and frustrating did not negate being fascinating and sexy.

The truth is, Clark had a massive crush on Lex from the time he was at fifteen. At first he never even considered that was what it was, but in retrospect, he had clearly been smitten. Clark could tell himself it was because of the hot cars and expensive clothes. No one in Smallville looked like Lex. Clark knew that it was more than just Lex's exoticness that attracted him.

Clark had a need to save people. It was innate and indiscriminate. His abilities allowed him to save countless people. He could save the entire planet, if the situation presented itself.

But it's hard to save the self-destructive.

Critics had accused Lex Luthor of being ruthless in his business practices. They charged that he would demolish anything to advance LeXcorp. Clark admitted that Lex had certainly made some decisions that weren't the most compassionate, but the real tragedy for Clark was watching Lex destroy himself with each one. Clark knew Lex well enough to know that he was not as cold as Lex wanted the world to believe.

He was just...confused.

As confused as Clark had been when he was a teenager with a crush on an older, richer man. A man who insisted that they had a destiny together, but was vague about the details. Clark didn't question it. He liked the sound of it, regardless of what it actually meant.

He never thought it meant this.

Two grown men, pretending to be trying to destroy each other while carefully never succeeding.

Why?

There wasn't a day that went by where Clark didn't ask himself that question. Whatever the reason, it always seemed impossible to end it. They had just been doing it for so long. It had been years since Lex and Clark had spoken. Just Lex and Superman. It was like being in a play. The more Clark thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.

Could he be more obviously in love with me?!

The first time that thought crossed Clark's mind he quickly dismissed it. He wasn't going to let himself go there again. If Lex felt anything more than friendship for Clark, he had plenty of opportunities to tell him long ago. And it wasn't like Lex to not go after what he wants.

But the absurd plots to destroy the world, or Superman, continued. Superman would always show up and notice that Lex seemed a little...shaken, by his presence. He could see something in his eyes as he went through the motions of villainy. Like it just...hurt him to see Clark.

Lex was self-destructive to the extreme.

"Clark?"

Clark snapped to attention. "Huh?"

"I said I'm going to take some up-close shots of the mayor. You gonna stay here?"

"Oh, um, yeah. And then can we leave? I got some stuff I have to do at the office." Like eliminating 19,000 words from my story.

As soon as the words left Clark's mouth, his cell phone rang. White.

"Kent? Where are you now?" he barked.

"I'm at the library. Like you asked."

"Still? Well, get in the car. I need you at the LeXcorp building for a press conference in twenty minutes."

Great. That's all Clark needed. "LeXcorp?"

"Luthor just called it. Some sort of announcement. Supposed to be big."

"Any idea what..."

"Less talking, more driving Kent!" He hung up.

Clark sighed. Twenty minutes. Not enough time for coffee.

Fifteen minutes later Clark and Jimmy were among a group of reporters and camera men at the LeXcorp headquarters. Clark was uneasy. He had never covered any news concerning Lex before. He had always been thankful for that because it meant he and Lex could continue their game of never interacting out of character. As he stood waiting with the other media personnel for Lex to appear at the podium, Clark mentally figured out how long it had been since Lex and Clark had spoken last.

A little over three years. Shit.

A sudden hush and the flashing of cameras announced Lex's entrance. Clark looked up to see his old friend and current arch rival cross the stage. Always so confident. So cool. So good-looking.

Clark blinked and took out his pocket recorder.

"Good afternoon," Lex started, sweeping his eyes over the room. They paused on Clark unmistakably. Although Clark was sure he was the only one who noticed, Lex's expression changed slightly when he noticed Clark. He quickly erased any recognition from his face and continued speaking.

The "big announcement" turned out to be pretty mundane. LeXcorp had acquired another small laboratory, M.A.D. Clark raised an eyebrow. It wasn't the kind of news that justified a press conference. Most of the reporters looked disappointed, or at least confused. They seemed to scramble for questions.

"Er, Mr Luthor?" one guy from a local business magazine started, "How will this affect the employees of M.A.D.?"

"Oh, it should have no effect. I don't intend to make any changes to the current staff."

Silence.

"Mr Luthor?" another reporter spoke. "How will this further the growth of LeXcorp?"

"Well, we now own one more laboratory."

Silence.

This was ridiculous.

"Mr Luthor?"

Lex looked startled as he turned his eyes to Clark. "Yes...in the glasses?"

"Is it your intention to focus M.A.D.'s resources on the study of meteor rocks as you have with every other laboratory you've acquired?"

If looks could kill. Lex's jaw clenched as he glared at Clark.

"I am afraid that you are mis-informed."

"Would you care to explain your obsession with meteor rocks, Mr. Luthor?" Clark continued with a sparkle in his eye. He was enjoying himself now.

"I don't have time for this. The press conference is over. Good day."

Lex abruptly turned and left the stage.

"Clark, what the hell were you talking about?" Jimmy asked.

"Apparently nothing," Clark said, smiling.

At 9:00 pm Clark was lying on his bed, facing the ceiling. He was listening to a CD that Lex had made him back when Clark was in high school. Clark hadn't listened to it in years. One of Lex's attempts to improve Clark's musical tastes. It was full of acceptably cool bands like The Flaming Lips and Kula Shaker.

It was hard to believe that his and Lex's relationship had ever been like that. Just a couple of friends who made CDs for each other. Not that it had ever really been that simple. At best they were a couple of friends who lied to each other. Despite this their relationship always had an intensity that Clark had never had with anyone else. Not even the handful of girls he had dated. Clark had lied to Lex since the day he met him, but it was involuntary. He lied to everyone. He couldn't make Lex an exception.

At twenty past nine, Clark crossed his bachelor apartment to the fridge to get himself a glass of orange juice. He never did get to have the coffee he had pined for all day. It had been a brutal afternoon. He was trying to shrink his feature on homelessness down to the requested thousand words, but was frequently interrupted by irritating tasks that people asked of him.

And this stupid ten o'clock rendez-vous with Lex had been on his mind all day.

He had half a mind to not even show up. It's not like anything would happen if he didn't. And it would be fun to think about how confused Lex would be about his failure to jump when he said so.

Clark really didn't feel like being Superman tonight. He would much rather sit slumped in his armchair watching reality television shows and eating Cheetos off his own lap. Even saviors deserved a night off.

At ten minutes to ten Clark was standing in the middle of his apartment dressed in blue spandex, red boots and a red cape. You know, normal evening wear. He looked at himself in the mirror. He folded his arms across his chest, staring menacingly at himself. Jesus. How did criminals not just crack up when he did that? He looked ridiculous.

"Give up, Luthor. It's over!" he said to his reflection in his Superman voice.

He always called him Luthor now. And Lex called him Alien, or Superman with a mocking tone.

"Show's over, Luthor."

"You'll never get away with this, Luthor!"

"Evil never wins, Luthor!"

Then his face softened in the mirror.

"What are you doing, Lex?"

"I miss you, Lex."

"I...love you, Lex."

Get it together, Superman. Luthor is expecting you.

But, wouldn't it be fun to give him something he wouldn't be expecting?

Clark smiled at himself.

Clark streaked out the window into the sky. Twenty seconds later he was landing softly on the roof of LeXcorp.

Lex had his back turned to him. Clark supposed this was for dramatic effect.

"Ah, the alien arrives. On time, as usual. Very good. I admire punctuality in a man."

"Is this going to take long?"

Lex kept his back to Clark, looking down over the city he owned.

"In The Republic Plato wrote that guardians of civilization must be watched from childhood. That they must show an ability to hold on to their beliefs. To not fall victim to persuasion or greed. He also said that they must be tested, subjected to ordeals of toil and pain. Those who come through unscathed, he said, would take their rightful place as Ruler."

Jesus. How long had he been planning that one?

"Are you talking about me or you?" Clark asked Lex's back.

Even without using x-ray vision, Clark knew Lex was smirking.

"That remains to be determined, Alien."

Clark rolled his eyes and walked toward Lex. He stopped a few feet away.

"Shut up, Lex."

Lex's body stiffened. He finally turned around. His expression was priceless.

"Hi, Lex."

Clark watched Lex's eyes take in the casual khaki pants and blue button-down shirt he was wearing.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked flatly, but his voice was shaking.

"Oh, the clothes you mean?" Clark asked casually, "Well, the suit is at the cleaners. I suppose I could have at least tied a blanket around my neck..."

Lex was trying to compose himself, but Clark could see it was difficult.

"Get out of here."

"You want me to leave, Lex?"

"Don't call me that. You have no right to call me that."

Clark laughed. "No right? How many times do I have to save your life before I earn that right?"

"I told you to leave."

"But what about my loved ones, Lex? I thought you were going to kill them all if I didn't..."

Clark's eyes looked directly into Lex's and he stopped talking. They were full of pain and fear. Clark knew then the answer to every question he had asked himself for the past several years.

Clark reached out and placed both of his hands on Lex's shoulders. "Don't...don't touch me," Lex said, but he closed his eyes.

"Lex, I don't want this. I never wanted this. We don't have to be enemies. It's stupid. You don't want it either. I know you don't."

"You don't know," Lex said faintly, his eyes still closed.

Clark ran his hands down Lex's arms and took the older man's hands. Lex's eyes clenched in response.

"Don't. Please don't."

Clark knew what he really meant. "I won't, Lex. I won't ever hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

Lex swallowed.

"Do you want to know what I want?" Clark asked.

"Clark," Lex breathed. Clark closed his eyes for a second. It was so good to hear Lex say his real name again. He leaned in and kissed him. Lex's mouth immediately opened beneath his. Clark kissed him hungrily.

He tasted like coffee.

-END-

New Fic: Lost Together

2007-01-06T02:39:56Z

Title: Lost Together
Author: evangelene
Pairing: Superman/Batman (Justice League Animated)
Rating: R
Summary: Stranded together under a red sun, Bruce and Clark journey across a deserted planet. A twist on the "Hereafter" episode of Justice League.

Notes: Written for the worlds_finest 2006 Secret Santa Exchange, which can be found at: superbatsanta. Specifically for tmelange's prompt: From the Justice League Animated Series, the episode where Superman is presumed dead: a story where BOTH Superman and Batman are sent into the desolate future. Bonus: Batman is hurt (hurt/comfort).

I'm afraid I didn't really get a Batman physical injury in the story (I was thinking about giving him a broken leg, but didn't want Clark to have to carry him everywhere). In case you've never seen the "Hereafter" two-part episode of Justice League TAS, the story that is relevant to this fic is: Toyman hits Superman with a laser beam that seemingly vaporizes him, after Superman jumps in front of the gun that was aimed at Batman and Wonder Woman. The world assumes Superman is dead, and mourns him. In reality, Superman has been transported to a red sun planet, which is mostly desert. Superman keeps picking up a signal from the Watchtower in his comm link, so he follows it in a car that is transported there with him. He ends up finding the Watchtower after a long journey. It turns out that the planet is Earth, far into the future. And Vandal Savage is the only man alive, but he's a nice guy now who admits that it's his fault the Earth is all messed up and deserted now. He sends Superman back in a time machine, begging him to prevent his younger self from destroying the Earth. For images and more info, check this site.

In this version, Batman is transported with Superman. So without further ado...

Both men stood over the wolf's still body. Bruce had killed it quickly with two batarangs to the skull. He looked down silently at his kill. Clark looked at Bruce.

"They would have killed us if you hadn't taken out the alpha, Bruce. You had no choice."

"I know," Bruce's voice was irritated. He never liked it when Clark guessed his thoughts, "We need the food anyway. Which means we'll have to-"

Clark rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'll take care of it," he gave a small smile, "Raised on a farm, remember?"

Bruce just nodded and walked to the car. Probably to get a drink of water, a luxury that was getting scarcer every day.

Clark skinned and cleaned the animal quickly, using one of the batarangs he dislodged as a blade. Bruce had already constructed a makeshift spit to cook the meat on over the campfire. Clark felt that he could eat the whole thing himself, but both men were disciplined enough to only eat a small ration. It was tough and gamy, but Clark couldn't remember a better tasting meal in his life. They would let the rest smoke over the fire overnight. Bruce said it was the best way to keep it from spoiling.

The desert got so cold at night.

"Here," Clark said, holding the fur pelt out to Bruce's huddled body, "It's dry now. It will help with the cold a little."

"You take it," Bruce said quickly, "The cold is a greater shock to your system. You're not used to being vulnerable to temperature."

"You're just as cold as I am," Clark argued.

"I have gloves and the mask. You have tights."

"Fine," Clark sighed, pulling the fur around his shoulders.

"I'm going to sleep," Bruce said, "You should do the same. We need our strength."

Clark nodded in the darkness. We wouldn't let himself think it: Need our strength for what? Both men were lying to themselves because they had no choice. They had been in this vast desert for over a week, chasing a phantom signal from the Watchtower. It was all they had to cling to, and they both held on with everything they had. There had to be a way out of this place. Eight days held prisoner under an unforgiving red sun. Nine nights of freezing temperatures.

There had been some luck. The car that had been transported with them. Bruce had insisted, correctly, that they take the fuel-efficient compact, leaving Clark to gaze longingly at the vintage red Thunderbird that had also made the strange journey to this planet. There had been enough supplies and fuel to get them this far, but it wouldn't last much longer.

They followed the signal, not knowing what to expect when they reached it. Clark had stopped believing that the rest of the League would be waiting for them at the end of the yellow brick road. He was sure Bruce never believed it in the first place. It was better not to discuss it. Just follow the signal and let it decide what they did next.

Clark was exhausted. He hurt everywhere, but he was even starting to get used to that. Sore muscles, heavy eyelids, stabbing hunger pains. It was all so foreign to him, but he couldn't let it bother him. It made him appreciate Batman more, knowing how hard he pushed himself through pain and exhaustion every day. Clark sighed darkly at their bad luck. If any other two League members had been transported here, they would be doing a lot better. Clark was the only one who would have been affected by the red sun, and Bruce never had powers in the first place. It was the worst possible combination of heroes.

He watched Bruce sleep by the fire. He had been wearing the mask most of the time, as protection from the sun during the day, and for warmth at night. He took it off when he slept, and Clark was taken by how peaceful he looked. He had over a week of beard growth, which was nothing compared to the wild mass of hair that now covered Clark's head. Normally very slow-growing, it seemed every follicle went nuts under the red sun. Bruce had offered him a razor-sharp batarang to shave with, but Clark had declined quickly, claiming that he liked the new look. Secretly he was nervous about putting sharp objects to his skin. He was uncomfortable with bleeding, even the slightest amount.

Clark pulled the fur tighter around his shoulders and hugged his knees to his chest, still sitting as he watched his friend shiver in his sleep. His breath leaving his body in white clouds. The fire crackled between them and danced on Bruce's dark features.

He knew that any one of his teammates would have been more use to him in this place, but he was glad it was Bruce who was here to keep him company. It occurred to Clark that they would likely die here if things didn't change soon. Bruce probably knew that too. Clark knew it was selfish, but if this was the end, he was glad Bruce would be there.

He laid down on the hard, freezing ground, edging as close to the fire as possible. His head was lined up with Bruce's, facing him. He watched his shoulders shake as Clark felt his own teeth chatter. He vaguely recalled a wilderness first aid lesson from grade school about preventing pneumonia. Combining body heat to fight freezing temperatures. He remembered sniggering with the rest of the class when they watched the video of two men huddled together on a mountainside. It didn't seem so funny now.

He stood quietly and moved toward his sleeping friend. He lowered himself beside him, keeping some distance. He spread the pelt over both of them, moving closer so it would reach. He watched Bruce's back move up and down slowly. Clark reached a hesitant hand out, reminding himself that he was doing this for safety reasons. It had nothing to do with being alone here with Bruce, or how much he may have imagined less dire versions of this same situation.

His hand found Bruce's shoulder, and was met with a full body shudder and a sleepy grunt. Clark quickly pulled his hand back, eyes wide, wondering what he was thinking. Batman was going to wake up and tear his throat out.

The silky fabric of Bruce's cape was once again under Clark's fingers. It was so smooth, so easy to glide his palm over, down one strong arm. It reached the elbow and slid down over Bruce's stomach until it reached the dusty ground. His arm now wrapped firmly around his teammate, Clark shifted forward so no distance remained between their bodies. He cringed, waiting for Bruce to wake up and freak out. He prepared his list of reasons of why this was necessary. None of them would really explain why Clark's other hand had moved into Bruce's hair, fingers gently weaving through the soft strands. Nor would they explain why Clark had pressed his forehead into the back of Bruce's neck, inhaling slowly and considering how easy it would be to press his mouth against the soft skin. To just taste it, just a little-

Bruce's body shook and shifted, breaking Clark's insane train of thought. He bit his lip, waiting for the worst. To his astonishment, Bruce only exhaled slowly and moved a gloved hand over the naked one that was wrapped around him.

Clark let out a breath that he had been holding since Bruce moved as slick fingers tangled with his own, gripping tightly. Clark gave them a gentle squeeze and relaxed, sighing happily against Bruce's neck. The fire burned bright beside them. Clark's eyes followed the curling smoke up to the vast stars above him. For the first time since they were transported here, he realized that the desert was quite beautiful at night.

***********

Clark was alone when he woke up the next morning. The sun was already blazing overhead. His mouth was dry. He stood up, groggy, hoping there was water left. He saw Bruce by the car, looking impatient.

"Here. Eat this," he said gruffly, holding out a smoked piece of meat.

Clark tore through it with some effort, knowing it would have to be enough to appease his empty stomach for awhile. Bruce handed him the end of a bottle of water, grimly noting that there was only one bottle left after this one.

"Let's get going," Bruce said as Clark swallowed the water, "We're down to our last tank of gas. Hopefully it will be enough."

They both knew it wouldn't be enough. They could have a hundred more tanks of gas. There was no point to this journey, except it was all they had.

Bruce opened the car door, apparently having no intention of discussing the previous night. Because Clark was never able to let things go, he nervously brought it up.

"Bruce, last night. I-"

"It was smart thinking, Clark. Combining body heat to prevent pneumonia."

"Bruce, it wasn't just-"

"Get in the car, Clark."

Clark felt something welling up inside of him as he entered the car on the passenger side. Frustration, most likely. He should be relieved. Bruce wasn't freaked out. He understood that Clark was only trying to protect him from the elements. This was all good, but Clark still felt like an idiot. He wasn't sure what he had been hoping for.

They drove for an hours in near silence, both concentrating on the signal that buzzed in their ears. Clark liked to believe that it was getting stronger. He could tell Bruce thought so too, as he pushed the car to the limits of its four-cylinder engine. The landscape around them was changing, desert looking more like tundra. The air was getting colder, which wasn't good.

The car gave out after six hours, the engine choking on the last drops of fuel.

"We'll have to walk from here."

Clark could barely stand, but there was no reason to argue. They had to walk. What else was there?

They walked for four hours, each carrying half the supplies over their shoulders in capes that had been converted into makeshift sacks. It started to snow as they walked, and Clark saw snowcapped cliffs ahead of them.

"This is good. We can eat the snow for hydration," Bruce observed.

"If we don't freeze to death."

Bruce didn't respond, and Clark regretted his comment immediately. It was far too pessimistic, and not what they needed right now.

Another hour of walking and Bruce pointed to a small cave.

"We can rest in there tonight."

Clark followed him through the narrow opening, grateful that he could stop walking. Even more grateful when he saw that the cave was more spacious inside than the entrance suggested.

Bruce started a fire as Clark collapsed to the floor. His legs throbbed, his vision was blurred. He needed water badly, and he retrieved the last bottle from his cape.

"Listen," Bruce said suddenly, holding up a hand.

"What is it?"

"Shhh."

Clark strained to hear, thinking perhaps Bruce heard another person. A search party. Anyone. He didn't hear anything.

"I don't know what-"

"Running water. There's a stream in this cave."

Clark listened, and heard it too. But the cave was so small, and he couldn't see where the sound was coming from. Maybe they were both going crazy.

Bruce pressed his ear to the ground.

"It's running beneath us. There must be a crack in the floor somewhere..." He pulled a flashlight from his belt and moved the beam across the floor. "There. You can see water through here."

He pulled another tool from his belt and aimed it at the weak spot on the floor. A red beam traced a square around the crack and, seconds later, the hole was wide enough to reach into. Bruce dipped his cupped hands in and brought the water to his lips.

"It's fresh," he said excitedly, "Clark, finish that bottle and then give it to me."

Clark happily drained the whole bottle and handed it over. He watched Bruce fill it and drink it then fill it again. Clark smiled because Bruce was smiling. This would make all the difference. They would be healthy again. They would finish this journey and they would go home.

"Is there any chance that there's also a pizza joint under the floor?" Clark joked.

"I'll check later," Bruce said, leaning back against a wall after finishing a third bottle. He pulled the mask off. His hair was getting long, and it stuck out in all directions. Clark grinned as he handed him some meat.

"Bon appetit," Clark said cheerfully. Bruce responded by raising the food like a toast before eating it.

***********

The wind howled outside the cave, blowing snow with it. The excitement of the renewed water supply had worn off, leaving both men to silently contemplate their fate.

"They probably think we're dead," Clark said suddenly. He glanced at Bruce, whose mouth rested on tented fingers as he stared into the fire between them.

"It's possible."

"It's strange to think about. What if there was a funeral?"

"I'm sure there would be. You're Superman. I've seen the emergency plans for your memorial, should the need arise. It's impressive, if not ostentatious."

Clark grimaced. "I just wish I could tell them - my parents, Lois - that I'm alright."

Bruce didn't say anything, just folded his arms tighter across his chest. Clark wanted to offer him the pelt again, but knew Bruce would only refuse it for the third time that evening.

"What about you? What happens when Batman dies?"

"Life goes on."

"What about Bruce Wayne?"

"There's a plan for that. No one will ever know that Bruce Wayne was Batman."

Clark decided not to press for more information. The conversation topic was doing nothing to keep his mind off the cold anyway. Time for a change.

"So, I've noticed that Diana-"

"Clark," his voice was threatening, but Clark ignored it.

"I think she has a thing for you."

"She doesn't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because it would be insane."

"I don't think it's so-"

"What's she attracted to, Clark? My winning personality, or the fact that I look like a giant bat? She's never seen me out of costume, so unless she's attracted to the lower half of my face, she has no reason to have a 'thing' for me."

"But haven't you noticed that-"

"I'm not continuing this conversation. It's ridiculous."

Clark fumed silently. They had spent long, harsh days together, and, more than the intense heat and unforgiving cold, it was the endless boredom that was starting to wear Clark down. He made his living talking to people, and he craved conversation.

"Vanilla or chocolate?" he said finally.

"Pardon?"

"Vanilla or chocolate?"

"You can't be serious."

