How did two broke journalists wind up with the famously unattainable bachelor billionaires?

by tearsofjoyandsorrow

Summary:

What if there were a universe where DC and Marvel were intermixed and we got to see the insane similarities of superbat and starker?

In this universe, it just so happens that the Daily Bugle and the Daily Planet are sister companies working out of New York and Metropolis, respectively, and every once and a while, there are larger crossover events in which Peter Parker and Clark Kent interact. They aren't best friends by any means, but they get along quite well.

Simultaneously, Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark are maintaining a strange frenemies dynamic. When the world looks like it's going to end, the two of them band together to resolve things, but outside of that, they frequently try to one-up each other with their tech, bank accounts and sexual conquests.

I'm still not sure what I am doing, but someone said they would read this, so here I try!

Chapter 1: Idea!

i dont actually have anything written, but i do have an idea. this is said idea:

what if there were a universe where DC and Marvel were intermixed and we got to see the insane similarities of superbat and starker a little bit. imagine that the daily bugle and the daily planet are sister companies located in metropolis and new york, and when the occasional huge event happens, both peter parker and clark kent are called to work at the same time? the two of them become friendly coworkers, but arent super close due to the distance and their own super(no pun intended) busy lives. at the same time, it seems bruce wayne and tony stark are kind of frenemies. they help each other in times of dire need, but are constantly trying to one up each other with their tech, enviromental awareness, and, most notably, their sexual conquests.

EDIT: ok so this is becoming something. stay tuned pookies as i write and update i guess??

Chapter 2: Chapter One

Summary:

Peter and Clark meet for the first time

Notes:

ok. so. i've never written anything like this before, so please give me a bit of wiggle room. if you care, let me know, id love to hear it. also, if there are any notable errors let me know and i will fix them. my brain is slow yall im sorry. FEAST.

Peter thought this week would be the one where he’d change. Maybe, for once, he’d go a full week without being late and getting screamed at by his boss, J. Jonah Jameson. As it turned out, that was just wishful thinking.

Juggling his camera, messenger bag and stack of printed images of The Spider-man, Peter rushed through the revolving glass doors to enter the Daily Bugle, hoping that his boss wasn't already in a bad mood. Once he reached the elevator, he tried desperately to tame his hair, a mess of windblown chaos piled onto the already horrible bedhead that he had failed to comb back because he woke up so late.

With a ding, the elevator doors slid open and the bustling newsroom greeted him, people wandering around to the sound of computer typing and large printing orders being carried out. Peter tried to rush across the room, hoping that maybe, if he sat fast enough, no one would realise he was late. Again. He passes Betty who shoots him a smile and a faint ‘Good morning, Peter’ as he speeds past. He's about to smile back when a sharp shout carries across the office. It's like the room freezes, heads turn, and the blood drains from Peter's face. He spins around and looks towards the largest office, far behind the other desks.

Jameson is sticking his head out of his office door with a look of thinly veiled fury, his forehead vein pulsing.
‘Parker! Get over here! You're already running late enough as it is,’

Not wanting to make him even more angry, Peter speed walks to the office, weaving between people also making their way around the room. A few people give him a look of pity; they've all experienced that rage first hand once or twice.
Once Peter reaches the office, he slides in carefully and shuts the door behind him, hoping to muffle the sounds of yelling that will, inevitably, follow.
‘Good morning, Sir. I’m so sor-’

‘Parker, I swear to god, if the word sorry leaves your mouth, I will throw my stapler at you.’

Peter shuts his mouth at that. The room goes quiet for a beat, then two, and then Jameson is rolling his eyes and slumping into his seat. Jameson takes a slow deep breath before speaking again.
‘As upset as I am about you being late, there are more important matters to go over. First, do you have the pictures of Spider-man I asked you to get? I’ve been waiting three days. I'm out of patience,’

Peter clears his throat before speaking up. ‘Yes sir, I got the photos you wanted,’ he pauses to pass them across the desk, ‘sorry they were late, I just,’

‘Don't want to hear the excuses’ Jameson cuts him off, flipping through the images.

He pulls out two of them and goes on, ‘these two will do, I guess. The others are much worse but I'm sure we can make them work. When you leave, make sure to pass them on to Patty in Editing so she can get them mocked up.’ he tosses them onto his desk before picking up a pen and tapping it on the table. The incessant sound is grating, and it's all Peter can do to not lunge across the table and snatch it out of Jameson's hands.

