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Bruce stood on a rooftop at the corner of Westboro and Main watching as the museum of metropolitan art continued to burn. It was a shame to watch Gotham lose another one of her relics to the Joker’s tricks, but at least this night finally ended with the old clown behind bars. Bruce begrudgingly admitted to himself that the only reason tonight was successful was because the world’s greatest detective had the help of a real hero. Superman must have heard the commotion across the bay and came flying over from Metropolis, rushing into the flames and helping the innocent escape while Bruce focused on detaining the rogue.
Batman watched Superman now, the way the almighty alien waved in acknowledgement to an elderly woman’s tearful thanks. While Batman was built for the shadows, Superman was a shining beacon of hope. It was strange to have such a dazzling visitor in Gotham. Bruce hadn’t decided what to make of the extraterrestrial visitor yet: if Lois Lane’s interview with the protector of Metropolis could be trusted (not that he doubted Lois’ reporting skills), then Superman grew up here on earth sequestered away in the antarctic. The kryptonian had expressed a great desire to help and use his powers to protect people of all nations. A noble goal, to be sure, and a near impossible one… but if you were an all-powerful alien, perhaps it wasn’t so out of reach.
Superman finished his goodbyes with the victims and turned his gaze to Batman, floating up with ease to land on the rooftop a few feet away. The figure in red and blue spandex held himself confidently to the average viewer, but Bruce took note of a slight shifting in his stance.
He’s nervous. Bruce realized. Good. Superman may have his heart in the right place, but his powers made him dangerous. Batman couldn’t have a bull running through his china shop as he tried to navigate the delicate waters of Gotham’s underground. Now was the perfect opportunity to set some ground rules about-
“Some fire, wasn’t it?” Superman opened with, and suddenly all Bruce’s thoughts of boundaries and power imbalances came to a screeching halt.
Because Some fire, wasn’t it? Were the words inscribed on Bruce’s clavicle ever since he was a teenager. They were the words every morning and night Bruce ever so carefully covered in medical tape because neither of his alter egos could afford to have their soulmark leaked. And they were the same words coating him in a warming sensation now, enveloping Bruce in the caress of a hot shower as they burned beneath that tape, the ink turning a vibrant hue now that his Soulmate had spoken their first words to him.
Superman continued talking but Bruce heard none of it, his brain fried like a computer blue screen error message. It had never crossed his mind to consider that his soulmate could be someone not even human; it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption, given that soulmate marks were biological in nature and not found on other creatures, but Bruce scolded himself internally nonetheless. Bruce should have considered the fact that Superman could have a soulmate when the detective had been brainstorming potential weaknesses.
But him? Bruce Wayne? Gotham’s broken prince turned nighttime crime-fighting bat, and this babbling ray of sunshine was supposed to be his soulmate? It all felt like some bizarre dream where Bruce was going to wake up with a strange urge to be kissed in midair. Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if he just started floating off the ground himself, it felt so surreal.
Batman couldn’t be seen like this. In a daze, he nodded to Superman’s request to work together again- did he nod? Did he not nod?- and Batman grappled away in a trance back to the batmobile, setting the vehicle on autopilot as he fought to get his thoughts in order. Thank goodness Batman had reconvened with the commissioner prior to that conversation, he never would have been able to maintain a level of professionalism and focus at this stage of the night. It was a wonder that Superman managed to keep up appearances so seamlessly, he didn’t appear phased at all. Was he really that unflappable, or was he perhaps disappointed?
….wait a second.
“Fuck.” Bruce groaned, burying his face in his hands in shame as he realized he hadn’t said a word during their whole interaction. Which meant… which meant that Superman had no reaction because he didn’t know. Not ten minutes into knowing his soulmate and Bruce had already screwed the whole thing up.
Bruce exited the batmobile in the cave and began removing his armor. Frustrated at his own incompetence, Bruce released a long, drawn out sigh, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.
“All fine on the western front?” Alfred inquired, turning around in the monitor chair where he had been tracking the Joker’s progress to Arkham.
Bruce grunted, focusing on cleaning off his gauntlets and setting them in their case. Alfred’s gaze tracked him like a hawk. Even if the butler hadn’t overheard their conversation, Alfred could tell instantly when something bothered Bruce. It was both a blessing and a curse to the Wayne Patriarch. “...I met Superman.”