"It's a simple question, Bruce, and I am at the end of my rope here. We're stuck in this...place...for who knows how long and I need someone to talk to." Clark's voice was angrier than he meant it to be. He was tired, sore, and he didn't mean to take it out on Bruce. He was about to apologize when-

"Vanilla."

"What?"

"Vanilla. I'm answering your stupid question."

"Really? That's not the answer I expected."

"Surprise."

Clark's lips twitched a little, picturing Batman eating vanilla...anything. He decided to push his luck.

"Crunchy or smooth?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Peanut butter."

"I don't eat peanut butter. I'm not seven. Or Wally."

Clark laughed. "I miss Wally. More than I would have thought."

"Me too."

***********

Clark was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of Bruce's voice. It was panicked, but incoherent. Clark sat up quickly and saw his friend's body convulsing as he slept. Muffled screams and pleas for someone to stop echoed off the cave walls. It took Clark a few groggy seconds to figure out that Bruce must be having a nightmare. He moved to the sleeping man's side, placing his hands on him and gently shaking him.

"Bruce? Bruce. It's ok. It's Clark."

"Clark," Bruce repeated, still asleep. His face and body calmed as he rolled onto his back. He was facing Clark, but his eyes remained closed.

"It's just a dream, Bruce. It's ok now." Clark realized the absurdity of his statement as soon as he said it. It's ok Bruce. It's just a dream. Wake up and you'll see that were trapped in an endless wasteland in god knows what galaxy, marching toward our inevitable deaths together. Everything is fine.

"Clark," Bruce said again, a hand reaching up to Clark's face, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what, Bruce?" Clark pressed his cheek into Bruce's gloved palm.

"You tried to save me...Toyman..."

Clark ran a soothing hand through Bruce's hair. Bruce's eyes opened, glinting in the dim light.

"You shouldn't have tried to save me, Clark."

Clark brushed a thumb over Bruce's cheek as he stroked his hair.

"I thought he would kill you."

"You shouldn't have to die like this, Superman."

Clark's hand stilled at Bruce's dark admission. They were going to die. They both knew it.

"We're not going to die, Bruce," Clark said, trying to convince himself, "We got here, so there's a way to get out of here. Besides, even knowing what Toyman's weapon would do to us, I wouldn't change what I did. I'm not glad we're here, but I'm glad we're here together."

Bruce's eyes searched Clark's. His fingers moved to the back of Clark's head, curling into a fist, grabbing a handful of long hair. Clark felt the slightest amount of pressure pushing his head toward Bruce's, and he took it as an invitation. He hovered for a moment first, glancing up into Bruce's eyes for permission. They didn't object, so he leaned down and brought their lips gently together. The kiss was slow and careful, until Clark felt Bruce's mouth move under his. Then it got deeper, harder, more urgent as Bruce moved his hands down to Clark's waist. They rolled so Bruce was on top, pulling his cape and gloves off. Hands pushed under Clark's shirt and lifted up, exposing his chest to the bitter cold. Clark sucked in a breath but didn't protest. He wouldn't stop this for anything.

He watched as Bruce undressed himself, because Clark wouldn't know where to begin with removing that armor. The heavy belt hit the ground with a clatter, followed by the tunic. The fire glowed against Bruce's bare chest and shoulders, both scarred repeatedly. Clark had seen them before, but they made him flinch every time.

Hands were back on him, undoing his belt. Pulling off his boots. Pausing to trace lines down his stomach, across his chest, up to his face.

Finally they were both naked. It was freezing, so they moved quickly. When Bruce entered him, Clark nearly howled from feeling so many things at once. It hurt a lot, not like kryptonite, but a splitting, burning pain that he'd never felt before. Bruce kissed him, calming him.

"I know," he whispered against Clark's ear, "I know. There's pain. It gets better, I promise. Please, Clark, I would never hurt you."

As Bruce moved inside him the pain melted into something else. It was like every nerve in Clark's body was being called to attention. He had never felt this before either. Each thrust went directly to his brain, causing one word to fall out of his mouth again and again.

"Bruce."

God, I had no idea anything could feel like this. Would it be this good if I had my powers?

"Bruce."

I have wanted to be this close to you for so long. You have no idea.

"Bruce."

Please don't stop. Don't ever stop. We'll be perfect together.

Clark's mantra was mangled into a choked cry as he came between their stomachs. Bruce's wild eyes bore into Clark's, then closed as he grunted and came in hot bursts inside Clark.

Both men dressed quickly afterwards, feeling the cold as soon as the rush left their bodies. They fell asleep tangled against each other next to the fire.

***********

They had been home for almost a week. The journey was over, the shock of finding Vandal Savage at the end of the rainbow had faded. The world was saved.

After the work was done the two heroes stood together for a moment. Clark wasn't sure what to say. Before he could form all that he was feeling into words, Batman abruptly announced that he was going home. Not even a glance back as he walked toward the black plane.

Clark went home too. He stayed in the shower for over an hour, then shaved and cut his hair. It was surprisingly hard to do, mentally. The wild mane was proof that the past two weeks had really happened. He was going to dispose of his tattered costume, but then neatly folded it and placed it in a drawer. He'd bring it to the fortress later. Another trophy, of sorts.

He ordered the pizza he'd been craving all this time and ate the whole thing with a carton of milk. He read a book, watched TV. He wanted this all to feel normal again. He kept trying to run his fingers through long hair that wasn't there anymore.

Everything happened so quickly after that night in the cave, and it was never acknowledged. They pushed through the snow to find a lush jungle, and, within it, the fallen Watchtower. Then Savage and the revelation that the strange planet they were on was Earth. Then the time machine was discovered, and then they were home.

That was a week ago. Since his return, Clark hadn't slept at all. He didn't really need to anymore, but he wanted to. Somehow he felt that going to sleep would close this weird chapter of his life, and maybe that was exactly why his body was resisting. He didn't want closure until he wrapped up...everything.

He knew someone who would certainly be up at this hour.

***********

"What happened to calling first?" asked a dark voice from the high-backed chair.

"I'm sorry. I took a chance that you'd be here," Clark moved through the cave slowly, stopping several feet behind Bruce, "I haven't been able to sleep."

"Me neither."

Clark took a breath, "Look, Bruce, I think we need to talk about what-"

Bruce stood quickly and faced Clark. He wasn't in costume, like Clark was. He looked tired.

"We both know what happened. We thought we were going to die. We were exhausted, crazy, and terrified and we reacted by...turning to one another. But now we're both here, and we're fine, and everything is back to normal. It's not the outcome we expected when we...were in the cave."

Clark took a moment to process Bruce's version of the story.

"Are you saying that you regret what we did?"

"It shouldn't have happened. It wouldn't have happened if we had known we would survive."

"Do you regret it?" Clark's tone was edgier as he repeated his question. He was tired of doing this stupid dance with Bruce. Years of Clark feeling that there was something important between them, and sometimes being convinced that Bruce felt it too. But Bruce would always reason away any emotions, any chance of happiness whenever one presented itself. Now something had actually happened between them. Something real, even in the most surreal of circumstances, and Clark wasn't going to let him walk away from this one.

"You were scared, Clark. You thought-"

"Yes! I was scared!" Clark was almost yelling now, "I thought I was going to die! You've said that. More importantly, I thought you were going to die, Bruce, and that was what scared me the most."

"Fear and sympathy are strong emotions," Bruce said calmly, "They can make you do irrational things."

"Sympathy?!" Clark had endured enough of this. He strode toward Bruce, voice still angry. "It wasn't fear or sympathy or insanity that made me kiss you, Bruce."

"Maybe you were just bored, then," Bruce said, stone-faced.

"Maybe I love you, you idiot!"

Clark's outburst bounced off the cave walls. Bruce kept his face even, but his heartbeat betrayed him.

"Clark, you've been through a stressful ordeal. You don't know what you're saying."

"Tell me you regret what happened."

"You're probably in shock," Bruce continued, his voice wavering slightly as Clark came within inches of him, "There's no need to dwell on what happened. The circumstances were..."

"Tell me you regret it, Bruce!"

"I-"

"Because I don't. I'm glad it happened. And I also don't regret telling you that I love you, because I do, even if you don't feel the same way."

Bruce was silent a moment, struggling to form his next words.

"Of course I do," he said finally.

Clark didn't expect to win so easily. He smiled wide and placed his hands on Bruce's arms.

"Ok, then," he said, noticing that Bruce seemed bewildered by his own admission.

"Ok."

Clark looked at his friend's conflicted face, unsure of what should happen next.

"Bruce, I-"

His words were cut off as Bruce's mouth collided furiously with his own. Hands that seemed to push him away and pull him closer at the same time landed on his body, finally settling on the back of his neck and on his lower back.

The kiss was broken eventually by Bruce's unfortunate need for oxygen. By that time, Clark's mind finally relaxed. He had acknowledgment from Bruce, and with it he had closure. The ordeal they had just gone through was finally over, and only this remained.

"You look tired," Clark murmured, kissing Bruce again.

"I was thinking about going to bed. Care to join me?"

"I thought I might just curl up on the floor here. I'm kinda used to that now."

"Suit yourself. If you change your mind, I'll be upstairs on my king-sized bed."

Clark was already halfway up the stairs.

***********

Clark sighed as he curled against Bruce in the middle of the bed. He was pleased to discover that, even with superpowers, sex with Batman was amazing.

"You know, Clark," he heard Bruce mumble, "This room is heated. You don't have to press against me for warmth anymore."

"You can't be too careful."

Bruce made a muffled noise and Clark kissed the back of his head, knowing Bruce was happy.

"I can't believe it took something that ridiculous to get us together," Clark said to the darkness. The only response was slow, deep breathing. Bruce had fallen asleep.

Clark drifted off beside him, his first sleep in over a week. He dreamed of the desert.

Fic: Holiday In The Sun - Epilogue

2007-01-02T03:43:00Z

Title: Holiday In The Sun: Epilogue
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: If only I owned these guys…
Notes: For the worlds_finest "In Heat" Challenge. Filthy PWP.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Batman's revenge. Clark's calmed down after being over-charged on sunlight. Now Bruce is turning the tables.
Word Count: 1512

Clark was having a bad day.

Perry gave him so many edits to his latest story, he may as well start over again. Lois wouldn't shut up about his bad posture, her voice grating him to the point that he used too much pressure and broke his pen. Now his hand was covered in blue ink. The breakfast burrito he grabbed on the way to work was frankly terrible, and it had taken forever to get it. Plus he was itchy right in the middle of his back, and no amount of superpowers would help that.

Beyond all this, he was carrying the complete and utter embarrassment of his...well, randy...behavior over the past few days. It wasn't that he regretted it exactly. And Bruce hadn't seemed to mind. It was just that...he couldn't believe he actually did and said those things.

Making it worse was the fact that he hadn't spoken to Bruce since he...calmed down. The last of the excess solar energy had left him during the last time that they...did what they did.

The last time...Bruce was on top. In the Watchtower. Bruce had been sucking his...

And there goes another pen. Great.

He wiped the ink on his pants because he really didn't care anymore. Like he ever managed to keep a pair of pants for more than a day or two anyway.

He went to check his email only to have his computer freeze. He glared at it, trying to decide which method of destroying it would be the most satisfying. Before he could decide, his thoughts were interrupted by his buzzing earpiece. It was Bruce.

"Superman, something big has come up. Can you get away?"

"Where are you?" Clark asked quietly.

"Gotham. How soon can you get here?"

"I'm on my way. Give me a minute."

Clark stood up and walked casually to the storage closet, the same way he had done countless times before. A mission. Good. It would give him a chance to see Bruce without it being too awkward. They would be too busy to think about...what they had done...repeatedly.

Clark glanced around before slipping into the dark closet. He had already gotten his shirt open before he noticed the other man in there with him.

"Surprise."

"Bruce! But...I thought...Gotham...emergency."

"I lied about Gotham," Bruce said calmly, "But I never said anything about an emergency."

"You said something...big...came up..." Clark was probably blushing. Definitely. But Bruce's hands were on him, pushing him against the wall.

"Bruce! I'm at work! Someone could find us!"

"You didn't seem bothered about that last week. At the Watchtower. Either time."

Clark was too embarrassed to say anything to that, so it was a good thing that Bruce was kissing him.

"You know you can touch me, right?" Bruce glared at Clark hands, which were being held just over Clark's head against the wall like he was surrendering.

"I...I'll get ink on you," Clark said lamely.

"Jesus Christ, Kent," Bruce growled, grabbing Clark's wrists and firmly placing his hands on his hips before continuing to kiss him.

"Bruce," Clark said when he got a chance, "I just want to say...I'm sorry about last week. I wasn't myself."

"Don't be sorry. I'm sure as hell not."

"I..."

Bruce cut him off. "If you ask me, you were yourself, Clark. I think you had been wanting that, but were too scared to take it before."

Any words of protest Clark was planning were lost in the back of his throat as Bruce ran strong fingers down the front of Clark's pants.

"That's the difference between you and me, Clark. I always take what I want."

"What do you want?" Clark murmured, eyes closed. His mind had left town and his body now belonged to Bruce.

"I want you to know what it's like to be cornered at work," Bruce said, biting Clark's ear, "To be turned on to the point of insanity, and having to keep quiet so your co-workers won't hear. But they'll know, Clark. When you go back to your desk, your face flushed, your eyes wild, smelling like sex. They'll know. But they won't know who."

"Bruce..." was all Clark could say. The word hissed out of him like it was scorching hot as Bruce unzipped Clark's fly.

"They'll wonder why the nerdy reporter just got lucky, but they won't know that Superman just got fucked by Batman in the supply closet."

"Please, Bruce..."

All three layers of Clark's pants were down. Bruce casually removed his own suit jacket and hung it on a hook, then rolled up his sleeves.

"First," Bruce said, his voice a low rumble that Clark couldn't get enough of, "I'm taking this."

He dropped to his knees and took Clark's cock in his mouth. Clark cried out loudly before shoving his hand in his mouth. Bruce. Sucking. Work. Jesus.

Bruce performed blowjobs the same way he did everything: perfectly. Better than anyone else on the planet. Like he had invented, wrote the book, and was the all-knowing master of blowjobs. And Clark was lucky enough to be his subject. No matter how many times they did this, Clark could not believe how incredible it felt. He knew they shouldn't be doing this here, but if anyone walked in on them - or did anything that so much as interrupted what Bruce was doing for a second - Clark could not guarantee that he wouldn't light them on fire. This was too good. Batman - The Dark Knight - on his knees. Ripping him apart with every stroke of his hot tongue. Every flash of his intense, steel eyes.

Clark ripped his glasses off and threw them to the floor. One hand landed in Bruce's hair, applying careful pressure. His head hit the wall, knocking something off a shelf to the left of him. Whatever it was hit the ground with a noisy clatter. He bit his lip, praying that no one heard that. Bruce didn't flinch. Just kept licking and sucking as Clark struggled to keep himself quiet. Every muscle, every nerve on fire as raw heat curled through his body. It made him shake, threatened to burst out of him, splitting him. He couldn't contain it, not if Bruce kept moaning around Clark's cock, his hands on Clark's hips, wet heat moving faster, pulling tighter...

...stopping. Bruce stopped. Why had Bruce stopped? This was just...no. There was no way he could stop now. Clark tried to form the words to explain this to Bruce, but he was cut off before he could get started.

"That's enough of that," Bruce said smoothly. Smirking. Bastard. "My turn."

When Bruce entered him, Clark almost lost it completely. A hand reached around and gripped his tortured cock. And, yes, this was better. Bruce was right. Bruce was always right. Each thrust shattered Clark's mind just a little bit more.

Voices. Right outside the closet door. Oh God. Clark didn't mean to, but he instinctively switched to x-ray vision. He saw Alan and Sharon from the sports section. Standing. Right. There. Inches away, only a door between them, and now Clark's unique vision had removed that obstacle. He saw the whole office around them, he and Bruce fucking in the middle of all his co-workers. Invisible to all of them, but, God, it looked like they were on display. This was so incredibly wrong, and Clark shouldn't be so turned on.

He didn't switch his vision back as Bruce continued to slam into him. He tried not to think about how dirty he felt. Or how much he liked feeling that way. Soft, manicured fingers kept a firm grip on his cock, and he was going to totally lose it in a second.

Clark saw Perry White walk by the closet door as he came hard, biting his lip because making any noise right now would be so awful. And god damn Bruce because Clark never wanted to come while looking directly at Perry White. Ever. More hard thrusts and Clark whimpered as Bruce bit down on his shoulder and came inside him. Arms pulled tight across Clark's heaving chest.

"Oh my God," Clark whispered, "Oh my God."

"You can call me Bruce."

"No. That was so...wrong. It was..."

"Dirty?"

"Filthy! I...I could see the whole office. I could see...Perry! Oh my God!"

"You were using your x-ray vision? That is naughty, Superman." Bruce kissed his neck.

Clark turned to face him. "You are pure evil."

"You tied me to my bed while I was asleep."

Clark blushed. He knew that he'd done that, but still couldn't believe it.

"Well, now we're even," Clark said nervously as he dressed himself.

"Hmmm...by my count, five to one is not even. Since I'm the smart one, we'd better trust my math."

"Bruce, I..." he was cut off by a hard, possessive kiss.

"You'd better get back to work, reporter." Bruce said, eyes gleaming.

"Pure evil," Clark repeated, returning his glasses to his face.

"Oh, and Clark," Bruce said as Clark went for the doorknob, "Keep your schedule open."

Fic: Holiday In The Sun - Day Five

2007-01-02T03:39:00Z

Title: Holiday In The Sun: Day Five
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: If only I owned these guys…
Notes: For the worlds_finest "In Heat" Challenge. Filthy PWP. Not my usual style.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Superman gets all hot and bothered after a trip to the Sun. Bruce takes the heat.
Word Count: 1492

Another day, another meeting. This time the bi-monthly roundtable of the original seven League members. Certainly more interesting than the board meeting Bruce partially endured yesterday, but still not his first choice of places to be.

So far it was the most normal day of Bruce's week. He was comfortable in full Batman costume, discussing potential new recruits, and mistakes made on recent missions.

Sitting next to him, Superman seemed relatively normal too. Somewhat fidgety, perhaps. Bruce did his best to ignore him. If he so much as glanced at Clark it would remind him of what he would really like to be doing now. Considering the telepath sitting across from him, that would be really bad.

"I think we should discuss Huntress," J'onn said, "She's been increasingly reckless since the League disbanded her. I fear she may be a danger to herself. I wonder if we should be watching her more closely."

"I have been," Bruce said in a tone meant to end any further discussion on the matter, "She'll be fine."

Bruce felt a hand on his leg, just above his knee. He was glad his eyes were hidden to his teammates.

"What about The Question?" John asked, "I'm going to be frank here and say that he weirds me out."

"Better to have him on our side," Superman pointed out, his voice completely normal, as if he wasn't firmly sliding a hand up the inside of Batman's thigh, "Besides, we need him researching Cadmus."

"But didn't we ask him to do that months ago? Have we learned anything new yet?" Wally asked, "It just seems that he's just doing what Bats could do in half the time."

"Or Elongated Man," Diana added.

It was all Bruce could do to keep from jumping up as he felt a fingernail slice through the heavy material on his inner thigh. A hand pushed through the new opening, warm against his skin. Fingers gliding up to his crotch, teasing.

"I..." Bruce stammered, "I don't have time to do everything. I have full confidence in The Question. Give him time."

Bruce needed to stay focused on the meeting. Needed to think unsexy thoughts. He kept his eyes on Wally. That should help.

"If Batman says Question is the man for the job, then that's good enough for me," Superman said, still perfectly calm. No indication of what was happening below the table. Bruce did a frantic run-down of the various superpowers present in the room. No x-ray vision except Clark, but there was still that damn telepathy.

Right. This couldn't happen. Not here. Not now. He gripped Clark's hand with his own and pulled it off his leg. Clark responded by weaving their fingers together tightly.

There was no way Batman was going to hold hands with Superman during this meeting. He chanced a quick glance at Clark, who was facing forward, seemingly listening to Diana list off charitable functions they had been invited to attend.

"I think we should start sending some of the other members to those," Superman suggested, "It will give the public a chance to feel comfortable with them. A lot of members are virtually strangers to them." As Clark was saying this, Bruce's hand was pulled over onto his lap and pressed hard into Clark's erection. Bruce kept his face as straight as possible, but he was losing the ability to keep his mind clean. All the ways he would punish Clark for this.

"It also wouldn't be a bad idea for Batman to make some charitable appearances," Superman added, his hand back on Bruce's lap.

"That's not going to happen," he replied shortly, running his knuckles up the bulge in Superman's shorts. Bruce felt him flinch, and he couldn't keep his lips from twitching into a satisfied smile.

"I don't know what you have against people liking you," Superman said, circling a finger around Bruce's cock. Bruce bit his lip, hoping it would appear to the others that he was simply annoyed, and not two seconds away from jumping Clark right here.

"Yes you do," he managed to say.

"Well...I could listen to this argument all day," John said, shooting them a strange look, "But I think we're done here. Unless anyone else has something they'd like to bring up."

Bruce fucking dared anyone to speak. It must have shown on his face because no one said a word.

"Alright then," John continued, "Meeting adjourned until next time."

"Superman, I would like to talk privately with you, if you have some time," Bruce said, standing.

"I suppose I could make time for that. Would now be alright?"

"Now would be perfect."

Bruce walked quickly out of the room, with Clark following closely. It was all Bruce could do to keep from grabbing him by the cape and pulling him along. His chambers were close, but not close enough.

Finally at the door and Bruce struggled to remember his security code as he felt Clark breathing on his neck.

Door open and all bets were off. It hadn't even fully closed before Bruce pulled Clark into him.

"That wasn't very nice, Superman," he breathed between furious kisses.

"You didn't seem to mind."

Bruce didn't respond. Just pushed Clark onto the bed, his red cape spread out beneath him. He quickly undid Superman's pointless belt and hauled the shorts and tights down. Bruce didn't bother to remove anything. The cape, the gloves, the mask all stayed on as he swallowed Clark's beautiful cock.

"Oh Jesus, yes Bruce! So good like this...so fucking good."

A gloved hand slid up Clark's thigh to cup his balls and he cried out like he'd been burned.

"God, Bruce. The gloves. That feels..." his words melted into whimpers as Bruce stroked with leather fingers. Bruce sucked harder, swallowing hard, relentless. It was as if some of the Sun's energy had been transferred to Bruce. He was ravenous, crazy, determined to reduce the Man of Steel to nothing but trembles and moans.

Since Clark liked the gloves so much, Bruce slid his mouth off his cock and replaced it with a hand. Clark arched and yelped. Leather fetish. Who knew?

Bruce pumped his fist faster, coaxing Clark by letting him know exactly how hard he intended to fuck him after. Clark only able to form fragments of words at this point.

