Castle (Heart) of Glass

Disclaimer:

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice belongs to DC Comics. This fic contains slash, so if it's not to your tastes, feel free to hit the back button now. I only own this little idea. Thank you.

Full Summary:

[Oneshot – Batman V Superman AU] [Part 1 of Jar of (Broken) Hearts series] It had probably, no, it had definitely been doomed from the start. But for once, Clark had wanted to be selfish, to cling to the happiness he'd found in such an unlikely place. He was used to being overlooked, or only picked out because of some undefinable otherness. He'd rarely ever been noticed for himself, as Clark Kent, and he'd thought this was different. But it wasn't.

When this had all started, he had thought that it was too good to be true. It had probably- no, it had definitely been doomed from the start. But he hadn't been able to keep his distance, in part because of the sheer magnetism and charisma that was Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, in part because it had been a completely new sensation to be noticed in a positive manner as Clark Kent… and probably, it had also been because he had desperately wanted to believe that he could have the happiness that he'd found in such an unlikely place.

He had met Bruce at a LexCorp party. It hadn't been the best first meeting, not by a long shot. So it had been with great surprise that, when he'd managed to slip away, after spending an appropriate amount of time doing his job, he'd encountered Bruce Wayne yet again. At the time, he'd thought it had been some strange, whimsical twist of fate that the reason why he'd wanted to leave as early as he could would also be the reason why his escape was interrupted.

That first encounter with Bruce Wayne had affected Clark, with the biting tone undercutting all of Bruce's words about Superman, while still maintaining a whisper-thin veneer of civility. It was nothing like what he'd read about the billionaire scion, about the playboy wastrel with a different starlet hanging off his arm at any public event both in and outside of Gotham. Then one of his wards had been killed by the Joker, and Bruce Wayne had disappeared off the socialite scene for a very, very long time. So perhaps Clark shouldn't have been too surprised that he hadn't recognized Bruce immediately, because he hadn't seen the vapid playboy in the man that had exited the car. It was as if the second tragedy to hit his life had once again played a huge role in shaping Bruce Wayne.

Clark couldn't place what exactly he'd thought he'd seen, but it had gnawed at him relentlessly, and that made him approach Bruce in the manner that he had. The moment he'd approached Bruce to pursue the topic of Gotham's vigilante, it had almost been like stepping into a treacherous cave, and Bruce was the predator that made its home there, woe betide the foolish person who dared trespass. He had briefly wondered if anyone had seen this side of the billionaire, before getting caught up in the verbal spar they were subtly engaging in.

So with all of that that had happened, Clark hadn't believed that it wasn't anything more than sheer, unfortunate coincidence that had Wayne's limousine pulling up in front of him as he was about to leave. Then Bruce Wayne had slid the down the back window and invited him to chat. He had been doubtful, but also knew that not only would Perry kill him if he caught wind that Clark had been offered a private one-on-one chat with the now-elusive Bruce Wayne and turned it down, Lois would too. So he let the reporter in him jump at the chance, while the rest of him remained wary.

But he hadn't been cautious enough. Or Bruce was just too good at playing everyone around him. Because how had anyone believed for years and years that Bruce was just another brainless playboy was beyond Clark. He had been shown a highly intelligent, tremendously charismatic Bruce Wayne that night in the car and then back in the Wayne penthouse in Metropolis. And while they had still disagreed regarding vigilantes (really all a thin disguise to try to hide that they were really discussing about Superman and Batman), Bruce had raised some valid points, and it had been one of the most mentally stimulating and thought-provoking conversations he had had in some time.

From that night onwards, he'd started a strange sort of friendship with Bruce Wayne. Bruce saw the world differently from him, and his insights had proven to be very helpful to Clark, both as himself and as Superman.

If their relationship had stayed as an unlikely friendship, then it would have hurt less than it did now.

If only.

He had been entirely unsuspecting of Bruce's play. Because how did one resist the gravitational pull that Bruce Wayne exerted when he was at his most charismatic, at his most passionate? Even then, the blame didn't lie solely on Bruce. There had always been a part of Clark that had wanted to be noticed by others. Not for that undefinable otherness that the people of Smallville had somehow detected even when he was just a child coming to terms with how to cope with his enhanced senses and developing abilities. Not like how the public saw him as Superman. Not even as how Lois saw him, because even she had only started chasing down his identity after bearing witness to his superhuman abilities.

