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1
Jim considers himself to be a damn good detective. He’s nearing 15 years on the force and worked all the way up to commissioner. Observing is second nature, something he can never fully turn off.
Which is why when he sees the way this “Superman” looks at the Bat, Jim gets a funny feeling in his chest.
Superman emerged on the scene in Metropolis a little over a year ago. Between fears of what the alien was capable of and the base fact that he’s an actual alien, the first few weeks after his initial appearance was madness. He proved trustworthy in the end, becoming the golden boy of the city; a mascot of sorts.
Despite the proximity of the pair of cities, Jim never got the pleasure of meeting the guy.
Until today.
One of Lex Luthor’s stunts exited the bounds of Metropolis, crossing the bay and ending up in the upper west side of Gotham. The GCPD are, to be completely frank, useless in the matter. Gotham sees some crazy stuff, but nothing compared to what Metropolis gets up to. Thankfully with the combined effort of Superman and Gotham’s own Bat, the problem is solved in no time at all.
Now, the Bat can get territorial. There has been a long standing “No Metas in Gotham” rule. Jim fully expects to find Batman telling Superman off for invading his city, regardless of the help provided. Instead what he finds threatens to tip Jim’s world view on its axis.
Batman is standing, posture more relaxed than Jim has ever seen, arms crossed over his chest, talking to Superman. No reprimanding or scolding to be heard. They’re just… chatting like old pals. Hell, Superman is smiling at whatever that asshole is saying.
Then, a little like watching a car crash in slow motion and expecting the worst to come, Superman reaches out to lay a hand on Batman’s shoulder. Surely this is where things go down hill. In all of their years working together, Jim has never seen Batman react positively to or accept casual touch. Jim still maintains at least an arms length gap between them during meetings.
But no, it would seem tonight is the night of surprises. The Bat not only doesn’t rebuke the action, but leans into it. It’s a subtle shift that, unless you’ve known the guy and worked with him as closely as Jim has all these years, most would never notice. Superman notices the change, takes it as an invitation, and advances to sling his arm over Batman’s shoulders entirely. The action pulls the vigilante in slightly towards Superman’s side.
Superman responds to whatever the Bat was just saying, his smile shifting all the way to a blinding grin. Any more and Jim would expect the guy to actually start glowing.
From this new angle, Jim is able to see Superman’s expression fully.
There’s longing in those eyes. It’s thinly veiled. He either doesn’t know he’s looking at the Knight of Gotham like a kid meeting a celebrity crush or he doesn’t want to hide it. Only someone as emotionally dense as, say, Batman wouldn’t notice.
The poor soul.
2
A few short months after Jim’s first encounter with Superman, he comes face to face with Big Blue again. It isn’t a Metropolis issue invading Gotham this time. No, it’s a Gotham issue that Batman requests Superman’s assistance with.
Who the hell is this guy and what has he done with the real Bat?
Jim has to admit it was the right move. Even with Superman’s help the battle lasts for hours. Nonstop fighting to keep the giant mutated bug-like creatures from multiplying and spreading through the whole city.
In the end the majority of the damage is contained to a relatively small area. Despite this, the damage dealt in that area is brutal. Five hours of fighting bleed into another seven of search and rescue, now they’re entering hour six of cleanup. Fourteen hours strong and the end isn’t quite in sight.
Neither Superman or Batman have taken a real break from what Jim observes. More than once, the commissioner takes note of the Bat injecting himself with something and trying to hide it. Jim can only imagine what unholy concoction can be in those shots to keep a man operating at full capacity for so long.
Jim is standing with the Bat in comfortable silence. Superman somewhere nearby talking to the coordinators to get information on their next move. This particular building is damaged but still standing, the integrity of the structure is up in the air and if it’s safe to send anyone in.
Jim is startled out of his thoughts by a hand clamping on to his shoulder. He turns to see what the hell is going on only to watch as the Bat starts to drop like a sack of rocks.
“Oh shit!” Jim exclaims. He reaches out, hooking his arms under Batman’s in a poor attempt to keep him from hitting the ground as dead weight. The vigilante is crazy heavy with all the armor and gadgetry. Jim can’t keep this up for long. “Blue!”
Superman is with them in a blink, taking hold of Batman by the arms from behind.
“I’ve got him, you can let go.” The Kryptonian says as he lowers them both to the ground. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Jim starts, shaking the strain out of his arms. “We were standing here just fine one second and the next he was out. The only warning I got was him grabbing on to me.”
Superman has Batman in the recovery position, cowled head resting in his lap. He’s rubbing mindless circles into the downed vigilante's back through the kevlar plating. Jim doubts the man would even feel it. The entire scene is very intimate and if not for the sense of emergency Jim would feel like he’s intruding.
“I should have made him take a break sooner.” Superman sighs. “He’s just so stubborn.”
God, does Jim ever know that.
“Should we move this somewhere else?” Jim asks.