“So I gathered.” Alfred nodded. “And what are your observations?”
Bruce tried to think back through the events of the night objectively. “He was… strong. And effective.” And handsome. Bruce cleared his throat, willing his less professional thoughts to disperse with a shake of his head. “But he lacks training on how to work cohesively.”
Alfred nodded again. “And you have always been known to work well with others.” The butler remarked. Bruce glared at him, but Alfred pretended not to notice.
“He needs to stay out of Gotham.” Bruce argued, no real heat behind his words. Bruce still believed in his ‘no metas in Gotham’ rule, but the idea of losing his soulmate to something so petty as a line in the sand was heart-wrenching. “...but we’ll see what the future holds.”
At this, Alfred’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “My word, one night with Superman has turned you into an optimist.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. It was true, though; the warmth still filling his blood created such a sense of comfort that Bruce couldn’t help but view the future in a positive light. It was as relaxing as it was sickening.
“I said ‘we’ll see’.” Bruce continued on with his pedantics, taking up residence in front of the bat-computer. Alfred came over, patting Bruce affectionately on the shoulder.
“I’m glad to see you making friends, Master Wayne.” Alfred said before heading up to bed.
Ignoring the fact Bruce was already pondering the idea of more than friends, it was time to start fixing this mess the way Bruce knew best: research. Bruce first entered the logs about the case as per usual for the night, and then he began a deepdive into all things Superman. Batman had been down this rabbit hole briefly before, but now Bruce was turning over every rock to gather a comprehensive folder filled with every picture, article, and recording of Superman available.
Bruce read through the interview with Lois Lane describing Superman’s origins- how he came from the planet Krypton and resided in a Fortress located at the south pole. A scattering of other articles from a reporter named Clark Kent were fluff pieces talking about rescued victim’s gratitude or public opinion as a whole on their flying savior. Bruce opened up a new word document and began taking notes of his own, such as a comprehensive list of every power Superman has exhibited thus far (several of which were listed in the initial interview). Flight, heat vision, strength, speed, accelerated healing, bulletproof skin… the limits of all of which had yet to be found.
Several hours later, Bruce rubbed at his eyes, well aware he was up past his bat-bedtime. Alfred would have scolded him had he not gone to bed himself shortly after Bruce’s return. The CEO had an important board meeting at Wayne Enterprises any minute now. With a groan Bruce shut down the computer and pulled away, heading upstairs to get dressed. At least Bruce had the luxury of a soulmate who couldn’t get hurt.
—
Bruce was wrong.
Bruce was very, very wrong.
It all came crashing down two weeks from Tuesday when a gigantic LexCorp robot ‘went rogue’ within Metropolis. Of course Metropolis’ protector came swooping in to save the day, and just as he threw the first punch at the glowing green power core, he stumbled. Clear as day Superman fell over 50 feet before regaining his balance. Bruce had analyzed every frame of the footage and cursed himself for being stuck in a board meeting when across the border his soulmate could have died. Bruce only found out 3 hours after the battle was over and he got a ping on his phone from one of his news apps.
This changed everything. Whatever was inside that robot was a detriment to Superman. In the end Superman had been victorious, but the effort required was far greater than his usual and anyone with a brain could see Superman was winded from the fight. It seemed whatever radioactive core Lex Luthor had found had the ability to weaken Superman. And if a material like that existed out in the world, Bruce needed to know what it was.
Bruce didn’t leave his computer for days. Patrol was shortened to only the essential routes. A few times Superman had appeared in Gotham again but Bruce didn’t have a second to spare for ‘the talk’ (that he definitely wasn’t avoiding by not speaking to Superman). Every spare moment was spent trying to gather more information about this elusive ‘Kryptonite’. It seemed to be a mineral found entombed in meteor crash sites dating back to when Superman first came to Earth. A geographical scan of the Earth showed a few pockets of this debris wedged beneath the surface, but the greatest concentration of Kryptonite by far lay settled beneath a family farm in Kansas.
There was no doubt in Bruce’s mind that he needed to buy that farm. No one else- especially Lex Luthor- could know about this. Bruce would find every scrap of Kryptonite in the world and horde it away where it could never be used against his soulmate. His mind made up, Bruce put a small branch of Wayne Enterprises on the job to put out an offer on the farm. Hopefully the family would be willing to sell.