Both fists slammed into the mattress as Clark came into Bruce's hand. Bruce smiled and stood. He pulled off the wet gloves and dropped them to the floor. Next the cape and cowl, then the belt. He continued the slow striptease while Clark watched intently, chest still heaving.

"Was that good for you?" Bruce asked sardonically.

"Jesus, Bruce. You have no idea. You'd better not be lying about what you were saying."

"What? About fucking you?" Bruce pulled off his boots. "No. That's definitely happening."

Clark sat up, detatched his cape and let it fall to the bed. He pulled off his shirt as Bruce did the same. Soon both costumes were off, leaving black leather strewn amongst red and blue on the floor.

"Now, where's that lube that magically follows you wherever you go?" Bruce asked.

"Pocket in the cape," Clark grinned.

"Seriously?" Bruce grabbed the cape, felt the pocket and removed the tiny bottle. Seriously.

He turned Clark onto his stomach and straddled him. He pressed a hand into Clark's back as he slowly entered him. Clark loudly sucked in a breath.

"You didn't honestly think I would let you keep invading my life like this and not take what I want, did you?" Bruce rumbled.

"No," Clark breathed, "God, Bruce. I want it too."

"Good." He leaned in and made small bites on Clark's shoulder blades. Invulnerable skin, unable to register pain, but Clark still shuddered with each one. Just like he gasped each time Bruce thrust inside him.

He held Clark down, fucking him and whispering in his ear. No control over what he was saying. Telling him how crazy he made him. How important this was. That they would save the world together. That Bruce would never let him become what he feared he would. That Bruce believed in Clark's heart.

Clark made quiet noises against the mattress. Bruce was so close, never wanting release more than right now. Feeling it build with each movement, curling through his body, clenching his muscles, burning his eyes. So close. One more and Bruce fell to pieces, collapsing on Clark in a ragged heap.

He remained still for a minute, listening to Clark breathing beneath him. He slid down onto the mattress, wrapping an arm around his lover. He kissed his neck, and Clark turned so he could have his mouth.

They lay together on the bed in silence, Bruce gently stroking Clark's hair. Soon Bruce realized that the other man was asleep. Finally exhausted.

They had never actually slept together. Even before Clark's trip to the Sun their encounters had been brief and frantic. Wedged into their busy lives whenever possible. Bruce closed his eyes and breathed Clark in, loving him. He could justify a short nap. He certainly needed it.

Bruce fell asleep smiling, wondering if Clark would be embarrassed about the past few days when he woke up. He certainly hoped so. It would make what he was planning a lot more fun.

On to the Epilogue!

Fic: Holiday In The Sun - Day Four

2007-01-02T03:36:27Z

Title: Holiday In The Sun: Day Four
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: If only I owned these guys…
Notes: For the worlds_finest "In Heat" Challenge. Filthy PWP. Not my usual style. To be continued tomorrow (and the next day…)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Superman gets all hot and bothered after a trip to the Sun. Bruce takes the heat.
Word Count: 1492

Bruce stifled a yawn as a man in a suit across the boardroom table talked endlessly about something or other. He always tried to be present at these quarterly review meetings, but he couldn't believe it had already been three months since the last one. Too soon to forget how bland they were.

He had given up on sleep after Clark left his bedroom early that morning. He managed to remove the grease paint from his eyes with some effort. It reminded him of the early years, before he enhanced the mask with white lenses to hide his eyes. He had nearly forgotten the days when he bothered to blacken his eyes every night.

He took a sip of coffee as another man argued the points brought up by the first man. He should be paying closer attention. This was his company. His father's company. He should be more interested.

"You must be dying of boredom," remarked a voice in his earpiece. Bruce coughed in response.

"It's ok. I know you can't answer me. I just want you to know that I'm thinking of you."

Bruce kept his face straight, but glanced around the table at the dozen or so other men and women. They couldn't hear this. He knew it, but he was still uneasy. Clark was so...unpredictable lately. He had promised to surprise Bruce today, and Bruce hated surprises.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Clark continued, "How amazing you looked this morning, all tied up and begging me to touch you. How hot you looked sucking me off."

Bruce bit his lip to prevent a moan from escaping. He cleared his throat.

"But I didn't take everything I wanted from you, Bruce. I had to leave before I was finished. And now I'm so turned on thinking about you I can barely stand it."

Bruce's tailored pants were getting less comfortable by the second. His face might have been getting a little red, too.

"How about you, Bruce? Are you having trouble paying attention to your meeting? Are you as hard as I am? Just cough if you are."

Bruce coughed. A little too loudly.

"Good," Clark said, his voice was low and seductive. It was strange, but Bruce could work with it. "It's really too bad there are so many people in there, because I would love to throw you down on that big table and make you forget all about stock options."

If Bruce could talk, he would point out that Clark really knew nothing at all about business and it showed. Or maybe he would just do what he was doing now, which was shuddering.

Bruce went for the water glass in front of him. His throat was suddenly a little dry. He needed Clark to shut up. But not so much that he was willing to remove the earpiece.

"What do you think they would say, Bruce, if they knew that only a few hours ago you had Superman's cock in your mouth? Do you think they'd be surprised?"

Bruce took another long drink of water and shifted in his seat.

"I'll tell you how they should feel. Jealous. Of me. Because I know what it's like when Bruce Wayne, Batman, The Dark Knight takes all of his strength and determination and ambition and focuses it on making me absolutely lose my mind."

As discreetly as possible, Bruce slipped his hand under the table and pressed hard against his constricted erection. He was starting to care less and less if anyone noticed how aroused he was.

He lifted his coffee mug to his lips and held it there as he whispered, barely audibly, "You'll pay for this later."

"I hope so."

Enough was enough. Bruce had to excuse himself. He did so as quickly as possible, keeping his posture slightly hunched forward to hide the bulge in his pants.

He entered his office and closed the door, locking it behind him. Just to be extra cautious, he went into his private bathroom, locking that door as well.

"Surprise."

Bruce nearly jumped as he turned to face the man who was already in the bathroom.

Clark Kent leaned casually against the far wall, wearing a full suit and a smirk. He pulled off his glasses and folded them neatly before setting them on the sink. Then the jacked was slipped off onto the floor. Next the tie was loosened. Bruce stood, gaping, then found himself tearing off his own jacket and tie as he moved quickly toward Clark.

Their mouths came together hard. Hands pulling fabric and buttons flying. Large hands grabbed Bruce's ass and pulled his crotch against Clark's thigh. Bruce grunted and kissed Clark harder, almost viciously. He was angry. He was shaken. He was fucking lucky to be able to have this. No one else could have this. No one. And he told Clark so.

Clark reacted by pushing Bruce against the wall so he was facing it. A second later Bruce's pants were gone and it sounded like Clark had opened a bottle of lube.

Did he just carry that around with him at all times?

No time to think about it, much less ask, because Clark was already pushing into Bruce. Barely any preparation and it hurt, but Bruce could take it. He cried out against the wall as Clark wrapped a hand around Bruce's cock.

It wasn't usually like this. Normally Clark was happy to let Bruce fuck him. To let him take out all of the night's frustrations on his invulnerable body. Clark always seemed to enjoy the rare opportunity to be submissive. They both knew who
really had the power, but Clark hid it well, always indulging Bruce and his need to control everything. Just like Bruce would indulge Clark's need to be controlled.

Now Clark was full to bursting with solar energy, and he wasn't giving Bruce a chance. And maybe Bruce didn't want one. Maybe this was what he had always needed. He didn't accidentally choose the most powerful being on the planet as his lover. There was always a part of him, buried beneath years of rage, that just needed to lose control. Just surrender himself to another person, even if just once in awhile.

But Clark would pay for this when the extra energy had finally burned off.

For now Bruce let everything go as Clark thrust into him hard against the wall, biting his neck and whispering things that would drastically change the public's opinion of their supposedly squeaky clean hero.

"Tell me you love it."

"I love it," Bruce gasped, "I love you."

"Tell me you'll never leave me."

"I won't. I'll never leave." They were just delirious, passion-fuelled statements. Bruce would have said anything at that moment, but Clark loved hearing it. Maybe Bruce even meant it.

"Nothing is better than this, Bruce. Nothing. Bruce!" Clark was coming deep inside him. Almost immediately Bruce followed, his legs buckling, but Superman's strong arms keeping him pinned against the wall. He swore to God that he would never leave Clark. Repeatedly. Clark turned him around and pulled him close, holding him and stroking his hair as Bruce struggled to piece himself back together. He felt crazed, exhausted, possibly on the brink of tears. Clark held him, kissed him. Told him he loved him.

Bruce didn't know how much more of this he could take. He also didn't know if he could give it up.

Clark dressed himself and handed Bruce his pants.

"I suppose you should get back to your meeting."

Bruce just nodded.

Clark grinned. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but there is no way that those people aren't going to know that you just got lucky."

Bruce carefully tucked in his shirt. "I'm sure that won't shock any of them."

Clark stepped toward Bruce, holding his necktie. He went to work tying it for him while Bruce just watched.

"You're tired," Clark observed.

"Can't imagine why."

Clark finished the knot and admired his handiwork. Bruce would have to fix it later.

"How are you feeling, Clark?"

"Me? I've never felt better. Really. It's incredible."

"Still full of energy, then?"

Clark kissed him. "I'm afraid so. Is that a problem?"

"No."

"Good. Because I have big ideas for tomorrow."

This is normally where Bruce would protest that he had other things he needed to be doing. Instead he found himself saying "Seems like an awfully long wait."

Clark raised an eyebrow, "As they say, Bruce, good things come to those who wait."

Bruce smirked, pleased that he was able to end this encounter with a shred of dignity. He returned to the meeting, not bothering to fix his mussed hair. He felt good. He gave the guy across the table from him a wink as he sat down. The rest of the meeting was lost to him as he became engrossed in considering the possibilities that tomorrow would bring.

On to Day Five!

Fic: Holiday In The Sun - Day Three

2007-01-02T03:34:35Z

Title: Holiday In The Sun: Day Three
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: If only I owned these guys…
Notes: For the worlds_finest "In Heat" Challenge. Filthy PWP. Not my usual style. To be continued tomorrow (and the next day…)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Superman gets all hot and bothered after a trip to the Sun. Bruce takes the heat.
Word Count: 1279

Bruce got into bed around 4am, trying to ignore the nagging disappointment that Clark hadn't made good on any of the promises made in the shower yesterday.

He reasoned that the excess energy Clark was storing from the sun must have finally worn off. He knew that was probably a good thing, but had a hard time convincing himself.

Bruce awoke an hour later to find himself spread-eagle and naked on top of the blankets. His arms and legs were attached with long ties to the four bedposts. And Clark was there, sitting between Bruce's legs, wearing nothing and smiling calmly.

"Clark! What the hell..."

"Hi, Bruce. Sorry I'm late."

"Late? How did you...untie me!"

"Sorry, Bruce. I can't do that. You look too good like this."

"Dammit, Clark," Bruce growled, struggling uselessly against the ties.

"Oh, you won't break those knots," Clark said, his tone amused, "Boyscout and all that."

It wasn't that Bruce minded Clark's sudden interest in bondage, it was just that he hated knowing that Clark was able to do all this to him while he was asleep. Unfortunately his cock wasn't able to stay mad at Clark, which sort of weakened his argument.

Clark crawled up Bruce's body, holding something.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, watching as Clark dabbed his finger in the small pot of black grease paint he now held in plain view.

Clark reached out his finger and ran it over Bruce's left eyelid, gently slicking it with the cool, thick cream. He did the same with the right eye.

"Where did you get that?" Bruce asked, watching Clark's face. It was filled with fascination as he carefully painted Bruce's eyes.

"Your make-up kit."

"Disguise kit," Bruce corrected, "How many new kinks am I going to learn about tonight?"

"We'll see." Clark's voice was distant as he studied Bruce's face. Bruce licked his lips nervously.

"What?"

In response, the Kryptonian ran his tongue, cold as ice, over the contours of Bruce's chest and stomach. His whole body jolted in response. The bedposts shook, but the knots held tight.

Clark moved his tongue down to Bruce's hips, his thighs, all the way to his ankles. Agonizingly slow. He avoided his cock, even though Bruce thought, at this point, it was pretty tough to miss.

"Clark, please..."

Eyes like blue flames met Bruce's. "Patience, Bruce. We'll get to that. I've been wanting to see you like this for a long time, and I intend to enjoy it for as long as I can."

It took Bruce a moment to notice that his mouth had fallen open. He closed it as soon as he realized, still trying to maintain the illusion that his brain was not melting. That even though he was tied up, spread out, naked, and painted like a whore, he was still in control of the situation. That the fact that Superman was gently scraping teeth that could eat a container ship up the insides of Bruce's thighs wasn't making him moan. Wasn't making his whole body shake. Wasn't making him thrust uselessly into the open air.

"You should see yourself, Bruce," Clark said, finally bringing himself up so they were face to face, "Your eyes look so incredible like this. No wonder your mask has lenses. Criminals would fall in love with you if they saw how pretty they look surrounded by black."

"Pretty?"

Clark smirked, "It's the best word for it. You would agree if you could see yourself, I'm sure."

"I doubt it."

Clark kissed him.

"I'm going to untie your legs because I want you to sit up."

"Why?"

"Because what I've been thinking about all day is what you would look like sucking my cock like this."

By now Bruce should really be getting used to this newer, bolder, dirtier Clark. But it was hard to prepare himself for statements like that coming from the Man of Steel. Bruce could only swallow as Clark untied his ankles. He moved himself up to a sitting position and Clark kneeled between his legs. He leaned down and kissed Bruce slowly. Bruce's cock would really like some attention, but it seemed that he had to earn it today.

"Are you watching?" Bruce asked, glancing up at Clark.

"Yes, Bruce. I don't want to miss a second." He ran a hand through Bruce's hair.

Bruce took Clark's cock in his mouth. He sucked hard, wildly licking and wishing he could reach out and touch and grab. He kept his eyes locked on Clark's. They were all that he had to control Clark with. His eyes and his mouth, which, for Bruce, were more than enough. He would make Clark understand that they were more than enough. Even in this position, Bruce could hold all the cards.

Above him Bruce heard sharp intakes of breath and low moans. Breathless, isolated words like "beautiful" and "mine" fell from Clark's lips as he fucked Bruce's mouth. One hand planted firmly in Bruce's hair, and the other finally, mercifully, finding Bruce's aching cock. Bruce let out a hiss of breath as he sucked, closed his eyes as Clark slid his hand roughly up and down.

Bruce's arms were tired. A lesser man might be in agony by now. He ignored the pain, then welcomed it. Invited it to be a part of what they were doing. Just another sensation rushing through his body, like the raw heat curling in his abdomen with each stroke of Clark's hand. With each profane outburst from Clark's mouth. With each careful thrust of Clark's hips into his mouth. He could see his indestructible legs tremble on either side of him, and he knew it wouldn't last much longer. For either of them.

Clark came into his mouth yelling Bruce's name between noises that sounded like crying. Bruce watched his face and swallowed endlessly. Clark's eyes were so big, like he couldn't believe what was happening, and it was amazing that any sensation could still excite Superman this way.

His hand kept a rhythm on Bruce's cock as Clark caught his breath. Somehow he managed to lose it during sex, which Bruce couldn't understand but didn't want to question. Didn't want to know if it was only an act. Didn't want to know anything except what Clark was thinking at that exact moment as he gazed down on him, then leaned down to kiss him.

"I want you to come, Bruce. Now."

Bruce's whole body arched off the bed as he came in bursts onto his own stomach. He was completely gone because Clark had decided to say that in his most Superman tone of voice. And that was too much. A stream of nonsense and obscenities flew out of Bruce's mouth. He might have asked Clark to marry him.

As Bruce struggled to regain his composure, Clark calmly got up and left the room, returning with a wet cloth. He used it to wipe Bruce's stomach.

"You know, if you untie me, I could do that myself."

Clark gave a small smile and reached up to casually slice a finger through both ties. Bruce was relieved to finally relax his arms, but let Clark continue to wash him because it actually was kind of enjoyable.

"I thought you were going to use that to wipe the make-up off."

"I thought you said it wasn't make-up."

"Shut-up."

A long kiss and then Clark was standing.

"I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Bruce glanced up as he rubbed his wrists. Clark was already in full Superman costume.

"Tomorrow, as in later today?"

Clark grinned, "I don't want to spoil the surprise."

"I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one."

On to Day Four!

Fic: Holiday In The Sun - Day Two

2007-01-02T03:31:37Z

Title: Holiday In The Sun: Day Two
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: If only I owned these guys…
Notes: For the worlds_finest "In Heat" Challenge. Filthy PWP. Not my usual style.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Superman gets all hot and bothered after a trip to the Sun. Bruce takes the heat.
Word Count: 1131

When asked, Batman always said the showers in the Watchtower had extra hard water pressure for the benefit of the metas with super strength. Really it was for Bruce. He loved these showers.

He closed his eyes as the hot water pounded him, then opened them to discover he wasn't alone.

"Clark!"

"Bruce."

"What are you doing in here?"

"All the other ones were taken," Clark's voice was playful.

"No they weren't," Bruce argued, somewhat distracted by the trickles of water that were running over Clark's naked, sculpted body.

"Shut up, Bruce," Clark said, cutting off further protest with a long kiss.

"What if someone sees us?" Bruce whispered, trying to remain rational.

"Are there cameras in here?" Clark asked calmly.

"No."

"Good, because I was thinking about what we did yesterday in the cave. I've been thinking about it all day."

Bruce shuddered as Clark's hand slid down to find his already-hard cock.

"Still have some left-over energy from the Sun," Bruce observed.

"Tons."

"Fine," Bruce surrendered, "But no more talking. Someone could hear us."

Clark raised an eyebrow, smirking, "Alright," he whispered, "Whoever makes a sound first loses."

"I'm not playing games," Bruce protested, pretending that the idea didn't make him even more turned on.

"Starting now," Clark said, ignoring him. He covered Bruce's mouth with his own.

Fine, Bruce decided with his last of scrap of coherent brain activity, If he wants to play games, we'll play. And he'll lose.

He pushed Clark against the wall, biting down on a spot on his neck that always made him moan. He curled a finger behind Clark's balls and stroked. He saw Clark bite his lip. Bruce smirked and moved his mouth down to Clark's nipples. He could feel him tremble under his hands and under his lips. There was nothing better in the world than being able to make the invulnerable Man of Steel tremble and moan and beg. Bruce pushed their cocks together, needing the pressure as he watched Clark struggle to stay silent.

Then Clark's expression changed. His eyes opened, a grin spreading across his face. He gave Bruce a wink then dropped down to his knees. Bruce barely had time to bite down on his fist before Clark's mouth was wrapped around his cock, his tongue making long strokes down and over the head. Bruce slammed his free hand against the wall in front of him, bracing himself as he clenched his eyes shut. Clark was pure evil, clearly playing to win. Bruce was ok with that, but he still wasn't going to let him win.

Even if he had the rest of his life to do it, Bruce could never possibly describe in words how good a blowjob from Superman is. Not only because Clark was...gifted...in so many ways, and could do things with his mouth that no other being could possibly do. It was also just knowing that the most powerful man on the planet, maybe in the universe, was, at that moment, on his knees sucking your cock. Bruce knew that was a dark and egotistical way to think about it, but there was no way to not think about it. Superman was...

...oh God. Making his breath cold. Making Bruce inhale sharply, and that didn't count as a sound so don't even try to say you won, Boyscout. If it sounds like running water, it doesn't count.

Bruce had to stop this if he was going to stay in the game. He had to get the upper hand. Even though his whole body was saying "fuck the game" as Clark sucked harder, licked faster. He was thrusting into Clark's mouth without even realizing it. His hand left his mouth and buried itself in Clark's wet hair. The hot water continued to beat down on them as Bruce felt himself drift closer and closer to the edge.

Normally this would be the point where Bruce would regain control, turn the tables and make it clear who the boss was. There was nothing normal about what was happening right now. Bruce only ever had control over Clark because Clark gave it to him. He allowed Bruce to believe that he had some sort of power over him, and right now Clark was reminding Bruce who really had all the power. On his knees, making what would usually be considered a submissive position look so authoritative. His eyes fixed hard on Bruce's, daring him to make a sound. Letting him know that he would break as soon as Clark wanted him to, and that he would lose this battle.

Bruce felt pure heat flow through his body, starting behind his eyes. His muscles tensed, he returned his hand to his mouth and bit down as everything was ripped out of him and flooded into Clark's mouth. He clenched his eyes, punched the tile wall, and swallowed the noise that threatened to erupt from him.

Clark stood. "I'm impressed," he said against Bruce's ear.

"You spoke," Bruce pointed out, "You lose."

"Mmm...Then I guess I'll go out in a blaze of glory." Clark grabbed Bruce's hand and placed it on his cock, kissing Bruce hard.

Bruce moved his hand quickly. He knew Clark liked it as hard and fast as possible. With the edge off himself, Bruce had a chance to contemplate how wrong this was. Clark was acting strange. He had a reasonable explanation for it, and he seemed harmless enough, so there probably wasn't much call for concern. But how long was this going to go on for? Days? Weeks? A year? Bruce couldn't afford to be a full-time Kryptonian sex toy. No matter how much he might be ok with that.

Bruce decided to stop over-thinking things as Clark rocked into his hand, whispering dark promises of what he would do to him next time. His voice was rough, his speech wild and scattered.

"...fuck you everyday, Bruce...in my apartment...in the sky...in every room of that fucking mansion...tie you up and make you beg for it..."

Bruce's breath hitched. He gripped harder, moved faster. Wanted to kiss Clark but didn't want him to stop talking. Couldn't believe that Clark, Superman, had suddenly become such an expert in dirty talk.

Finally a violent shudder ran through Clark's body and he came hard against Bruce's stomach. A large crack crawled up the wall, splitting the tiles, as his mighty hand hit them. Already assured victory, Clark didn't bother to muffle the anguished cries that burst from him.

"Shhhh," Bruce hissed, authentically concerned about their privacy, but unable to keep from grinning.

Clark kissed him, and smiled.

"That was just a quickie. I intend to take my time with you next time."

"Next time? When might that be?"

Clark winked before exiting the shower. "Keep your schedule open."

On to Day Three!

Fic: Holiday In The Sun - Day One

2007-01-02T03:29:29Z

There are six parts of this PWP series altogether. It was already posted over at worlds_finest a few weeks ago. I'm going to re-post all six parts in my journal now. So stop me if you've heard this one...

I should warn you, this is straight-up porn. You've been warned/promised.

Title: Holiday In The Sun: Day One
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: If only I owned these guys...
Notes: For the worlds_finest "In Heat" Challenge. Filthy PWP.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Superman gets all hot and bothered after a trip to the Sun. Bruce takes the heat.
Word Count: 1244

"Batman, it's Oracle. Are you there?"