‘Now, we have slightly more important business to go over. We’ve got a worker visiting from the Daily branch out in Metropolis, the Daily Planet?’ Jameson stretches an arm across his desk, pressing down on the intercom to his assistant in an adjacent room, ‘Janet, can you send Clark in? Thanks,’

The room goes quiet once again as they wait, and Peter can hear the squeak of a door opening in the next room and footsteps growing closer. When the door handle turns, Peter stands and turns to face the door. A tall man walks in, shoulders hunched in an effort to make himself look smaller. It doesn't work. He's got to be 6’4, maybe some 200 pounds, he's like a body builder. The coy smile on his face makes him look softer though, and younger. As do the glasses that sit crookedly on his nose.

‘Parker, meet Clark Kent. Clark is a journalist down in Metropolis, he works a lot writing about political and occupational corruption as well as occasionally writing about that guy they have down there, Superman? Clark, thank you so much for coming to New York to work on this collaborative piece! This is Peter Parker, he's one of our photojournalists and he will be accompanying you to the town hall reopening in Brooklyn tonight.’

The onslaught of information is overwhelming but Peter does his best to keep up. Clark Kent. Peter had read some of his stuff before. He’s read more of Lois Lane’s work, but Clark Kent is still pretty cool. There is one thing from Jameson's spiel that catches him off guard though.

‘Sorry, sir, did you say I'd be going to the town hall reopening as well? I didn't realise that I,’

‘Yes, Parker, you will be going. The last photographer had to pull out so you will be replacing him. Is that an issue for you?’ Jameson questions Peter, his kind front wearing thin already.
‘No, no, not at all sir! I just wanted to make sure,’

‘Good. Clark and I already discussed the details, so Peter, follow him and get the run down, would you? I have other things to do.’ Jameson's statement is punctuated by his tapping foot as he watches expectantly.

‘Uh, yeah sure! I'll just go,’ Peter grabs the photos off the desk and bolts, with Clark trailing behind him.

Once the door shuts behind them, Clark is the first to speak up. ‘Wow. He’s super charming!’ Clark's sarcasm is made obvious by the tightlipped, wide eyed look he shoots Peter. Peter breaks into a grin.

‘I would say he's not always like that… but it would be a lie. Welcome?’

‘Thanks. Really. Um, is there somewhere we should go so I can give you the rundown on the piece?’ Clark looks around aimlessly as he speaks.

Peter is quick to jump to the rescue.

‘Yes, yes! Uhhhh we have a meeting room that's almost always empty, we can go in there maybe?’

‘Sounds good to me’

Peter takes the lead in quickly walking to the meeting room, but pauses to drop the pictures off at Patty's desk along the way. ‘These are the recents of Spider-man, JJ wanted me to pass them to you’

‘Thanks, Pete!

They continue to the room and Peter opens the door for the both of them before sliding into a chair. Clark sits across from him and pulls a file out of his briefcase.

‘Ok, so, Mr. Jameson has informed me that this is a short collaborative piece, he's hoping that we should be done by tomorrow afternoon. More or less, we want to cover the reopening of the town hall in the most flattering way possible. He wants us to avoid all references to crime rates in New York, Spider-man, how it got wrecked in the first place etc etc. Oh, and, the piece will run in both the Bugle and Planet so he wants us to ‘do our very best, and nothing but it!’

Clark's voice takes a tone of righteousness at the end, puffing up his chest in a clear imitation of Jameson. Peter smirks at his joke.

‘Sounds very doable! I'm guessing he wants me to cover photos, and you actually write up?’ Jameson had expressed previously that he found Peters writing lacklustre, and that he should ‘stick to the photos, boy’.

‘Yep, and I think that covers it? He mentioned trying to get photos of any notable celebrities that make appearances, but I'm sure that's second nature?’

Peter nods along, smiling kindly. He rises from his chair before extending a hand.

‘Sorry our meeting was a bit awkward. Weird morning, I guess. Anyway, call me Peter or Pete, whatever suits you! Welcome to the Daily Bugle, it's lovely to have you!’

Clark stands as well, shaking Peter's hand enthusiastically. Strong grip. Surprisingly, Peter never really noticed hand strength outside of people like Captain America or the other enhanced.

‘Thank you, Peter. You already seem far more welcoming than your boss. I'm sure we will work very well together!’

