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Bruce had this habit of walking into the Daily Planet like he owned the place—which technically, he could have. Dressed in his long black coat, his stoic face always left the employees pause during a talk and whisper to each other. However, when his eyes found Clark in the newsroom, his demeanor always shifted.
“Bruce… you didn’t have to come all the way here.” Clark stammered as he got up, adjusting his glasses to hide how flustered he was.
“I was in the neighborhood.” The billionaire stopped at his desk.
He placed a neatly packed sushi box on the pile of papers in front of Clark.
Everyone went still, completely frozen.
Bruce stood a few inches shorter than him, and Clark immediately leaned down to hug his boyfriend's waist tightly. Bruce was used to this kind of skinship, so he ruffled his tall boyfriend’s curly hair before pressing a gentle kiss on his head. People gasped and keyboards paused around them.
Jimmy leaned toward his deskmate, whispering too loudly.
“Are you seeing this? The famous Bruce Wayne…is delivering food for our nerdy journalist.”
“I know right. He’s sooo down bad.” The other nodded.
Clark’s ears turned red as he tried to shoo Jimmy back to work.
Meanwhile, Lois pretended to work, but she peeked at the couple. Still, she said nothing.
“Just ignore them.” Clark mumbled, smiling helplessly as he reached for Bruce’s wrist.
“Clark.” Bruce looked at his neck. “You forgot your tie this morning.”
Bruce straightened his back, as he adjusted the tie himself.
“I…Bruce—” Clark blinked.
“Hold still.”
The intimate moment made the office explode.
“OH MY GOD—I can’t even focus!” Jimmy whined loudly on his desk.
Clark’s face was red. The way he stood there, all broad-shouldered and dimples flashing, made him look like a giant golden retriever caught being taken care of.
His curly hair fell into his eyes, and he looked up at Bruce with his pleading gaze. Of course, Bruce was unfazed. The latter gave Clark one last fond glance, before he kissed him on his jaw.
“See you at the Hall of Justice, baby.” He whispered, before he left.
The moment he was gone, Perry emerged from his office with a coffee in hand, blinking at the newsroom.
“So what did I miss?” He asked nonchalantly.
“Oh, nothing.” Lois shot back. “Just Gotham’s billionaire and our big puppy reporter playing a married couple. No big deal.”
“But seriously, what's your secret, Smallville?” Jimmy asked, holding his camera.
Clark sat back on his chair, and adjusted his glasses again.
“He’s just thoughtful, that’s all.”
“Thoughtful?” He echoed. “Bruce Wayne literally hand-delivered your lunch.”
The office was loud with laughter, and Clark’s big frame hunched awkwardly in his chair.
“Aww… look at him!” Cat teased from across the room. “Clark’s blushing so hard. Let’s say opposites attract.”
“Guys, c’mon.” Clark mumbled, not knowing what to do.
“I’m just saying, Kent, you can’t expect us not to be curious. What did you do to him?” Cat insisted.
“N-nothing! I mean…I just…” Clark’s face turned a deeper shade of red, which made the entire newsroom howl with laughter.
He sat there like a 6’4 golden retriever, too kind to snap back, and too flustered to defend himself.
And everyone had one question in mind:
What exactly had Clark done to make the most terrifying man so hopelessly in love with him?
_
Bruce was standing silently on a rooftop ledge in his Batman costume, scanning the street at night. It was the kind of peace he lived for, and for him, it was a routine. For Clark, however, patrol was like a date where he spent hours with his brooding boyfriend.
With a grin, Clark leaned close at his side.
“Hey. You know this new suit of yours really does frame your—”
“Focus.”
Bruce cut him off, and Clark pouted.
“You’re no fun.”
Bruce didn’t listen to him and descended into the empty streets. Clark floated, following Bruce in the air.
Bruce scanned the shadows and every corner—until he suddenly felt a warm, entirely inappropriate squeeze on his butt. He stopped dead, and a low dangerous groan escaped from his lips.
“Clark.”
“Hmm?” Superman acted innocent. “I was just checking the fabric quality.”
Bruce turned around and pushed Clark’s chest with a gloved hand.
“Not. On. Patrol. Touch me again, and I’ll break your arm.” He hissed.
Clark pouted, swooping down to walk beside him.
“You say that every time, and yet here we are.”
Bruce exhaled slowly, rolling his eyes. After that, he resumed his walk, his thigh boots heavy on the pavement.
“Still angry?” Clark’s hand rested on Bruce’s back this time.
Bruce snapped out, and shoved Clark hard against the wall.
“Can’t you be serious, for once?”
Clark chuckled as Bruce pinned his wrists above his head.
“Mmh. You like me better like this. Helpless.”
Bruce tried to press his dominance, but Clark’s long legs slid between his thighs, his knee nudging against the bulge in his suit. Bruce immediately grunted, his hips betraying him with a reflexive grind. Clark’s smile tugged, lifting his hips to grind back.
With his superhuman strength, Clark spun the two around, slamming the shorter male’s chest against the alley wall. The impact echoed, and Bruce’s breath caught at the sudden shift.
“Clark!” Bruce groaned.
His boyfriend held him still. He leaned in close to his ear, whispering.
“You think I didn't notice it, naughty little kitty? Walking on patrol wearing nothing but a thin thong underneath.”
“…What?” Bruce’s eyes widened.
Shit.
“You forget who you’re dealing with.” Clark smirked. “I saw it the moment you suited up with my X-ray vision.”
Bruce's face heated with rage and embarrassment.
“YOU! That’s an invasion of—”
Before he could respond, Clark pressed a knee between his thighs, silencing him with pressure.
“You wore it on purpose, huh?” Clark whispered, his lips kissing Bruce's neck.
Bruce growled, struggling half-heartedly.
“I don’t dress for your eyes. You idiot!”
Clark turned him and kissed him passionately, pinning him harder. Then he pulled back with a feral stare.
“Liar.”
Bruce clenched his fists at his sides, with a mix of fury and arousal. Clark grinded his knee higher against him.
“Now, you are going to behave. Otherwise, people will hear you.”
