Work Text:
Dick first saw the movie Freaky Friday when he was ten. Despite Bruce not having been keen on Dick referring to him as his father, the boy quickly convinced Bruce to use the 90 minutes before patrol to do some father son activity. They’d eaten popcorn and Dick had a laugh. Bruce seemed to smile more about Dick’s amusement than the movie itself. Fair enough.
It had not exactly been a night like any other. But as the years rushed by and their empty nest filled with more birds, it had become not much of a special occurrence either. And even back then, it was forgotten quickly, as time went on.
The premise of the movie (a mother and daughter duo trading their bodies) had been such an outrageous idea at the time, that even a man as paranoid as Bruce had not opted to prepare and file a contingency plan. They had been younger and there was no Superman, no league and the idea of magic or advanced alien tech more or less rationalized when barely encountered.
That was until two years later, when hindsight (with the help of Dick) taught Bruce a valuable lesson about being prepared for the most ridiculous scenarios.
After they’d touching a priceless, ancient Greek amphora depicting Daedalus and Ikaros, Bruce and Dick fell unconscious. Selina had thrown it after them. When both jumped to protect the vase she got away. Although, they had effectively managed to stop the cat burglar from taking her loot, they had another problem on their hands. When they’d woken up on the floor of the Mediterranean department of Gotham Museum of Antiquities Dick and Bruce had swapped bodies.
“I told you that thing looked like it was sparkling.” Dick had scratched his head; or he’d tried to when his hand was stopped by one of the bat ears. His new voice and the cowl’s modulator had him jump in surprise. Bruce gave a little grunt, as he usually would. But with Dick’s little voice it had sounded almost cute. (Not that Dick had considered himself cute back then; he was a fierce warrior after all.)
They’d barely gotten away from the police, because their new bodies were not exactly doing what they were supposed to. It was probably the respective muscle memory that let them reach the bat mobile. Here Bruce had decided to drive instead of letting Dick take over. They’d had to stop halfway home, with Bruce (finally) teaching Dick how to drive. The Dark Knight’s new legs barely reached the pedals. They almost crashed into a newspaper kiosk once, and several fire hydrants scraped them good.
“This wasn’t even hard!” Dick complained when they’d gotten back to the cave. “I did a great job bringing us home. You should let me drive more often, B.”
“You will absolutely not touch the wheel again once this is solved, not until you’re at least sixteen.” And have the legs long enough for it, stayed unmentioned. His snippy attitude in the red, green and yellow outfit was a little less intimidating than in his usual get up.
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m Batman.” He’d made his voice go extra low and flared the cape. Though he hadn’t managed to stay serious and started laughing. Dick was not sure, if he‘d heard Bruce laugh like that outside of his public persona. It was less a matter of Bruce not laughing much, than Dick laughing his own laugh with Bruce’s voice. It was strange.
Bruce responded with an exasperated noise and moved to the batcomputer.
There had been no point in hiding this from Alfred. The butler had only heard a snipped of their heated conversation and needed one look to basically figure out what was going on. Dick was sure, that night Alfred came closer to losing his stone faced composure than ever. Bruce’s tiny adult mannerisms had the surrogate father pause once in a while closing his eyes in an attempt not to laugh at their misfortune. Dick asking for a hot co-co in the body of a 200+ pound martial arts expert with the scares of a Gotham mobster to match had him almost break. But he managed amiably to stay calm and collected.
Soon enough Alfred had prepared all of Bruce’s childhood comfort foods, which Dick recognized, because they were the same foods Alfred cooked when Dick was upset. Dick by then had stripped of the cowl and was wearing Bruce’s most comfy pyjamas. They watched as Bruce put on one of his own hoodies, wearing it more like a dress than anything else, while stuffing various kinds of cookies into its front pouch. Alfred had taken many pictures while Dick tried to coax some of the sweets away from his tiny father. It was useless to try. Bruce was too quick as Robin.
“You will not mess with my calorie intake,” Bruce had grunted while stuffing his face. But he had to relent some of his treasures when they changed back into costume.
Soon they were back on the road.
*
As it turned out the piece of pottery was created for the sole purpose of helping parents and their children to reconnect by “walking in each other’s shoes” for a change. At least that was what Diana said the next day. They had befriended the amazon that same year.
At that, Bruce glowered from underneath his domino mask up at the amazon; or more accurately he glowered at Diana with Dick’s eyes, wearing Dick’s costume and accordingly Dick’s body. He was as intimidating as a little robin would be tweeting at a majestic brown bear; and Diana did not have the same mercy on their pride as Alfred had.