—
The Kent family was creating a fair bit of pushback about the purchasing business and seemed rather suspicious of the offer as a whole. Bruce had planned for this: he knew rural Americans were often suspicious of strangers, but Bruce also knew they were weak to his charm. It would be easy enough to play up the Brucie act and insist he just wanted a slice of ol’ Americana for himself. Bruce chuckled, imagining a cover story where he decided on this farm by throwing a pin at a map. It seemed like something ‘Brucie’ would do.
But there was also the possibility that the Kents knew something about the Kryptonite deposit beneath their feet. Bruce considered this as he drove his car from the airport to the farm. It couldn’t be overlooked; 30 years ago, Superman arrives on earth and a meteor shower rained a few relics of Krypton across the globe. The most concentrated location of which is under Kent farm- and decades later, their only son Clark Kent is one of the only reporters able to get an interview with Superman? The coincidences could only stretch so far. Perhaps the Kents were helping cover up this dangerous material for Superman, and in exchange Superman made Metropolis his city to protect because Clark and his family kept Superman’s secret all these years.
Bruce checked his arrival time and purposefully slowed his speed, intending to arrive fashionably late. He couldn’t seem too eager about this and scare them off. If they refused to sell, Bruce could always just keep an eye on the land from a distance, but then someone with underhanded tactics could always force the Kents to relinquish the farm. Certainly the government could deem it a matter of national security. Bruce wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.
At a half past their scheduled meeting time Bruce pulled up the bumpy dirt road, coming to a stop in front of a charming blue homestead with a wraparound porch. Bruce took a moment to compose himself in the car and dawn his brightest grin before walking up and knocking on the front door.
Clark Kent opened the door, standing intimidatingly in the doorway. Despite his oversized plaid shirt, terrible posture and dorky glasses, it was clear the man was impressively built. In his younger days Bruce would have definitely hit that, but right now he was on a mission.
“Would you believe Kansas City isn’t in Kansas?” Bruce joked, lightening the mood with a sheepish grin and a ‘what can you do?’ shrug. “My jet landed in Kansas City, I really am sorry I’m late. The drive took longer than expected.” Of course, none of this was true, but only a fool like Brucie Wayne would do something like that, and it was the perfect funny story to open up doors for him.
It was clear that Clark Kent both A) knew who he was, and B) wasn’t expecting him. The man blinked, eyes wide with awe as he drank in the sight before him. “I’m glad you’re here, I’ve been waiting for you.” Clark finally said, his body language much more open as he stepped aside and gestured Bruce in.
“Great, thanks.” Bruce grinned, heading right past him and into the home. He headed through the open doorway on his right, following the sounds of voices to a dining room with papers ready on the table. “Bruce Wayne, pleasure to meet you.” Bruce greeted the older couple, shaking first Martha Kent’s hand and then her husband’s.
The three of them sat down at the dining table, with Clark joining them a few minutes later. Bruce dove right into his cover story spiel about why he wanted to buy this place: No , he wouldn’t turn it into condos. Yes , he would keep it as it was. No , he wouldn’t turn it into a strip mine. Yes , he was serious about the vacation house thing. Bruce was careful to toe the line so he came off as an airhead billionaire with a completely legitimate offer. It felt a little bit like he was talking in circles here, and while the Kents were kind it was clear they were stubborn. Bruce’s offer to raise his bid only seemed to increase their suspicions, disappointingly.
Over the course of the conversation Bruce also noticed something interesting: despite saying very little, Clark seemed to be the one in charge here. Both of his parents kept looking to him for guidance and even appeared frustrated at his lack of participation. Ah, perhaps that’s how it was- being the inheritor of the farm, Clark was meant to make the major decisions here, to decide if the family farm would actually stay in the family. Not to mention as a very competent investigative journalist the Kents must trust his judgment when it came to sussing out matters of corruption.
So Bruce changed tactics ever so slightly. He winked at Clark, and immediately the farm boy turned a bright shade of scarlet. Internally, Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. Guess he’s susceptible to the Brucie charm after all. It almost became a game to Bruce to get Clark flustered throughout this meeting. Yes, even if the Kents weren’t willing to sell quite yet, it was clear Bruce would be able to break Clark down in the end.