"Batman here. Did you get anything off of that disc I gave you?"

"Eventually. I wouldn't beat yourself up too much about not being able to crack it yourself. The programming is ingenious."

Bruce stood half-dressed in the cave, preparing to go out for the night. Where he would go depended largely on what Oracle found on that disc.

"And?"

"I think you should probably see it for yourself."

"I'll be there shortly." As he said it, Bruce felt strong arms wrap around him from behind, and hot breath on his ear.

"Tell her you'll be a little late," said an unusually seductive voice.

Bruce moaned as warm lips pressed hard against his neck, sucking under his jawbone.

Oracle's concerned voice came through the earpiece. "Batman, are you alright? Where are you?"

"Tell her you're in good hands," Superman breathed as he moved one hand down Bruce's bare chest, another up his thigh.

"I'm fine," he said as evenly as possible, "Batman out."

Superman spun him around and took his mouth as soon as the comm link was broken. The kiss was hard and possessive, and Bruce's cock responded immediately. This was a new side of Superman. Usually Clark was tender, hesitant, even nervous during their encounters. Now it was like Bruce was being kissed by pure fire, dangerous and unyielding.

Suddenly it clicked.

"You've been to the Sun," he managed to gasp before Clark could attack his mouth again.

"Mmmm...good guess," Clark murmured, holding Bruce's head in his hands. His blue eyes, almost florescent, were eying Bruce as if he were dessert. "I've got a lot of excess energy that I need to burn off."

Bruce wanted to say that now wasn't a good time, but his cock was telling him that now was a great time, and it was hard to ignore logic like that.

"You know," Clark said in a low voice, moving his hands slowly down Bruce's sides, "We've never fucked in the Batcave."

Bruce was hearing things. There was no way Superman just said "fuck." As a verb. In his ear. In the Batcave.

"I didn't know you knew that word, Clark," he said, his voice hitching as Clark's tongue ran across a nipple.

"I'm going to show you how well I know that word, Bruce," Clark's voice was low and commanding, and was making Bruce absolutely fucking crazy.

"In here?" Bruce asked, closing his eyes and feeling all sense leave him. He relaxed his body and let Clark do whatever he wanted with it.

"Oh yes," Clark said, grabbing Bruce by both hands, "I've been thinking about this the whole way back from the Sun. And that's a long trip, even for me. I know exactly what we're going to do."

He pushed him onto the hood of the Batmobile, placing Bruce's outstretched arms on the windshield above his head.

"Keep them there," he ordered as he slid his hands down to Bruce's waistband. With one fluid motion Bruce's tights were removed, leaving him naked on the hood of his car.

"Even better than I imagined," Clark whispered as he stood above Bruce, running his eyes over him. Bruce saw Clark's tongue poke out and wet his lips. Bruce shivered against the cold metal of the car, but more from anticipation than temperature.

Clark removed his own cape, and slowly removed the rest of his costume, dropping each piece on the floor behind him. He never took his eyes off Bruce. Just stared at him with an intensity that came close to making Bruce uncomfortable. At this point Bruce was so aroused it would take Clark suddenly growing horns and a tail to make him uncomfortable. And even then...

Clark was completely naked, his skin almost glowing. Bruce reached out a hand to touch him, but found his arm back above his head before he barely moved it.

"I said," Clark spoke slowly, "Keep them there." His voice was teasing, but had an edge that made Bruce decide that he wouldn't try moving his arms again.

"Bruce, you should see yourself right now," Clark said, still looming over him, "I've never seen anything more beautiful in my whole life." He smirked, "I suppose you will be able to see yourself later. There's no shortage of surveillance cameras in here. Now you'll have something interesting to watch."

Bruce made a squeaking noise that would have been embarrassing, but he was far beyond that now. He needed Clark to touch him, if he wasn't allowed to touch Clark. He needed contact. He needed release. He feared for what was left of his sanity.

Clark's mouth collided with his own. He felt a hand slam against the car next to his shoulder. That would be a dent. Not that he cared. About anything. Other than the long fingers that were finally wrapping around his aching cock.

"I'm going to fuck you, Bruce. Right here on the hood of your car, in the Batcave. Is that alright with you?"

"Please," Bruce gasped, "Yes."

"You've thought about this too, haven't you Bruce?"

"Yes," Bruce grunted, although maybe in his fantasies Clark was the one spread out on the car. He had never even considered their positions reversed, with Clark taking control and making Bruce beg for it. Bruce was upset with his imagination for holding out on him.

Suddenly there was lubrication from somewhere. Didn't matter where. Lord knows Clark probably brought it with him. Always prepared. Bruce felt slick fingers press against him, press inside him. His mouth fell open, letting out a noise between laughter and pain. One long finger hit a spot inside him that made his cock jerk and his teeth clench. He needed more.

"Clark, please. I'm ready. I need you..."

Clark pushed slowly inside him, filling him. As Clark started moving, Bruce knew he wasn't going to last long. It was just too much, this lecherous version of Superman, over-charged on pure sunlight, kissing Bruce and fucking Bruce like everything in the world depended on it. Bruce's mind was gone. The whole world could crumble away and die, leaving nothing but Clark fucking him on this car, and that would be fine.

He shuddered at his own dark thoughts. Clark pushed harder, deeper, his eyes fixed on Bruce's own.

"I want to touch you," Bruce said.

Clark nodded silently, his eyes closing as he gave permission. Bruce grabbed handfuls of Clark's hair and pulled their mouths together.

"Fuck, Bruce," Clark said, "This is so perfect. You're so perfect."

Bruce cried out as he came, his voice echoing off the walls of the cave.

Strong hands held Bruce's hips as Clark's back arched. He felt the heat of Clark coming inside him as Clark yelled Bruce's name.

Clark collapsed on top of Bruce, kissing him feverishly again and again.

"So beautiful, Bruce," he murmured between kisses, "Love you."

Bruce wrapped his arms around the Man of Steel. They stayed like that for a few silent minutes, just breathing.

"I have to get out there," Bruce said finally.

"I know," Clark sighed, pushing himself off of Bruce, standing.

"Do you plan on visiting the Sun again anytime soon?" Bruce asked, his mouth twitching upwards, as he sat up.

Clark smiled as he pulled his suit on, "It was an extra long visit this time. I still feel like I have some energy to burn off."

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"God help me."

On to Day Two!

Fic: First Time For Everything (Part 4)

2006-12-29T20:38:36Z

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Bruce had Alfred make excuses for him this year. Bruce Wayne was supposedly spending New Year's Eve in Fiji. As he'd overheard Alfred explaining on the phone, "Master Wayne wishes to be one of the first people on Earth to ring in the New Year."

It was suitably eccentric, and meant that Bruce wouldn't have to suffer through another holiday party. Which is why, at quarter to midnight, Batman was perched on a rooftop.

The most dangerous threats he'd encountered in recent months were locked up in Arkham or prison. That didn't mean there wouldn't be new ones emerging. New Year's Eve was an ideal night for an insane opportunist to make their grand debut.

No debuts yet. Batman watched over his city and listened.

He felt something strike the back of his head. Not hard. He was ok. He whipped around, every muscle tense and ready to attack.

He saw Superman standing on the rooftop, smiling. Bruce looked down at the crumbled snowball at his feet, and glared at Kal.

"Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on Metropolis?" Bruce asked in his threatening Batman growl. He was annoyed that Kal would suddenly appear like this. He hadn't heard from him since his sudden departure on Christmas.

"I am," Kal said, not quite smirking.

Bruce had spent the last week trying to forget most of what happened at the manor. He threw himself into his work to keep himself from thinking of those moments he had shared with Kal. How dizzying it was to stand close to him. How beautiful he was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, his voice tired and husky. How much he seemed to authentically enjoy Bruce's company. How blue his eyes were, especially when surrounded by falling snow.

Mostly Bruce tried to forget that Kal had hinted, if only for a drunken moment, that this perfect being could be somehow interested in Bruce. That Bruce could have him.

Bruce had never been one to give into lust or romance. He'd never considered himself to be lonely, even though he knew most rational people would say that he was. He didn't need other people, but he wanted Kal. The fact that he was willing to admit this to himself told how much he wanted him.

"I read that you stopped the tsunami," Bruce said, keeping his voice low. Hoping the theatrical voice would give less away.

"Bruce, I'm sorry I had to leave like that. Believe me, I didn't want to."

Bruce had to stop himself from saying You could have called. like a scorned woman. What was wrong with him?

"I don't know why you're apologizing," Bruce said, "I haven't thought twice about it."

He noticed Kal glancing at his utility belt. Bruce looked down.

That damn disc.

Kal was kind enough not to mention the fact that disc was definitely glowing bright white inside one of the compartments of Bruce's belt, but he certainly noticed.

"Bruce, you probably think I'm an ungrateful jerk for not contacting you since I took off. I wouldn't blame you."

Bruce knew there was no point in lying, so he didn't say anything.

"The truth is," Kal continued, closing the distance between them as he spoke, "I've had a lot on my mind this past week."

"Have you?" Bruce asked, trying not to sound bitter. He was using his normal voice now, so it was harder.

"I've had to work through some stuff. There's a decision I've been trying to make, and it's very important that I make the right one."

"I can imagine, for you, there are a lot of important decisions," Bruce said, trying to focus on what Kal was saying and not the fact that his mouth was inches away.

"This one is selfish," Kal said softly, his eyes studying Bruce's face. Suddenly, Bruce felt silly wearing the mask, "This is about something that I want."

Bruce removed the mask and let it drop into the snow at his feet. "What do you want?" he asked, hoping he knew the answer.

Bruce felt a hand on the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair as their lips met and opened. They kissed hungrily, as if both men had been starved for this. Bruce felt all sense and self-control leave him as he grabbed the fabric of Kal's uniform to pull him closer. His body was so warm. The gloves were in the way. Bruce tore them off and forced his hands up under Kal's skin tight shirt. He needed to finally feel that skin that haunted him. He pressed hard against Kal's mouth as if he could suck some of the goodness out of him. As if Bruce could somehow claim a small piece of it.

This doesn't make any sense. Bruce thought wildly as Kal devoured his mouth, I'm nothing. I'm just a rich kid with a chip on my shoulder. I don't deserve this.

Fortunately, Kal seemed to disagree as he let Bruce push his shirt up further, exposing his chest. As Bruce moved his mouth down Kal's neck, he heard Kal moan. It was too much. Bruce was finally insane. He knew it would happen eventually. He moved his hands to Kal's belt. He couldn't make his fingers open it, so he just started trying to tear it apart.

"God, Bruce," he heard. It wasn't helping. Then, "Bruce, wait. Stop."

He couldn't stop. He looked at Kal, trying to make him understand this with his eyes because he had lost the ability to speak. Kal was smiling.

"Stop, Bruce. Just...wait. We can't."

"Yes," Bruce said, barely finding his voice, "We can." We have to.

"I mean," Kal said, still smiling, but firmly holding Bruce's wrist to keep his hand still, "We can't do this here. We're on a roof. It's snowing. It's..."

They were momentarily distracted by the sound of millions of people below them cheering at once.

"Midnight," Bruce said, breathing hard.

"Happy New Year."

"Let's get out of here. I know where."

Kal pulled down his shirt. His face was flushed. Bruce had a nearby apartment that he kept, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it.

"I have a place downtown," he said, reaching a hand out to touch Kal's arm. He couldn't stop touching.

Kal nodded, eyes wild. He pulled Bruce in again, kissing him messily. Bruce felt impossibly strong arms around him. He looked down and noticed that they were far above the rooftops now. Fireworks were exploding far beneath them.

"Where are we going?" Kal asked.

"The penthouse apartment in the building three to the left of Wayne Tower," Bruce said pointing. He looked down, completely amazed by how effortless this flight was. This was natural for Kal. As easy as breathing.

Bruce pressed his mouth against Kal's again.

"Your mask!" Kal remembered suddenly, "Your gloves. You left them-"

"Fuck it," Bruce said against Kal's neck, "Let them wonder."

****************

They entered the penthouse from the door on the roof, which was there if Bruce ever decided to arrive via helicopter. They wasted no time getting to the bedroom. Bruce couldn't believe this was happening, and worried that any hesitation would cause Kal to change his mind. He couldn't imagine anything worse.

He couldn't get enough of Kal's mouth. He blindly walked backwards toward the bed, staying pressed against him. He fell backwards when his legs hit the end of the bed, Kal falling on top of him. His hands moved up into Kal's silky hair, each strand more powerful than Bruce's whole body.

Kal suddenly sat up. Bruce followed him halfway, mouth hanging open. Why was Kal so far away?

Kal tore off his own cape in a movement too swift to see. Bruce pushed his hands under Kal's shirt and lifted, revealing his perfect chest and stomach. Kal pulled the shirt over his head as Bruce slowly moved his hands down Kal's chest. Kal actually seemed to shudder.

Bruce was suddenly aware of the amount of armor he was wearing. He wanted it off. He could see Kal thinking the same thing.

"This could take a minute," Bruce said apologetically, moving to get up. Kal pushed him back down onto the bed. He hooked a single finger under Bruce's collar and gently pulled it down the front of his armor. It tore through the Kevlar as if it were icing on a cake, splitting the front perfectly in two. Bruce watched, amazed. He probably would have cared more about his perfectly good body armor being destroyed if he wasn't more turned on than he'd ever been in his life.

Kal tore the suit off from the waist up, taking a moment to study Bruce's body before reclaiming his mouth.

"Sorry about the suit," he murmured against Bruce's lips.

"Fuck. Don't be," Bruce breathed, "Just get the rest of our clothes off."

Kal smiled. A split second later, all clothing was gone. Both men naked and hard and crazed. Bruce couldn't believe that Kal could be as aroused as he was. How was it possible that Bruce had the ability to turn this guy on?

"God, Bruce. You're amazing."

Well, it wasn't important. The fact was that he did turn Kal on, and that was good enough for Bruce.

Bruce flipped Kal over onto his back. Bruce sat up, wanting to look at Kal sprawled out like this. He wanted to see all of him.

It was often said that Superman's costume left nothing to the imagination. Those people were not trying hard enough. The truth was that what Bruce was looking at was so staggeringly beautiful that no imagining could possibly dare to conjure it. Now Bruce could only kneel before him like an altar, resting between his legs and silently thanking anyone who was listening for what he was about to receive.

"Bruce," Kal gasped, "Please."

Bruce could make Superman beg. Incredible.

"Please what?" Bruce asked, moving his mouth over Kal's stomach.

"I want you."

"You want me to what?" Bruce teased, brushing his fingers over Kal's thighs.

"I-I don't know. I don't know what I can do. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, Kal. I know you won't." Bruce moved up so he could look Kal in the eyes.

"If I lose control-"

"You won't. You would never hurt anyone. You can control your powers. You do it everyday."

"I don't feel like this everyday, Bruce. I-I've never felt like this. You make me crazy."

Bruce kissed him slowly. "You have no idea, Kal."

Kal rolled so he was on top of Bruce. "Let me do this first," he said, kissing his way down Bruce's side, gently biting his hip. Bruce jerked involuntarily. "I've been thinking about doing this all week."

Bruce felt hot breath on his cock, Kal's lips so close. His eyes locked on Bruce's own. Kal's tongue darted out and tasted the head, causing Bruce to cry out like he'd been shot. Then it was nothing but wet heat as Kal took him into his mouth. Bruce could no longer see. Couldn't think. The entire world was reduced to Kal's beautiful mouth and what it was doing to him.

This is why people are so obsessed with sex.

Except no one else has had this. If they knew what sex with Superman was like, no one would be able to do anything else.

Bruce watched Kal move his mouth around him. Sucking and licking feverishly. One hand on Bruce's hip, the other sliding up his chest. Bruce thought of the unimaginable power laying just beneath the surface of Kal's stunning body. Then Kal looked up, his eyes meeting Bruce's once again. For the rest of his life, Bruce would never forget Kal's eyes at that moment, dark and wild. Bruce grabbed Kal's hair with both hands. In a second it would all be over. He couldn't last any longer. It was too much.

"Kal!" He wanted to warn him, but it was too late. He came hard in Kal's mouth. Kal didn't seem to mind, he just kept licking and sucking until there was nothing left coming out of Bruce but ragged breaths and profanity.

"Fuck. Kal, I- fuck. I- That was- Jesus."

Kal crawled up his body, cutting Bruce's nonsense off with a slow, deep kiss.

"That was even better that I thought it would be," Kal sighed, grinning.

With the edge partially off, Bruce gained control of the situation.

"Kal, I want you to fuck me."

"Bruce, I- I can't."

"Yes you can, Kal. I trust you."

"I'll hurt you."

"Do you want to fuck me, Kal?"

Kal gasped, "Yes, Bruce. God, so much."

"Then you'll be able to." Bruce really hoped he was right about this. Even if he was wrong, he could think of worse ways to die.

Since it was Bruce Wayne's apartment, there was, of course, a bottle of lubricant in the nightstand drawer. Bruce blindly opened the drawer and grabbed it as Kal kissed him. It was important that they do this right now, tonight. Kal had to know he could do it.

Bruce slicked his hand and wrapped it around Kal's cock. Kal was on all fours over him, and actually seemed to be trembling. Bruce slowly moved his hand all the way down, and all the way back up, causing Kal's mouth to drop open, his eyes to squeeze shut.

"Look at me," Bruce commanded, not wanting to miss a second of Kal's eyes as he did this.

Bruce moved his hand slowly up and down again. Kal let out a high pitched noise that could almost be mistaken for pain. His face looked like he couldn't even understand what was happening to him. Bruce repeated the motion, even slower this time.

"God, Bruce, I-"

Bruce moved his hand a little faster, finding a rhythm. Kal's head flew back.

"Kal. You're not looking at me."

"I-I can't, Bruce. I won't last. It's been awhile."

Bruce felt himself getting hard again at the reminder of Kal's inexperience.

"We're going to make up for lost time, Kal," he promised, his voice dark and rough.

Kal's eyes were back on Bruce's again. Now they looked determined, challenging. Hot. Kal placed two long fingers against Bruce's lips and gently pushed them into his mouth. Bruce sucked hungrily on them, keeping their eyes locked.

Bruce sucked in a breath as he felt strong, wet fingers working him open. Gentle at first, too gentle. Kal was scared.

"It's ok, Kal. It feels - fuck - so good. I won't break."

Kal nodded, wanting so badly to believe Bruce. He pressed harder, deeper. Bruce grabbed handfuls of the mattress, arching like his body had been injected with fire. He wanted more. He wanted all of Kal. He leaned forward and caught Kal's mouth, letting him know that it would be ok. That everything was so incredibly ok.

Their mouths broke apart and Kal looked nervous.

"We're going to do this," he said, almost a question.

"Don't make me beg, Kal. It would destroy my image."

Bruce hoped some humour would help Kal relax. It seemed to work as Kal slowly began to push inside. A sound erupted from Kal that was part laugh, part whimper.

"Yes, Kal. Keep going," Bruce said in a low voice. He needed to feel him all the way in. Kal was pushing so slowly it was torture.

"Bruce, it's so- I've never- I never knew," Kal stammered, "Is it hurting you?"

"In the best way imaginable."

Finally Kal was all the way in. Bruce felt like he was being split down the middle, but it was incredible. Kal was so beautiful hovering over him. No fantasy matched this, as Kal cautiously began to move inside him.

"You're perfect, Kal. This is perfect. So good," Bruce heard himself mumble.

Kal started moving faster, gaining confidence.

"Bruce," he whispered, leaning close to his ear, "I can do this. It's easy. It's so easy."

Kal thrust harder, faster. His carefully arranged Superman hair was falling apart, hitting his flushed cheeks. His flat stomach rubbed against Bruce's erection. Bruce saw Kal's hands fly into his own hair as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge. If his hands were up there, then that meant he wasn't supporting himself as he stayed above Bruce. Which meant he was floating while he fucked Bruce. This realization was enough to break Bruce for a second time. He came in bursts between their bodies.

"Bruce, I-"

"It's ok, Kal. I want you to come in me. Please, Kal. I need to feel it."

Kal exploded inside Bruce, crying out something that didn't sound like English. He lowered his hands to either side of Bruce's face and kissed him repeatedly as he carefully pulled out.

"Thank-you," he said between kisses, "Thank-you."

"You don't have to thank me, Kal. Believe me."

Kal smiled and collapsed beside Bruce. They both lay there for a minute, breathing hard.

"Don't worry," Kal said softly, "I've been listening for you. Your city is safe."

Bruce smiled a little, embarrassed that Kal had guessed what he was thinking.

"Good," he said, "Because I was thinking about staying in tonight."

"Were you?" Kal asked, returning the smile.

Bruce propped himself up on an elbow and traced a finger over Kal's chest.

"Was that as good as you remembered?" Bruce asked.

Kal's eyes rolled a little. "Bruce, I don't remember anything like that. If I did, I would never have been able to keep this celibacy thing up." His smile was blinding.

"Do you have any idea how stunning you are, Kal?"

"Yeah, I think about it all the time."

"I'm serious."

"So am I! I don't know how I get anything done!"

"Shut up," Bruce grumbled, turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

"You have the most incredible eyes, Bruce," Kal said suddenly, "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"No." Bruce was unable to process the absurdity of Superman telling him that he had incredible eyes.

"You have so many scars," Kal said, moving a finger over a large one on Bruce's side, "Already. How long can you keep doing this?"

"As long as it takes."

"I don't like thinking about you getting hurt."

"It's not going to change, Kal. You probably shouldn't think about it."

Kal sighed. "I know."

"Why me, Kal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you choose me? You're Superman, for God's sake."

He felt Kal's lips press against his neck, he felt breath against his ear.

"You really can't imagine why I would have a crush on Batman?"

"It sounds ridiculous when you say that."

"It's not supposed to. As soon as I met you I wanted you. There's something about being around you, Bruce. I can't even explain it."

Bruce turned and met Kal's mouth for a kiss. He noticed that Kal seemed to be vibrating.

"What's wrong? You're shaking."

"Nothing's wrong," Kal said, pulling Bruce close to him, "It's just a sensation overload. I've never felt anything like that before. I just...felt it so many different ways at once. It's going to take a moment to recover."

"I didn't have a bad time myself," Bruce said, then sighed, "So what now?"

"Now? We should take a shower."

"Oh, should we?"

"Definitely."

Bruce grinned, "I like the way you think, Spaceman."

Kal laughed, "Don't get cute on me now, Demon."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bruce stretched out, "Something about having the best orgasm of my life - twice - always puts me in a good mood."

"What if it were three times?" Kal asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Dangerous words, Kal."

"I'll see you in the shower."