It was an unfair thought, but it would've been a lot simpler if he had met Bruce before he'd broken up – amicably, but a break up nonetheless – with Lois.

For once, Clark had thought that someone had been interested in him as Clark Kent, intrepid reporter for the Daily Planet, and had wanted to actually get to know him. To know the side of him that wasn't Superman, and also wasn't the Clark Kent he showed to the people who didn't know of his super-powered alter-ego. And Bruce, Bruce was something special. He couldn't adequately describe it, but being with Bruce was a thrill all on its own. He was always caught between flying and falling, and well, he couldn't be Superman without having a part of him that was a little bit of an adrenaline junkie. It had all seemed like a perfect combination, and he had been so happy.

In the end, it had all been wishful thinking. Such a beautiful but ephemeral dream that made reality all the harsher now that his blissful bubble had been brutally burst.

He had ignored the warning signs. The feelings of something not quite matching up. Of how Clark had always been the one to instigate acts of intimacy. Oh, not the physical intimacy, not sex. Because if there was one thing the tabloids got right about Bruce Wayne, it was that he was very, very good at sex, and could charm the pants off of anyone when he set his mind to it. If anything, sexual intimacy was the only form of intimacy that Clark didn't have to actively initiate, and at first, he'd thought it was because that was how Bruce had always operated. Now, he knew better.

On the flip side, it had been like pulling teeth from a wildly temperamental sabertooth tiger to get personal information out of Bruce, especially anything with regards to his family that wasn't already public knowledge. In the beginning, he'd attributed it to whatever amount of PR training Bruce had to have been exposed to, being the Wayne family scion and then the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Growing up in the spotlight of the media as he had, being careful not to give out too much personal details would've been drilled into him. But then they'd started dating, and Bruce was still as taciturn about much of his personal life.

Now, Clark could see that Bruce had always diverted his questions or lead-ins masterfully, leaving Clark none the wiser. At the very most, Bruce would drop the barest of hints and Clark had lapped all of those tiny tidbits of information up in the hopes that one day, Bruce would trust him to share more of himself. He hadn't found it odd that Bruce didn't want to be seen in public with him. Their relationship had been really new, after all. Plus, Clark had assumed that it was because of how Bruce was always in the public eye and being seen together with another man would be bad. Maybe not because it meant that Bruce was bisexual (if anything, Gotham was far more accepting of alternate lifestyles than the general populace of America), but because there would always be people who would speculate whether Bruce had made himself the legal guardian of orphaned boys with questionable intentions in mind. Clearly, that hadn't been the case; Bruce just hadn't intended for their relationship to be a true one from the very beginning.

Thinking back, there were few things that he truly knew about Bruce. Even for Kryptonians on Earth, it seemed like hindsight was twenty-twenty.

Clark had made up his mind. Tonight, he would tell Bruce the truth. He would tell Bruce that he was Superman and… and… hope for the best. Honestly, he had no idea what Bruce would do with that revelation and none of the scenarios he'd imagined had been particularly good. But he couldn't bear to keep it from Bruce any longer. Bruce was fast becoming a very important person in his life, and he hated lying to him, even if by omission. Especially since Superman wasn't a person whom Bruce particularly liked. Clark had been selfish long enough. He needed to give Bruce the choice of whether he would still want to be together with Clark after knowing that he and Superman were one and the same.

They were in Metropolis, back in the very same penthouse where it had all began. It felt fitting to have it come full circle, and Clark hoped it would also be a sign of good things to come. Especially since Bruce had agreed to them meeting up in Metropolis instead of Gotham. Clark had very quickly realized that Bruce truly loved his city, and would more often than not, choose not to spend the night outside of Gotham. So it was kind of a minor miracle in itself that he'd managed to convince Bruce to stay over in Metropolis after his business meeting.

Tonight, Clark was wearing his uniform underneath his normal clothes, something which he hadn't done since that first night he had met Bruce. He'd always meticulously removed anything that identified him as Superman whenever he met with Bruce – well, the ones he knew beforehand anyway. Bruce had the tendency to show up on a whim every so often, such were the ways of a billionaire used to getting his way no matter the situation.