Finally deciding that was enough for today, Bruce gathered his own papers back in his folder and went around the table to shake hands again. He thanked them for their time and continued out to his car to start the long trip back to Gotham, knowing he was still in for a busy evening: after all, Kansas wasn’t the only source of Kryptonite.
—
The next time Batman saw Superman was not his finest moment. Batman had followed a trail of kryptonite to a cargo ship passing through Gotham harbor carrying a secret load along with legitimate goods. The dark knight had intended to sneak away with the kryptonite undetected but he underestimated the manpower aboard and it turned into a shootout. Batman was able to subdue the attackers on board but the assailants set fire to their own ship, determined to keep the kryptonite out of police custody. Now Bruce was holed up in the depths of a ship, breathing shaky as his leg continued to bleed out. Two of the ship's hands were holed up with him, the three of them not addressing the fact this ship was likely sinking. His armor would protect him from the flames outside the door, but Batman was too weak to walk on his own now and the other two had no protection. It wasn’t looking great.
With no escape plan of his own, Bruce was shocked to see Superman come bursting through the ceiling. Superman took note of the situation, immediately jumping into action. The hero scooped up the other two grown adults in his right arm with such ease that Bruce couldn’t help but feel jealous.
“Can you hold on?” Superman asked, and it took a moment for Batman to realize he was the one being addressed.
Batman grit his teeth, trying to focus on the question and not the pain as he shifted up onto his feet. He couldn’t die here. He gave Superman a nod, clinging fiercely to Superman’s neck. Bruce tucked his face in and dodged the flames as Superman rocketed them all to safety, up and out of the boat. The two bystanders were dropped gently into a lifeboat and then Superman sped back to shore, slowly coming to a landing at Gotham pier. Ever so gently, Superman set Bruce down on the ground.
Bruce grunted, now once again focusing on the sensation of burning fire in his leg. He had dealt with worse before but that didn’t make it any more bearable. Not to mention the fact Bruce was all too aware of a certain superhero still hovering nearby like a worried hen. Bruce had already pressed his beacon to call for a ride, but given the fact Batman kept his lips firmly shut around Superman there was no way for him to know that.
“So.” Superman asked. “Where can I take you? I’m guessing the hospital is a no-go, so if there’s some poor doctor’s doorstep I can drop you off on…” Trailing off, Superman let his words hang in the air, punctuated by a single huff.
He’s angry. Bruce realized, a cold dread seeking into his bones. And why shouldn’t he be? From his perspective, Bruce has been acting like a petulant child. So focused on his own anxieties for their bond and fears for Superman’s well-being, Bruce had completely avoided all forms of communication with the other in a juvenile sort of ‘silent game’. Even after his stunned silence on their first meeting Bruce had had plenty of opportunities to come forward and announce their bond and he had squandered them all. Now he’d be forced to say such precious words in the heat of an argument and ruin this bond just as he ruined every other aspect of his life.
“You have to let it go”. Superman fumed, keeping his calm remarkably well given what an ass Bruce was being. “Whatever you have against metahumans, or aliens, or whatever, you’re going to have to set that aside for the next ten minutes if you want help, alright? I know that you hate me, but it’s in your own self-interest—”
“I don’t hate you.” Bruce interrupted, because if his soulmate was to know one thing, this was the most important of all. “What you do is important and I- I admire that.”
A stunned silence fell over them both. There, it was over with; for better or worse, Bruce had laid his cards out on the table. Whatever may come of their bond was up to fate now. Even with the blood still pouring out of his leg, the majority of Bruce’s attention was focused on the hero in front of him, waiting for Superman’s verdict.
“Oh. Um, thank you.” Superman broke the silence, almost baffled.
Batman raised his head, carefully assessing Superman’s body posture. The metropolis protector had calmed down, clearly pleased at Batman’s assessment of him but acting uncertain how to proceed. There was certainly none of the awe or world-shattering realization Batman expected him to exhibit.
Bruce straightened his posture, tensing up as his mind began to jump to conclusions. “Does that… mean anything to you?” He asked, carefully prodding for more.
Superman nodded. “It does. I respect what you do. Your admiration means a great deal.”
Wrong again. Bruce kept staring, searching those brilliant blue eyes for any sign of recognition; it wasn’t there.
