Chapter Text
“The worst he can say is ‘no’” was what Cat Grant, Gossip columnist and editor, had told him. Clark had respect for her - the kind of respect shared between two people working in the same field - but in hindsight, listening to her was a terrible idea. No offense to Grant, her job consisted of making up dramas about celebrities. It was quite literally in the name, ‘gossip’.
Lois savored the lukewarm sewage flavored coffee that their reporter salaries could afford. Despite the paper cup obscuring half of her face, Clark could tell that she was judging him. Her raised eyebrows could be interpreted as either “I told you so” or “go on, make my day, Smallville”. For the record, neither he nor Lois was a telepath, years of working together had simply nurtured an understanding between them.
As far as Lois, Jimmy or anyone else in Daily Planet knew, Clark met someone in Gotham, befriended him, and developed a crush. It was sort of the truth.
(“Remember that time I came into work late and Perry put me to Grant’s job for a whole week?” Clark grimaced, recalling wet miserable streets and leaking hotel rooms. “I had to tail Bruce Wayne to five different galas. Five! How many parties can a person attend in seven days?” On the same note, how much alcohol could a person consume on regular basis before they had liver failure? Because he was seriously concerned about Bruce Wayne's track record of getting smashed at any party he attended.
“I remember now… you poor thing. We were betting whether Brucie the man-eater was gonna get his paws you,” Lois said.
“Lois!”
“I can’t say who disappointed me more. You or Wayne.” She sniffled. “You lost me twenty bucks, Smallville.”)
“Did he say ‘no’?” Jimmy asked.
“Well… he didn’t, he said I was confusing my feeling for him since he was the only Gothamite I know... that I mistook dependency for infatuation…”
“Like some sort of Stockholm syndrome?” Lois prompted.
(“Is that all?” Batman sounded neutral, which Clark hated. He’d rather the Bat got angry and yelled at him for interrupting his stakeout, at least then Clark would know his confession actually mattered to the man.
“I like you, B.” Clark repeated like a broken record.
Batman was many things, but he wasn’t deaf. “This is a bad idea, Superman.”
“Why? Is it because I’m an alien? Or because I’m an Alpha?”
He might not know what caste Batman was, but the dark vigilante was a notorious control freak, and Alphas were aggressive. Batman might not like the idea of a partner who constantly challenged his authority. Clark scoffed at stereotypes, but they held some truth.
“It has nothing to do with that,” Batman said. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
Batman didn’t speak right away. He put away his fancy binoculars, the white lenses that covered his eyes lingered on the gangsters below - Penguin’s men - for a second before turning to the other caped hero. “You’ve known me for the longest in your ragtag team of superheroes. Your Alpha is overwhelmed by unknown varieties and potential rivals, it seeks stability, and I happen to be familiar. Give it time to adjust, get to know your new teammates. Your… crush will go away. You don’t like me.”
Clark was furious. “Who are you to…” He composed himself, it would do Batman no good if he gave their location away. “It’s not just instinct.” He wouldn’t deny that his inner Alpha was drawn to Batman. “I know what I feel for you is real.” Clark stood his ground or, well, the air equivalence of it, seeing as he was floating. The stone gargoyle Batman perched on was too small for two burly men.
Just then, the gangsters finished loading their transporter, one North Refrigeration van. Penguin thought he was being so low-key. The van was blue, and the logo of his ghost company consisted of ice peaks and a fish skeleton. He might as well had stuck a huge neon sign that spelled ‘COBBLEPOT’S SHADY BUSINESS’ on top of it.
Batman rose to his feet. Clark heard his joints made a series of satisfying pops. “Some other time, Kal.”)
“When you put it that way…” Clark blushed. “Yeah, it’s something like that.”
“Wow. That’s… that’s shitty,” Jimmy said. “Are you absolutely sure your crush isn’t Bruce Wayne? That sounds like something he would say.”
Clark tried to imagine Brucie’s flirty smile and bedroom eyes on Batman’s face, then Batman’s grimace on Brucie’s. He bodily shuddered. “No, no. He isn’t.”
“What are you slackers doing standing around?” They heard Perry scream from his office.
Jimmy nearly dropped his camera. Lois answered coolly: “Giving Smallville moral support, Editor-in-chief. He got rejected by a mysterious Gotham heartthrob.”
“Well I don’t care who it is unless it’s Bruce Wayne himself!” Perry said, but he lowered his volume in response to Clark’s supposedly fragile mood. He wasn’t a complete monster. “Get back to work! And you, Kent, I expect a draft on my desk before you get off work today!”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Metropolis, unlike her gloomy twin sister one bridge over, was blessed with pleasant weather for most of the year. However, the universe was out to get Clark Kent that day. When he finally dragged himself out of the Daily Planet building, heavy raindrops were pelleting the pavement.
Clark stared at his own reflection in a puddle. “Keep calm, Clark,” he told himself, “today can’t get any worse." He decided to fly home, not fancying the idea of sitting on a bus in soggy clothes. He looked both ways before making a beeline for a small alley. As he ducked into the narrow passageway, his hands flew up to fumble with the buttons of his shirt and change into his Superman’s suit. That was when he spotted something.