****************

Bruce woke up with an arm wrapped snugly around him. First time for everything.

"Good morning," Kal said softly.

"So far," Bruce said, thinking that this was the most comfortable he'd ever been. "Do I smell coffee, Kal?"

"I got us some breakfast."

"When?"

"While you were sleeping. I had to borrow some clothes from the closet. I hope that's ok."

"Of course," Bruce yawned, "I appreciate that you removed them before returning to bed."

"I thought you might." He kissed the top of Bruce's head.

"Superman and Batman..." Bruce considered.

"Sitting in a tree," Kal finished.

"What now?"

"I don't know," Kal said, "But I have no regrets."

Bruce remained silent, thinking.

"Bruce? Do you have any?"

Bruce turned to face him. "No."

Kal smiled. Bruce took a breath.

"But I can't let this distract me," he said, "You can't keep showing up in Gotham."

"I know," Kal sighed, "But it's going to be hard."

Bruce raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Grow up," Kal said.

Bruce lay facing the ceiling. "So we're in agreement then."

"I guess so," Kal said slowly, adding, "What are we agreeing to, exactly?"

"I don't know."

Kal looked thoughtful. "Well, I think we can agree that we're attracted to each other."

"Obviously."

"And that we would like to do this again sometime."

"Sure."

"I mean, maybe we even agree that we would like to do this on a somewhat regular basis."

"Maybe we agree on that."

"But we also agree that our missions are what's most important to us."

"Yes."

"And that it's important for each of us to maintain our secret identities."

"Unfortunately."

"Ok," Kal said finally.

"Good."

"So...we're agreeing that we want to see each other, but we can't?"

"Yes, Kal."

"I don't like it. I disagree."

"We don't have a choice," Bruce snapped angrily, "I told you before that I can't afford to fall in-"

He cut the sentence off just in time, but the silent word hung in the air for an eternity.

"I should go," Bruce said finally, sitting up, "I need to go into the office."

"It's New Year's Day, Bruce."

"Kal," Bruce said, standing, "You should go, too."

Kal nodded, looking crushed. It annoyed Bruce. Didn't he know how hard this was? If he stayed with him today, it would turn into tonight. Then who knows how many nights? Bruce had a job to do, and it was more important than him or the feelings that he might have for Kal.

In a second, Kal was back in his Superman uniform.

"Breakfast is on the table," he said, "I'll see you, Bruce."

"Kal-" He was gone, leaving Bruce to sip cold coffee and contemplate why every single thing in his life turned to shit. And how much of that was his fault.

****************

It was rare that Bruce made a decision that contradicted what everything his mind and body told him to do.

Buying The Daily Planet was one of those decisions. When it went on the block for sale, he considered it briefly, but dismissed it knowing he wouldn't be doing it because it was a smart business move. When he heard that Lex Luthor was the other interested party, he signed the paperwork before he even knew what he was doing.

He went to Metropolis for the press conference. His plan was to fly in, stay for the hour or so that was necessary, and fly directly back to Gotham. He hadn't seen or heard from Kal in the three weeks since New Year's and he was hoping to keep it that way. He convinced himself that he had no desire to see Kal, and that his coming to Metropolis was strictly business. If he was quick, he'd be out of town before Kal even knew he was there.

What Bruce's reasoning was conveniently leaving out was the fact that Clark Kent is a reporter, and would certainly be at the press conference.

Their eyes met for a brief moment as Bruce explained to the room that he believed print news was still a relevant medium. He quickly looked away, trying not to think about the fact that Kal was definitely still looking straight at him through those ridiculous glasses. He finished talking and was immediately met with a barrage of "Mr Wayne!"s. One of the voices was Kal's. He ignored it.

"Yes, from the Star," he said, pointing at a young-looking blonde woman. He saw Kal get up and leave the room.

"Why the sudden interest in Metropolis-based media outlets, Mr Wayne?"

"I noticed that the female reporters in this city are more attractive than most," he said, winking and making himself nauseous. That was maybe a tad much, even for Brucie. He knew the room would be disappointed if he didn't grace them with at least one Bruce-ism for their sound bites.

"But seriously," he continued, "The Daily Planet is a national institution, and I..."

"You can't ignore me forever, Bruce," said a voice in his ear.

Bruce coughed and reached for his water.

"Excuse me a moment," he apologized, keeping up the fake coughing fit, "Must be all this clean air. Not used to it."

He lifted the glass to his lips and whispered so low it was barely audible even to himself.

"Not now, Kal."

"Then when, Bruce? This is insane. Can't we just talk?"

"I'm busy, Kal."

"I mean later."

"No."

Bruce really couldn't hold this water glass to his face any longer. He took a long drink and continued answering the woman's question.

"Sorry about that. As I was saying, The Daily Planet is legendary not just in this country, but around the world. It has been a shining beacon of truth in an industry that is plagued by sensationalism and corruption. I wanted to ensure that The Planet continued this tradition, and it's something that I felt it wouldn't continue if it fell into the wrong hands."

"Mr. Wayne, are you referring to Lex Luthor?" called a voice from the back.

"Bruce, I want to see you."

"I'm sure you can see me right now, Kal," Bruce whispered, clearing his throat.

"I'm not here to make accusations," Bruce said, getting back to the conference, "But, yes, I felt that Mr. Luthor's interests in the paper were...troublesome."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it, Bruce," said the voice in his ear.

"Don't make me remove the radio, Kal," Bruce casually rested his chin in his hand, covering his mouth with his fingers.

"How long are you in town, Mr. Wayne?" asked another reporter, likely from an entertainment rag.

"I was wondering that myself," Kal said.

"Not long at all, I'm afraid. I'll be heading back to Gotham as soon as I'm finished this conference," Bruce said to both of them.

"Why are you here, Bruce, if you don't want to see me?"

"It has nothing to do with you."

"Bullshit."

The fact that Superman just swore in his ear startled Bruce.

"Ok, well, I think that's enough questions," he said to the room, "If you have any follow-up questions, contact my people. You know how it works." He gave the room his billion-dollar smile and stood up. A couple of quick waves, and he was out of there.

"What the hell is this?" he asked an assistant as he stepped outside. He couldn't see through the blowing snow. "When did this start?"

"Just half an hour ago, Mr. Wayne, sir. I'm afraid your plane won't be able to take off in this. I just received a call from your pilot."

"Great," Bruce muttered, "And how long is this supposed to last?"

"The weather centre says it might last until tomorrow morning, Mr. Wayne. I'll make arrangements for a hotel room for the night."

"Right," Bruce said, wondering if Superman had the ability to control the weather.

****************

Bruce sat on his bed in the penthouse suite at the Metropolis Four Seasons, stewing in the dark. Trapped in Metropolis. This was such a waste of time. He should never have bought the stupid paper. It was supposed to be a quick trip, and now he had to leave Gotham vulnerable for a whole night. Selfish, stupid decision.

Kal's voice came through the communicator again.

"Bruce."

"What do you want?"

"You're still in Metropolis."

"Did you cause this storm somehow, Kal? Because I swear to God..."

"I didn't cause it, Bruce. Maybe it's fate."

"Please."

"Well, either way, you may as well let me in."

"Let you-?"

Bruce looked toward the giant glass doors leading to the balcony. In the middle of the blowing snow was the unmistakable figure of Superman.

Bruce walked to the doors slowly. If he didn't let Kal in, would he force his way in? As he got closer, he could make out Kal's features even in the darkness.

"Kal, you shouldn't be here. I told you, I can't let myself be distracted."

"I just want to talk to you. I miss you, Bruce."

Bruce stood in front of the glass, face to face with Kal. Even as he told himself that he was going to close the curtains and walk away, he found his hands turning the lock. The door opening. Kal stepping into the room.

"Thank-you, Bruce, I-"

Kal didn't get to finish his sentence before Bruce threw himself on him, kissing him furiously. Kal wrapped arms that could lift the entire city around him, kissing him back. His cape whipped around them in the wind and snow that was blowing in through the open door.

Bruce hated that he couldn't control himself. His whole life was about self-discipline. Why did this one man make him completely fall apart? Why couldn't he manage this...thing. He couldn't even think about Kal without feeling like he was being electrocuted. And now, here, standing with him, wrapped around him, tasting him. It burned through the darkness and left him trembling, purely focused on his desire to be with Kal. Nothing else mattered. And it terrified him.

Kal slowly unbuttoned Bruce's shirt, a stark contrast to the complete destruction of Bruce's uniform last time. Bruce slid his hands down Kal's suit, it was almost frictionless. He moved his hand over the raised S-emblem as Kal removed Bruce's shirt and dropped it on the floor. Now in his undershirt, Bruce finally noticed the cold.

"Sorry," Kal said, the first word spoken since Bruce attacked him, "I'll close the door. I forgot."

He shut it and ran his warm hands down Bruce's bare arms. Bruce shivered.

"Are you alright, Bruce?"

"Yes," Bruce said, eyes closed, "Just, please. Let's do this. I need to do this."

"I know," Kal said, kissing him, "It's ok, Bruce. We've been given this night together."

Bruce nodded. He didn't care. He was beyond justification. He would believe anything that got them closer to the bed.

"Now, let's see," Kal said in a low voice, "Last time you came three times. Let's try to beat that record."

Bruce shuddered at Kal's unexpected dirty words.

"First," he breathed in Kal's ear, "We're going to even the score."

****************

"We can't keep doing this," Bruce said, spread out on the bed next to Kal, completely exhausted.

"You keep saying that," Kal said, frowning.

"Really. It's not because I don't want to, Kal, believe me. But I can't. I would do this every night, every day. All the time. I can't."

"I know," Kal sighed.

"Once," Bruce said, "Once a year."

"A year?!" Kal exclaimed, sitting up.

"Yes. We agree to meet once a year. I can't afford anything else."

"What day?" Kal asked quietly.

"New Year's Eve," Bruce decided, "Keeps things organized."

Kal looked like Bruce had just punched him.

"New Year's Eve," Kal repeated quietly.

"One night a year, I'm all yours, Kal. It's not a bad offer."

"Well it's about 364 days short of what I was hoping for."

Bruce's whole body seemed to tighten suddenly, but he remained focused.

"Please, Kal. You know how I feel. And you also know why I can't act on those feelings."

Kal half smiled. "I guess I'll always have a date for New Year's. And..."

"No more New Year's Eve parties."

Kal nodded slowly, his smile fading. "So I guess this is it, then. For a whole year."

"49 weeks," Bruce corrected, "This is a bonus night."

"Then I guess I'd better take all I can get right now, then," Kal said, running his eyes up Bruce's body.

"I think you already have," Bruce argued, feeling himself becoming aroused even as he said it.

"That's what I love about you, Bruce. There's always more."

Bruce tried to ignore Kal's choice of word. He wouldn't be able to last the year if he acknowledged it.

"You hide so much," Kal murmured against him, "There's so much to uncover. I could explore you forever."

"I'm just a man," Bruce said, shaking at Kal's touch.

"No you're not," Kal said, moving his mouth down Bruce's stomach, "You're so much more."

Hot breath on the inside of Bruce's thighs made him ask, "What am I?"

Deep blue eyes watched him as wet lips hovered over his cock.

"You're mine."

-END...for now-

Fic: First Time For Everything (Part 3)

2006-12-29T20:35:03Z

Part 1
Part 2

Christmas Eve and Bruce was trying to decide if it was too late to call the whole thing off. He had no idea what possessed him to invite company for Christmas. Company he barely even knew. Or liked.

When he started this whole crusade against crime in Gotham, he never expected it would lead to spending Christmas with Superman. It was only slightly less ridiculous than spending it with Santa Claus. Until a few weeks ago, Superman was barely a person to him. Bruce had seen him as most of the world did, a force that existed on Earth. Not an actual person who went to work, took showers, got lonely and liked cherry vanilla ice cream. Not someone who grew up on a farm and was mourning his parents. Not someone who could possibly understand Bruce, or have anything in common with him.

"This is crazy," Bruce said aloud.

"Forgive me for saying it, sir," Alfred commented, "But I would consider having company for Christmas to be the least crazy thing you've done in awhile."

Bruce grunted from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. Alfred was methodically cutting slits into chestnuts for roasting.

"Personally sir, I think it's good to see you making friends,"

"I have friends," Bruce protested.

"I meant that aren't in your employ, sir."

"You know, Alfred, I don't have to keep you in my employ," Bruce threatened.

"Hardly, sir. Where would you find another butler who would put up with all this nonsense?" Alfred winked at him, "Besides, without me you'd starve to death in a week."

Bruce looked at the floor, unsuccessfully trying to hide his grin.

"There you are, sir," Alfred said brightly, "It is Christmas, after all. It would do you good to take a holiday from the gloom."

The rich chimes of the doorbell echoed through the manor.

"Shit. He's here. Alfred, he's here. Tell him...I had to leave town. Apologize."

"Not this time, Sir," Alfred said as he wiped his hands and exited the kitchen, "Besides, I'm quite certain he can hear you."

Shit.

Well, Bruce couldn't hide in the kitchen. He went to the living room, passing what had to be the largest Christmas tree yet. Should he be standing? Sitting? By the fire? Reading? What was wrong with him?

Too late.

"Master Bruce, Mr. Kent has arrived."

Bruce stood in the middle of the room and stared at his guest. It wasn't Clark Kent or Superman. It was an entirely new version of the man.

"Kal," he said, a little more breathless than he wanted to sound, "Welcome to Wayne Manor."

"It's...big," Kal said, looking around. He wasn't wearing the glasses, and his hair fell in his face. He was casually dressed in jeans and a navy blue sweater that made his eyes look even more blue, if that was possible. Unlike the oversized suits he wore as Clark, these clothes didn't hide the man's perfect physique.

Superman shops for clothes.

"How old is this place?" Kal asked, when Bruce didn't say anything.

"How old?" Superman is in my living room.

"The manor," Kal was eyeing Bruce strangely, "How old is it?"

Bruce snapped back to reality. "Technically it's almost two years old. But it's more or less an exact replica of the manor that stood here for over two hundred years until it burned to the ground."

"Burned? How did that happen?"

Bruce didn't want to get into it. "Bad party guest."

Both men stood in silence, keeping a considerable distance between them. It was more awkward than Bruce even feared. He wasn't really good at hanging out. This would be much easier if he could just slip into Brucie mode.

Alfred finally broke the silence when he entered the room.

"Mr. Kent, you'll find your belongings in the second room to the left of the main staircase. Might I offer you something to drink?"

"Uh...sure. Some juice, maybe? I mean, I can get it myself."

"Not at all, sir. Will grapefruit be acceptable?"

"Yeah. That's fine. Uh, thank-you, Mr. ..."

"Alfred, sir. Just Alfred," then Alfred grinned at Bruce before exiting the room, "Another health nut. I can tell it's going to be a wild time at the manor tonight."

"I could never get used to that," Kal said to Bruce.

"To what? Sarcasm?"

"No. To having a butler. Don't you ever feel bad that he has to do all that stuff for you?"

"No, I don't," Bruce said, adding, "And neither does he. It's complicated."

Kal just nodded and turned his attention to the tree. "You weren't lying about the tree," he observed, "It's huge."

"Yes, well, it would be tragic to let Christmas pass without hauling a giant plant into the living room for a few days."

"Did Alfred decorate it?"

"I assume. It certainly wasn't me."

Alfred returned with Kal's juice, and the promise of roasted chestnuts in a few minutes before retreating to the kitchen.

"Chestnuts," Kal said, after a minute of silence.

"Yes," Bruce said blankly. He watched Kal take a sip of juice and wondered if he shouldn't get a drink of his own, just so he'd also have something to do. Kal looked just as uncomfortable as he did.

"Look, Bruce," Kal said finally, "I just want to say that I really appreciate this. Since my mother died, I've been...well, it would have been hard. Spending Christmas alone. So, thank-you."

"It's...not a problem," Bruce said, struggling a little to find the right words. He wasn't used to being thanked. "I'm sorry it's not as...cozy...as the Christmases you remember in Kansas. To be honest, I've forgotten what people actually do on Christmas Eve."

Clark smiled and took a few steps toward Bruce so they weren't projecting across a room.

"People just get together with friends and enjoy each other's company," Kal said.

"With friends?"

"Yeah. Friends," Kal repeated, "And there is usually food involved too. And then you spend the whole night trying to sleep, but you can't."

Well, at least Bruce was familiar with that last part.

Silence filled the room again. Kal finished his juice with a giant gulp, then started fidgeting with the glass. Bruce wondered if the fire needed tending. It didn't. Dammit.

"This is ridiculous, isn't it?" Kal asked suddenly.

"What part?"

"Us! We're so unused to just being ourselves that neither of us can just relax."

Bruce considered this. "You'd be surprised how seldom I'm relaxed."

"Me neither," Kal sighed, "I mean, right now I am listening to a couple arguing in Chicago, and a little girl crying in Arizona because her mother just died. On Christmas Eve."

"You can hear all that?" Bruce was astonished.

"I can hear everything, all the time. I can fade it out, but it's hard. If I do I might miss something."

Years ago, Bruce had taken on the responsibility of watching over Gotham. Every night he watched and listened to his city, protecting the innocent and punishing the guilty. It was exhausting, but he would never consider quitting. Even taking this one night off was difficult for him. He couldn't imagine hearing the pain of the whole world, and feeling obligated to protect everyone. Even with superpowers, the strain would be incredible.

Kal turned his head. "Alfred's taking the chestnuts out of the oven," he said.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "And what colour underwear is he wearing?"

"What?" Kal actually seemed to be blushing, "I just..."

"It was a joke, Kal."

"Oh."

"Look," Bruce said, suddenly struck by an idea, "Why don't we go to the kitchen. To be honest, I've always hated this room. And we'll save Alfred the walk."

Kal smiled, "Good idea."

*************************

Within an hour the Wayne Manor kitchen was filled with laughter for the first time in nearly two decades.

"Yeah!" Kal exclaimed, "so Luthor had this hallway trap that he wanted me to walk through. I mean, he actually built this thing! And it was so ridiculous. There was one machine that shot fire, and another that froze me in a block of ice. So I walked through it, mostly because I would have felt bad for him if I'd just smashed it. I mean, it was really sad. I was embarrassed for him."

Bruce was actually laughing. Hard. They had been trading stories about the stupidest criminals they had encountered. Kal was definitely winning.

"Did he think he could stop you with that contraption, or did he just want to see you in action?" Bruce asked, smiling.

"I have no idea," Kal shook his head, grinning as he threw another chestnut into his mouth, "That guy is crazy. You wouldn't even believe some of the stuff he's tried."

"Well, Master Bruce, perhaps I can relax somewhat when you go out at night. I had no idea you were facing such complete imbeciles."

Bruce raised his glass of egg nog, "To stupid criminals."

Kal and Alfred both raised their glasses. "To stupid criminals."

"Well, sirs," Alfred said brightly, "As I am not in the superhero profession, I believe I'll enjoy a real drink. It is Christmas, after all."

"You'll find a present for you in the cabinet," Bruce said.

Alfred opened the liquor cabinet and pulled out a tall black bottle.

"Very nice, sir!" he said, examining the label of the vintage port, "Just what I wanted. Are you certain you won't join me?"

Bruce glanced at Kal.

"Oh, no," Kal stammered, "I-I don't usually drink."

"That sounds like Clark Kent talking," Bruce observed, "Can you even get drunk?"

"I don't know. I've never really tried," Kal admitted.

"Oh for pity's sake!" Alfred exclaimed, "I'm pouring three glasses. Two young men and neither of them will allow themselves to enjoy a classic vintage wine on Christmas. Ridiculous."

"Fine," Bruce said, "One glass."

*********************

"Bruce," Kal mock whispered from where he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the refrigerator door, "Bruuuuuuce. Guess what?"

"What?" Bruce asked, grinning lazily and sitting on the floor opposite the Kryptonian.

"I think I can get drunk," Kal giggled.

"I think you drank that third bottle by yourself."

Alfred had gone to bed over an hour ago, after one drink. The two younger men had stayed in the kitchen, talking and drinking and losing track of time.

"What are you thinking about, Bruce?"

"Nothing."

"I'll bet," Kal pointed an accusing finger, "I'll bet you never think about nothing, Bruce. You're thinking about something. You want to ask me something."

"Alright."

"Ask away," Kal said spreading his arms dramatically.

"The woman you love. It's Lois Lane, right?"

Kal rested his head against the fridge, "Loisss. Yeah. It's her. She's married now. Her husband can fly."

"Fly?"

"He's a pilot."

Oh.

"You know what sucks about being a super-powered alien?" Kal asked.

Bruce couldn't really think of anything off the top of his head.

"I loved Lois. I wanted to marry her. But my parents - the Kryptonian ones - said I wasn't allowed to love a human unless I became one of them."

"And how exactly do you become human, Kal?"

Kal made a dismissive motion with his hand. "It doesn't matter. I did it once, so I could be with Lois. Then I had to get my powers back."

Bruce straightened up, "You mean, you gave up your powers so you could..."

"No!" Kal exclaimed, then looked thoughtful, "Well...yeah. So I could have sex."

Bruce leaned forward, "Are you telling me, Kal, that until, what, five or six years ago, you were a virgin?"

Kal bit his lip nervously, "Yes?"

"And that you've only had sex..."

"Once."

"In your life?!"

"Yes."

Bruce leaned back. "Wow."

"It gets better. Lois's son."

No way. "No way."

"He's mine," Kal shook his head, "I had sex once in my life!"

"So Lois must know that you and Clark Kent are..."

"No," Kal interrupted, "She did. But, she doesn't remember."

"Doesn't remember?"

"I had to...make her forget. But I didn't know she was pregnant!"

Bruce decided to ask how exactly Kal could make her forget later.

"So," Bruce asked, stretching out his legs "She doesn't know who the father is?"

"No. She knows. She knows it's Superman's son."

Maybe it was the wine, but this was all very confusing.

"Kal...wow. I don't even know what to say."

"Tell me about it. I guess it's true what they say about sex complicating everything."

"Well, I don't know if your situation is what they're talking about,"

Kal sighed, "I could have handled that better. Then I left. I had no idea she was pregnant. If I'd known that, I..."

"You didn't know, Kal."

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed twelve times.

"Midnight," Kal said, "Merry Christmas, Bruce."

"Sure," Bruce frowned.

"Hey," Kal said brightly, "Let's change the subject."

"To what?"

Kal grinned. "Your love life."

Bruce snorted. "Well, that will be a short conversation."

"I hear Bruce Wayne is quite the lady killer."

"He does alright," Bruce agreed, "But I wouldn't call it a love life."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"No," Bruce answered quickly, "I can't afford that luxury."

"Bruce, I have to ask...you were dancing with Selina Kyle. And you looked pretty comfortable with her. Have you ever..."

"Once or twice."