“I’m not sure what else you expect me to say, little man.” Diana brushed one last time over a row of ancient Greek symbols. She handed the amphora back to Dick. Who almost dropped it, because he was still not used to these giant hands. She’d knowingly smiled at him, but spoke to Bruce. “This is a gift from a goddess. Do not break or lose it. Or you will be cursed with something worse than what you’re currently going through.”
Neither of them spoke much on their way home. Dick had turned twelve a month back and had hit puberty hard. Meanwhile, Bruce was still reluctant to calling Dick his son, even after more than two years together. The feeling was very much mutual, though the vase seemed to think differently. For the past few months they‘d worked together flawlessly while in costume. But outside of cime figthing, they’d avoided each other with the grace of two wild cats reluctantly sharing territory.
The moment they’d returned, Bruce tried researching everything he could find on the vase. But he’d fallen asleep after half an hour, leading to Dick tucking him into bed soon after. Little Bruce hadn’t even flinched once while Dick carefully carried him up. It was adorable.
What wasn’t adorable was all the facial and body hair Dick had to come to terms with regarding his own future. He hated it. Twelve year old Bruce was stuffing his face with pancakes the next morning, when Dick complained about it.
“It’s not like I’m planning on seeing anyone for real“, Bruce said like Dick had any idea what that had to do with anything.
What had not been great either were the several unhealed wounds Bruce had ignored when going out as the Bat; or the dietary restrictions; or the day job as Brucie; or everyone pestering him about everything. Dick found there were not many upsides to being a twelve year old in the body of an adult, while said adult kept a close eye on him. Once the boy had managed to snug out and – in a streak of teenage rebellion – had bought a BB gun. Dick had kept it into adulthood, because of the shrewd but fond memory. As a kid he’d thought himself so snaky, while Bruce probably had a tracker or even eyes on him the whole time.
Their problem had not been solved in a day and soon Bruce grew more and more agitated. The Bat felt less capable and less in control. In retrospect, Dick figured, Bruce had been much closer to the time of his trauma by being forced to relive parts of his childhood. After all, he‘d still been taken care off by Alfred and lived in the same house that was kept meticulously unchanged.
Despite that, it was impressive to see what control a twelve year old Bruce could exert with a body that was not his and much leaner. In comparison, Dick had come to the conclusion, that elbows and knees were not supposed to be in the way this much. And what was he supposed to do with arms like that? Bench lift cars? It was a miracle the Bat and his sidekick had stayed functional throughout every subsequent night.
In his stint as an adult Dick had drunk himself stupid on 60-year-old scotch, had learned how to drive a car and a motorbike. He had had no problem impersonating a floozy Brucie on an important charity gala.
Meanwhile, Bruce had eaten every candy known to man. He’d fallen asleep on any couch-like surface of the manor while reading tomes on Greek pottery (of both there were plenty). He’d hung from the chandelier on the same charity event, jumping down into Brucie’s arms; causing Dick to spill champagne into the décolleté of a European princess (alright, lesson learned).
Strangely, Bruce had also managed to reconnect with Alfred. Dick was sure that the butler missing so many of Bruce’s formative years training abroad had done their relationship some harm. Over the week he’d sometimes heard snippets of them talking in ways he had never since. He’d kept his distance in those moments.
For the next seven days, they had to learn how to work together in new ways; to respect each other’s space (and bodies) and to trust each other’s judgement without second guessing the other. It took Dick taking Bruce’s advice despite being against it, and Bruce admitting that he was no longer working alone, to return back to normal. In the end they’d switched while managing to beat Mr. Freeze. Though, they woke up in their own bodies halfway through dying of hypothermia.
And that was that. The freedom of adulthood was returned onto Bruce’s shoulders. And Dick had to go to school again. For a few years that episode had caused them to grow closer than ever before or since; up until Dick felt suffocated and wanted to leave Robin behind; until Buldhaven and Nightwing; until Jason and the Joker, which ironically brought them closer together. But it was never again like it used to be in the months after they‘d changed bodies.
All that was already years back by now. The whole episode just came up as an anecdote Dick dusted off when the younger birds asked him for the early days. So when fifteen years later Dick switched bodies again, some things quickly came back to him. He did not panic, he did not shout and he had a good idea of what to do next. However, it was not Bruce ending up being in his body, but none other than Superman himself.