He was nervous, to say the least. He badly wanted Bruce to be okay with it. He hoped that if Bruce knew that he was Superman, then maybe he could see that Superman wasn't the threat Bruce viewed him as. Maybe he would also see that since Clark had gotten to know Bruce, Superman had become even more conscious of collateral damage, be it human lives or human livelihoods. Maybe he would understand that Superman was not a remote, godlike being who stood above the rest of humanity and could not empathize with the cares of people he protected. Perhaps it would take time for Bruce to come to terms with his identity, but he hoped that it would be a positive outcome all the same.

Dinner was simple but delicious takeout from a Chinese restaurant, but Clark couldn't honestly say if he had actually registered the taste any of the food. There was a sort of tension in the air, and he wasn't sure if it was just his own nerves or if Bruce had picked up on it and was also projecting his own tension back. Conversation was slightly stilted, and Bruce kept shooting him dark, unreadable looks whenever he thought Clark wasn't looking. He was fairly certain that Bruce knew something was up.

When they were finally done with dinner, Clark made to clean up and dispose of the takeout containers, hoping to use the time to compose himself. But that part of the plan was thwarted.

"Clark, sit down. That can be cleaned up later," Bruce said, his tone quiet but firm. "Is there… Is something the matter? You were quite distracted."

So Bruce had picked up on his nerves. But well, this was as good an opening as he could get. Best to make use of it.

"I… I have something to tell you."

Bruce tilted his head slightly, conveying "Go on, I'm listening" effectively without actually speaking.

"I know I should have told you sooner, but I wasn't sure if we were… if something was going to come out of our friendship. Then we started dating and… and I think it is past the right time for me to tell you a secret of mine that not many people are privy to."

He was watching Bruce's face intently as he spoke, so Clark saw the moment that the mild curiosity in Bruce's blue eyes was wiped away and a perfectly blank mask fell over his features. When Bruce got like this, Clark had always had the hardest of times reading anything from him. Tonight was no exception, and it made his already wound up nerves pull even tighter. Still, the only way forward was through, and so he continued.

"I'm Superman," he said, making sure to not break eye contact with Bruce as he forced the words past his lips. It was such a simple phrase, but he'd never said it to anybody in his civilian identity. Not anybody who hadn't already known about it, and there were only a handful of people who fit into that category.

He waited for a reaction from Bruce. But the other man's face was still completely unreadable, the only change being that he could hear Bruce's heart rate pick up just a little. As the silence dragged on by the seconds, confusion started to creep in… confusion and suspicion.

"Bruce?" Clark just barely managed to suppress a wince at how his voice actually wavered.

"I know."

To Bruce's credit, he did not look away from Clark as he made his calm but earth-shattering declaration.

"You… knew?" Clark knew it wasn't possible, but he was desperately hoping that his super-hearing was faulty. Just this one time. "Since…?"

"Since the very beginning."

With that simple proclamation, Bruce cast a whole new light on all of their past interactions, and it sent Clark reeling. Bruce knew all along that he was Superman. From that very first meeting, Bruce had stood there and had told Clark exactly what he thought about Superman, all the while knowing he was speaking to Superman in person. He hadn't shown the slightest hint of fear, not even his heartbeat had betrayed him; Clark hadn't detected a thing. And for Bruce to have approached Clark later… deliberately…

It shouldn't be possible, but he was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, never mind the fact that he could survive in space, in an airless vacuum. There was a crushing sensation in his chest, concentrating over where his heart was.

He didn't know what sort of expression he was wearing on his face, and Bruce was as unreadable as ever. Bruce was… not the Bruce he thought he knew. Bruce was completely, utterly alien to him, and wasn't that an ironic thought?

For the first time in a long while, vulnerability crashed through him. He had given away so much of himself to Bruce Wayne, and Bruce was… Bruce was…

"Batman." In his half-dazed state, Clark registered distantly that Bruce's heart rate kicked up a notch at that even though the man didn't so much as twitch. "You know who Batman is."

There was the slightest tic at the corner of Bruce's lips, as if he was trying not to smirk. Otherwise, Bruce was as stoic as ever. Even now, he was still reticent, still making Clark fill in the silence. It was a tactic he now realized that Bruce very often used, and even so, he couldn't help but fall into the trap.

"You're working with Batman, aren't you? This… this was all reconnaissance."

A part of him marveled at the dedication Bruce must have to his cause, his beliefs… The rest of him felt sick to know that all the intimacies they'd shared must have been just things that Bruce grudgingly put up with. It explained so much.

"You know, if you'd wanted me to think about… about collateral damage, about valuing human lives… You didn't need to set this all up. I've always been willing to talk. There wasn't any need for this subterfuge. You've looked into my background, haven't you?"