Peter thought they would too.

Chapter 3: Chapter Two

Summary:

Peter and Clark go to the town hall opening, and get to know each other a bit better.

Notes:

GUYSSSS i had a rush of inspiration so i wrote a second chapter. i will make no commitments because i am so unreliable but if anyone reads this i hope you have fun!!!! also, if you care, what sort of scenes do you guys want to see? i have some ideas but id love to heart your thoughts.

The street is packed with cars of arriving guests and other journalists when Peter and Clark arrive at the opening. They rush out of their own taxi and make their way to the section of the carpet dedicated to the Daily Bugle. As they make their way up the stairs to their space, Peter and Clark banter lightly, but it quickly devolves into Peter simply grilling Clark on life in Metropolis.

‘I mean, yeah, we have the Avengers and all the other guys, and they are THE BEST, but you guys have Superman?!? Like, you guys have an alien who is dedicated to protecting you! That's sick! I mean, I guess technically it's kinda like us with Thor, but he's off planet half the time, so… What's it like?’

Clark's eyes are wide as Peter rants, and when he finally quiets down, Clark smiles gently before speaking.

‘He’s… fine, I guess. He tries to do the right thing, tries to keep damage to a minimum. But people see what they want to see—some worship him, some want him gone. You can’t please everyone.’

Once they reach their place beside the crimson carpet, Peter reaches into his bag and begins to prepare his camera, fixing the lens and adjusting the lighting settings. Clark readies himself by fetching his audio recorder and nudging his glasses further up his nose.

‘Fair enough,’ Peter responds. ‘People have varying opinions on the Avengers, too. Some hate them and see them as a curse, but I disagree. Without them, most of New York would be dead by now, so I think we owe them a bit of credit there.’

Clark nods along in agreement, but before responding, the two of them are shoved forward into the barrier by rowdier members of the crowd, growing restless.

‘Gosh, it's actually really busy. Were you expecting this?’ Clark scans the crowd, which seems to only be growing by the minute.

Peter huffs out a laugh as he responds. ‘Yeah, I was expecting chaos. Jameson never sends out multiple reporters for smaller events, and the noise around this opening has been… loud to say the least. Six months of planning and rebuilding after the second round of the Chitauri. It's a lot of arguing over the damage and who to blame. Especially when Jameson starts ranting about ‘hardworking taxpayer dollars’ being used to cover it all up like it's some kind of government conspiracy.’

Clark clicks his tongue before lunging out towards a man walking up the stairs.

‘Mayor Alberts, how does it feel to finally be able to open the town hall back up to the public?’ Clark's voice is strong and resounding, and he makes direct eye contact with the Mayor, drawing him in.

‘Well, I'm certainly glad we finally got it done! It was a travesty that it was damaged in the first place, but I'm glad we don't have to wait any longer. I look forward to seeing how the community uses it going forward.’

As the two converse, Peter scans the crowd, taking occasional images of political figures on the steps, shaking hands and greeting one another. In the distance, he can make out the strong silhouette of Captain Steve Rogers’ shoulders, his blonde hair glistening in the flashing lights. Stuck tightly to his side is Sergeant Barnes, whose longer hair is tied back, his silver arm hanging lightly at his side. He tries to get a few pictures of the two men out of time, still present at city events even 70 years after their prime. It's admirable, really, that either of them has the patience to attend these things after all the nonsense they faced from their fellow Americans.

After snapping pictures of them and a few others mingling, Peter is distracted by Clark taking a step back from the fencing, moving closer to Peter.

‘Anyway, what about you? How do you like the Big Apple? Got a lot of family around?’ He nudges Peter with his elbow, a soft smile on his face.

‘New York’s home. I hate these events, but hey, bills don’t pay themselves. Family-wise, it’s just me and my Aunt May now. My parents died when I was a kid, so she and my Uncle Ben raised me in Queens. They were good to me. Plus, I’ve got some solid friends around, so… what else could I want?’

Clark winces at that. ‘I'm sorry to hear about your parents. That's horrible. My biological parents passed away when I was a baby, so I never knew them, but I was adopted not long after that by my Ma and Pa.’

‘No, no, it's really fine. It's been a long time, and it's definitely healed now. So, what about you? Is your family with you in Metropolis?’ Peter raises his camera back towards his face, listening as he shoots photos of the carpet attendees.