*
“This is bad.” Clark was pacing up and down the little plateau that was part of an old fire exit staircase. Every once in a while he managed to stop, looked at Dick in his own body making an attempt at flying, before going back to pacing. “This is bad, this is so bad.”
“Hey, look.” Dick was floating a few inches above ground. “I made it.”
“Dick, this is not funny. We need to get back into our own bodies.” Thinking back to his childhood Clark could only imagine what somebody without his years of learned control might to. Granted if it was anyone it should be Dick, who had a remarkable grip on his own physique and was one of the strongest willed people Clark knew. The only one he’d trust more to run his body might be Batman. But Clark could not think about Bruce right now, and even less of the idea of having him inside his body. “This is bad. Don’t fly, don’t try using powers.”
“It’ll be fine.” Dick shrugged like this was an everyday occurrence. “I think your body’s muscle memory is good enough to not make me go ballistic. It’s all about finding the right groove with these things, trust me.”
Clark could see that Dick was struggling with the sight and super hearing, because he was staring at his (Clark’s) hands, like they were a piece of art. And when he spoke he was either whispering or shouting. “This is amazing.”
“How is this amazing?” Clark was rubbing his (Dick’s) tired eyes. Why was he so tired? How could anyone still be on their feet while being so tired? Why would anyone want to go out at night beating up criminals when this tired?
Dick kept looking at his hands.
“Dick, please take this seriously. I have work in the morning, and so do you.” At least Jon was with Lois this week, so that was one thing off his list.
“Don’t worry, Kal. We’ll reverse it soon enough.” They had been hit by the spell of a sorceress who’d snug away in their confusion. Clark wished he had Dick’s optimism. “I get to fly around a bit and lift some cars—” Dick looked up suddenly like he’d just had the best idea of his life. “Let’s get to Gotham. I should hide Jay’s piece of trash on a rooftop. Then we’ll just pop over to the batcave and ask Bruce what to do about the body thing. I’m sure he’ll know—”
Clark cut him off. “Absolutely not! No-way! I promised B to keep you and your sibling safe, not to endanger you further by recruiting you.”
Dick landed back on his feet. “Technically, I asked you for help on this one, Kal.”
While that was true, it had originally been a lead from Clark’s article that made Dick look into the strange occurrences in Bludhaven’s well-loved Marked Hall 68. And Clark had suspected from the start there was magic involved, but instead of declining (because with magic there was a real possibility he might become a liability) he’d joined Dick in finding the culprit. “No this one’s on me. I should have known better and B will think the same. Let’s call Diana and see what she says.”
Dick shrugged in non-committal agreement. However, Clark was not convinced this was the end of any shenanigans proposed or initiated, going by the sparkle in Dick’s eye. Clark had known the first Robin for too long to have forgotten the mischief he was capable of.
Soon after making the call, Diana showed up with Zatanna, at the meeting point Dick had chosen a block away. The body switchees had hastily bought some clothes and changed back into civvies. Good thing the vigilante carried cash in in his suit. They looked nothing much like their usual selves; or rather, they seemed like Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter, and Dick Grayson, hot headed cop, had switched styles. The only thing that seemed out of place were Clark’s thick rimmed glasses to hide superman.
By then, Dick had given Clark the talk about body swap protocol every bat knew by heart:
- Make sure all wounds and any imminent danger is dealt with. (Done.)
- Stay calm and collected while trying your body functions. Get accustomed to the new body and try the limits of your old strengths within the new body. Test your control over potential new powers. (Done.)
- If not provided or obvious, get a hold of the identity of the body you are in. Meanwhile, make sure of the whereabouts of your original body. (That point was off their list, at least.)
- Be respectful of the new body, cover up and make sure you are sufficiently hydrated. (Done.)
- Contact either Bruce or the next reliable magic user and/or alien tech expert you are entrusting to look into your situation. (Done.)
“So, this is not one of those walk a mile in your shoes kinda deals? We will go back without having to ‘learn a lesson’?” Dick took a zip of his strawberry milkshake while doing the air quotes. It seemed he was still deciding if it tasted close enough to the usual with Superman’s taste buds.
“48 hours at the most.” Zatanna stole his milkshake away and dipped one of her fries into the slush before eating it. Dick made a face.
Diana nodded in agreement with Zatannas estimate. Her smile was a little too bright for comfort, like she had an amusing secret to keep. “I’m pretty sure it will be resolved by then.”
Zatanna flicked her fingers and suddenly there was a business card in her hand. She handed it do Dick with a wink. “If not, feel free to call me.”
Dick returned the gesture with a smirk. He took the card and tugged it away. “Will do.”