Bruce tried to shove him, but Clark didn’t budge. Clark's smirk widened as he tugged at the fastening of Bruce’s suit.
“Don’t!” Bruce hissed.
“Oh… I am.” Clark's voice was molten, fingers slipping past the fabric until the truth was revealed.
Black, lacy, and scandalously thin thong, that clung to his hips like sin itself.
“Satisfied?” Bruce’s face was hot.
Clark’s thumb stroked along the delicate waistband.
“Not even close.” He responded.
Then he hooked a finger under the strap, watching Bruce squirm.
“Clark!” Bruce flinched, but his words were cut into a gasp when Clark slid his hand inside, palming him through the thin underwear.
“God… you’re already hard.” Clark commented. “Did you wear this for me?”
“No.” Bruce snarled, his voice ragged. “I only wore it for..stealth and comfort.”
Clark slowly dragged the thong down until the cool night air hit Bruce’s flushed skin. His other hand spread Bruce’s legs wider, and Clar savored all of his reaction.
In a quick move, Clark spinned him and pushed him forward against the wall again.
“Leave it there. I want you to feel it digging in while I take you.” Clark said, looking at the thong.
Clark bent him forward and Bruce groaned, his face pressed to the cold brick. Clark spread his legs just enough to enter him. Then he slowly pushed inside with the thong on his dick’s way.
The thong dug deeper into his ass, and every thrust was a reminder of Clark’s intention to ruin his lingerie.
The rhythm built, clap sounds echoing as Clark’s strong chest flushed to Bruce’s back. Each thrust shoved him into the wall, pulling more broken moans from his throat.
“You’re all mine.” Clark whispered, teeth grazing his ear.
“Ah. Ah—” Bruce winced, fingers bracing on the brick.
His thong was stretching inside his ass as Clark’s hips snapped against his skin. With every punishing thrust, Bruce tried to ignore the pain, and block out the sting. But his body clenched harder, letting out a painful cry.
“Say it.” Clark’s voice was low.
Bruce’s teeth sank into his lip, refusing his order.
Every time Clark was having sex with him, he was no longer that clumsy puppy Bruce knew. He just transformed into an untamed wolf.
Clark moved a bit and angled his thrusts, striking deeper until Bruce shuddered.
“Say it.” Clark repeated.
Bruce finally choked out, back arching as Clark’s pace turned brutal.
“I—I’m Yours.”
“Perfect, princess.” Clark breathed into his ears.
Clark’s grip on his hips tightened, fingers digging in. The dark alleyway was filled with hot gasps, wet slap of skin was echoing. And the wall was shaking with every movement.
“Harder, Clark.” Bruce begged him.
“You’ll break if I do.” Clark frowned.
“Then break me.”
“Listen to yourself. You always sound wrecked because of my cock.” Clark groaned, thrusting with rattling force.
Bruce’s legs started to buckle from pleasure, but Clark held him up. His dick was diving so deep, Bruce swore he could feel him in his stomach. Bruce broke into a moan and Clark’s hand wrapped around his cock that was slick with precum. His strokes were perfectly timed with each thrust inside him.
“Clark—wait!!” Bruce’s voice cracked. But it was betrayed by the way his hips rocked back to meet Clark’s pelvis.
“I’m going to completely ruin you, my princess.” Clark whispered.
Bruce's body watered, tightened, twitched, begged. The thong was shoved inside with Clark’s dick as he pumped him faster.
“I can feel you tightening. Come for me, baby.” Clark asked.
Bruce pressed his eyes closed as he listened to him. Then his whole body seized as a hot release spilled across the wall. His cum dripped down his thighs, and soaked the thin fabric bunched around him. A raw cry escaped his lips. And Clark groaned, as Bruce’s hole clenched harder around his dick. Clark’s hips snapped, burying himself deep before he reached his climax as well. He stilled and filled Bruce with his cum.
Bruce panted heavily then he collapsed against the wall, but Clark didn’t let him fall. He pulled him back against his chest, still buried inside him.
The juiced thong clung damply to Bruce’s thighs, sticking uncomfortably. It was like a trophy of how thoroughly Clark had claimed him.
Clark kissed the side of his throat, and Bruce’s body stayed pressed against his, unwilling to move away. After a few breaths, Clark crouched to the ground, and tugged the black underwear down Bruce's legs.
“Lift your leg, baby.” He whispered, kissing the back of Bruce’s thighs as he slipped it free.
“I hate you…” Bruce muttered. “You always do this during patrol, and pick the worst location.”
Clark chuckled softly, balling the thong in his hand before tucking it into his belt.
“I can’t help it. The best places are always the ones—where you get mad at me after.”
Clark pulled a handkerchief from his cape, and wiped Bruce down gently, erasing the mess. Bruce leaned back against the wall, letting him work, too tired to fight back.
“You drive me insane.” Bruce rested his eyes for a moment.
“And you’re beautiful.” Clark countered, adjusting Bruce’s suit back into place.
When Bruce tried to push off the wall, his legs wobbled. But Clark caught him instantly. Bruce’s arms instinctively looped around Clark's shoulders. His boyfriend just bridal-carried him.
“Put me down.” Bruce mumbled.
“Not a chance. You’re coming with me for post-sex care.” Clark grinned, before he flew them into the skyline.
The cold wind blew against their face as the alley shrank beneath. Bruce groaned, burying his face against Clark’s neck.
Clark held him tighter, and for all Bruce’s grumbling, his body always relaxed in Clark’s arms. Because he always surrendered to his boyfriend.
_
Clark and Bruce’s relationship had been almost perfect for seven years. They just completed each other. Bruce’s sharp edges were smoothed by Clark’s warmth, and Clark’s endless optimism were steadied by Bruce’s discipline. They always fought beside each other, saved the world together, endured sleepless nights together, and cried during sad moments together. Everyone in the League just knew they were a solid couple.
Which is why an unexpected small fight caught Clark off guard.
It started over dinner in their penthouse. Clark was setting glasses on the table, while Bruce was cutting the roasted chicken in the middle.
“I talked to my parents yesterday.” Clark started.