Clark's shoulders shake as he huffs out a laugh. ‘No, actually, it's just me in Metropolis. I was raised on a farm in Smallville, Kansas, and my parents still live there. I’ve got some good friends near me, though, so it doesn't get too lonely.’

At that, Peter spins around in excitement, eyes wide and mouth agape. ‘Oh my god, a farm?!?! That is awesome, man! Did you do crazy stuff out there growing up? I knew a guy once who had a farm and used to tip cows and ride pigs and stuff. Have you ever done that?’

Clark blinks, horrified. ‘Um, no, I can't say I ever tipped cows? One of our neighbours had cows that I would chase around as a kid, but that's probably the closest to that story. We did ride around on tractors, though, that was always fun.’

As Clark speaks, Peter's eyes practically glow with excitement.

‘God, that's cool. I haven't really left the city much, so that just seems crazy to me! Was it weird to move from the country to the city?’

While Peter moves to take more pictures, Clark bites his lip contemplatively before continuing.

‘I guess it was a bit of a culture shock, and it was weird how everything was busy, all the time, but it was kind of nice? Home was just… so quiet. And so small. Everyone knew everyone's business, even though there was so much space between everyone. And now in Metropolis, even though everyone is packed like sardines, no one pushes themselves into each other's business. That, I definitely like. The nosy neighbours of rural Kansas drove me crazy as a teen.’

‘Aw, yeah, tell me about it. My aunt and I used to live next to this older woman who would always open our mail if it got mixed up. It was nuts.’

Another wave of people starts to climb the steps, and Clark jumps to interview the government officials, committee representatives and various local celebrities he can catch. Slowly, the carpet dies down, attendees filtering into the building, and the press slowly packing up their equipment. When the people around them start to pack up, Clark and Peter turn to one another, and Peter is the first to talk.

‘So, do you think you got everything you need for the article?’

Clark flips through his dotted notes as he slips his recorder into his breast pocket. ‘I think so, a pretty good spread. What about you?’

Peter shrugs dismissively. ‘Yeah, I got a bunch. If you want, when I get home, I'll go through them and pick out the best and forward them to you?’

‘Oh yes, please, that would be perfect,’ Clark nods enthusiastically, ‘Should we head off then? Hopefully you can get an early night to make up for the rough morning?’

Peter rolls his eyes playfully. ‘Yeah, yeah, that's probably best, hey? It was really great working with you, Clark. I hope we get to do it again!’

Clark's eyes crinkle as he smiles, ‘Honestly, Pete? I'd really like that.’

Chapter 4: Chapter Three

Summary:

Bruce and Tony banter(not the first nor the last time):

Notes:

another chapter! this certainly has its issues, and i think its later than i wanted it done, but i tried yall. also, for any of my fellow aussies, happy fathers day. if you celebrate it. if you dont... pretend it didnt write that?

When Tony exited his car, it was clear that the event was far larger than he had anticipated. Luncheons weren't typically as busy as night events, so he'd expected a smaller crowd. It was apparent that the assumption had been misguided.

The Gotham City Hall was decked out, with banners waving, valets and other employees scurrying around and barriers set up to keep civilians from entering. Tony was expecting some of the usual fanfare, but not to this level. He didn't have any interest in attending events for the most part, and he especially didn't enjoy travelling to Gotham for them, but it was sometimes necessary.

The 200th anniversary of the Gotham City Hall's construction might've seemed insignificant to some, but it marked a turning point in the city's history. Though he was still reluctant to attend, much preferring being able to hole up in his lab, Pepper had been on his back about appearances and making his support of neighbouring cities apparent. Two centuries was as good a reason as any to visit Gotham, so Tony agreed.

Fiddling with the button at his waist, Tony quickly took the stairs to the entrance, eager to escape the scrutinising view of the hundreds of people on the street. As he walked, calls for him rang in his ears from the paparazzi on either side of him. After thirty-some years of being hounded by the media, he'd grown used to it, but still wasn't fond of the noise.

Once inside, it wasn't much better. The room was loud, cluttered with the sound of the nearby string quartet and the numerous groups of pandering businessmen and aristocrats. In hopes to lessen the time he would have to spend there, Tony made quick work to greet those he recognised easily, old MIT peers, Gotham politicians, work colleagues and the sort. Nearly every interaction he had was followed by a nasty jab about the destruction of New York following the Chitauri invasion or his other various failings as his alter ego. After each, he made an effort to taper off the conversation and get on his way. The repetitive conversations left his brain numb and his mouth dry, leaving him desperately searching for a nearby bar.