A man was crowding another male against the wall. He couldn’t be more of a cliché even if he wanted to. He was tall and muscular; the studs on his biker jacket gleamed under the streetlights. “Go back with me,” he said.
“No.”
“Damn it, Bruce,” he hissed and grabbed the other’s forearm. “I won’t say it again.”
Clark had heard enough.
‘Bruce’ suddenly darted a look at the mouth of the alley. His eyes and Clark's met. The person who was holding him also looked over and cursed loudly when he saw that they had a spectator.
“My hero!” Bruce Wayne exclaimed; and it was definitely Bruce Wayne, although he was missing a Brioni or some other expensive tailored suit of his. He took advantage of his captor’s surprise and broke free.
If Clark wasn't the Man of Steel, he would have fallen on his ass when Bruce threw himself at him. Rao, the Omega was at least over two hundred pounds of pure muscles and only an inch or two shorter than him. Instinctually, Clark hugged him as he normally would with a distressed victim. Bruce’s heart was beating slowly and steadily against his chest. The Alpha would find it strange if his attention wasn't on the furious man stalking at them. He did a quick sweep with x-ray vision and found twin pistols hidden in the biker jacket.
What had he got himself into.
“Save me,” Bruce crooned, warm breath tickling Clark’s ear.
“Step aside,” the young man commanded. He was also an Alpha by the smell of it, his pheromone like leather and gunpowder.
“Boy…” Clark began, because that was what the assailant was, a boy. In spite of his build and the shock of white hair mixed in with the black on his head, he was young. “Let’s not get violent.” Clark wanted to facepalm. Was that really the best he could come up with as an aspiring Pulitzer Prize winner? How was he going to get himself and Bruce out of there without either of them getting shot or him having to reveal his identity?
“Listen to him, Jason,” Bruce chimed in, 100% not helping.
“You shut it!” Jason yelled.
Bruce whimpered and hid his face in the crook of Clark’s neck. His firm abs were pressed flush against Clark’s through the thin layers of soaking wet clothes between them. Clark also felt unwelcome cold fingers on his chest. Are you seriously feeling me up right now? The mortified reporter thought. No, Clark! Bad thought!
“Let Mr. Wayne go. Whatever dispute you have with him… it’s not worth throwing your life away for it.”
Jason started laughing. He glared daggers at the back of Bruce’s head. “You heard that, old man?”
Bruce went rigid in Clark’s arms.
Jason turned to Clark, nostrils flaring, scenting the air. “You have no idea what you’re meddling with. Leave, now.”
The boy reached inside his jacket, watching Clark like a bird of prey. The older man waited for him to pull out a gun. His arms tightened around Bruce. He was rightfully sick of people telling him what he did and didn’t get. Batman and Jason could both screw off with their cryptic remarks. “Maybe. But I know that I’m defending an innocent man. And if you don’t leave, I will…” What? What could Clark Kent the reporter do? “Uh, call the police?”
Jason’s expression was indiscernible, changing from fury to astonishment and back. In the end, it settled on reluctant acceptance and he scoffed, deciding that he wasn’t going to lose any more braincells over a nameless white-collar worker and Brucie. “Whatever. I'll be back." He said and walked off.
“So long, Schwarzenegger(*),” Bruce called after him.
“Mr. Wayne, please be quiet,” Clark begged.
The Omega made a dramatic gesture of zipping his lips and winked. Up close, the shape of his mouth struck Clark as familiar. He couldn’t figure out where he had seen it.
“Is my hero waiting for a thank you kiss?” Bruce asked sultrily.
Blood rushing to his face, Clark shoved the billionaire away. Bruce gracelessly slipped and fell. “Oh Ra... god! I’m so sorry, Mr. Wayne! Are you alright?”
“A ‘no’ would have sufficed.” Bruce pouted. He batted the Alpha’s hands away and got up without any assist. His pride was wounded and his pants were ruined.
“I’m sorry. Do you need anything? I can walk you back to your hotel… if you want me to.” Clark assumed Bruce was staying somewhere in Metropolis.
“I don’t have a hotel room,” the billionaire said.
“Oh… are you going back to Gotham?”
“No.” Bruce gave him a suspicious look. “I think I’ve met you before, you are Grant, right?”
“It’s Kent. Clark Kent, Mr. Wayne. I’ve interviewed you.” And so had Cat Grant, but he definitely looked nothing like the petite woman.
“I almost got it right!”
Clark had to remind himself that Superman would never walk away from a troubled citizen standing alone in a dark alley and begging to the shanked.
“Kent, can I tell you a secret?” Bruce was all up in his personal space again.
“Do I have a choice?” Clark cautiously took a step back.
“I’m running away, Kent,” Bruce fake whispered.
“Mr. Wayne… what?”
“My family is forcing me to see an Alpha. I don’t want to, so I left! They froze my bank accounts in retaliation. It’s terrible.”