“This is indeed very strange.” Diana laughed as she watched Dick’s flirty expression playing over Clark’s face.
“You’re telling me…” Clark stuffed his face with burger, hanging his head and hiding inside the flannel shirt he’d found. He was preparing himself mentally, because he knew what was coming next.
*
Of course they ended up in the cave. The alternative would have been Clark sleeping on Dicks couch (I will not have Superman sink so low, as to sleep on my dirty old rag!) or Dick sleeping on Clark’s couch (No offence but I’ve seen that thing). And since Dick insisted a little too enthusiastically, Clark found himself agreeing to a two day stay at the manor. During their ride both managed to get the other one off work the next day. It helped with getting each other’s mannerisms down. Before reaching the manor grounds they also switched their clothes.
“Good thing I bought you dinner first.” Dick leered with a sharp smile.
Since it was his own body Dick was ogling, while being very respectful of Clark’s own, Clark laughed it off as the uplifting joke it was meant to be. How did they always end up in these insane kinds of situations? Clark had a parent-teacher conference at the end of the week, for crying out-loud! And for the next two days he would have to pretend to be Batman‘s son.
“You sure, you don’t want B to know about this?” Dick whispered before entering the cave through one of the hidden entries, outside of microphone reach. “Would make things easier.”
Clark shook his head.
He had let Bruce down in endangering Dick. Despite Dick being an adult, Bruce was still fiercely protective of him, even if he could only show it in shrewd ways (like tapping his phone or making background checks on the people in his life). Besides, for Superman and Batman it had been a rocky road from supposed enemies to co-workers, to teammates, to acquaintances, to friends, to what recently felt like best friends in a time span of almost fifteen years.
Bruce was aloof and unapproachable most of the time. It was not just Clark who felt that way. Even his closest kin was often kept out of step on purpose. And since they’d known each other Bruce had not been with anyone for longer than a few months. Honestly, Clark was not even sure their relationship had changed from Bruce’s perspective since they’d become team mates; Except that he let Clark hang around more and invited him into the cave regularly to work on cases.
Since his divorce Clark had come over even more often and just to check in on smaller things. After moving out of their old apartment Clark had realized that there were very little social contacts he maintained out-of-costume, if Bruce was even that. Any out-of-costume invitations always came via Alfred or Damian through Jon and were few and far between. Whatever fragile peace they had achieved at this point, Clark did not want to gamble it away on a problem that would resolve itself within two days.
They were greeted by a stoic Damian lingering near the entrance. He eyed their civilian clothes with interest. Clark had seen Dick and Damian interact often enough to copy it. But he was glad Bruce called them over for a debrief; otherwise, Damien might have suspected something. The boy was just as paranoid as his father, if not more so.
Despite Clark and Dick not being part of that night’s raster of Gotham heros, they ended up giving their (fake) reports to Bruce just like the other bats had. Not that Clark considered himself a bat, but he always felt very much at home in the cave. Superman’s joining them was not totally unannounced, since Dick had used the family group chat to let them know the two were coming.
“You staying the night?” Bruce asked Dick (Clark) as the other birds shuffled towards the communal showers.
“Check it out.” Stephanie showed Tim her smart phone. “Someone put Jay‘s Mercury Cyclone on a rooftop. He’s livid.”
They rushed to have a look or took out their phones to comment on it in the chat, while snickering all the way to the bathroom.
Clark threw Dick a look; who did not seem to be bothered by the inquiry at all. But he remembered to answer Bruce’s question of staying the night (which was not weird, because when addressing Clark, Bruce spoke to his son, and not Clark who’d hoped to hear those words at the end of every night they’ve spent working on cases for the last five month at least).
“Sure.” Clark managed, trying not to sound eager, but adopting Dick’s casual tone.
Bruce nodded. He stood up from his chair at the bat computer. Even without his powers Clark could see that he was beat. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t notice it while he was in the cowl but at this point Clark was attuned to Bruce in ways he had never anticipated, even without his superpowers.
Bruce moved towards the shower. Then he seemed to remember something and turned towards Clark (Dick). “I’ll call it a night. Was there anything urgent you wanted to discuss? If not, let’s reconvene tomorrow.”
Clark almost answered, but held his tongue just in time.
“Oh well.” Dick smiled and shrugged his shoulders, a Clark shrug, not a Dick shrug. “It wasn’t that urgent, anyways. But since Dick and I have started dating, I thought it would be fine, if I stayed the night with him?”