“That’s nice. How are they?”
“They’re doing well. They wanted me to tell you that they miss you. They can’t wait to see us again for Christmas.”
“I miss them too. They’re so kind.” Bruce replied with a smile.
Clark paused for a while, and he rubbed the back of his neck with uneasiness. Bruce immediately noticed it and looked at his boyfriend.
“Do you want to say something?”
“Uhh… actually, we've been talking about something else lately.” Clark confessed hesitantly. “They asked me if we’ve ever thought about—marriage.”
“What?” Bruce froze mid-pouring wine.
“Yeah… I mean, I think it would be nice. Don't you think?” Clark asked nervously. “Like standing up in front of the altar and making it official.”
Bruce was speechless. He calmly sat to assess the conversation.
“Clark, we’ve been over this. I don’t see the point in a piece of paper, or a ceremony. We don’t need it.” He said.
And Clark frowned.
“It's not just about the paper, Bruce. It’s about commitment, and it’s the right way to do it as a longtime couple.”
Something shifted in Bruce’s eyes. Fear, guilt, something old and unhealed.
“We already live together. Why complicate things with expectations that could break us—if things go wrong?”
“What?” Clark paused.
These words felt like a punch to his stomach.
“You’re already thinking about breaking? Why are you being pessimistic? I want to marry you because I love you, and I want to be your husband officially.”
Bruce’s stoic mask was back in place.
“Clark…you know I love you too. But I’m afraid I can’t give you what you’re asking.”
Clark’s puppy glow dimmed. He looked at Bruce like he was trying to understand his logic.
“You don’t even want to consider it?”
“I don’t know, Clark… Maybe not.”
Bruce really couldn't do it. In fact, he had never thought of committing to someone. He had always lived alone his whole life, so marriage was not something he was dreaming of while growing up. It was just a waste of money and time.
After that, they just ate in silence in the dining room, and the place was filled with feelings unsaid.
_
It didn’t take long for the Justice League squad to realize that something was off. Usually, Clark and Bruce were annoyingly in sync, finishing each other’s sentences during briefings, covering each other in battle, and even sharing the same thermos of coffee during late-night stakeouts. But now? They were very awkward with each other.
During a meeting, Clark was sitting at the end of the table with his arms crossed and sulking, while Bruce was sitting at the other end, face stuck in his report.
“Okay. So which one of you sleeps on the couch?” Diana suddenly interrupted.
Everyone turned at their right, then at their left. But neither of the two answered.
“Damn, I can feel the tension. Is this a lover’s quarrel?” Barry perked up with a grin.
Clark’s face turned red, and Bruce didn’t even look up from his notes.
Suddenly, Hal leaned forward.
“Wait. Don’t tell me, you guys finally fought over your little escapades during patrols?”
“No.” Clark said firmly.
Bruce’s jaw tightened at the conversation. Diana paused for a moment, before she spoke again.
“Is it about the marriage issue again?” She asked, and Clark’s head hung lower. “Guys, it's been three weeks… And your unstable emotional state can be felt from miles away!”
The table fell silent, and Barry almost fell out of his chair.
“Oh. Seven years of dating, and the mighty Bats is still afraid of commitment?”
Bruce suddenly shifted his gaze.
“Careful with what you're saying, Barry.”
Clark tried to be quiet the whole time since he was scared of Bruce. His stoic boyfriend has been even colder than usual.
“I mean, c’mon dude.” Hal said, elbowing Bruce. “Clark is literally the perfect boyfriend, loyal, dependable, big and fluffy. You’re hesitating for what?”
Even Shayera chimed in, with a low chuckle.
“He's right. And Honestly Bats, if you don’t marry him, half the world would. He's handsome, he cooks, he saves lives, and apparently, he blushes every time you look at him.”
Clark hid his face between his palms in embarrassment, but Bruce was not happy. He stood up and started to gather his stuff.
“Meeting postponed.” He said.
He quietly walked away like he always did lately. Avoid questions, avoiding Clark, avoiding confrontation
That was when Clark couldn’t hold it anymore, his deep voice echoed loudly.
“Three weeks, Bruce! Three weeks and you’re still avoiding me!”
The entire League froze. Bruce paused on his track.
“This isn’t the time, Kent.”
Clark gulped, Bruce always used his surname when he was really mad at him. But he just couldn't hold it anymore.
“You can face Darkseid without flinching, but does a marriage scare you that much?!” He shouted.
“Are they actually…in front of us…?” Hal’s mouth fell open.
“Shh.” Diana hissed.
Bruce turned abruptly towards Clark.
“Don’t twist this. It’s not about fear, it’s about practicality. Marriage creates vulnerabilities.”
“Don’t give me that excuse. You’re always depriving yourself of happiness.” Clark’s heart pumped fast.
“What?!” Bruce squinted. “So you think standing in front of the world in matching tuxedos fixes everything?”
“It's because I love you!! And I will spend the rest of my life showing it!” Clark shouted, his blue eyes blazing.
The silence afterward was deafening, and nobody dared to move. Barry’s chip crumbs hit the floor as he munched on them. Clark and Bruce stood there, glaring across the table.
Bruce looked at the other Justice League, daring anyone to speak again. When everyone zipped their mouths, he finally turned around and slapped the door shut.
The silence was suffocating. Clark remained standing at the table, his fists clenched.
“…Holy crap. What did we just witness?” Barry mumbled as he glanced around the table.
“Yeah, that was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen in a while.” Hal leaned back in his chair.
Diana then walked towards Clark.
“Clark, we adore you both. But you can’t just shout at him like that.”
“It’s…complicated, Diana.” Clark looked down.
“Complicated? You literally just told him you love him in front of us.” Hal snorted.
“I hate you, Hal.” Clark groaned.
“I love you too, man. I'll be the best man at your wedding.” Hal grinned.
Diana placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder.
“For what it’s worth, Kal, I think you may have just shaken Bruce a little more than any villain ever has.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Clark peeked up.
_
Days bled into nights, and arguments looped in circles. Sometimes the fights came sharp and loud, sometimes quiet and exhausted.