“Once he comes to. He won’t react well if he wakes up somewhere different.”
That’s a good point, Jim should have thought of that.
“I’ll see if I can find any water.” Jim says. “Be back in a few.”
Superman nods.
—
Jim returns to the pair in eight minutes, a sealed bottle of water in hand. It would seem they don’t have to wait long for their downed ally to resurface.
Batman hasn’t moved from his position half on the ground and half in Superman’s lap. The Kryptonian has one hand on Batman’s shoulder, keeping him still, and the other is holding onto the vigilante’s loosely curled hand. He’s asking gentle questions, voice low.
“Can you squeeze my hand at all?” A brief pause. “Good job. One for ‘no’ two for ‘yes’, okay?”
Two distinct flexes of a gloved hand.
“Can you remember what happened?”
Two.
“Okay, would you like to stay here for a minute? Get your bearings?”
One hard squeeze. Superman sighs through his nose.
“I’m not letting you rejoin the efforts any time soon. I’ll be taking you somewhere quiet and watching you to make sure you rest.”
A discontent grunt.
“Well that’s too bad. Now, can you walk on your own?”
One, hesitantly.
“That’s alright. I can help.”
Superman turns to look at Jim as he finishes approaching.
“I found some water, think he can take it?”
“Not quite yet. I’d like to get him somewhere quiet first. Do you know of anywhere nearby?”
Batman mumbles something before Jim can respond. The commissioner can’t puzzle together what he says, but Superman does.
“If that’s what you want I’ll get you there.”
Two squeezes, much more control this time.
Like he’s picking up something precious, Superman gently rearranges them to scoop Batman into a bridal carry.
“Here.” Jim offers up the bottle of water. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything else stupid.”
Superman takes the water in the hand of the arm supporting the vigilante’s legs.
“I’ll do my best.” He smiles, soft and genuine.
The pair are gone in a blink. Jim is left standing alone in the streets, surrounded by half cleared rubble.
Jim feels a little better knowing there’s someone looking after that weirdo.
3
Jim sees the Bat three days later and they don’t talk about the blackout incident again. Jim doesn’t know how to bring it up and it’s not like the vigilante would provide any intelligible response. He seems steady on his feet and aware of his surroundings. Jim also trusts that Superman wouldn’t have let him out of his sight if he wasn’t back to 100%.
They’re discussing plans for cleaning up going forward, what needs their attention the most. More so Jim is talking and Batman is grunting and humming occasionally.
Twenty minutes in there’s a soft ping from Batman’s direction. Jim stops in his pacing to turn to the sound. Batman has produced a burner phone from one of the dozens of visible and invisible pockets on his person. He looks at the screen for a moment before typing out a response.
“Are you… texting right now?” Jim asks dumbly.
Batman at least has the decency to look almost guilty.
“Who is it?” Jim hesitates.
A beat.
“Superman.”
“Is it about a case? Anything I should know?”
“...No.”
Oh, they’re texting now. They’ve graduated from making eyes at each other and standing atoms apart to casual messaging.
“Um, as I was saying—”
Jim is going to continue and pretend he can’t hear the little clicks of buttons.
Kids these days.
4
Things have officially graduated from ‘could reasonably be Just Friends’ behavior to ‘utterly ridiculous’.
Jim lights the signal hoping to hand off a new case file. The GCPD has been firing on all cylinders the last few weeks and less urgent matters are starting to fall through the cracks. Jim doesn’t want them to sit until the trails go cold. These are still people, living or deceased, that need someone in their corner. He knows the Bat appreciates a straight forward assignment every now and then. Jim expects to have the case back in hand and solved before the week is out.
“—just don’t get it!” Sounds like Batman isn’t alone. So much for a simple hand-off. “It makes no sense! I’m not even old!”
“Sounds like something an old man would say.” The Bat’s voice is steady as ever.
Jim counts to ten silently.
Finally, the pair make an appearance. Batman swings down from the ledge above, landing on the rooftop without a sound. Superman floats after him a moment later looking frazzled.
“I just think some people could learn to show a little more respect, that's all.” Superman is pouting, legitimately pouting.
“To their elders, for example?”
“Exact— hey!”
Batman opens his mouth again, clearly eager to keep stirring the pot. The Kryptonian is quick to press a hand over the uncovered portion of the other’s face to stop the comment. He recoils a moment later.
“Did you just lick my hand?” Batman does not respond to the accusation. “How old are you? Five?”
Jim sees the moment Superman’s eyes light up with an idea, mischief blinding. He reaches out, holding Batman’s head in strong hands to pull him closer, and leans in to lick a steady stripe from his jaw to just below his eye.
“Eugh!” The sound of genuine disgust catches Jim off guard. Bats does his best to shove the immovable force back, hands firm on the other’s chest. “Kal! What would your mother say?”
Okay, as entertaining as this is, Jim doesn’t have all night.