Spoken in Dick’s usual flippant tone of voice it might have sounded like a joke, a ha-ha-got-you kind of thing that rarely anyone ever attempted with Bruce out of his Brucie persona; and never with Batman. But Dick had his shoulders rise, scratched his head and put on the trademark Clark Kent self-deprecating smile (The one Clark hated).
Bruce had already been turning away again, but now he froze. Apparently, the news that his eldest son and (maybe?) best friend had started dating, threw him off enough that he stopped working for a brief moment. Clark had never witnessed anything like it when it came to the Bat. Bruce blinked once, twice; then turned around fully to face Clark (Dick). Half a minute ticked by with Dick fiddling with the hem of the red cape in another remarkable impression of Clark, while probably fighting down a shit eating grin.
Meanwhile, Clark was over here panicking. What was Dick doing? Why would he say that? Did he actually want to date Clark? Or was he just pulling Bruce’s leg. Probably just pulling Bruce’s leg, right? Why was Clark flustered about that anyways? It was surely just a prank and even if true, it wouldn’t make any difference to him. Clark wanted to be with Bruce, not Dick. Not that either of those things would ever happen. Bruce had never shown any romantic interest and Clark had watched Dick grow up. Though, they were just eight years apart and at this point it made not much of a difference age-wise? No, it was still weird, right? Surely, Bruce was weirded out and needed a moment (to conceive a plan involving locking Clark in a kryptonite lined led box and sink him to the bottom of the ocean).
Clark slowly and as inconspicuously as possible let out the breath he’d been holding. Having anxiety without super speed to work through it was exhausting. At least he was good at hiding it. Clark was just as good at keeping his poker face as any bat. Otherwise he would have been found out as Clark Kent, nice-guy reporter, years back.
But Dick had said that they were dating with Clark’s own mouth. Clark could do nothing, but to take the usual approach when going undercover together: He would have to ‚yes-and’ everything. Then he would have to tell Bruce in a week or two, that they’d broke it off before it really began. He had to play along. “Come-on, Clark, I wanted to keep that between us for now.”
“Sure.” Bruce said, as if Dick’s (Clark’s) words had made him come back online. He said it like he had not just stared for a minute, without moving a muscle. “You are always welcome here.”
“Breakfast is at six and at eleven.” Tim reminded Clark (Dick), apparently waiting to talk to Bruce about something. He pointed behind himself. “You two coming?”
There was no way Clark would wash Dick’s body in front of his family, when there was the absolute possibility they would find out the truth. So Clark shook his head. “We’ll be showering upstairs.”
Bruce’s stride faltered enough for Clark to notice. Only after the words left him, Clark realized the possibilities for misinterpretation. But before he could clarify what he meant, Dick already fake blushed.
“Who’s being obvious now, Dick?” He grabbed Clark’s hand and let him away in a played up attempt to spare them any more embarrassment.
What was he doing!? If he kept this up, Clark might throw Dick’s bike into the Sahara desert once this was all over. Let’s see how he’d like that! (Clark absolutely would not do that. But a man could dream up elaborate revenge scenarios when nobody was looking, even Superman.)
Obviously, Clark ended up in Dick’s room, which he didn’t have to look for, since he’d been here while Dick was still living at the manor. But Dick also ended up in Dick’s room because they supposedly had started dating. They took turns taking quick and cold showers in the en suite bathroom.
“By all means, take your time.” Dick had said with faux generosity.
“I will not.” Clark wasn’t sure anymore what to think about Dick’s flirty attitude. It was still an act, right? Dick was just messing with him like any bat would in the same situation, except maybe Bruce. But even Bruce had a mean streak sometimes.
Dick had just snickered at Clark’s sullen tone. But he had been just as quick with his shower as Clark, who’d already lain down when he came out of the bathroom. Drying his hair with a towel Dick asked, “I’m guessing in this house even the dust bunnies have surveillance equipment installed?”
Clark startled. He hadn’t even considered that! Dick was obviously warning him about falling out of character even when nobody else was around. Clark was a little disconcerted about his best friend watching his family in that way.
“Not that Alfred would ever leave dust bunnies around.” Dick said loudly, like he wanted someone listening in to catch it on tape. But he was still using Clark’s relaxed smile.
Clark put down his (Dick’s) phone and watched him carefully. To check what Dick meant by that – if true – he’d have to be a little more subtle. “Yeah, we’d better not fool around, or it’ll it end up on some hard drive somewhere. Pretty messed up to feel like you’re being watched all the time.”