Fuck. Bruce’s lips thinned, jaw tightening as he realized he once again had let his assumptions get the better of him. Soulmarks must be unique to humans after all; it seemed that, as a kryptonian, Superman carried no marks of his own. But what would this mean for Bruce? It seemed a sick cosmic joke to have him paired with the closest being to a god in a one-sided soulmate bond. Bruce should have known better. Why would someone as powerful as Superman need to be tied down to a single broken Gothammite, anyways?
The dark knight considered this new development carefully and realized it meant very little in the long run. As a child whose grandparents weren’t soulmates, Bruce had always known it was possible to find love outside of a bond. Bruce had experienced attraction many times with the various hordes of models he tumbled into bed with, and with his nighttime pursuits he didn’t have time to pursue a true relationship anyways. He could just return to his habitual flirting pattern once his heart was given a brief period to heal.
“And, well, I hope to work with you more in the future.” Superman continued, obviously uncertain how to proceed.
“Right.” Bruce turned away, unable to look at Superman any longer as he realized the hero was never truly his. At least his soul mark had produced some good in getting Bruce to look into the issue of Kryptonite. This was still the most pressing matter.
Well, perhaps the most immediate pressing matter was the gaping wound in his thigh. Bruce hissed, feeling the bits of the suit embedded in his leg creating new cuts inside.
“Can I look?” Superman asked, once again hovering anxiously. Bruce gave him a nod, watching with a clinical fascination as Superman’s eyes glazed over, demonstrating his X-ray vision. Bruce thought back to the list he had made of all of Superman’s powers and wondered if the hero would ever let Bruce test the limits of his capabilities. It would be important for possible vulnerabilities.
“Who got you?” Superman winced, looking Bruce in the eye now. He was sitting next to Bruce in the grass, their faces terribly close. When did Superman join him? The fact Bruce couldn’t remember was a sign he was losing blood faster than he ought. It was quite possible he was missing entire chunks of this conversation; hopefully Superman wouldn’t hold it against Bruce.
“Some hired gun. Not important.” Bruce shrugged it off. He knew Superman didn’t kill, but his concern was still touching.
“Are you sure you’re okay? My offer still stands.” Superman gave him another once over, those perfect lips turning into a frown. In another life, Bruce would have leaned over to kiss him right then and there, leg be damned.
But that’s when a vibration from his belt let Bruce know the car was moments away. “My ride’s here.” Bruce confirmed, almost petty about it. Seconds later a black sedan rolled up, and out rushed Diana- or Wonder Woman, as the papers had taken to calling her. Bruce had crossed paths with her on his quest for kryptonite and she had offered her assistance on more than a few ventures.
“Batman!” Diana jogged over, carefully helping Bruce to his feet. “I received your distress beacon.” Bruce focused on his deep breathing and not the fact his vision went white as he was lifted. Damn he was woozy.
“You got him?” Superman asked, raising a hand, ready to help.
“Yes, thank you.” Diana nodded, shifting Bruce to help him balance. “I’m Diana by the way.”
“Kal-El.”
So, he’s got a name beneath the suit after all. Batman filed this information away for later, feeling Diana shift them towards the car. “Wait.” Bruce turned back to Superman- Kal - who was looking at him expectantly.
“Superman.” Batman emphasized his words, forcing his tongue to work with him because this was important especially if he was going to be out of commission for any length of time. He remembered the Kent farm, and all the secrets it held. He remembered the crate of glowing green meteors now sunk to the bottom of Gotham harbor. “You- be careful. Don’t trust anyone digging into your past.”
Superman swallowed, clearly off put by this warning, but he nodded nonetheless. Satisfied, Bruce allowed Diana to usher him into the car, stepping on the gas towards Leslie’s medical clinic, just as Bruce had instructed in case of emergency.
—---
A few days later, Bruce’s personal phone rang while at work. There were only a select few people who had this number. After just two rings Bruce answered, putting the phone to his ear as he locked his office door. “Hello?” Bruce asked, his cheery voice in direct disposition to the way he was getting ready to gear up.
“Hi.” A distinctly Kansan voice greeted him, and Bruce relaxed. “Bruce Wayne? It’s Clark Kent. I’d like to chat a bit more about my parent’s farm.”