"But she's Catwoman!"

"It's complicated, Kal."

"Oh, you always say that," Kal's voice became distant "Sleeping with the enemy. I guess there's something intriguing about that. Although I would have to sleep with Luthor, and that is not going to happen."

Bruce laughed, "If you ask me, he'd like it to happen."

"Ugh!" Kal made a face as he threw a chestnut shell at Bruce, "Oh, God. That's a mental picture I'll never get rid of."

"You're welcome."

Bruce wasn't sure why he still wanted to talk about sex with this guy. He decided not to think about it too much.

"So, what your parents said. About giving up your powers. Are you...unable to have sex with your powers?"

Kal cleared his throat, "I-I don't know. I guess it would be risky. I was just doing what they told me. I assume there's a good reason."

"Little old to be asking your parents permission."

"I couldn't live with myself if I lost control and hurt someone," Kal said quietly, staring at the floor.

Bruce stared at him. Kal's hair was mussed. He had removed the sweater some time ago, and was now wearing only a grey t-shirt with the jeans. His face was flushed, probably due to a mix of alcohol and embarrassment. He was absently tracing the pattern in the floor tiles, his long legs crossed in front of him.

Then the Kryptonian lowered himself so he was lying on his side, his face pressed against the tiles. One arm stretched over his head, lifting his t-shirt to expose part of his stomach.

"Mmmm...the floor is nice and cool," he mumbled sleepily.

Bruce was feeling a little warm himself, suddenly.

"Kal?" He started, then stopped himself. He knew he shouldn't let Kal fall asleep on the kitchen floor, but he didn't want to stop looking at him.

Bruce sighed and decided to do the right thing. Eventually.

"Kal," he said again. When he didn't get a response, he reached a hand out and placed it on Kal's shoulder. So warm. He shook him gently. "Kal?"

"Mrmf?"

"We should go to bed. You'll like bed. It's better than the floor, believe me."

"We can't go to bed, Bruce. I'll hurt you. Parents said," he mumbled.

"Er..." Bruce quickly removed his hand. He must have misheard him. Maybe in his sleepy state, Kal thought Bruce was Lois. And maybe he sometimes called Lois 'Bruce.'

"I meant, we should go to sleep now. In our rooms," Bruce emphasized the plural.

"Ohhh...Ok," Kal pushed himself up, still mostly asleep.

Bruce draped Kal's arm over his shoulders as they walked toward the stairs. He was heavy.

"Thank-you, Bruce," Kal mumbled, "Needed this."

"No problem. You need to walk up these stairs."

"Ok." Kal slowly climbed the stairs, dragging his sweater behind him.

Bruce finally got Kal into his room. He resisted tucking him into bed. He wanted to distance himself from him as soon as possible so he could go to his own room and freak out.

He tried not to think about the fact that Superman had basically said that he would like to sleep with him if only his parents would let him. There was so much weird about that, it was best to just forget about it.

As if that was possible.

It wasn't as if Bruce was bothered by the idea of being intimate with a man. He'd known for quite some time that he was open to that sort of thing. Just ask Harvey.

But this was Superman, and this was insane.

Also, wasn't Kal just telling him about his undying love for Lois Lane? And about his son?

Christ.

Bruce got into bed, trying to think about something else. Fresh images of Kal's blinding smile, his golden skin, his sapphire eyes, ran through Bruce's mind. He tried not to notice how turned on he was. God damn. Superman could probably hear erections.

Right. Taking care of himself was not an option. Kal could hear him. Kal could see him, for chrissakes. Just go to sleep, and everything will be normal in the morning.

In the morning. When he'd see Kal again. The man the world knew as Superman, but only Bruce knew as Kal. Kal was only for him. Superman belonged to the world, but Kal was all his.

Bruce gasped as he found his own hand on his cock. He had to stop. Kal was down the hall. He'd know.

Bruce bit his lip, but couldn't stop. He thought about Kal hovering above him, endless golden skin and sculpted muscles. Blue eyes wide, dark lips wet.

He had to stop.

Kal was down the hall. Superman was down the hall. In one of his bedrooms. Was he thinking about Bruce? Was he listening? Was he watching? Was he doing the same thing?

Oh God.

He had to stop.

He stroked harder, biting his hand to muffle any sound, like it mattered. Kal, the beautiful near-virgin who could save the whole world. Who left, but came back to save them all. Who sought Bruce out, hoping Bruce could save him. Kal would save Bruce. The world could have Superman. Bruce would have Kal. Kal wanted to have Bruce.

Harder. Faster. Fuck.

He had to stop.

There was no way he could stop.

He bit his hand hard enough to break the skin. He tasted blood as he came, his eyes clenched shut, seeing nothing but deep blue eyes.

After the last shudders rippled through his body, Bruce lay perfectly still. He held his breath. He strained to hear any signs that the other man had heard him. He had no idea what he was listening for.

Stupid. Weak.

And now he had to clean himself up.

He straightened himself out quickly in the bathroom. He looked at his reflection, his face flushed, his eyes bleary. He quietly returned to his bed, still listening for any noise from down the hall. Total silence.

His head spun as he hit the pillow, unused to having alcohol in his system.

He was losing control of himself, and he couldn't entirely blame the wine. He had to get a grip. He shouldn't have taken this night off. It was shaking him up, making him lose focus. He couldn't afford leisurely conversations and silly crushes. They were not part of his mission.

He shouldn't have had anything to drink. He could be out there now. He had been selfish, convincing himself that he could take a break. Justifying it because it was a meaningless holiday. As if the spirit of Christmas would protect the innocent while Batman got drunk.

Kal was right about Christmas Eve. Bruce couldn't sleep a wink.

*********************

Morning came far too quickly. If Bruce had slept at all, it was brief and he had no memory of it. He gave up on the idea entirely when the clock hit 6 am, throwing off the blankets angrily. He took a scalding hot shower, longer than necessary.

When would Kal be waking up? What were they even supposed to do today?

Bruce needed to get into the cave. He needed to check the news and the scanners from last night. He had to find out what he missed, and what he could have prevented.

He dressed quickly and moved silently to the downstairs library. Alfred should be awake now, but he didn't see or hear any sign of him. He opened the passage to the elevator.

As soon as he entered the cave he felt better. His life made sense again.

What does it say about me that my life only makes sense when I'm alone in an underground laboratory full of bats?

The computers told Bruce that last night had been slow for crime. Nothing significant reported. Nothing reported. He knew that he stopped crimes every night that would have never been called in.

He stayed in the cave for over an hour, working. He fixed some damaged equipment, re-stocked his utility belt. His head hurt and he was thirsty. He went back upstairs to get some water from the kitchen. Alfred was making breakfast.

"Master Bruce! It's a surprise to see you up at this hour," he remarked as he whisked a bowl of eggs.

Bruce winced at the noise of the whisk hitting the sides of the bowl.

"Feeling a bit off this morning, are we sir?" Alfred asked with a knowing smile, "Nothing some hot coffee and a decent breakfast won't fix."

"I'll take water for now," Bruce said as he opened endless cupboard doors, searching for the glasses.

"Third from the right, Sir," Alfred said without looking up, "By the way, Merry Christmas, sir."

Bruce poured himself a glass of water and drained it in one gulp. "Merry Christmas, Alfred."

"Breakfast will be ready shortly, sir."

Bruce remembered that he had Alfred's present in his bedroom.

"I'll be back soon, Alfred. I forgot something upstairs."

Bruce climbed the stairs quietly, trying not to wake Kal. This logic was, of course, stupid.

Bruce was almost past Kal's door when it flew open. Kal stood there, shirtless. His hair was mussed and his feet were bare.

"Morning Bruce," he said sleepily as he rubbed an eye, "Merry Christmas."

Bruce once again found himself speechless and staring.

Kal's eyes focused on the floor and grew wide. "Whoa! Is that breakfast?!"

Bruce snapped out of it. "How are you feeling, Kal?"

"Huh?" Kal asked, confused "Fine. Why?"

"Well..."

"Oh, right. The wine," Kal grinned, "I feel fine. Another superpower, I guess. Ability to get drunk without the nasty side-affects. I hope I didn't say anything embarrassing."

"You don't remember?"

"Oh God," Kal moaned, "What did I say?"

"Nothing," Bruce lied, enjoying the way Kal's sculpted, tanned skin flowed into the waistband of his dark blue pajama pants.

"I don't believe you," Kal said, "But I'm probably better off not knowing the truth."

The good thing was that Kal didn't seem to be aware of what Bruce had gotten up to last night in bed. At least, he wasn't letting on if he did.

"Well..." Kal said, "I should probably get dressed."

"That's not..." Bruce stopped himself before saying 'necessary.'

"Is there a shower I can use behind one of these doors?"

"Yes. I believe you'll find one in..."

"Third door to my left. Found it," Kal said, smiling.

Bruce grimaced. "You certainly get a lot of use out of that x-ray vision."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I would respect the privacy of others."

"What makes you think I don't?" Kal asked, looking hurt.

"Nothing. I don't think that. Forget I said anything," Bruce said quickly. Shut up, Bruce.

"Alright. Well, I'm going to take a shower," Kal said, edging toward the bathroom. Probably just trying to get away from Bruce's creepy staring.

"Kal," Bruce said, just as Kal was entering the bathroom.

"Yes, Bruce?"

"Merry Christmas."

Kal smiled and closed the door. A minute later Bruce heard the water running, and he couldn't honestly say that if he had x-ray vision at that moment that he wouldn't be using it.

Bruce suddenly remembered why he had come upstairs in the first place. He went to his bedroom and retrieved Alfred's present from one of the closets. He knew that Alfred had probably already found it. Bruce still made sure the coast was clear before sneaking it into the living room.

He noticed a couple of other presents were wrapped and under the tree that hadn't been there last night. He was surprised to see one for him from Kal. When had Kal put it there?

Bruce reminded himself that Kal could have actually put it there while he was just talking to him. He would have moved so fast Bruce wouldn't even have noticed. Bruce felt weird again. Superman. Christmas.

Crap. He didn't get Kal anything. Bruce was the worst Christmas host ever.

What do you give Superman? It didn't matter, anyway. It was too late now.

Alfred would know what to do.

Bruce entered the kitchen, frantic.

"Alfred, there's a present for me under the tree from Kal."

"Goodness, sir! That is mysterious! Should we alert the Batman?"

"I'm serious, Alfred. I didn't get him anything."

"Well perhaps you can bake him some cookies, sir," Alfred said, smiling to himself, "Or maybe construct a scrapbook. I hear that's very trendy."

Alfred was not going to be any help. He was now actually laughing at his own joke.

"Oh dear," he chuckled, "I would very much love to see that scrapbook."

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce said angrily before exiting the kitchen.

"Perhaps you could write him a song," Alfred called after him, still laughing.

When Bruce returned to the living room, Kal was sitting on the couch.

"It's ok, Bruce," Kal said, "You've already given me enough. All I wanted for Christmas was some company."

"You heard that conversation."

Kal shrugged apologetically. He was now wearing a cranberry long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. His hair fell in his eyes. "I wouldn't say no to a song," he teased.

"You shouldn't have gotten me anything," Bruce said.

"Can't you lighten up a little? It's Christmas."

"I should have been out there last night. Patrolling."

Kal stood. "Bruce, you earned the right to take one night off."

"It doesn't work that way," Bruce said, more angry than he wanted to sound.

"I know," Kal said quietly. He moved right in front of Bruce. "But I think you needed it. I know I did."

"You have no idea what I need," Bruce said darkly, staring directly into Kal's eyes. They were so close. Bruce's hand twitched. He wanted to reach out. He wanted to touch. He could feel the warmth radiating off Kal's body.

"Breakfast is served, sirs!" Alfred announced. Bruce was startled. He hadn't noticed Alfred enter the room.

Kal seemed unfazed. He continued to look directly at Bruce, a slight smirk on his lips. This time Bruce didn't hate it. It wasn't obnoxious. It was sexy.

Kal broke off his gaze. "Breakfast! The best part of Christmas!" He said cheerfully as he made his way to the dining room.

Bruce stood alone in the living room, fixed in place. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding before following Kal.

*********************

Later that morning, all three men sat in the living room. Alfred was admiring his new golf clubs that Bruce had bought him.

"I'm also sending you to Arizona for a week this winter so you can get some use out of them before the spring," Bruce said.

"A vacation, sir? Are you sure you can spare me?" Alfred had not had any time off since Bruce had taken on the role of Batman.

"Alfred, you've more than earned this. Words cannot express how grateful I am for your tireless help. I'll be fine. Pick your week, and have a good time."

"Thank-you, sir. Most generous of you."

Kal was smiling. "Aren't you going to open your gift, Bruce?"

Bruce glanced at the brightly-wrapped present from Kal.

"You really shouldn't have..."

"Just shut up and open it," Kal said impatiently as he handed it to Bruce.

Bruce sighed and carefully removed the ribbon and wrapping paper. He opened the shiny black box under the paper to find a small metallic circle. Bruce wondered if he was supposed to know what it was.

"It's from the planet Corbax," Kal explained, noticing Bruce's confusion, "It glows when someone is lying. I thought you might find it useful."

Bruce turned the disc over in his hands. "You got this when you went to find Krypton?"

"Yes."

Bruce was astonished. He was holding something from light years away. Something that Kal had gotten while traveling through space. And now he was sitting on Bruce's couch. Smiling warmly at him.

"What do you think?" Kal asked.

"Does it work on Kryptonians?" Bruce asked, smiling a little.

"I never lie," Kal said simply. The disc didn't glow. Bruce had his doubts that it actually worked.

"You lie everyday. Every time you're Clark Kent," Bruce pointed out.

"I don't really," Kal explained, "I've never actually said the words 'I'm not Superman' to anyone. I just avoid the question if it comes up."

"Master Bruce, I don't think I'll be taking that vacation," Alfred said suddenly, "I really can't think of anything I would rather be doing than spending my days in a damp cave full of flying rodents."

The disc glowed bright white.

Both Bruce and Kal stared at Alfred.

"I just wanted to see if it worked," Alfred said, smiling.

"Cute, Alfred," Bruce said flatly. The disc began to fade back to its original silver colour.

"This technology is astounding," Bruce marveled.

"Actually, would you believe it's natural?" Kal asked, "There are actually cliffs made of this stuff on Corbax. I think it's a living thing."

It was rare that Bruce was ever really impressed by anything. He was completely floored by this gift.

"Thank-you, Kal," Bruce said, finally remembering to thank him, "It's incredible."

Kal looked delighted.

"Well, sirs," Alfred said, standing, "I have a kitchen to clean. I'll leave you alone now. Thank-you, again, Master Bruce, for the thoughtful gift."

Kal was watching the snow gently falling outside the windows.

"Snow on Christmas," he observed, "You can't beat that."

Bruce turned the disc over one more time before placing it in his pocket. He watched Kal stare intently out the window.

"It's true, you know," Kal said, "No two snowflakes are alike."

Did Kal even know that every other thing he said was completely astonishing?

"Would you like to go for a walk, Kal? I can show you the grounds."

Kal turned, "I'd like that."

*********************

"So, the famous Superman curl," Bruce said, breaking the silence as the two men walked through the snow.

Kal smiled. "You want to know how I do it?"

"Just curious."

"Top secret," Kal said, winking.

"Smart ass."

Bruce was enjoying the fact that Kal was still only wearing his t-shirt and jeans, despite the sub-zero weather. Definitely a super-power perk.

More silence passed between them, Kal looking up at the sky and Bruce stealing glances at Kal.

"What are you listening to right now?" Bruce asked.

"Hmm? Oh, just...Christmas," Kal said awkwardly, "It's the best day of the year for sounds. There's so much happiness and music all over the world. It's relaxing." Kal stopped walking and looked at Bruce, "I wish you could hear it, too."

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets, and gazed out at the white rolling hills.

"I can't hear a thing, Kal, and I find that pretty relaxing. Do you ever wish you could just listen to silence?"

"Of course," Kal said simply, "But not if it was at the expense of even one life that I could have saved if only I'd been listening."

A hint of a smile crossed Bruce's face. Kal caught it.

"What?" Kal asked.

"That's exactly how I would have answered."

"We might have more in common than you think, Bruce."

Again, Kal was right in front of him, challenging Bruce with his eyes. Bruce shivered, mostly from the weather.

"You're cold," Kal said, looking genuinely concerned, "Do you want me to..."

"No!" Bruce said, too loudly. "I'm fine. Don't...do that thing with your eyes."

Kal was so close. He stared at Bruce with an intensity that made Bruce uneasy.

"Don't...x-ray me either," Bruce said.

"I'm not," Kal said, his face serious.

Bruce wasn't sure what was happening. The more he looked at Kal, the more he felt himself losing control. He understood the science of Superman, and why he had powers on Earth. Yellow sun and all that. He still couldn't help but think of Kal as anything less than a fallen god. He was so beautiful and so pure and good. It made Bruce wince.

"I'm just a man," Bruce blurted out. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"No you're not," Kal said, studying Bruce like he was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen, "Bruce, what you do. Everything you've done. It's incredible. I want you to know that."

"It's not. I- anyone can do what I do," Bruce stammered.

"That's not true, Bruce. And even if they could, they don't. You do. I can't say that, without my powers, I would be out there risking my life."

Bruce was suddenly reminded of something he said during one of their first meetings.

"Kal, when I said that you weren't a hero. That you weren't brave. I was wrong. I knew at the time I was wrong. It was stupid. Your abilities make it easy for you to be a hero, but it would be far easier for you to be a conqueror. Most people, given your abilities, wouldn't be nearly as selfless as you are."

Kal smiled, "I had a good upbringing."

"The world is lucky that you are who you are, Kal."

"I'm lucky to be here."

Bruce was just thinking the same thing about himself.

Kal reached out and brushed a hand over Bruce's hair.

"You have snow in your hair," Kal said absently. He moved his hand down and brushed some off Bruce's shoulders as well.

"Kal," Bruce started, not knowing how he was going to finish the sentence.

"Bruce, I-" Kal said softly. He suddenly looked alarmed, "I have to go."

"Go?"

"Earthquake in the Pacific. The tsunami will reach the coast of Madagascar in minutes. I have to stop it,"

Bruce looked in the same direction as Kal, as if he could see what the Kryptonian saw. Everything was peaceful and white. When he looked back at Kal, he saw Superman standing in front of him.

"How-?"

"Bruce, thank-you. Again. I really enjoyed myself here. I'm sorry about this. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course."

Superman lifted into the air.

"Kal, I-" Bruce stopped. He had nothing to say. He knew he was just stalling, and it was embarrassing.

"I'll be seeing you, Bruce."

Then he was gone, leaving Bruce to walk back to the mansion alone.

On to Part 4

Fic: First Time For Everything (Part 2)

2006-12-29T20:33:18Z

Part 1

About a year into doing the Batman thing, Bruce had decided it was time he learned how to fly. He breezed through private pilot lessons as Bruce Wayne, which conveniently added another dangerous activity to the playboy's growing list. Just another way to explain away mysterious injuries.

Alfred thought the jet was a bit extravagant, and really more of an indulgence than a necessary tool in the war on crime. With Lucius running the company, it was relatively easy to quietly get a pitch black jet constructed that roughly resembled a bat. Because he would be taking off and landing in the cave, the plane needed enough thrust to allow him to take off without a runway. It also obviously needed stealth cloaking so it couldn't be traced to the manor, and it needed to be narrow enough to maneuver out of a cave opening.

It was a beautiful machine, and a technological masterpiece. There just hadn't been much opportunity to actually use it.

When Bruce learned that the recently-escaped Joker was spotted in Metropolis, it seemed like as good an excuse as any.

Bruce loved the jet. It maneuvered so quickly and smoothly, it was like it could read his mind. He was in Metropolis in half an hour, wondering where exactly he should start looking. He could barely see through the glare of the endless bright lights. The entire city seemed to be encased in a white glow, as if it were god damn Shangri-la.

Bruce turned his head to see Superman flying alongside the plane, grinning. He was pointing to the ground.

Batman landed the plane in a construction site below. Superman was waiting for him.

"A stealth bomber!" Superman exclaimed as Batman exited the plane, "Well, that's subtle. I can't imagine anyone connecting Batman to Gotham's richest man when Batman's piloting a state-of-the-art custom jet."

"You're right. I should have invested in a good pair of glasses."

"So what brings you to Metropolis?"

"The Joker. He's escaped from Arkham and he was spotted here. Let me handle it, Kal. The Joker is a psychopath who gets off on hearing people scream. Trust me, you don't..."

Superman raised a hand to cut Batman off. "Taken care of."

"Pardon?"

"At the Planet we got the bulletin that he'd been spotted. I heard his voice - it's pretty distinct - changed into Superman, and flew in the direction of his voice. I spotted him inside a pet store of all places - I don't even want to think about what he was doing in there - I flew down, grabbed him, and had him back in Arkham before he knew he wasn't still in the pet store."

"When did this all happen?" Batman asked, feeling more useless by the second.

"About an hour ago. I'm surprised you didn't hear. What were you doing?"

Certainly not washing bat feces off the jet.

"I was busy. I guess I missed the update." And now he was standing in Metropolis. For no reason. Feeling like an idiot.

"I'd give you the tour of the town, Batman, but I'm pretty busy myself tonight."

"It's alright. I've got to get back."

Suddenly a look of terror swept over Superman's face. He lunged at Bruce yelling "Batman, get down!" Bruce heard a gunshot as he hit the ground, Superman landing on top of him, acting as a shield.

He waited a moment. Nothing but silence. "Kal, get off me."

Superman didn't move. "Kal, I'm not a child. Move so I can get the shooter."

Finally Bruce rolled the Kryptonian off of him. He was barely breathing.

"Kal?"

"Batman...the bullet...it's Krypto..." Superman passed out, and it terrified Bruce. This man was supposed to be invincible. Bruce couldn't handle having the blood of Superman on his hands. He had to find the bullet. He'd find the sniper later.

He rolled Kal onto his side and found the bullet hole in his back. He wished Alfred was here to do this properly. Bruce quickly removed the necessary objects from his belt. They weren't ideal, but they would have to do. He hauled off his gloves and tucked a small flashlight into the side of his mask. He held a pen knife in one hand, and tweezers in the other. He couldn't figure out how to remove Superman's cape, so he moved it to the side.

It was strange that he was able to make small slits in Superman's supposedly invulnerable skin. Everything about what was happening was strange. Obviously, Superman had a weakness, and the shooter knew what it was. Or at least whoever hired the shooter knew.

"Bru-Batman?" He heard a weak voice say. Then a grunt of pain.

"You can call me Bruce, Kal. Just stay with me here. I'm getting the bullet out."

Bruce worked steadily through Superman's yelps of agony and violent jerks.

"I know you're not used to pain, Kal, but this will go faster if you stay still."