“But I’m sure Bruce wouldn‘t be so unconsidered as to spy on his children without a good reason.” Dick threw the towel into as laundry basket; then snug into bed. “Though, I’m guessing ‘a good reason’ can be anything, really, if you want it to be.”
Clark managed to copy Dick’s laugh at that, but on the inside he desperately wished for his super sight to check the room for bugs. It was probably better not to. Doing it might be like him seeing bacteria for the first time in secondary school: He had been better off without it (unless it was important for his work as a hero, of course). Clark knew Bruce was paranoid, but he also knew that there were certain parameters set, that let the system only filter out important information. That was how it was done on the watchtower anyways. This begged the question if, ‘my best friend and son sharing a bed’ was important information.
Dick gave him a kiss on the cheek in such a very Clark-way, that even the man himself could recognize it. “Good night, baby.”
And that was that. Clark thought he would not get one second of sleep after all of this. But he was out cold within minutes. The levels of exhaustion at which human bodies could keep functioning were astonishing.
*
When Clark got up at about eleven, Dick was gone. He needed a minute to find his orientation, because he was not used to sleeping that deeply or waking up that slowly. Usually, Clark rose with the sun, which explained Dick’s absence. He put on some of Dick’s clothes and made his way downstairs.
When he entered the family dining room there was only Bruce sitting at the table. It was a Monday, so the kids where in school. Alfred greeted him. Clark returned the gesture in the way Dick had taught him the day before, and took his seat.
“Clark’s left for work?” Dick grabbed one of the newspapers Bruce had put aside and sifted through the articles.
Bruce confirmed his question with a grunt.
“I’m afraid an earthquake in Chile had him leave just after sunrise.” Alfred informed him while pouring coffee and putting down a fresh plate of pancakes.
Clark froze and almost forgot to thank Alfred. Dick had flown off to do Superman work, when Clark had asked him specifically not to use the powers more than absolutely necessary. The prank with Jason’s car he’d surely done using super speed as well, because Clark had not noticed. But this was something else. It was one thing to not inform the league about Superman being basically out of order for a couple days (though Diana knew at least); it was another thing entirely, to possibly cause a disaster by using them in the wrong way. To Bruce this would be almost as bad as endangering his children, no, scratch that, it would be worse! Because Clark was endangering Dick on top of being negligent on his hero job. Bruce could never know of this, ever. Clark had to get out of here and ask Diana to make Dick stop right away.
Bruce chose that moment to put down the last of his papers and watch Dick expectantly. He often did this, staring like the person already knew what he was going to ask them, before getting around to it in the first place. By that point most people were already nervous enough that they just blurted out whatever he wanted to know.
Clark was not immune to that. But Dick was. And the stakes had never been higher to give a convincing performance. He just had to make it through breakfast, before saying his goodbyes, going to Dick’s flat and pawning everything he owned. (Clark absolutely would not do that. But a man could dream up elaborate revenge scenarios when nobody was looking, even Superman.)
“So, you and Clark.” Bruce finally said.
If this lie were true, Clark might have scratched his head, looked away and give a little bit of an explanation. If asked the same question by, say, Alfred or Tim, Dick would have done the same thing. But Bruce asking the question was a tricky thing as far as their relationship was concerned. If Bruce would keep it at that, this would be fine. No risk of any out-of-character acting choices. But if he kept pressing…
“Oh, you know how it is.” Clark took a sip of coffee to buy himself some time. He kept his tone level and nonchalant as Dick would have about these things. “Working together in close proximity, dangerous situations, adrenaline. I don’t need to explain this to you.” Clark was recounting point after point the beginning of about fifty present of the fantasies involving himself and Bruce getting together. “And he feels quite lonely, anyways. I mean it’s been six month since he moved out, right? It’s not like it’s too soon or anything.”
“What are you playing at with all of this?” Bruce’s look got stern. He leaned back in his chair and eyed his son critically. “Clark Kent is not the kind of person to approach a relationship casually, but you seem pretty casual about this whole thing.”
“I did’t say that.” Clark defended himself.
And here it was. It seemed Bruce was out for blood. As nice as it felt, that his friend was apparently more concerned about Dick playing with Clark’s heart, than Clark taking advantage of Dick as a rebound; Dick surely would have none of that, if he were in the same situation.