Admittedly, Clark knew very little about the billionaire’s butler and wards. Entertainment and celebrities weren’t parts of his news coverage unless he seriously pissed Perry off. Was the young man just now Bruce’s suitor or a criminal his family hired to bring him back? “Mr. Wayne that’s… illegal.” And crazy, but crazier things and people had happened in Gotham, so who was he to judge? “You should take them to court.”
“I can’t, they’re still family. Tim is only fifteen, I can’t let a small dispute ruin his future.”
“Mr. Wayne, this is serious. It’s a violation of human rights!”
“I won’t implicate them!”
Clark sighed.
“Take me in, Clark.”
Hearing Bruce say his name shouldn’t have that affect on him. “Mr. Wayne, I can’t...”
“I know Alfred loves me and will give up eventually. Let me stay with you for the time being. I promise I’ll reward you handsomely when I go back.”
“I don’t want your money!”
“Oh.” Bruce licked his lips. His gray blue eyes briefly glanced downward. Clark felt violated. The wet clothes he was wearing left almost nothing to the imagination. “If you want my bo-“ Bruce suggested.
“NO! NO.” Clark covered his face. “I DON’T WANT YOUR… I don’t…” He said, calmer: “I’m an Alpha, Mr. Wayne.”
“So?”
“And you’re an Omega. You can’t live with me,” he explained.
Bruce cocked his head. “Didn’t you say that you don’t want to sleep with me? What’s the big deal then? I didn’t take you for such a conservative, Kent. ”
“It’s not…” he didn’t want a billionaire airhead to discover his identity. “I can’t take you in, Mr. Wayne. I’m sorry.”
“I have nowhere else to go…” With shoulders drooped and eyes downcast, Bruce reminded him of a wet kitten (a 6ft tall wet kitten).
Clark’s resolve was crumbing rapidly. Bruce Wayne was a trouble magnet. If Clark left him, the Omega would find a way to get himself into direr situations, then Clark wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Sending him back to his family would be the same as taking a lamb to the slaughterhouse.
Was he really doing this?
In a secret base under a manor, a fight broke out.
“You were supposed to bring him back!” Dick Grayson, the self proclaimed leader of the bunch, poked Jason on the chest.
“I was!” The other Alpha said defensively. “Some random guy showed up. The old man practically flew into his arms!”
“You couldn’t scare him off?” a boy asked. He was leaning against a desk. Next to him, a red haired girl was watching nine security playbacks, all showing different angles of a street.
“Tried, Tim. He wouldn’t budge. He looked kinda familiar, actually. Think I’ve seen him before.”
“Bruce left with him, "the girl, Barbara, pointed at the top left corner display where they could see two men walking side by side.
“Barb, run a facial recognition scan,” Dick said.
“Already on it.”
Another girl, Stephanie Brown, rolled her eyes. “This is going nowhere.”
“We should’ve called Superman. It's his city,” Tim said.
“And get Bruce even more pissed? No way. He’s running off in the first place cause he can’t admit that he wants Superman to rail him.”
“Master Jason, I hope my ears have merely deceived me and I haven’t heard you suggest such… crude thing about Master Bruce.” An old man descended the staircase, holding a tray of snacks and tea.
“Sorry, Alfred.” Jason didn’t sound apologetic at all. He grabbed a cookie from the tray. “I don’t get it. He’s perfectly ok with following a stranger home, but can’t fu-“ He glanced at Alfred, swallowed his words (and cookie), then continued, “g-get together with Superman?”
“You know how Bruce is,” Tim said.
“The timing couldn’t be better!” Dick was going to pull his hair out in frustration. “Bruce needs to stop abusing suppressants before he ODs, and find a partner for his next heat. Superman confessed. They could just…”
“Admit it, you just want Superman to be your stepdad.” Stephanie snorted.
“I AM a big fan.” Dick smiled shamelessly. “Who doesn’t like Superman?”
“Traitor.” Someone sniped.
“Do you have any better suggestion? Catwoman? Two-face? Deathstroke?”
“Fuck no.”
“Master Jason, language.”
“Guys,” Barbara raised her voice. She pulled up a file of one Clark Kent, thirty three years old, Alpha, from Smallville, Kansas. She skimmed over the information. “No criminal record. No spouse or bond mate.”
Alfred’s eyes lit up when he heard Barbara read the last part.
“No criminal record that we KNOW of,” Stephanie gave her two cents. “Who want to bet that Kent is: A. A serial killer, B. An assassin, C. A mob boss or D. A thief?”
“Knowing the old man’s dating history, all of the above.”
“Nonsense! Mr. Kent looks like a proper young man,” Alfred said.
“Oh no, he’s calling him 'Mister',” Tim mumbled.
Alfred went on: “If my memory serves me right, he’s interviewed master Bruce a few times in the past.”
“Bruce didn’t try to sleep with him?” Jason blurted out.
Alfred gave him a blank stare.
“Am I the only one who thinks he looks like Superman,” Dick, who was still studying Clark’s mugshot, said thoughtfully.
Five more pair of eyes looked at the image on the screen.
“Grayson, you are obsessed.” Jason was the first to speak.
“Delusional.” That was Stephanie.
“Crazy,” Tim added.