One night at their penthouse, Bruce’s long silences cut like knives. And Clark, who was usually so bright, grew restless and filled with doubt.
“You always hold me at arm’s length.” Clark whispered.
His reflection in the glass window of the living room looked more tired than invincible.
No response.
“Do you even love me? Or am I someone you tolerate because I make your life easier?”
Bruce looked away, he didn’t want to answer. Clark didn’t know if he was sulking or hating him. But that silence alone was enough to deepen the crack in Clark’s heart.
“I can’t keep wondering if I’m enough for you.” Clark said. “And I think we are both tired of this… Maybe we should let this go before we hurt each other more.”
Bruce’s eyes widened, he quickly turned back, pain flashing for a brief moment.
“What do you mean?”
“I really didn’t want to say it..”
“Is that what you want?” Bruce asked. He, too, was exhausted but he never wanted this to go this far.
“It’s not what I want, but maybe it’s what we need.” Clark admitted.
The silence was heavy. Bruce’s eyes flickered in pain, but he quickly put his cold mask back on.
“Fine. Then it’s over.”
His reply was merciless.
Clark’s throat stung as he swallowed hard, fighting the sting in his eyes.
“Alright…”
Neither of them moved, nor dared to step closer for a hug, saying it was a joke or a temporary crisis.
They broke up.
At last, Clark turned around, his superman boots heavy on the marble floor, shoulders tensing with grief. Then he flew through the window of the penthouse.
This time, Bruce didn’t stop him. He stayed rooted in place, listening to the echo of his departure. The sound of Clark’s voice faded into the night.
He let out a heavy breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. For the first time in years, the dark knight looked as broken as the man who had just left him.
The silence of the house now felt unbearable.
_
The Hall of Justice meeting room felt different now. Superman was sitting at the far end of the table, his posture strong. While Batman was occupying his usual shadowed corner. On the surface, nothing had changed, but everyone could see it.
Clark’s smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore, his gaze lingered on the empty chair beside him before darting away. Bruce never once looked across the table, his tone has become harsher, and his cape a darker shield than ever.
Diana noticed it first when she caught Clark staring into empty space during a mission report. She saw Bruce becoming tense every time Clark spoke, and looking anywhere else.
Barry leaned toward Hal.
“Why do I feel like Mom and Dad are divorced?”
“Because they are.” Hal muttered back, watching Clark’s too-bright laugh falter.
They even picked up subtle gestures, like the way Clark’s heart rate spiked whenever Bruce entered the room. Or the pause in Bruce’s speech whenever Clark passed by his chair.
The two men could save the world, yet they couldn’t save what they had.
The others wanted to ask about their relationship, but their pride was too high. Clark’s golden-retriever energy has become dulled, but he forced it anyway, too kind to burden the team. Meanwhile, Bruce’s stoicism had become a cage that no one dared to approach.
In the end, the League said nothing and just held their silence.
Weeks turned into months, and it has been nine months since their breakup. Months of silences and pretending their hearts weren’t in tatters.
One morning, Clark arrived at the Hall of Justice and he invited someone with him. Everyone looked up from their seats, as the journalist Lois Lane was standing by Clark's side. It was like a thunderbolt had struck the place. Clark smiled politely as he introduced her to the League, and the room fell into silence.
“Wait. Girlfriend—?!” Barry blinked rapidly. “As in like, girlfriend—girlfriend?”
“Yeah, that’s what he told me.” Lois laughed lightly.
She linked her arm with Clark’s. Diana gave them a nod, but she noticed Clark’s glowing smile and the dull sadness behind it.
Suddenly, the doors opened, and Batman stepped inside, like a storm cloud. His eyes scanned the room, until they landed on…Clark and Lois.
Time has stopped, and Clark’s smile faded as his eyes met Bruce’s. The two looked at each other, and something flared between them. Seven years of history just compressed into a single glance.
Bruce’s chest tightened inside his suit, and the dark knight looked stricken for an instant.
Then he tore his gaze away, and without a word, he walked out of the room.
The silence was left again, and no one knew what to say. Not Diana. Not Barry. Not Hal. Even Lois’s easy smile faded as she glanced at their speechless faces.
Clark breathed out, his shoulders sinking as if the weight of his heart pressed down on him. He looked toward the door Bruce had vanished, eyes guilty and aching.
All of the sudden, Diana borrowed Clark in front of Lois, and she agreed.
“It’s fine. Go ahead.” Lois squeezed Clark’s arm gently.
Clark hesitated at first, feeling bad for her, but he reluctantly nodded. Diana gestured for him to follow, and they walked towards one of the strategy rooms.
The door slid shut behind them, and Clark rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
“Diana, if this is about…”
“What was that, Clark?” She cut him off, tone filled with disappointment. “Seven years with him, and you bring another person here? To this place where you knew he would see?”
Clark’s throat tightened. He looked down at the floor like a grounded child.
“You’re moving too fast.” She said. “Too fast for yourself, too fast for her… and far too cruel for him.”
“I thought, if I moved forward, maybe I’d stop looking back.”
Clark’s shoulders hunched, making that big puppy frame somehow smaller. And Diana’s eyes softened for a moment.
“You can’t heal a wound by pretending it doesn’t exist. You know better than to drag someone else into this mess.”
Clark winced, but he couldn’t even bring himself to argue.
“I expected more of you, Kal.”
After that, Diana turned back to the exit, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Clark stayed in the room, her words haunting his mind. He wondered if he had just made another big mistake again. And he didn’t know how to fix it.
Meanwhile, Diana has found Bruce at the balcony. He was standing alone, and he looked unshakable outside. His reflection in the glass was just a mask. Diana had known him long enough not to be fooled.
“Bruce.” She quietly stepped to his side.
“If this is about what happened earlier, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to, but I can tell seeing him with her hurt you.” Diana said gently.
Bruce’s mouth twitched.
“It doesn’t matter. He can do whatever he wants.”
“Seven years doesn’t just stop mattering.” She insisted.
Bruce looked at her, and his gaze was raw.
“I don’t have the luxury of falling apart, Diana.”