“To be honest,” Dick had warned Clark on their way to the manor. There was a reason Dick lived in Bludhaven. Things between father and son often started out as discussing the most mundane matters, especially as far as the younger bats were concerned; And then ended up in heated discussions, with Dick running off in a fit of rage and Bruce retreating into himself for days; growing cold not just towards Dick but everyone. The reason – in Dick’s humble opinion – was that Dick kept Bruce on the straight and narrow. And Bruce was bad at accepting criticism as well as his own faults. “Best is to not let him lead you into an argument. But if he does, just go off, king. I’m not known to let him get away with is usual bullshit. Use that repressed rage of yours and tell him off. You have my full permission to be extra mean.”
So Bruce saying all this would sound to Dick like Bruce snooping into his adult life, something Dick openly hated at every opportunity. So Clark had to take on this argument with the man he loved, while pretending to be said man’s son and defend Dick’s fake love for himself; that was, if he didn’t want Bruce to kick him out of his basically non-existent friend zone.
However, while Dick had basically made fun of Clark’s repressed rage (which was not a thing, shut up!) and supposed inability to have this kind of argument; there was one thing he had not taken into account:
Clark and Bruce argued regularly and had heated ethical and strategical debates on many topics, specifically when it came to league business. Factually, there was nobody who could press Bruce’s buttons as well as Clark, if need be. (Which was how the other fifty percent of those aforementioned fantasies started, honestly.)
“Please this is not about me. I’ve had plenty of lovers but I’ve never taken advantage of any of them.” Clark crossed his arms. These next words were a little closer to home, than he would like them to be. “Is this about Clark being a meta or your co-worker? Or do you think it will impair your ability to work together in some way? I’m not going to keep him away from your case work or league business. That should be obvious. You’d rather have him date some civilian, gimme a break!”
And because, frankly, Clark avoided fighting with Bruce in any other context than their roles as leaders of the JL, he got up to leave.
“I don’t want him to date—” Bruce cut himself off and stood up as well. “This has nothing to do with our work. Superman has been able to function throughout all the years without fault, whatever was going on in his private life. This is about,” and here Bruce faltered, what had Clark pause for a moment, “propriety.”
Now that was just marvelous. Clark should get out of there; instead, he actually got angry at hearing that. He paused before he repeated, “Propriety.”
Bruce’s face fell a little at Clark’s hollow tone.
“You think my relationship with Clark is inappropriate?” Clark spoke very quietly, stepping back from the table and towards Bruce. “So he can be a great co-worker, a co-leader, moral support, a helpful tool for working on cases with you. He can be your son’s best friend’s cool dad, who looks after your kids when your work gets too much. He can bring over dinner when it’s late and he knows you haven’t eaten in too long and he can take every shift with you on monitor duty, because almost everyone else feels too award in your presence for that long. He can even come to family dinners and game nights and on one memorable occasion a family vacation. But he’s not good enough to be part of this family? Not good enough to be my partner?”
Clark was in too deep, he should just aboard. What was he doing, he should have just left. But this was good, in a way. It was at least some answer as to why Bruce was keeping him at arm’s length since forever. If he knew what the problem was, he might be able to lick his wounds and get over it.
Instead of his usual ever stonier growing face of cutting off any and all emotions to win an argument, Bruce seemed almost worried. “That’s not why I think it’s inappropriate. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, exactly, Bruce?” Clark threw his arms. “Enlighten me. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like, you use his aversion to casual relationships, as an excuse to tell me not to date him; because you don’t want him to be part of this family.”
“No, that’s not—” Bruce stopped short, when Clark turned to leave. “That’s not what I meant.”
Bruce caught Clark’s elbow before he could run off in a dramatic (and only partially played up) flourish. Being human had its upsides, because for once he did not have to worry about smashing the door on his way out.
“It’s because I wouldn’t want my son to date the man I want to be with.” And then after a pause, with the slightest hint of desperation creeping into his voice, when he emphasized the next word, “I want to be with you, Clark.”
Clark blinked, blacked out and the next moment was falling through the air somewhere over the Atlantic. He caught himself just before smashing into the water, red cape flowing behind him. He was on his way to Gotham the next second.
*
Bruce grunted in exasperation. He was sitting at the bat computer, cowl on and ready to go out for the night. He was just waiting for the kids to suit up. “Why not just tell them the truth?”
While he was preparing the routs for the night, on one of the other screens Zatanna was giving him a mischievous smile. “I knew you would find it out eventually. 48 hours, I said, and you didn’t even need 24. Well done.”
As it turned out the curse would not have been lifted on its own. Instead, a loving and trusted person had to recognize and directly name both people without being told a switch had occurred. Bruce had already told off Dick before Clark had even showed his face at the breakfast table. Which had led to Dick screaming at Bruce, to just end Clark’s misery and let him move in already.