Spotting the bar across the room, Tony made haste to the busy bartenders, leaning across the countertop and tapping his fingers rhythmically on the wood while he waited. After a moment, one of the bartenders spotted him and slid over to him.

‘Scotch, neat, please. The good stuff, preferably, but I’ll take whatever you have at this point.’

The bartender gives him a sharp nod before turning away and walking to a further cupboard to retrieve his drink.

To his left, a voice carries out, ‘What a surprise it is to see you here, Stark.’

That voice. Of course. Because the night couldn't possibly get any worse for Tony. He didn't even have to look to know who it was. Tony let out a small sigh, taking the drink from the bartender as they returned. He then fixes his eyes towards the voice to find one Bruce Wayne.

A royal pain in his ass.

‘Well, if it isn't the princess of Gotham. I'm more surprised to see you here! I thought you were a bit of a hermit nowadays. Trying to challenge my title of Playboy of the year again?’

Bruce scoffs, rolling his eyes before retorting. ‘It’s not a challenge when we both know I'd beat you if I tried.’

‘Sure, princess, keep telling yourself that.’ Tony lifts his glass to his lips and sips dismissively.

A muscle in Bruce's jaw ticks, but it stills quickly. Not quick enough for Tony to miss it, though.

‘Why exactly are you here, Stark? You don't live here, and I'm fairly certain you couldn't give two shits about Gotham.’

Tony huffs out a laugh, ‘Touchy, aren't you, Brucey? Just trying to show my support to a nearby city, my… not friend?’ Tony trails off, shaking his head and letting out a breath. ‘I try to visit the more… needing cities every once in a while.’

Bruce's eyes narrow before he snaps back. ‘Trust that Gotham has no need for you, Stark. Not your weapons, not your energy and especially not that big metal piece of junk you whip out when you're bored.’ Bruce pauses momentarily, then continues. ‘Besides, your tech is looking a bit outdated anyway. Not only is it showy, but it's not really helpful. Wayne Enterprises is working on versatile products that everyday people can use, not just the self-proclaimed protectors of the world.’

‘Aw, caring about the working men, are we, Bruce? Maybe don't take a jab at the man who personally contributed to raising the minimum wage in New York, huh? Especially when you're running around with the mayor's niece on your sixth yacht in Santorini while your employees are dealing with the fallout of your reckless financial choices.’

‘It was a lovely trip, though. And I find it hard to believe you have much room to talk when you've already been pictured with, what, 40 different women this year?’ Bruce gives Tony a condescending smirk, taking a larger gulp of his drink.

‘Touche, Brucey. Touche,’ Tony lets out a brief chuckle, runs a hand through his hair and slumps against the bar, narrowing his eyes at Bruce.

The two men watch each other for a moment, their gazes contemplative and critical. Two men cut from the same cloth, desperate to protect their cities, nay, protect the world, scared of losing what little they have left. The two are very similar, though neither would ever admit it willingly. Bruce cuts through the silence, raising a glass between them.

‘Enjoy the party, Stark. Don't start any issues. And maybe try to eat some food. There is more than enough, and we don't want you drinking yourself… well, I’d say silly but that seems to be your natural state.’

Tony's lip twitches at that. ‘No promises, but I'll try my best.’

‘Mhm, I'm sure you will,’ Bruce's voice begins to trail off as he leaves his glass on the counter, fixes his suit and walks back into the crowd.

Tony lingered by the bar, pondering the interaction before slipping his phone out of his pocket and quickly texting Pepper.

Tony: Can I leave?
Tony: Pls I’ve kissed ass

Pepper: make your final rounds and talk to the mayor about implementing arc reactor tech in the city's water mains and then you can go.

Tony: THANK YOU POTTS

Quickly swallowing the rest of his drink, Tony speeds to find the Gotham mayor and makes quick work of flattering him on his recent projects before propositioning him. Between the major success of arc reactor tech in the NYC water mains, combined with the prior hijacking of the Gotham water mains by Scarecrow, Joker and other lunatics, it's easy work. He hurries off as soon as he can after that.
As he slides into his car and speeds off, Tony tries to ignore the glare burning holes into the back of his head. If the prince of the city had that big of a problem with him, he'd find a way to fix that city before he had to step in again.