“Why not?”
Diana studied his expression for a moment. She saw the effort it took to hold himself together when his heart had been broken.
“You don’t have to be unbreakable with me.”
“I’ll be fine.” Bruce replied, his stoic façade back into place.
Though he pretended otherwise, she knew Bruce was cracking. But Diana knew better than to push him, so she respected his choice.
They stood together in silence, staring out at the peaceful city.
_
The Justice League were gathering in the meeting room with the holographic projection of the threat ahead. It was an alien invasion. Every member of the team was there, except for Clark, because he had an important task to do at Daily Planet.
“Don’t you think we should bring Superman on this one? I mean…if things go bad.” Hal suggested.
Bruce didn’t even hesitate and quickly responded.
“No.”
“No?” Hal frowned. “Bats, this isn’t the time for—”
“He has other priorities.” Bruce continued, eyes fixed on the data before him. “Let him stay busy with his girlfriend. We’ll handle this.”
“Oh my god…” Hal rolled his eyes.
He crossed his arms and wanted to argue, but something in Bruce’s tone warned him not to.
Diana sat still, lips pressed into a line. She looked at the hologram display, then exchanged a glance with Shayera. Bruce was bringing them down with his personal matters. And it has started to affect the team.
“Very well, Bruce. Then we plan without him.” She said.
“Hope personal grudges don’t get us killed.” Shayera folded her arms, muttering under her breath.
And no one answered.
_
The alien towered on the city’s building, stone raining down as the League fought with everything they had. It was a very chaotic battle.
Batman moved through the destruction, striking, setting off charges that only staggered the alien for moments at a time. He wasn’t as strong as the others, but his tactics made him dangerous.
As he was about to jump on it, the beast's massive arm swung like a wrecking ball and hit Bruce hard, making him flung across the skyline until his body smashed against a tower.
Bruce gasped, before the building crumbled around him. Some debris scattered, and there was no sign of him.
After a moment, he slowly emerged from the rubble, battered and bloodied, with his cape torn.
“Stay down, Bats!” Hal shouted, his ring glowing as he tried to cover him.
But Bruce refused to yield, so he ignored it. He spat the blood out of his mouth, holding his severed arm. He jumped back on top of the building—and suddenly, he stopped. A giant screen on the skyscraper turned on with a live broadcast from The Daily Planet. Clark was smiling at the camera with Lois as they interviewed the mayor next to them.
At that moment, Bruce didn’t feel the pain on his body, his mind was pulled to it. That heartbeat was all it took, before a giant fist swung above him and struck him across his head. He immediately lost consciousness and his body crumpled, grapple-gun slipping from his hand as he fell from the sky.
“BRUCE—!” Diana yelled as she launched forward.
Hal dove after his falling body as well. But before they could reach him, the alien caught his limp body, curling him in its grip like a broken doll. Then a burst of searing light swallowed them both, and the two vanished in a blink.
Diana stopped, staring at the empty air with horror. Next to her, Shayera’s wings flared wide, disbelief shown on her face. The place was a ruin of smoke and debris. They went silent, letting what had just happened sinking in.
Their teammate, their strategist, their Batman…was gone.
They regrouped on the fractured remains of the tower building. Diana’s shoulders sagged, her sword still in her hand. A moment later, a familiar rush of air stirred the smoke, and a red cape hero appeared. Superman hovered before them, his eyes scanning the mess.
“Why didn't you call me? You were fighting this thing without me?” Clark landed hard, the ground cracking beneath his boots.
His eyes darted over each of them, but they just looked at him with a defeated expression.
“You risked this mission without me as a backup.” He sounded confused. “What were you all thinking?”
“It wasn’t my call.” Hal’s jaw tightened.
Clark turned, eyes narrowing.
“Then whose—”
He suddenly stopped when he saw the look on Diana’s face.
“…where is Bruce?” He asked.
The three exchanged glances, then Diana finally.
“He’s been taken, Clark…”
Clark stiffened, the words didn’t quite register in his brain.
“What do you mean taken…?”
“That monster grabbed him, and they just—disappeared.” Hal said.
Clark’s eyes widened and his heart stopped, his cape snapping into the wind. He was agape for an awful moment, then he turned furious.
“Hal—you let him get taken?! You guys went into this without me, and now he’s—”
Clark shouted, his fists trembling with force.
“…Bruce.” His voice cracked.
Superman, the symbol of hope, was shattered.
Diana stepped forward to try to calm him down.
“Clark. Listen to me. We don’t know where they have gone, but we will find him.”
Clark looked at her, and tears started to pour down his face. His chest squeezed as if something was pressing his air ways.
Clark didn’t care if he had to tear apart every planet in this galaxy, because he would burn the cosmos itself to find his Bruce. And nothing could stop him.
_
After that day, they have been searching non stop, but every time, the trail of the alien went cold. The Hall of Justice felt quieter without him.
Amidst of that, Clark couldn't sleep at all. Everywhere he went, he carried the ache of not finding Bruce. The rest of the League was worried about him, and they could see it in the way he threw punches a little harder than before. It was not the gentle Clark they knew. The helplessness was eating him alive.
One normal day, Metropolis erupted in chaos as flying robots flew into the city. They spat fire on the building, and civilians screamed as buildings caught fire. The League moved in fast and they fought them per pair.
Clark shot lasers on them, and one attacker drew his focus immediately. The person was wearing a black helmet, his flight gear cutting through the air like wings. His gloves were reinforced with metal, and he dove toward a big hotel building, blasting windows apart.
“STOP THIS!” Clark screamed out loud.
The villain turned around after hearing him, and his head snapping toward the Man of Steel. He immediately rocketed forward, and his first punch landed on Clark’s jaw. The superhero’s head snapped to the side, a trail of blood smeared on his mouth. The villain didn’t stop, and hammered Clark with blow after blow. The metal gloves sparking against his skin.
The two of them clashed in the sky, colliding with enough force to rattle nearby buildings. Each strike from the villain was calculated, vicious, and almost personal—as if he was trained to fight him.