“To sign papers, I hope.” Bruce joked, followed by an orchestrated laugh. He unlocked the office door, nodding to his secretary as he headed down to the elevator. “Ah, I’m pulling your leg. I understand family matters are at play here. You’re a good man being so thorough for your folks.”
“Oh, I- thank you, Mr. Wayne.”
“Call me Bruce.” Bruce assured him, taking pleasure in the way Clark came across as flustered already. The country boy really was too easy to tease. Bruce snapped his fingers. “Tell you what, you’re in Metropolis today, yes? How about I pop on over and the two of us talk over lunch, my treat.” Bruce offered this as if it was off the top of his head and not one of his premeditated next steps brainstormed a week ago.
Clark paused. “Well, of course I’d be flattered, but isn’t that a bit of a drive for you?”
“Oh please, last time I saw you you drove all the way out to Smallville to see me.” Bruce teased. “Compared to a flight to Kansas, this will be nothing. Unless of course you’d rather we meet there, but then we’ll have to call it a dinner date. I haven’t mastered instantaneous travel quite yet.”
“I’m sure your research and development team is working hard though.” Clark teased. “But don’t worry, we can do Metropolis. I wouldn’t want you getting lost again.”
Bruce huffed, playfully rolling his eyes. “You fly into the wrong airport one time…”
Clark’s laugh could light up a room. “You sure you don’t mind the drive?” Clark asked, demonstrating true midwestern hospitality as he offered Bruce one last out.
“ Claaaaaark .” Bruce swung his car keys around his finger, walking out into the underground car park. “I’m already in the car park. Got the perfect meeting place too: D'amici's, it’s at Bursbury and 6th. 2 o’clock. Don’t be late.”
Clark chuckled, swayed at last by Bruce’s bold invitation. “I’ll be there.” Clark assured him, before Bruce hung up to let the man get back to work. Bruce got into his car, using the touch screen to call his assistant and ask her very politely to book a reservation and cancel the rest of his day. With his afternoon officially freed for Clark, Bruce set off into the heavy Gotham traffic and drove over the bay into Metropolis. Every so often Bruce would glance up, scanning the skies as if Superman was just going to pop out in the middle of the day. It was foolish, of course, but a man could dream. Hey, a little eye candy in blue and red would not go unappreciated.
Bruce arrived first to the restaurant, claiming his usual table and settling in. A few moments later Clark entered, looking a tad nervous. Bruce looked him up and down, nodding approvingly at the way Clark had clearly changed out of his workplace attire into something a bit more upscale. Farmboy cleans up nice.
“Clark!” Bruce waved him over, greeting Clark with a grin. Clark’s shoulders sagged in relief as he joined Bruce at the table. Clark initially tried to jump right into the business side of their meeting, but Bruce easily steered him instead into more familiar wine-and-dine territory, intending to show Clark his true character throughout the meal and ease his worries about the farm.
Clark proved very easy company, and Bruce found himself actually enjoying this meal. (Not that he expected it to be mind-numbingly dull, but given the subject matter at hand Bruce was often on edge when it came to the subject of kryptonite).
As he sipped on his wine across the table from a gorgeous and clever man, Bruce pondered the intricacies of soulmates once again. It had become a pastime of his to overanalyze ever since he learned that Kal-el wasn’t his paired soulmate. Given the fact his grandparents married and were happy without being tied by a mystical bond, Bruce knew that love was possible outside of one’s soulmate. Given that no one was tied down to Bruce in that way, Bruce’s only chance at love now was to pursue someone despite the bonds.
As tempting as it was to shoot for Superman, Bruce tried to keep away from delusions of grandeur. Superman was unto a god, an alien superhero who flew around the world saving the masses and rescuing kittens- why would a titan want to be tied down to playboy Bruce Wayne? As self-loathing as Bruce could be, this was simply a matter of perspective. Superman could be greater than Batman, and rather than be jealous of such a feat Bruce vowed to support his soulmate as much as he could. Batman and Superman could be allies, teammates even, with Bruce certain Superman would have his back just as Bruce would have his. Yes, a platonic bond like that is all that could ever work with the fate of the world constantly resting on his shoulders. If that’s what Superman needed, Bruce would not taint their relationship by bringing romantic feelings into the mix.
But Clark Kent… Bruce gave the reporter another considering glance. He had no idea who Clark’s soulmate was, but the chemistry in their conversation could not be dismissed. If Clark were open to it, Bruce would not be opposed to pursuing a more intimate relationship with the man after all was said and done.