"Bruce...do you know what you're doing?"

Bruce didn't answer. Instead he asked, "Why did this bullet hurt you?"

"It's made from...Kryptonite. Must be Luthor," Superman said through clenched teeth.

"What the hell is Kryptonite?"

"Fragments of my...home planet. Some of it...made its way to Earth...along with me. It hurts me."

"Obviously." If Bruce acted like a big enough ass, maybe Kal wouldn't notice how scared he actually was.

"Only Luthor knows, Bruce."

"Lex Luthor? He's responsible for this?"

"I have...no doubt."

"Kal, what's your favourite flavour of ice cream?"

"I...I like cherry vanil-AGH!"

Bruce pulled the bullet out with one hard yank. It was dark green, and clearly made from mineral.

"Sorry," Bruce said, examining it, "I wanted you to think about something pleasant while I did that."

"Very...thoughtful," Superman said, sitting up, "Do you think you could maybe get rid of that bullet?"

"Right," Batman placed it inside the plane. He would look at it later. When he turned back, Superman was standing.

"You should rest a moment, Kal."

"I'm fine. I'm going after the sniper. He hasn't made it far. Then I'm going after Luthor. I have a Christmas present for him."

Bruce wanted to stop Superman, but knew he couldn't.

"Kal," Batman reached into his belt, "I want you to take this. It's a communicator so you can reach me if you ever need my help. Before tonight, I couldn't imagine that you ever would."

Superman took the tiny device and stared at it. "How does it work?"

"Put it in your ear. No one can see it. I always wear mine. It's two-way, so..."

"We can talk to each other," Superman finished.

"It's for emergencies," Bruce said, more gruffly than he wanted to, "It's not for talking about the weather. I'm busy."

"So you keep saying."

"Goodnight, Kal."

"See you later, Batman. And thank-you. I guess we're even now, with the life-saving."

"Except you've never saved my life."

"Whatever you say," Superman grinned as Batman closed the roof of the jet and took off.

*********************

The next few days were weird. Kal was obviously testing out the communicator at random times because Bruce kept hearing brief snippets of Clark Kent's life. He wasn't even sure if Kal knew that the communicator was on.

The first time Bruce heard the slightly nasal, geeky voice in his ear, he had no idea who it was.

"Gosh, Lois. You look really nice today. Is it today that you're interviewing the new Secretary of Defense?"

Bruce heard Lois say something which was muffled about a new military helicopter.

"You're a brave woman, Lois. You wouldn't catch me up there in one of those things. You know how I feel about heights."

Lois said something barely audible about Clark's own shadow before the comm link cut out.

Bruce smiled a little at Kal's acting. He knew all about playing a character for the public, but there was something extra amusing about a being that could tear the Earth clean in two acting like a bumbling nerd. Maybe Kal's disguise wasn't as stupid as Bruce thought.

On the third day, when he had to listen to Kal singing, Bruce decided to intervene.

"R-O-C-K in the U.S.A! R-O-C-K in the U.S.A!"

"I'll make a note that perfect pitch is not among your powers."

"What the?! Who?!"

"Comm link, Kal."

"Oh! Bruce! Sorry. I forgot I was wearing it! How long has it been on?"

"One verse and one chorus. I hope you're not on stage or anything."

"No! I'm...I'm in the shower, actually." Kal sounded really embarrassed.

"You probably shouldn't wear it in the shower, Kal."

"It's ok. I'm done anyway. Now where's that towel..."

The fact that he was talking to a wet, naked Superman barely crossed Bruce's mind.

"So...what are you doing?" Kal asked.

"I was reading the newspaper."

"Daily Planet, I hope."

"Among others," Bruce said, "I haven't seen any articles that would indicate that you apprehended Luthor."

"Well..." Kal trailed off.

"Kal?"

"I found Luthor, but I couldn't capture him this time because...The only way I could bring him up on charges for trying to kill me is to reveal my weakness to the world."

"I see."

"I'll get Luthor in jail again. The risk was too high this time."

"You're going to wait for him to endanger innocent people, possibly kill them, before you arrest him? So your weakness remains a secret?" Bruce kept his voice even. He couldn't decide if he agreed with Kal's decision or not.

"I'll be watching him. I won't let him hurt anyone."

"What about you? I can't make removing Kryptonite bullets a full-time job."

"Exactly why I didn't arrest him, Bruce. Trust me, I can handle Luthor."

"..."

"What?" Kal asked.

"I didn't say anything."

"I know. But you were thinking something."

"I'm not going to presume to know what you're capable of handling, Superman. All that I know is all it takes to immobilize, and kill you, is a tiny sliver of green rock. And that one of the only other people who knows this, happens to be obsessed with killing you."

"Can we talk about something else?"

There was an awkward silence after Kal's question. Both men realized that they were having this conversation for no apparent reason.

"What would you like to talk about?" Bruce asked, instead of saying what he meant to say, which was "I'm busy, good-bye."

"How many Christmas parties have you had to go to this year?" Kal asked.

The question wasn't what Bruce was expecting.

"Far too many. I lost count around twelve."

"I have a hard time believing you lose count of anything, Bruce," Kal said, "But I know what you're saying. Considering Clark Kent has no life, he certainly is expected to attend a lot of parties and functions this time of year. I can't even imagine how many a party animal like Bruce Wayne has to endure."

"It seems like more every year," Bruce sighed, "I hate them. I always duck out as soon as possible so I can do my work."

"And you have to make the excuses every time. That's the hardest part. I mean, how many times can Clark have a stomach flu before people start worrying about him?"

"Bruce Wayne is a little more mysterious. Usually he just has 'business to attend to.' I let people use their imaginations."

Kal laughed. Bruce found himself grinning despite himself.

"I've always loved this time of year," Kal sighed, "This year it feels empty. It's my first Christmas in over five years, but without my family, it just seems meaningless."

"I haven't been interested in the holiday season in a very long time," Bruce said, "Bruce Wayne goes through the motions of attending parties and spreading cheer, but personally I just want to get it over with."

"It's funny the way that we both talk about ourselves in the third person," Kal said, "We're so removed from our own identities. It's not even a double life we're both leading, it's a triple life."

"If it weren't for Alfred, I probably would have lost the third identity by now."

"The man who is neither Batman nor the playboy?"

"He makes himself scarce. How often do you get to be yourself?"

"Now the only times are when I'm talking to you," Kal said, "I guess that's why I enjoy our conversations so much."

Bruce hadn't realized until then that for this entire conversation, he had been himself. Not Batman, not Brucie, but the Bruce that Alfred knew.

"So," Kal continued, "What's a typical Christmas like for Bruce Wayne?"

"Which one?"

"You. The real one. The one I'm talking to."

"Alfred always decorates the manor. He orders a very large tree. No one ever sees any of this because it's just the two of us, and I rarely even enter the main living room. I think he just does it out of tradition. He's big on traditions."

"Christmas at the farm was my favourite thing in the world. Mom cooked more food than even I could eat. Dad acted like a kid, always excited to see our faces when we opened our presents."

"How did he stop you from..."

"Lead boxes."

"Interesting."

"All the neighbors would stop in, too," Kal continued, "It was just...like Christmas is supposed to be. Warm and full of friends and family."

Both men were silent. Kal trailed off, and Bruce had nothing to say to that. He couldn't remember what it felt like to have a life that was warm and full of loved ones.

"I just realized how much I am going to miss that," Kal said quietly.

"Kal," Bruce started, then stopped. He wasn't really going to ask this. Was he? "Would you like to spend Christmas here at the manor? It won't be like the farm, by any stretch, but you shouldn't spend the first Christmas without your family alone."

He really did ask it.

"Bruce, I..." Kal sounded stunned, "Are you sure? I don't want to bother you."

"Since when?"

Kal laughed. "I would like that, Bruce. It sounds like you could use some company yourself."

"I don't mind being alone. It's what I'm used to."

"That doesn't make it right."

Bruce chose not to respond to that. "You should come by on Christmas Eve. There's plenty of room here. I think there's at least fifteen bedrooms. I've never counted. Alfred will enjoy having someone who appreciates his cooking."

"I'll see you then, Bruce. Thank-you."

"I'll see you, Kal."

"Ok, I'm going to turn off this radio thing now."

"Good idea."

The last thing Bruce heard was "How do I? Oh."

Bruce shook his head.

On to Part 3

Fic: First Time For Everything (Part 1)

2006-12-29T20:30:42Z

I wrote this monster for the worlds_finest awards. It was the runner-up for best long story and best romance story! Yay! I would like to say right now that I intend to continue this story.

The prompt for the awards was New Year's Eve and First Time. You can view the rest of the awesome stories and artwork at kal_wayne.

Title: First Time For Everything
Author: evangelene
Email: evangelene.fic@gmail.com
Pairing: Batman/Superman (Begins/Returns movieverse)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: language, sex, a little violence
Wordcount: 18,954
Summary: Months after returning to Earth, Superman decides it's time to meet Gotham's new protector. Bruce reluctantly accepts that the two men may have more in common than he thought. In short, two loners find comfort in each other…just in time for the holidays.

Batman disliked Superman immediately.

He had been expecting to run into the newly re-established greatest American hero eventually. He was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. That didn't make the overly-projected voice behind him any more welcome.

"You haven't moved a muscle in over two hours."

Batman responded by continuing to not move.

"I don't know what you're looking at, but there is no one in that building," the voice continued. It had a soothing, condescending tone, like you would use to talk to a crazy person.

"Not yet," Batman said flatly, not moving.

He saw red and blue out of the corner of his eye and knew that Superman had moved beside him, uninvited.

"Can I help you?" Batman asked, "Did Metropolis run out of stranded kittens? I can guarantee that any Gotham cats in trees are there by choice."

"What about bats on rooftops?"

"They can take care of themselves." Batman had still not turned to look at Superman, hoping he would just go away and let him do his job.

There was silence a moment before Superman tried talking again.

"I heard there's a hero in Gotham now. Some say it's a monster, or a demon. I was curious."

"They also say I eat souls."

"I find that hard to believe. I can't even imagine how one goes about eating a soul."

"They taste terrible."

A cool wind blew across the rooftops. A corner of red cape fluttered briefly in front of Batman's face.

"Who are you watching for?" Superman asked.

"Why are you here?"

"I told you. I was curious to meet you."

"People are curious to meet movie stars, too. That doesn't mean it's ok to secretly watch them for hours and then refuse to leave no matter how unwelcome you are. There's a word for that."

Superman was silent. Even without looking at him, Batman could tell he was smirking. Obnoxious.

"What are you going to do when you see him?" Superman asked.

"When I see who?"

"Whoever you're waiting for."

"You assume it's a man. Stupid. That means you automatically eliminate over fifty percent of the population as suspects in every crime just because you think girls are nice."

"Are you waiting for a woman?"

"No."

More silence. Another cool wind sends both capes fluttering.

"Nice night for it," Superman said, conversationally.

"I'm busy, and I'm sure you have things that need picking up, or blowing on."

"You know? I take it back. I think you might eat souls."

The Dark Knight let out an angry sigh and stood to face Superman. He would never admit it, but it did feel good to move out of the crouched position.

"Look, I don't..." Batman's growl momentarily trailed off as he took in the man of steel for the first time. He had seen plenty of pictures and footage, even from before Bruce was Batman. Before Superman had left Earth behind. The images didn't do the man justice.

Electric blue eyes that Bruce knew could see through him, or set him on fire, blazed into his own. One look into them, and there was no doubting the immense power they stored. Even though it wasn't really true, Superman's entire body seemed to glow. Like a damn angel. It didn't help that he was also hovering about two feet off the ground. Dark, perfectly arranged hair set off his flawless, tanned skin, with a single curl bobbing playfully in the centre of his forehead.

Does he make that curl on purpose every time he puts on the costume?

Does he ever take the costume off?

Who is this guy?

It was Superman's smirk that brought Batman back to his train of thought.

"I don't have time for this. If you're here to check on me and make sure I'm playing by your rules, and following your charming ideas of what's right and what's wrong, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."

"Am I?"

"I learned a long time ago that things aren't that simple. It's amazing what you learn when you stay on the ground."

"Or on the rooftops?"

Batman gritted his teeth.

"You wanted to see if I was a demon? Now you've met me. You can see that I'm a man, and this is my city. We were doing fine without you."

"Were you?"

Batman wished there was a way to hit this guy without destroying his hand.

Then Superman was gone. Batman hadn't even blinked.

He was back a moment later, holding a terrified young man.

"Is this who you were waiting for?" Superman asked, holding the man by his coat collar in mid-air.

"I could have handled it on my own," Batman was barely suppressing the rage. Both at this alien who was cocky enough to zip down and snatch the arsonist Batman had been waiting for all night, and at himself for turning his back for one minute. It was humiliating, and that wasn't a feeling he was used to, or enjoyed.

"Oh...man!" the squirming criminal exclaimed, "Y-you guys are working together?"

"No," Batman said sharply, glaring at Superman.

"He had a Molotov cocktail on him, Batman. Looks like he was planning on torching that warehouse."

"I know." He must have some weakness...

"Well, son. It looks like you've got a date with the Gotham Police Department."

Oh Jesus Christ.

Batman had enough. He turned to make his exit, grabbing his grappling gun.

"Stay out of Gotham, Superman. I mean it."

It probably would have been a better exit if his grappling gun hadn't jammed on the first try. He could still hear Superman chuckling behind him as he finally swung into the darkness.

*********************

One of the main differences between Bruce Wayne and a bat was that, unlike bats, Bruce did not enjoy hanging upside-down.

He was not at all happy when he woke up and found himself to be tightly bound from chest to ankles and dangling from a crane about 200 feet above a construction site. His belt also seemed to be missing.

He wasn't going to panic. As far as traps went, this one was pretty straightforward. It was just hard to think when his head hurt so much.

At least the cowl still seemed to be on. That would have added greater urgency to the situation. He was confident that it hadn't been removed while he had been unconscious because it was rigged to release a cloud of gas that would have made it difficult for his captor to tie him up in this elaborate way.

The blood was pounding in his ears. The cold wind whipped his face. He closed his eyes, and opened them to see nothing but a giant red 'S.'

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd say 'hi,' but I can see you're tied up." Superman said cheerfully.

"That was terrible," Batman grunted as he struggled to free his hands.

"Really? I've got more? How about 'Mind if I hang out with you?'"

"Seriously. Shut up."

"Who did this to you?"

"Catwoman."

"Catwoman?" Superman was grinning. Like an asshole. "Batman and Catwoman. Cute."

"Yeah. Gotham City is adorable."

"Well, let's get you down from there," Superman's eyes suddenly glowed red and for a split second, Batman was falling. Then he was being held by Superman in mid-air. Then he was on the ground, still tied up.

Superman stood in front of him, looking very pleased with himself.

"Hold still. I'll get those ropes off you." Eyes turned red again and the ropes fell to the ground in a pile.

"What are you doing here? I told you to stay out of Gotham."

Superman raised an eyebrow, and kept the smirk on his face.

"Usually people thank me when I save their life."

"You did not save my life," Batman growled, "You merely saved me a couple of minutes of work."

"A couple of minutes? Really? I would have liked to have watched that. Maybe I can put you back up there."

Batman made fists that he knew he couldn't use.

"I'm glad that we mortals amuse you so much. Perhaps this time we can keep you entertained enough to keep you from leaving."

Batman regretted saying that immediately. It gave a piece away.

All amusement left Superman's face.

"You're angry with me for leaving?"

When Batman didn't answer, Superman asked another question.

"Is that why you do what you do? You wanted to make up for my absence?"

So arrogant. "What I do," Batman said in dangerous voice, "has nothing to do with you, and I certainly don't have to explain myself to you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to presume." Superman's apology surprised Batman. "But I am interested to know why you do this. You're just a man, you can be hurt. You don't have any obligation to be a hero."

Bruce couldn't possibly be having this conversation, and he didn't want to. Catwoman was not getting any closer to being caught as he stood here and had an insane chat with an alien.

"You may have powers that make you feel obligated to help people, but you're not a hero, Superman. There is no bravery or challenge in what you do."

The smirk was back on Superman's face, but it wasn't reaching his eyes.

"You make it sound easy, Batman."

"Isn't it?"

Instead of answering, Superman silently lifted into the sky.

"Say hello to Catwoman for me," he said over his shoulder, "She's on top of the D-Train, headed East."

*********************

Three bangle tigers. One Man. Zero hours of sleep in two days.

There was no way to rearrange this equation to get an answer that Bruce liked. Even if he factored in the two men cowering behind him. Especially if he factored them in. Bruce could argue that getting escaped zoo animals back into their cages wasn't his job, but it would be hard to explain that to the terrified night watchmen.

He could keep his flashlight shining in two of the cats' faces. If he moved quickly enough he could hit the third one with a tranq dart, then gas the first two.

"Oh God. Oh God," he heard one of the guards blubbering behind him. It was hard to concentrate. If he was really fast, maybe he could tranq that guy first.

Before he could consider this further, all three tigers were gone. Back in their cage. With the lock on.

Guess who.

"Superman! Thank God! Those tigers were going to eat Batman!"

"No they weren't," Bruce snarled.

"Looks like someone let the cats out of the bag!" Superman grinned as he hovered above their heads.

Is this guy for real? That didn't even make sense.

The tigers were put away, so there was no reason for Batman to stick around. He stormed off to his car, leaving Superman to sign autographs.

When he got to his vehicle, Superman was hovering next to it.

"Get away from my car."

"I don't know if this is really a car," Superman observed, "It's more of a tank. What do you call it?"

"Mine."

"You're welcome, by the way."

"I don't remember thanking you."

Superman folded his arms, and continued smirking.

"For all your comments about my rescuing stranded kittens, you seem to have your share of cat problems."

Batman glared up at Superman. "Is there something about Gotham soil that offends you? Or are you just afraid of getting your shiny red boots dirty?"

Superman didn't quite roll his eyes, but it looked like he wanted to as he lowered himself to the ground.

"Better?"

"No. I'm busy."

"More zoos?"

"Those tigers were released on purpose."

"Your friend Catwoman, I suppose. It makes sense."

Batman didn't answer. He just got in the car and sealed the doors.

"Good-night, Batman!" Superman called cheerfully before he disappeared.

Bruce seriously hated that guy.

*********************

December was always a busy month for Bruce Wayne. Seemingly endless charity events and parties leading up to the holidays. Of those events, the Wayne Foundation Annual Christmas Ball was the flagship. It was a massive party in the main ballroom of the downtown convention centre. No expense was ever spared in the decoration. The pay-off was that the wealthiest citizens of Gotham and beyond were always in attendance, and the holiday season put them in a giving mood.

This year Bruce Wayne was secretly nursing two broken ribs under his tuxedo. He could think of other things he would rather be doing, but knew the importance of his attendance. This was his parents' legacy.

Bruce winced as he stood to get out of the limo. He took a slow breath as he approached the entrance to the ballroom. Showtime.

Bruce entered the room with a bright smile and his arms spread in a way that let people know the party had arrived. He immediately grabbed a champagne flute off a nearby tray. He was aiming to appear half-drunk at this point.

As usual, he was surrounded by an assortment of young women within a minute of his arrival. As usual, they all bored the hell out of him. He kept the smile plastered on his face as he oozed endless charm. They swooned at every idiotic thing he said. He always held a drink, but never lifted it to his lips. No one ever noticed. He just pretended to be gradually more intoxicated as the night went on.

He heard a familiar voice cut through the vapid giggles.

"Bruce Wayne. I should have known I could find you by looking in the middle of the biggest cluster of women."

"Lois Lane! You made it to Gotham. Wonderful to see you." He was sincere this time. Lois was an impressive woman, and he had made a point of inviting her personally. He leaned in to give her a quick kiss, much to the dismay of the gaggle of girls.

"Where's your enviable husband tonight?"

"Richard couldn't make it, I'm afraid. So I brought my colleague from the Planet." Lois turned in the direction of a tall, awkward man with his back to them. He seemed to be sampling all of the hors d'oeuvres.

"Clark!"

The man was startled and turned quickly, dropping something on a toothpick that had been halfway to his mouth. Lois beckoned with her finger, and Clark came to her side. Bruce smirked.

"Clark Kent, meet Bruce Wayne," Lois said grandly.

"Nice to meet you," Clark said, extending one hand and wiping crumbs from his mouth with the other.

Bruce shook the man's hand, but was too stunned to speak. This man was clearly Superman. Did no one else notice? He looked at Lois. At the couple of the girls who had stuck around after Bruce stopped paying attention to them. No one looked even remotely interested in the fact that Superman was standing next to them.

Really? Glasses and a different hair style and Superman stumped the world?

Bruce saw the slightest hint of that smile he hated on the other man's face. There was a spark of recognition in Kent's eyes. Those same impossibly blue eyes.

Bruce realized that he was still shaking Clark Kent's hand in silence, and was probably staring. He decided to play along, for now.

"Always good to meet the press, Mr Kent." He let go of his hand. "Enjoy the party."

It made sense that Superman would be a reporter. Sort of. If he had to have an alter ego, having up-to-the-second access to information about disasters and robberies would be useful. Plus, Superman would have to make a living somehow. Super powers certainly wouldn't hurt in the journalism field.

Bruce felt angry again. He didn't like knowing that Superman was secretly using his powers to excel in human endeavors. If he wanted to flaunt them while wearing a blinding costume, then fine. But sneaking around, not only posing as a mere man, but beating humans at their own games. It didn't sit right.

An hour later Bruce was leaving the dance floor after sharing it with Selina Kyle. He needed a couple of minutes alone before he continued his act for another few hours. He exited out a door behind a large Christmas tree.

Outside in a deserted hallway, he leaned against a wall and exhaled slowly, cringing as he gently rested a hand on his ribcage. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"You should probably be taking it easy with those ribs," said the last voice he wanted to hear, "But I suppose, for you, this is taking it easy."

Even though it hurt like a bastard, Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, as if it could stop the alien from spying on his insides.

"I should have lined the mask with lead," he grumbled.

The taller man shrugged. "It wouldn't have mattered. I can memorize parts of your body other than your face." Clark suddenly looked embarrassed by what he said as Bruce raised an eyebrow. "N-not that I did that. I didn't scan you at all. I just know what you sound like. Your heartbeat. Everyone's body has its own sound."

"Right."

"This is quite the party," Clark said casually, as if he hadn't just told Bruce that he'd learned his most closely-guarded secret by memorizing his heartbeat. "Must take a long time to plan something like this."

"Fine. You know my secret, but how did you know I knew yours? I haven't heard that you're a mind-reader."

"Your heartbeat again," the reporter said, leaning against the wall next to Bruce, "It went a little crazy when you were shaking my hand. I knew you either recognized me, or you're hopelessly in love with me."