Clark’s eyes narrowed, chest heaving. He caught the guy's arm and gripped him hard.
“Who are you?” He asked.
Whoever it was, they weren’t ordinary.
The villain punched him again, driving Superman backward. Clark shoved himself free, but the figure slipped aside with uncanny reflexes. His movements were tactical…almost familiar.
Clark grimaced, spitting blood, the taste bitter on his tongue.
Below, civilians ran for safety, but one woman stumbled down and was trapped beneath a slab of concrete.
Clark’s eyes snapped toward her, but before he could dive, the black-helmeted guy blocked his path.
“Get out of my way!” Clark’s chest heaved with rage, blood boiling.
He shot intense lasers from his eyes, and his opponent raised an arm to block, but the lasers struck directly at his helmet. The protection shrieked, and the mask split into two.
Clark’s heart stopped, as it revealed the face beneath. The person he had searched for weeks was standing in front of him.
“…Bruce?” His tone was raw and breaking.
Clark just froze, all the fight drained from him in an instant.
His love's face was bruised all over, his pale skin barely recognizable. But what was the most shocking was—his eyes. Bruce's eyes were now glowing red. It looked alien and unnatural.
Bruce’s crimson eyes locked onto Clark. It was cold and emotionless. Clark’s chest tightened.
Was he hypnotized? Or controlled?
He was the enemy.
Hal, Barry, Diana, and Shayera soon arrived after they defeated the robots. That was the moment they saw him.
“No way…Tell me I’m not seeing this.” Hal’s face went pale.
“That’s Bruce.” Shayera mumbled.
Bruce with crimson eyes burning like fire. In an instant, Diana recognized what the others feared.
“He’s being controlled.”
Clark couldn’t move, his jaw still ached. Bruce launched faster than before. He raised his fist, but Clark didn’t block. The blow landed on his stomach, sending him straight to a billboard.
“Clark!” Hal shouted, diving to cover him with a green shield.
But Clark pushed past it, stumbling back with wide eyes.
“No! Don’t hurt him!”
“Clark, look at him!” Shayera snapped. “That’s not him anymore!”
Clark’s chest hurt at her words.
“I don’t care! I’ll get him back…”
Clark stayed in the air, paralyzed. He was staring at the man he loved. Bruce didn’t hesitate and attacked mercilessly, as if Clark was nothing but a target to eliminate. Clark blocked as best he could, but Bruce’s knuckles struck his jaw, ribs, and stomach. A rhythm of violence he knew too well.
The League was torn between charging in and holding back, since Clark looked utterly powerless with Bruce’s fists charging at him.
“Damn it—There’s tech all over his suit. But I’m picking up one extra signal at the back of his neck.” Hal paused. “Looks like a microchip.”
“Yes, of course.” Diana said grimly. “Something small enough to take control.”
“Then we cut it out!” Shayera suggested.
“Not while he’s moving like that! He’s faster than ever.” Diana shot back.
At the same moment, Clark got up from the cracked concrete of the building. And he looked up at his ex lover.
“Bruce…” He called.
Another punch came and he let it hit him, refusing to fight back. Each one broke Clark more on the inside than the outside.
“Babe… please stop this.” He pleaded. “You hurt innocent people.”
The crimson eyes stared back at him, empty.
“Please. It’s me, Clark. I miss you so badly since we broke up.”
His eyes glistened, his words tumbling out between gasps.
“I really regret it. I let fear pull us apart, and Lois was a mistake. I only got with her, because I wanted to make you jealous.”
Bruce’s fist slammed into his gut, and Clark spat blood. But he caught his arm, holding it firmly so as not to hurt him. It was just to stop him from disappearing again.
“I don’t care what they have done to you. You’re still the man I loved…”
Overhead, Diana tightened her lasso, ready to strike.
“Hold him, Clark!” She shouted at him. “We will free him.”
Clark looked at her with his bloodied face. He hesitated at first, but then he wrapped his arms around Bruce.
Bruce struggled to move, and Clark’s voice turned into a whisper only Bruce could hear: “I love you. I never stopped loving you.”
Diana threw her lasso like a streak of lightning, wrapping around Bruce’s torso. The man thrashed violently, his crimson eyes blazing as he struggled against it. Clark held him tight, wincing with every movement.
“Now, Hal!” Diana shouted.
His ring flared, scanning until it pinpointed the small device embedded at the base of Bruce’s neck.
“Got it. Hang on, this is going to sting.”
A concentrated beam of emerald energy was fired hitting the chip, and the effect was instant and agonizing. Bruce arched violently, and a pained scream ripped through his throat. His voice was broken, and filled with agony. Every muscle was seizing, his fists clawing against Clark’s chest as he tore himself free from the invisible chains.
“It’s almost done, baby. Hang in there.” Clark tightened his grip, his own voice cracking.
The scream tore through the city, until it finally broke into ragged gasps. A small smoke rose from the back of his neck, where the chip had been destroyed. His crimson eyes dimmed, then faded back into their natural blue.
All the strength left his body, and Bruce went limp in Clark’s arms.
Clark’s hands trembled as he adjusted Bruce in his embrace as they reached the ground. Every bruise showed the torment he had endured. Bruce’s head fell backwards, his heartbeat slowly fading.
Hot tears started to blur Clark’s vision, spilling down his cheeks. He pressed a kiss on Bruce’s temple, and his lips.
“Please, open your eyes… I can’t lose you this time.” Clark panicked. “Stay with me.”
“Clark, you need to get him to the Watchtower. Now!” Hal said.
Clark didn’t budge, his arms only tightened around Bruce’s fragile frame. His vision blurred with tears he couldn’t stop. Bruce was not breathing enough, and he was slipping away.
A tear also slipped from the corner of Bruce’s closed eye, and Clark froze.
He buried his face against Bruce’s neck, reduced to nothing more than a man begging for his lover to live.
“Clark! Are you listening to us—?!” Diana shouted this time.
“I can’t leave him… He’s cold.” Clark trembled.
“Kal. Listen to me.” Diana knelt beside him. “You have to take him. So now—You fly.”