Surprisingly enough, Clark broached on this very topic just as they were getting to dessert. “Have you met your soulmate?” Clark asked, after they had just been chatting about Bruce’s last fling who had broken things off upon finding her match.
Bruce dodged the question at first, before finally admitting to meeting his soulmate this past summer. “Let’s just say I don’t think it’s going to work.” Bruce admitted, for a moment flashing back to the stark disappointment he experienced when Superman didn’t react to his words. Bruce cleared his throat, looking up to Clark and choosing to focus on the present. “But enough of that. Why don’t we get that cup of coffee and discuss the purchase?’
Clark smiled, but it didn’t have as much light as it did when he walked in the door. “Bruce, I appreciate that, but I can’t sign in place of my parents.”
“Oh, I know that.” Bruce assured him. “But perhaps you can be a point of clarification for me. Why are you so hesitant to sell the farm to me? I understand if I come off strong, but-”
“No no, you’ve been perfectly pleasant.” Clark assured him, running a tired hand through his hair. “It’s just, well, it’s a big decision, you know? Growing up on that farm’s all I’ve ever known. I know eventually ma and pa will want to retire to someplace easier to manage, but this- it all came about so suddenly. It’s a bit too good to be true.”
“First time I’ve been told I cut too good a deal, I can tell you that.” Bruce hummed, thanking the waiter for his espresso and taking a careful sip. “But by the sounds of the things I’m beginning to sway you after all.”
Clark gave him a wry grin. “Don’t go putting words into my mouth now.”
Bruce innocently sipped his coffee, pretending to not say a word.
“...we’ll be in touch.” Clark relented, giving Bruce an inch. “I can’t say for sure what our answer will be, but I won’t string you along forever.”
“I appreciate that.” Bruce reached across the table, placing his hand over Clark’s. “And for the record, I mean what I said about preserving the land. I just want to appreciate it myself for a change.”
“Hmm.” Clark didn’t agree nor disagree, but he didn’t seem to believe Bruce’s words. Or perhaps he was more focused on their skin contact as his eyes fell to Bruce’s hand still on his own.
Bruce gave him a pat before pulling away. “I look forward to your call, Clark.”
—-------
It was a rather quiet night out in Gotham. Batman was on patrol, keeping an eye on the streets as he pondered over the events of last week. Despite Clark’s pleasant demeanor the Kents still would not move forward with the deal. It made Bruce circle back to his previous hypothesis that the Kents knew what they were hiding, and if that were the case he may have to take more direct measures.
In the distance, a golden light appeared in the clouds forming the shape of the bat signal. Bruce grappled his way over to the police station and wondered what might be bothering the commissioner during such a rare stint of peace, only to be surprised when someone else was waiting for him at the base of the floodlight.
“You’re not Commissioner Gordon.” Batman greeted Superman, landing gracefully on the edge of the roof.
“Good to see you too.” Kal-El greeted. “I’m glad you’re alright after last week. I’m well, thanks for asking.”
“Hm.” Batman grunted, flooded with memories of the last time the two were together. Though his leg had mostly healed, his wounds were still fresh. The shame and disappointment burned bright if he reflected on them too long, so instead Batman closed them off and focused on business, keeping the weight off his sore leg.
“Look, about what you said the other day, about people looking into my past…”
“Is there an issue?” Batman asked immediately, going full alert. Even if he hated being proven correct by his pessimism, Bruce could admit that this time it would come in handy. Bruce was grateful to have already gotten a head start on the Kryptonite issue.
Kal sighed, shaking his head and looking out across the harbor. “Do you know anything about Bruce Wayne?”
For the second time in their relationship, Superman’s words made Bruce’s mind screech to a halt. Why would he-? The Kents. Superman did have close ties to the farm after all, and from the hero’s perspective, a suspicious billionaire had gone sniffing around-
“He’s a playboy idiot.” Bruce spat, falling back on his usual defenses for his alter ego. “Hardly anything to be concerned about.” I won’t hurt you. Please, I’m not the threat.
“And you’re sure about that?” Kal-El, his soulmate, had his brows furrowed in clear distrust. “Wayne is about one step removed from Lex Luthor.”