Child.
If nothing else would have tipped him off (the bad acting, the pointed looks and obvious shenanigans), then Dick’s (Clark’s) casual mentioning of Bruce’s supposed experience with convoluted, pent up, adrenaline filled craze sex would have. While Bruce was using sex for his Brucie cover up, privately, that was just one more bodily function that had to be taken care of in order to make his body work as it should.
Though, he was sure he’d enjoy sex with Clark plenty, he did not need to have sex to have a relationship. Dick knew better than any of his other children, how little interest Bruce had in any of that. He had seen in real time how his relationship with Selina had fallen apart for that exact reason.
But it was so much worse than that. Because Bruce had known something was up from the moment “Clark” casually mentioned he was dating Dick. Up to that moment, Bruce had been of the absolute conviction that he and Clark had been dating for the past two months. Granted, they had never gone out or directly talked about their relationship. But Bruce had felt like it was unnecessary, because it was obvious how special Clark was to him, and he to Clark.
Since July, they’d seen each other regularly, worked on cases and ate lunch or dinner in the cave all the time. Bruce had had a busy schedule these past weeks with several copycat’s attempting to take over where some of his rogues had left off after being incarcerated. He’d thought Clark was simply considered with asking for more time together. Clark was acutely attuned to the needs of his loved ones. It wouldn’t have been strange for him to do so.
Despite all that, one thing was for sure: Bruce would take this miscommunication to the grave. One of the most essential aspects of being Batman was keeping up the mystique. If anyone knew, Bruce had thought for two whole months he was dating Superman, when, in fact, he was not… They might as well take him behind the shed and end it with a mercy killing. Maybe not the worst option, considering he was getting on in years and didn’t know how long he could still don the cape.
It also taught him to tell and show Clark that this relationship was important to him. He’d been secretly pining after the other man since before his marriage. Meanwhile, Clark seemed to think, Bruce was merely tolerating his presence for convenience sake. It also taught him (once again) to maybe listen to Dick, when he was saying things like, that, in fact, he did not think Superman was aware of any change in their relationship and why didn’t he just try and talk to him more directly, you know, like a normal person would?
Ridiculous.
That man thought himself an adult, yet, the first thing he did when he got literal superpowers was throwing his brother’s car on a roof top.
Bruce gave a grunt at Zatanna’s misplaced praise. He didn’t bother to interrupt his work when he signed off. “I have to go. Talk to you later.”
As if on cue, the proximity alerts told him Clark was here. Just as he landed next to Bruce, the kids shuffled out of the locker room. Bruce once again didn’t bother to interrupt his work. He spoke to the children. “I sent the route and team ups to your communicators. I’ll be joining you shortly.”
That gained him a bunch of raised eyebrows and wolf whistles.
“Have fun, boys,” Stephanie chimed.
Dick who had joined them for the night hollered the loudest, “Let me know if anyone needs a get-away-body. Or an ironclad way to stir some complicated feelings.”
Damian sniffed offended, “I knew right away something was up with you.”
“Sure you did.” Tim commented drily and they were off with one of their never-ending arguments. Good thing Bruce had not paired them that night.
It was a mercy they did not linger, because Clark was getting flustered as Damian described in excruciating detail every single mistake he and Dick had made while trying to trick them. Dick had never really intended to keep their body swap a secret; otherwise he wouldn’t ever have brought Clark to the manor.
When the cave was silent again except for the chirping of bats and the buzzing of air vents, Bruce finally turned and removed the cowl. He stood and kissed Clark, first just a peck to say hallo and then he took a moment to lean in and linger a little. In part he wanted to commit to his intention of showing Clark that he cared. And also, because he genuinely enjoyed being close to somebody he held dear. It was just, that he had avoided doing so these past few moths in order to stay focused on his work. (Okay, maybe Dick had a point.)
He would have to learn to let himself enjoy this more often, Bruce thought, as he murmured against Clark’s lips. “See you later?”
Clark knew Bruce’s schedule. He hadn’t come over to ask, if Bruce would skip patrol and instead spent some time with him. Superman would fly out there and save more people in a night than Bruce could in a year. It was a comforting thought that Clark wanted to be with him not despite his work as Batman but because of it. And frankly, Bruce couldn’t ask for more than that.
“Of course”, Clark murmured back.
And as he watched Clark fly away and put the cowl back on; Bruce thanked the gods for hard earned lessons gained though body swap shenanigans. Though, he could at least do another fifteen years without one.