“Boys!” He calls. “How about you respect this elder and move things along?”
Superman— Kal, he supposes, slumps in defeat. Batman looks entirely unaffected.
Brats, both of them.
5
The cases with kids are always the hardest. No matter how many years you work in the force, the scenes with little bodies on the ground never stop stinging deep in your chest. Jim and a handful of officers arrive at the warehouse as the sun is setting expecting something gruesome.
He knows the Bat was here. His tips are always put in anonymously with just enough information to get them where they need to go. Jim is prepared for the usual routine. They arrive at the location of the incident, do what they need to do, and he’ll have a debrief with Batman in a few days.
This time is different.
As Jim approaches he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. There’s a pair of figures sitting on the far end of the roof mostly concealed by shadow. If not for the distinct spot of bright blue and red along with Jim’s habit of looking up for any sign of the Bat the duo would have gone unnoticed.
They sit at the edge, legs dangling over. Batman looks particularly deflated and vulnerable in a way Jim deems unsettling. Superman is pulling him close, both arms around the vigilante, head resting on an armored shoulder.
Jim does his best to not draw any attention their way. It’s clear they need the moment alone to process what’s waiting inside. Jim wonders for one terrible moment if Batman used to cope with these kinds of scenes alone. He certainly never confided in Jim about them.
Clear evidence of a trafficking ring awaits him inside the rundown warehouse. They find no survivors, only a dozen cold bodies of kids no older than Babs. They all shed a few professional tears and share a moment of silence.
Jim dreads delivering the news to the families.
There’s no one on the roof when the processing and bagging is done a few hours later.
+1
Jim manages to corner Superman.
The commissioner takes a day trip to Metropolis, using one of his rare weekends when he isn’t on call to set his plan into motion.
He wanders for a while, scoping out the best place to get this over with. Eventually he finds a quiet alley tucked behind a bakery. It’s away from the busy streets and listening ears. The smell doesn’t make his eyes water. It’ll have to do.
Standing tall, hands in his pockets, Jim calls out.
“Superman!”
The bold red and blue figure appears before the minute on Jim’s watch can tick over. He catches Jim’s gaze instantly before spinning on the spot to look for the problem.
“Commissioner Gordon? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, you tell me.” Jim cannot believe he’s doing this.
“Um?” Superman has that lost puppy looks in his eyes he tends to have when following Batman around.
Jim takes a fortifying breath. What is his life anymore?
“What are your intentions with the Bat?”
Superman flinches, full body. “Woah!”
“I’d do the whole ‘you hurt him I hurt you’ speech but I think he can manage on his own just fine.” Jim tries to be nonchalant. He practiced in the mirror before he made the trip out. One would think someone with as much life experience as him would be able to go into this without a care in the world. Dealing with Batman all these years has given him a thread of patience longer than anyone should ever need. He interrogates the lowest of the low society has to offer on the weekly. Unsurprisingly, none of this was enough to fully prepare him for having a heart to heart with the Man of Steel in an alley.
“Is this— are you giving me a shovel talk right now?”
Jim ignores him and continues. “I guess this is more my way of asking you to not scare him off. You’re damn good for him. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s been a hell of a lot less gloomy since you came along. You make him act a little stupid, but I think that’s a good thing. That big brain of his needs to slow down sometime before it shortcircuits. Lord knows the kid needs friends that aren’t an older-than-dirt police commissioner.”
Superman is flushed a cherry red that makes his suit look dull.
“So, yeah. Be nice to him or maybe consider moving to another galaxy.”
Superman’s feet leave the ground, hovering just a few inches above the stained asphalt.
“I… I think I’m gonna go?” His voice catches in his throat, sounding a little pathetic.
“Oh, and use protection!” Jim shouts at his retreating back.
“Commissioner!”
—
“What did you do to Kal?”
Damnit, the big blue eyesore tattled.
“Hello to you too.”
“Gordon.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Jim holds his hands up placatingly. “We just had a little chat.”
“That is so much worse.” He sounds decidedly un-Batman-like, a hint of desperation leaking into his tone.
“Look, I just gave him a little push in the right direction. I was getting tired of watching you two dance around each other. I know you sure as shit wouldn’t be doing anything about it.”
“Is that why he keeps bringing flowers?” The Bat hisses. “He’s trying to— to woo me?”
“Well? Did it work?” Jim is already six feet under at this point. He might as well keep digging and get everything he possibly can out of this. “Have you been sufficiently wooed?”
“I was already wooed!” The admission sounds like it hurts the guy a bit. The poor repressed soul. This is the most emotion and words Jim has ever heard from him at once.
“You should tell the big guy that before he starts skywriting or rents a billboard.”
Face firmly in his hands, Bats sighs. It may as well have been a scream.
“Fine.”
Jim looks down to light a cigarette. He’s alone by the time he fishes the lighter out of his pocket.
Damn good detective and a relationship counselor.
He needs to get paid more.