And this… Bruce couldn’t take this. Knowing he wasn’t destined for a bond was one thing, but standing here listening to his soulmate compare Bruce to his worst nemesis was too much to bear. And Kal was coming here to ask Batman as a trusted ally, not knowing how close Bruce was to the issue on both ends. It wasn’t fair.
“You’re overthinking this. Wayne is of no concern.” Batman insisted, grappling off before he could be questioned further on the matter. Disappearing into the night, Batman called the batmobile to him and returned to the cave.
Ok. Business, not emotions. Bruce pulled back the cowl, glad Alfred had the night off as he sat down at the computer. Time to organize the facts: Superman considered Bruce Wayne a threat. Bruce Wayne has been attempting to purchase a specific lot of land in Smallville, Kansas. The obvious conclusion is that Superman’s past is tied to Smallville, where he has connections to the Kent family after a meteor shower dating back 30 plus years ago deposited large quantities of Kryptonian remains in the fields.
…wait a second.
Bruce pulled up the Lois Lane initial Superman interview again, reviewing the notes for a 100th time. Superman, ever an honest man, had been vague about the details in his past: the kryptonian explained he crash landed on earth, and that he had a fortress down in Antarctica away from human eyes. But now, Bruce was realizing that it was only heavily implied Superman crashed and continued to live in Antarctica. What if Kal-El crash landed in Kansas?
Bruce smacked himself in the forehead, amazed at how stupid he had once again been. Of course Kal-El was wary of Bruce Wayne, he’d been poking around Kal’s home! And going out further, if Kal was raised in Kansas, there was not a single mention of Clark ever having a brother. Could it really be possible that Superman had his own secret human identity and was living amongst them this entire time?
Refusing to believe it until the evidence was indisputable, Bruce pulled up a picture of Clark Kent and Superman side by side. Now knowing what to look for, it was impossible not to see that this was exactly the same man. The world’s greatest detective had had close contact with both of them and was fooled by a pair of glasses.
Rubbing at his eyes, Bruce found his head hurting as the rest of the pieces fell so easily into place. Kal-El was his soulmate. Clark Kent was his soulmate. Clark, who Bruce had found himself fantasizing about over lunch. Clark, who was so easily flustered when Bruce came to the farm.
Clark, who… who was an investigative journalist. A talented one, at that. The daily planet reporter would be reasonably suspicious of the fact that Batman so easily trusted Bruce Wayne, when with any other individual Batman would have at least offered a background check. It was only a matter of time before Clark came looking for him.
Determined to get ahead of this, Bruce put the cowl back on and returned to the roof of the police station. Superman was no longer there, but this seemed as neutral a meeting spot as any, and the night was still young. It wouldn’t be the first time Superman came looking for him in Gotham.
Bruce took a deep breath, crossing his arms as he looked over his city. It was… difficult, knowing his identity was going to be revealed, but even if Clark didn’t put together the pieces, Bruce vowed to tell Clark himself. All of this was just a mess made of Bruce’s own cowardice and he refused to hide from his soulmate any longer.
His soulmate . Because Bruce really did have a soulmate, didn’t he? Bruce couldn’t remember the first words he said to Clark. The reporter’s reaction at Kent Farm was clearly abnormal, but it could still be chalked up to nerves. What if Bruce was putting himself out there just to be faced with pity?
The air shifted to Bruce’s left. Batman turned, looking over at Superman who had landed just a few paces away. He was dressed in the traditional red and blue, but now knowing the truth Bruce could sense something so… human about him. The exhaustion in his shoulders, the shifting of his feet, all of it could be contributed more to a certain anxious reporter.
“Superman.” Batman spoke first, determined to take the lead this time.
Clark blinked, mouth opening and closing as the farm boy was lost for words. “Batman, I-”
“You’re Clark Kent.” Batman threw a proverbial gauntlet down. There, it was out there; no going back now.
Even as confident as he was, Bruce was relieved when Clark nodded. Clark looked him in the eye. “And you’re Bruce Wayne.”
Batman took a deep breath. He’d never been caught in his identity like this before. All his life was dedicated to keeping the two halves of a whole distinctly separated, but for Clark to know his entirety Bruce needed to let him see behind the curtain. So, slowly, Bruce nodded. “I am.”
Clark took a deep breath. “I think we might be soulmates.”