"I-" What?"I'm surprised more people don't recognize you."

"It's ridiculous, isn't it? I think it speaks volumes about society. They have an idea of what Superman is like, then they see a geek who looks exactly like Superman, but they can't possibly connect the two. I honestly never thought it would fool a single person, but it's really worked well." Clark gave a small smile and glanced down at Bruce, "I guess I've met my match."

Bruce frowned and continued to face forward, but he was secretly surprised that this all-powerful being would consider him to be his "match."

"You might want to consider a mask, just in case there are more humans out there who aren't complete morons," he said stiffly.

"To be honest, Mr Wayne, I'm surprised more people in Gotham haven't figured you out. I mean, just based on the sheer amount of high-tech gadgets and free time that Batman has, you know he has to be rich. You know he has to be passionate about Gotham. You figure that he has to be single. And he would need a well-hidden headquarters, preferably out-of-town. Plus, it would make sense that there would be some...tragedy in his past."

Bruce whipped around to face Clark. "I guess you've got me all figured out, then."

Clark put his hands up defensively, "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It's just the reporter in me."

"I don't care who's in you, alien." Bruce's voice was low and even," You don't know anything about me. You have no business being here. In fact, I'm pretty sure I told you to stay out of Gotham."

"I'm starting to get the feeling that you don't like me," Clark said calmly.

"I don't. I also don't need a bored superhero hovering over me while I do my job. I'm sure I must look absurd to you, but I will not be your entertainment."

Clark looked wounded. "I don't think you're absurd. I don't fully understand what you do, or why you do it. I'm not sure I fully approve of what you do either, but I think that your heart is in the right place."

"Touching."

"I admire your bravery, Mr. Wayne. I'm glad we're on the same side."

"Are we?"

"I'd like to be. I didn't come to Gotham to keep an eye on you. I came to see if we could work together."

"Work together?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't need your help."

Clark met Bruce's eyes. "Maybe I need yours."

This was ridiculous.

"I doubt that. What could you possibly need from me? A loan?"

Clark smiled. "No. I don't need money. I could just use...a partner. Sometimes."

"I'm not going to be your sidekick."

"I didn't say sidekick," Clark looked down a moment, "Look, this is going to sound strange and embarrassing, but what I really would like is to have a...friend. That I can talk to. About what I do."

Bruce stared at Clark in disbelief.

"Me? You're talking about me?"

"Well, yeah, I..."

"This may come as a surprise, Kent, but I make a lousy friend. I don't really have time for friends." Then, "Are you saying that you keep showing up in Gotham, bothering the hell out of me, because you want to be buddies?"

"Basically."

Bruce liked to be prepared for any challenge that presented itself. He was completely stumped about what to do when the most powerful being on the planet asked you to be their friend.

"I'm sorry if this sounds crazy, Mr. Wayne. I just thought..."

"Call me Bruce," he sighed, "But only when I'm not working."

"Of course."

Clark extended his hand, "I'd like to start over, if we could, Bruce."

Bruce accepted the handshake. "I suppose," he said, gripping a hand that could rip his own clean off.

Then Clark leaned in and lowered his voice, looking around quickly. "You know...that woman you were dancing with is really Catwoman."

Bruce's lips twitched. "I know."

*********************

Bruce took some time the next day to extensively research Clark Kent. He was amazed to find that the alien the world knew as Superman actually had a mind-numbingly dull history. He grew up on a farm in Kansas, in a town that was actually called Smallville. Bruce read a couple of articles in the Smallville Ledger from Clark's teen years, one about him rescuing a boy from drowning and another about his scholarship to Metropolis University. There was no reason why you would think twice about this guy.

He read the obituary for Clark's adoptive father, Jonathan. Clark was young when he died. He read articles written by Clark Kent for the Daily Planet. The writing was very good. Bruce noticed his uncanny ability to write about a disaster as if he were standing in the middle of it. His articles on Superman were amusing.

The only truly remarkable thing about Clark Kent was that there was a five-year period where he seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth. No articles were written by him, and there was no mention of him anywhere. Bruce would think the fact that this time coincided exactly with the time that Superman was gone would be a dead give-away, especially to a building full of reporters. It was actually funny to think about Clark hiding his secret in the most dangerous place imaginable. Right out in the open, in a room full of people who live to ask questions and uncover lies. And the only mask he ever wore was a pair of transparent glasses. It was amazing.

Bruce found another obituary in the Smallville Ledger. This one from only two months ago. Clark's mother had just died.

The common knowledge story of Superman was that he was the last of his race. He came to Earth, though no one knew exactly when, as an orphan. As far as humanity was concerned, Superman had always been alone. Now Bruce knew it wasn't true. He had a family who had raised him and loved him. Superman was now carrying the agony of losing his parents for the second time. Until now, he had never been as alone as the world assumed.

Until now, Bruce couldn't figure out why Superman would be seeking his companionship. Now it all made sense. When Clark lost his mother, he likely lost the only person who knew who he really was. Bruce knew the pain of losing both parents, but this would be like losing Alfred as well.

The knowledge of Clark's loss weighed heavily on Bruce as he put on the suit. It was snowing tonight, so he wore a thermal layer underneath. It would be nice if, seeing as Christmas was only two weeks away, the criminally insane could give Gotham a break. Bruce knew the holiday season only meant that he should expect crimes that were more festive in nature.

For the first time, Bruce went out hoping he'd see Superman.

*********************

Thermals be damned, it was cold as hell on the rooftops tonight.

On top of that, it was a surprisingly slow night for crime, so Bruce couldn't even get warmed up. It was cold enough to make him think about home. A warm fire, some hot coffee, his nice warm bed...

He shook it off. He was staying out.

"I have to say, I admire your dedication," said a cheerful voice above him.

Bruce looked up to see Superman slowly descending with the snowflakes against the moonlight. The red cape fluttered only slightly. It all seemed to be moving in slow motion, and too beautiful to be real.

"You're freezing," Superman observed as he silently landed in front of Batman.

"Crime doesn't stop just because it's chilly," Batman said, trying not to sound as stunned as he felt.

"Are you sure? It sounds pretty quiet to me." The smirk brought Batman back to his senses. It reminded him that Superman was not, in fact, an angel, but actually a very annoying guy with no respect for privacy.

"There is no such thing as a silent night in Gotham. I just need to wait."

"Mind if I wait with you?"

"We both know I can't stop you."

"You really shouldn't be out here. You're going to catch pneumonia."

"I'm fine."

"Won't Gotham be wondering why their resident playboy has frostbite on the lower half of his face?"

"Skiing," Bruce grumbled.

Superman smiled. Not a smirk, but an actual smile. Even in the darkness it was blinding.

"Don't move," he said suddenly. Bruce only had time to utter "What-?" when he saw two red glowing lights. A feeling like a warm thaw came over his entire body.

"What...What did you just do?" He felt violated.

"I warmed you up," Superman said simply, as if it wasn't completely weird.

"Don't. I didn't say you could do that," Batman said angrily, trying to ignore how much better he felt. "It's...creepy."

Superman was smiling again. "You're calling me creepy?"

Batman huffed a cloud of white breath. He considered what he'd learned about Clark's mother that day, and whether he should bring it up as he gazed out at Gotham. He turned to face Superman, but he was gone.

"Superman?"

"You don't have to call me that." Bruce turned to see that Clark was now sitting on the edge of the roof behind him.

"What do you want me to call you? I can't imagine you want me calling you Cl-"

"Kal," the Kryptonian said, his back still to Bruce, "My real name is Kal."

Bruce stood behind him, sharing the view.

"How many people are there that call you that?"

"None. But I'd like you to be the first."

Bruce was trying very hard to maintain his hardened Batman demeanor, but it was difficult when Superman was refusing to acknowledge it. Instead he was choosing to trust and confide in Bruce, despite all the reasons he was trying to give him not to. It just made Bruce feel like a jerk.

"Kal," Bruce tested the name. It worked. "I know about your mother. I know you lost her recently."

Superman didn't say anything. His cloaked shoulders hunched forward a little. Bruce was tempted to rest a hand on one of them, but resisted.

"I never met my biological parents," Superman said quietly, "They died saving me. I was fortunate enough to be found, and raised, by the two best parents anyone could ever hope for. I lost my adoptive father around the same time that I was re-united, in a way, with my Kryptonian parents. It's hard to explain that, so I probably shouldn't bother."

"Try me."

"There were these...crystals," Superman said slowly, still staring straight ahead over the city, "My parents had placed them in the ship with me when they sent me to Earth as a baby. The crystals contained all of Krypton's knowledge. They constructed a sort of fortress for me. It's in the arctic." He paused, "I know this probably sounds crazy to you."

"I've heard crazier things," Bruce said, almost truthfully.

"But they were in the fortress. My parents. Or at least their spirits. They taught me everything. The Kents raised me, and taught me to be human. My Kryptonian parents taught me to be a hero. I went to find Krypton five years ago. I heard there was a chance, and I had to see for myself. But I lost everything by going. Krypton wasn't there. I had to face that pain all over again. I came back and the crystals were gone, the fortress had been broken into. I'll never hear their voices again. And now my Earth mother is gone. Maybe she'd still be alive if I hadn't left. The stress on her, not knowing where I was..."

Bruce did place a hand on Superman's shoulder this time, and crouched down beside him.

"You did what you had to."

"I was selfish. And it cost me everything."

"Kal, if I thought there was a way, any way, to see my parents again. Even if only for a moment. I wouldn't hesitate. Whatever it took. Believe me, I understand," Bruce was stunned by his own admission. It had just come out before he could stop it.

"I lost the woman I love, too. I just left. I never said goodbye to her. Now she's married."

It didn't take a lot of detective skills to guess what woman Superman was talking about.

"People move on," Bruce said unhelpfully.

"It's for the best," Superman sighed, "I couldn't have made her happy, no matter how much I wanted to. I have too many...obligations."

"Preaching to the choir, Kal."

Superman turned and smiled at him. "I thought you might understand." He stood, forcing Bruce to remove his hand. It was surprisingly hard to do.

"Thanks for listening, Batman. I have to get back to Metropolis. You should call it a night."

"I'll consider it."

"No you won't."

"You're right."

Superman gave a small smile, but his eyes gave him away.

"Batman, this feeling. This awful loneliness. It never goes away, does it? It never gets better."

"No," Bruce said solemnly, "But I'm glad it doesn't. If it did, it would mean I'm forgetting them."

Superman seemed to consider this. "I'll be seeing you, Batman."

"Kal."

On to Part 2

Fic: Bats and Other Party Animals

2006-12-29T20:20:19Z

This was written for the worlds_finest awards. It won the best humour fic category! Woot!

The prompt for the awards was New Year's Eve and First Time. This is the first of two stories I wrote for it. You can find all of the awesome stories and artwork that were submitted at kal_wayne.

Title: Bats and Other Party Animals
Author: evangelene
Email: evangelene.fic@gmail.com
Pairing: Superman/Batman, implied other
Rating: PG
Word count: 2353
Warnings: mild language
Summary: New Year’s party at the Watchtower! Be there, or be Batman. (JLU Toonverse)

“Where the hell is Wally?” Batman growled, clutching a crumpled up poster.

“Why?” Superman asked, “What’s he done this time?”

“This,” Batman thrust the poster in front of him.

“The Flash’s Super Kick-Ass New Year’s Rockin’ Awesome Eve Party,” Superman read aloud.

“He seems to think he’s throwing a party on board the Watchtower. These posters are everywhere. I want to see how quickly he can take them down.”

Superman shifted nervously. “Yeah, about that, Bruce…”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “You knew about this.”

“Well, you know…Wally just really wanted to do something nice for everyone. He thought it would be fun for everyone to mingle a little without fighting super villains while they do it.”

“No.”

“It’s all he’s been talking about for weeks,” Superman said, almost pleading, “It’s actually all anyone’s been talking about…” Superman trailed off at the end of his sentence and braced himself.

“No one has talked to me about it,” his tone was even, and dangerous.

“That’s sort of why I asked if you could do watch duty that night. I figured it wouldn’t really be your thing.”

“I see.” Bruce wouldn’t let himself sound hurt. He wasn’t hurt. Of course he wasn’t. Obviously he wouldn’t be interested in a stupid dance party. A dance party that shouldn’t even be happening.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just knew this is how you’d react and, frankly, I don’t have a problem with this party,” Superman spoke quickly, adding, “Actually, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Why? Are you and Booster going to spike the punch?” Bruce sneered. This whole thing was ridiculous. Grown men and women. The most powerful men and women in the universe. A good percentage not even human. Dance party.

“Just because you’re allergic to fun, Bruce, doesn’t mean no one is allowed to ever have a good time,” Superman said. He said it with a grin, like it was playful, but it hurt. Not that Bruce would ever admit it.

“If anything gets broken, I’m not paying for it,” was all he managed to come back with before he turned and stalked out of the room.

********************

In the cafeteria, it became clear that Superman was right. Everyone was talking about the party. Like it was the god damn prom. Excited voices became hushed as Batman walked by, as if the very sound of happiness would turn him to stone or something. He saw Wally standing at the end of a table where Fire, Ice and Vixen were sitting.

“Two words, ladies: open bar,” he said, grinning, “And the beats? They’ll be bangin’. That’s a Flash guarantee. And don‘t worry, I‘ll save a dance for each of -” Wally stopped talking when he noticed Batman looming nearby. Bruce glared, but moved on silently.

“Too bad Spooky’s not coming, I’ll bet he’s a real party animal,” Wally said quietly, but not quietly enough that Bruce couldn’t hear him. Because Wally was a god damn idiot.

It’s not like Bruce didn’t know that he wasn’t the friendliest person. It’s not like he didn’t notice that the others had their little groups of friends who hung out and talked about unimportant things. And it’s not like he ever cared that he wasn’t a part of that world. There was something about this party that was bothering him more than it should. It was more than the fact that the party was a stupid idea and a complete waste of time.

Batman sat alone in a corner, staring at a sandwich he no longer wanted., while everyone around him chatted and laughed.

********************

New Year’s Eve. Bruce sat in front of the giant screens in the Watchtower, carefully scanning for emergencies. In the background, loud, thumping bass threatened his concentration.

This was stupid. Even if there was an intergalactic crisis, who the hell was he going to send? The entire league was probably half in the bag right now.

Two hours went by. Three. Bruce did what he had been resisting. He began scanning the internal monitors.

The party was mainly in the cafeteria, which had been cleared out. Coloured lights swirled around the dark room like a night club. Through the ridiculous amount of dry ice, he could make out the dancing bodies of several costumed heroes. It looked completely absurd. Of course they still had to wear their costumes because most were concerned with protecting their identities. Zooming in he saw Green Arrow and Black Canary making out. No surprise there. Switching to a hallway camera he saw Shining Knight and Vigilante making out. Still not really a surprise. Back at the dance he saw Wally trying to make out with anyone.

They’re like children. Batman thought bitterly.

So maybe it bothered him a little, not being invited. Because that’s basically what happened. The whole league decided to have a party and expected Batman to ring in the new year alone, doing the work that they couldn’t be bothered doing. Because that was Batman’s idea of a good time.

Batman wouldn’t know how to have a good time if his life depended on it.

Bruce slid down in the chair, bored and angry. How could he be the only one not interested in this dumb party? He could see J‘onn - J’onn for the love of - in the middle of the dance floor.

Bruce glanced at the time. 11:30pm. At least this would all be over soon.

“Bruce?”

“Shouldn’t you be dancing or something?” Bruce grumbled at the reflection in the monitor that showed Superman standing behind him.

“I just wanted to check on you. To see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Nobody likes me,” Batman couldn’t believe he actually said that out loud.

Superman laughed, “Since when has that bothered you?”

“Then it’s true.”

“No!” Superman said, startled, “What, you’re being serious? Of course they like you.”

“And I thought you never lied. I guess that changes after a few beers, Clark.”

“I’m not drinking and you know it,” Superman sighed, “Are you upset that no one told you about the party?”

“No,” Batman said flatly, “I’m upset that nobody likes me.”

“They like you! It’s just that…”

“Nobody thinks I’m cool.”

Superman laughed again, “Ok, now I know you’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious. Maybe I wanted to be included. That probably never occurred to you.” Batman could not believe what was coming out of his mouth. There was something about Clark. It was like a hidden power that only worked on Bruce. The ability to admit things out loud that he hadn’t even admitted to himself yet.

Superman spun Bruce’s chair around so they were facing one another.

“They think you’re cool, Bruce,” Superman said, smiling warmly, “They think you’re too cool for something as silly as a party. Most of them want to be you.”

Bruce snorted, “It’s not as fun as it looks.”

Superman raised an eyebrow.

“Most of the time.”

“Well, let’s go, then,” Superman said brightly.

“Go where?”

“To the party.”

“Hell no.”

“I’m afraid so, Bruce. You obviously want to be there, and I want you to be there, so let’s show these second-stringers that Batman knows how to have a good time.”

“Batman doesn’t know how to have a good time.”

Superman leaned in, “But Bruce Wayne does. I’ve seen it.”

“I’m not dancing dressed like Batman.”

“Come on, you won’t look any stupider than I will.” Superman had that rare mischievous look in his eyes that Bruce always secretly loved.

“What, we’re dancing together now?”

Superman winked before grabbing Bruce by the wrist “If you’re lucky.”

Batman did not enjoy being hauled toward the party.

“Let go of me, Clark. Who’s going to stand watch if I go with you?”

“Forget about it,” Superman said brightly, not letting go, “The Watchtower is closed tonight.”

“If you don’t let go right now…”

“Fine,” Superman sighed and let go, “But you’re still coming with me.”

Rather than start an “am not” “are too” war with the Man of Steel, Batman reluctantly followed Superman toward the sound of pounding music.

“How can you even stand this volume of music?!” Batman yelled at Superman as they entered the cafeteria, “It’s too loud for me and my ears are covered.”

Superman just shrugged and smiled and kept walking. Bruce followed, drawn by Clark’s playfulness.

They were cut off by Wally.

“Yo, Bats! What’s up?! Everybody in the club’s gettin’ tipsy!”

“What?!” Batman asked loudly.

“Heeeeey, the princess was looking for you. I think she wants a kiss at midnight, you stud.” The Flash was nudging Batman in the ribs. The Flash was going to get punched in the nose in a second.

“Gotta go, Bats. I’m getting a drink for Zatanna…I think I got a shot.”

He was gone before Bruce could argue that Wally most certainly did not have a shot.

Now Bruce couldn’t find Clark. It was just dry ice and lights and noise and people he worked with flailing around with drinks in their hands. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Bruce.” Superman was holding two glasses of something.

“Ginger ale,” Clark explained, holding one out. Bruce took it, glancing around uncomfortably.

“This is absurd,” Bruce complained, “These are people I’ve fought alongside with on other planets. In other dimensions. In other centuries! Acting like teenagers!” As he said this, Aztec walked by yelling “Everybody take your shirts off! It will be totally awesome!”

“Yeah,” Superman looked around smiling, “It’s great, isn’t it?”

Batman took a drink. Maybe it was a little great.

He felt an arm drape around his shoulders and turned to see John Stewart hanging off him.

“Batman,” he slurred, “You made it! You know, everyone said that you don’t like to party, but I said…I said…you don’t know the Bat. I know the Bat. I’m an original. We go back, the Batman and me. We’re original leaguers, and the original seven know how to party. That’s what I told them! Am I right?!”

Batman thankfully didn’t have to answer because John was already distracted and left to say the exact same thing to J’onn.

Bruce finished his drink and set the glass on a table. Clark did the same thing, then nodded his head in the direction of the dance floor.

“Shall we?”

“No we shan’t,” Bruce tried to keep the panic in his voice to a minimum.

“Now Batman,” Clark grinned that mischievous grin that he knew Bruce was powerless to fight, “If you don’t stand up to the bullies, they’ll never stop picking on you.”

“I’m not dancing.”

Clark was suddenly very close, “My new year’s resolution is to make sure that you start having more fun, and I am starting right now.”

“You would make your new year’s resolution all about another person.”

“I have another one.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll tell you later, if you dance.”

So that’s how Batman found himself in the middle of a dance floor at minutes to midnight. Some inane song about sexy backs was playing, and Superman was getting right into it in the most appalling way possible.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” Bruce observed.

“At least I’m trying,” Clark argued.

“I don’t have to try,” Bruce said, “I’m an excellent dancer.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Clark said, very close, “I’ve also heard you’ve got a golden singing voice.”

“That was supposed to be a secret.” Damn Diana.

“What are you scared of, Bruce? Do you really think that anyone is going to laugh at Batman?”

“I don’t care what they think,” Bruce lied.

“Good,” Clark said, unexpectedly placing a hand on Bruce’s back, “Neither do I.”

Bruce moved with Clark, trying to block out the rest of the room. It became easier each time Clark moved toward him, bringing their bodies briefly together. If it wasn’t totally insane, Bruce would swear that Clark was putting the moves on him.

Bruce and Clark. Batman and Superman. Dancing together. To dance music. On a dance floor. At a dance. It would be humiliating if it wasn’t so hot. Bruce wasn’t feeling as awkward as he should. He was just letting the music tell him what to do, and letting Clark’s eyes give him ideas of what to do next.

Suddenly there was a countdown, which Bruce registered somewhat. The room was yelling out numbers backwards in unison. He understood the reasoning, but all his brain was telling him was that when those numbers stopped, something very exciting was going to happen.

Balloons dropped from somewhere and Clark’s mouth landed on his. He was sure there were pairs of people kissing all around them, but not like this. The rest of them had been waiting ten seconds. Clark and Bruce had been waiting something like ten years for this. Waited so long that Bruce stopped thinking it ever would happen, but never forgot that he wanted it to. He kissed Clark like they were completely alone in the universe. His hands found Clark’s soft hair and grabbed fistfuls of it. Clark’s icy tongue moved past warm lips and shocked Bruce’s mouth in an insanely good way.

It broke off eventually. Probably Clark that pulled back first because lord knows Bruce wasn’t able to. They stepped apart, breath ragged, eying each other like they’d both discovered treasure.

Then Bruce noticed the room. It was quiet.

He shifted his gaze to the side and saw more or less the entire Justice League staring at them, slack jawed. Bruce wished he’d designed this room with a trapdoor directly underneath him.

A voice from the back, Shayera’s, broke the silence by loudly stating “It’s about time!”

Then there was laughter and, to Bruce’s mortification, enthusiastic applause. Superman smiled sheepishly and waved. Bruce sort of wanted to throw up. But not as much as he wanted to haul Clark into the nearest empty room and tear all of his clothes off. He grabbed Clark’s arm.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Clark asked, startled.

“We’re going to work on our resolutions.”

As they exited the room, Bruce could hear Diana saying “Wally? I’ll take that drink.”

-The End-