She had never seen him this broken and terrified. Clark was still crying, but he forced himself to nod. His arms tightened around Bruce’s unconscious body, and with a burst of speed, he shot toward the sky.
The League watched him vanish into the air.
_
The medical room had never been so tense. Clark crashed through the doors, carrying Bruce's battered body.
“Help him, please…” He pleaded.
The doctor was already at the console, summoning the automated med pods. Clark laid Bruce down on the white bed, hands trembling as he tried to adjust him. The med team then arrived.
“We need to remove his armor. It’s restricting his breathing.” The doctor shouted.
Clark tore away the armor, and forced the stubborn pieces free. What was revealed beneath made everyone freeze. The dark knight's body was a map of torment, with deep bruises on his ribs, ugly burns on his thighs, and deep cuts on his skin. Old wounds layered beneath fresh ones. And scars that had barely begun to heal reopened again. These were evidence of months of cruelty inflicted by whoever captured him.
Clark’s breath hitched, and he pressed a trembling hand to Bruce’s chest. He barely felt his heartbeat. Bruce's lashes lay against his swollen cheeks.
“Oh god.”
Diana arrived, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Kal, he fought to hold on long enough for us to reach him. So now you fight to stay strong for him.”
Clark's thumb brushed gently against Bruce’s bruised jaw.
“You suffered so much because of me.” Clark pressed a kiss on the back of Bruce’s hand. “Just don’t leave me yet, baby.”
The med team worked quickly, with machines surrounding them. Then Clark left the room with Diana.
_
Bruce lay motionless on the bed, his chest rising with the help of the machines keeping his broken body alive. With Bruce’s fragile breaths, Clark barely left his side. Bruce’s body was fighting, from bones to scars. It was agonizingly slow.
Clark barely moved, barely ate. In fact, he never left his post. His hand was always there to intertwine with Bruce’s fingers. Occasionally brushing a strand of hair from his bruised face.
Hours turned into days, and he watched the monitors non stop, as if it could drag Bruce back to him.
Sometimes, he whispered: “You’re the strongest man I know. Stronger than me, stronger than anyone.”
Sometimes, he confessed: “I thought you hated me when I ended our relationship. But all I did was lose you. Then it feels like I could breathe.”
Sometimes, when the silence got too heavy, he just sat with his forehead pressed to Bruce’s hand: “Come back to me, baby. I’m not me without you.”
For days, the Justice got worried, but none of them had the heart to pull him away. And Hal muttered something about stubborn idiots in love.
_
Back at Metropolis, Lois was at her desk, typing, she stopped the moment she saw the look on Clark’s face.
“Lois.” Clark began, his voice low.
She put the laptop aside and crossed her arms.
“You’ve been gone for days. I figured it wasn’t just the League keeping you busy.”
“I need to tell you something I should have said earlier.” He swallowed hard.
Her lips pressed together, bracing herself.
“It’s about him, isn’t it?”
Clark froze.
“…you knew?”
“I’m a reporter, Clark. Every time you looked at me, I could see your heart was somewhere else.”
Clark’s shoulders slumped, guilt eating him.
“I’m sorry, Lois. I never meant to hurt you. You’ve been nothing but kind, patient, and wonderful. And I was trying to fill a void that I couldn’t ignore.”
“I know. But you still love him.” Lois’s eyes softened.
“I do.” Clark’s throat tightened. “And pretending with you…was selfish of me.”
Lois exhaled, shaking her head with a bittersweet smile.
“Seven years is not something you forget overnight, Clark. Deep down, I knew I was always second place in your heart.”
“And you deserve better than that…”
Lois deserved the world, but his world had always been Bruce.
“No.” She corrected him. “I deserved the truth sooner, but I understand.”
She reached for her coffee mug to keep herself busy rather than to drink.
“Go to him. Don’t waste another second here.”
“Thank you.” Clark gave her a smile.
Lois gave him one last pat on the shoulder, her strength shining through her heartbreak.
“You look better when you smile genuinely. Now go, before I change my mind and write a front-page piece calling you an idiot.”
Clark gave a shaky laugh.
_
Later, Clark was in the corridor, speaking with Diana. He told her about Lois and how he felt lighter now.
At the same time, Bruce’s body was lying in his hospital gown. Only the normal beep of the monitor was heard in the room. Clark’s voice was echoing in the hallway, and the sheets shifted a bit.
With eyes still closed, Bruce’s finger twitched slightly. Slowly a pained groan weakly escaped his throat. He stirred a bit and his entire body ached, every wound screamed as he tried to move. The med machines started to beep fast as a warning.
Bruce's eyes shot open and looked around, disoriented. He gritted his teeth as he forced himself off the bed. With just one step, his knees buckled instantly, and he crashed to the cold floor. A painful cry tore out his throat.
Clark heard his voice and quickly entered the room. He arrived in a rush, heart beating fast and his eyes immediately widened.
“Please don’t move, baby. Your body isn’t ready yet.” Clark dropped beside Bruce.
Bruce whimpered, his face twisting in pain.
“Don’t—don’t touch me.” He shoved Clark’s chest weakly. “I hate you!”
His voice sounded broken. Clark stiffened, color drained from his face. The words struck harder than he thought.
Diana followed after him, and her eyes widened with worry.
Clark quickly lifted a hand to stop her.
“You can’t mean that.” Clark tried to caress Bruce. “You’re my everything, Bruce. I know I was a fucking idiot, and I always make the worst decision.”
Bruce refused to meet Clark’s eyes, his body trembling. His legs wiggled as he forced himself to push upright, but his body was far too weak to obey.
Bruce punched Clark’s chest. It was weak and unsteady, the blow barely a tap against Clark’s solid frame.
“Don’t you dare act like apologies can fix everything.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Clark begged.
Bruce shivered, his fist lingering against Clark’s chest. Clark caught his wrist gently, not to touch his wounds.
The tall man stared at Bruce’s face and that was when he saw tears swelling in the other's eyes.
“You broke my heart twice, Clark. You didn’t just leave me… you replaced me, as if seven years meant nothing to you.”
His tears freely spilled down his cheeks.
Clark shook his head quickly.
“That’s not true.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again.”
Bruce's fist was still pressed against Clark’s chest. His strength drained, and exhaustion overtook him. His hand slowly slipped and he slumped against the cold tiles, his tears staining the floor.
Clark panicked and attempted to carry him, but Bruce tried to shove him off with all the energy he had left.
“I told you to leave me alone!”
Clark could hear anger and heartbreak in his voice.
“You can push me and do whatever you have to, but I’m not leaving you.” Clark stated firmly. “I will make sure you recover. And I’ll stay until you can stand on your own.”
Bruce’s lips trembled, and he turned his face away, too hurt to let Clark see it.
Clark carefully slipped his arm under Bruce’s body, and lifted him easily. Bruce whimpered, weak fists pressing against his own chest.
Clark settled him back onto the bed, and Bruce turned his face toward the wall.
“Alright. Just rest for now.” Clark said.
He would always stay by his side, even if all Bruce hated him now.
_
At night, Clark was slumped in the chair beside the bed, exhaustion dragged him into sleep. Bruce lay on the bed, his body aching. He despised the way Clark refused to leave. And he told himself to stay angry, but the moment he turned his head and saw Clark asleep, his walls cracked.
He stared at Clark's face, and noticed the bags under his eyes. Did he stay by his side this whole time? Bruce's throat suddenly burned, and he weakly pressed his hand to his mouth to muffle the sob that escaped. Then another followed, and another—until tears were fully streaming down his face.
“You idiot…” Bruce whispered under the sheets. “Why couldn’t you just love me right?”
He curled in, his tears soaking the pillow. Part of him hated Clark and wanted to shove him away forever. But with years of history, his heart was still beating for him.
Clark slowly stirred from the chair, his neck was stiff. He blinked due to the sudden bright light.
What pulled him awake wasn’t the discomfort, but the faint sound of a choked sob. Bruce was facing the wall, trying to muffle his voice.
“Bruce.” Clark stood up.
Bruce stiffened instantly.
“Go back to sleep.” Bruce told him.
Clark moved to the bedside, and sat behind him.
“You’re crying.”
“No. You’re imagining things.” Bruce swiped his face quickly.
But the pillow beneath him was already damp.
Clark reached out, and gently caressed his hair.
“You never have to hide from me. I love you too much for that.”
Bruce finally turned toward him, his cheeks red and wet. His pride unraveled despite himself, and he hitched a shaky breath.
“Then why did you leave me?”
The words cut Clark deep and shattered him. They stared at each other’s eyes.
“…I was afraid of not being enough for you. And I would never forgive myself for that mistake.”
Bruce shook his head. For a moment, he just stared at him, torn between pushing him away and pulling him close. His eyes were wet, only letting his tears fall silently as Clark sat beside him.
Minutes passed in silence, and Bruce finally whispered—so faint that Clark almost missed it.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
Clark swallowed hard and nodded.
“You won’t be. Never again.”
So carefully, Clark slipped into the sheets, and the bed creaked under their weight. Then he wrapped his arm around Bruce's waist, mindful of his bruises and bandages.
Bruce smelled his scent again, and he could finally relax after a long time. He finally let his defenses fall.
Clark pressed their forehead together, and happy tears were pouring down his closed eyes. His tears dampened Bruce’s hair as his voice broke against his ear.
“I’m sorry for everything. I can’t change the past, but I want to spend more years with you, for the rest of my life.”
Bruce’s body trembled, but he didn’t push him away this time. His hand shifted until it rested lightly over Clark’s arm, holding him there.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Clark’s grip tightened, his tears flowing freely now.
“I’ll keep this one. No matter what it takes.”
Clark leaned in, hesitating a breath away, giving Bruce the choice. But Bruce closed the gap, and their lips met softly.
It was a kiss of apology, trembling and slow. Clark’s hand cradled Bruce’s face, and Bruce’s weak fingers curled against Clark’s chest. He clung to the warmth he could never let go of.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a new beginning.
Bruce let himself lean into Clark’s kiss, soothed by his steady heartbeat. Clark was almost hovering over him, protective, and full of love.
Step by step, they were slowly finding their way back to each other.
_
The next day, the doors slid open with Diana, Hal, Barry, and Shayera standing by the entrance. They expected to see the same sight as the past week, Clark sitting in the cold chair, and Bruce pretending to be asleep.
This time, they were wrong, and the team froze.
Clark was perched on the edge of the bed, his hand resting over Bruce’s waist. Bruce was already awake, but he didn’t move away to let his ‘boyfriend’ sleep peacefully. Bruce still looked battered, but calmer. And there was a softness in his eyes none of them had seen in months.
“So—the patient finally admits he needs company?” Diana’s lips curved in a smile.
Bruce’s jaw twitched.
“Don’t start.”
Clark suddenly stirred, and chuckled softly against the pillow.
“He fought me all night..but he lost.”
Hal leaned against the doorway, whistling low.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Mom and Dad are back together.”
Clark’s ears flushed red instantly, and Bruce groaned in embarrassment.
“ We’re just glad to see you both together again. Please don’t do that again.” Shayera mumbled.
Clark glanced down at Bruce, meeting his gaze. Then Bruce squeezed Clark’s hand once, his cheeks faintly pink. Clark’s grin said everything words couldn’t.
The two leaned in for a kiss, and the League cleared their throat and pretended to look away. Clark shifted on the bed, and Shayera suddenly let out a surprised squeal, before she left the room in hurry. Hal blinked and turned around to look at the couple. Then he noticed Clark’s morning wood standing tall in his pajamas. And it was big—big.
They really didn’t need to see that side of him. The atmosphere shifted and they all left the room, giving some alone time to the couple. Clark just chuckled and his attention went back to Bruce.
“You look so pretty today.” Clark kissed his neck.
“I know what you want. And don't even think about it. My body still hurts.” Bruce warned him.
“I know that. I'm sad…little Clarkie missed you.” Clark pouted and sighed.
Bruce just rolled his eyes, and Clark just happily buried his face on his chest like a puppy.
THE END