"I have," Bruce finally said, and this time, he was more loquacious. "Clark Kent had always been on the fringes of community. You weren't close to anyone in Smallville. Everyone knew there was something… different about you. You weren't necessarily welcome anywhere, and the children picked on you. Then when you wandered America, you kept to yourself for the most part. You were always on the fringes of society, not by choice as a child, but you chose the isolation later on in life.

Humans without even a fraction of your power, without being subtly ostracized have had the power to almost destroy humanity. You were an unknown entity with the ability to destroy the world with barely a thought, and you spent most of your life living apart from society as a whole. You've also experienced the pettiness humanity had to offer since you were a child, and you've always held yourself back. What if one day you had had enough? What if you snapped? Your only ties to humanity were your adopted family, but what if that wasn't enough? Can you even tell me how many people are you close to and know that you're Superman, even now? It was a cause for concern.

So someone had to approach you. There was a need to see how you'd react to someone who wasn't a fan of Superman, someone who could be your friend, without you knowing that you were being observed. That was critical."

Trust issues. Bruce felt he had trust issues? Perhaps the only thing Clark hadn't trusted Bruce with was his secret identity as Superman, and anything that was directly related to his Kryptonian identity. It wasn't as if it had been easy or had felt good to keep it a secret from Bruce. He just hadn't wanted the fact that he was Superman to supersede everything else about him.

But even that was now a moot point. Had always been a moot point. Because his biggest secret had been figured out by Bruce before they'd even met.

"Have you observed enough? Is all of that still what you believe? Even now?"

Bruce was silent. It was answer enough.

"You know, I always felt it was too good to be true that someone like you," he said, struggling to keep his tone light, maybe careless, but knowing he was failing miserably, "Who could have anyone you wanted, would notice me. Me as Clark Kent. Guess I was right."

He soldiered on, not wanting to give Bruce even the slightest opportunity to speak. "But you and Batman can take heart that I've listened to your… concerns, and I have changed my actions and if I haven't done enough, I'll do better. I don't know if either of you will trust me, but I have no plans for world domination or annihilating humanity."

It was so difficult to speak to Bruce. It was even worse when all of that didn't even serve to get a reaction from Bruce that wasn't just a silent poker face. But there was nothing more that he could say, and he was reaching his limit. He just couldn't be anywhere near Bruce now.

It hurt too much.

"I'll show myself out," he murmured.

Bruce did not stop him.

From the moment he left Bruce's penthouse, he lost track of time. Clark only had one thought in his mind: to get away. To get as far away from Bruce, from anything that could remind him of Bruce… from, ironically, humanity. It had been a long time since he'd truly wanted to be alone, to tune out the rest of the world and focus just on himself. Somehow though, his body seemed to know where to go.

He hadn't bothered to change out of his normal clothes. He took to the skies, vaguely glad that it was dark and so he was unlikely to be seen, and flew, and flew, and flew. Until he crash landed in the Arctic. The crash didn't hurt; the pain was all mental, all emotional. He curled up in the icy crater he made, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Slowly, methodically, he pulled in the range of his super-senses, like Ma had taught him when he was a child being bombarded with all sorts of feedback by his superhuman senses. He focused on the sounds of Arctic wildlife, and then narrowed it even further so that all he could hear was the beating of his own heart.

And then he stayed that way.

Everything else was just white noise. Meaningless.

But even in his trance-like state, his mind was still firing away, still flipping through all his memories of Bruce Wayne. Analyzing them with the new information he now knew. Trying and failing to not let his emotions get the better of him, even as several conclusions presented themselves to him.

Superman needed to be visibly accountable to some human authority if he were to continue on this path.

(Did he need to continue on this path? He had watched his father being swept away by a tornado when he could've saved Pa… He could do it again. Probably. After all, the rest of the world wasn't his father.)

Clark Kent wasn't going to be noticed for himself.

(Who would notice quiet, weird Clark Kent? Not anybody in Smallville. As for reporter Clark? Maybe? But could he trust…?)

Kal-El would not (never) place romance as a priority. Not (never) again.

ClarkKal-ElSuperman… had already forgiven Bruce Wayne for his deception.

Because he could tell that despite the way Bruce had chosen to go about handling it, Bruce had been genuinely concerned for the world, for humanity as a whole. Bruce could see both humanity's failings and triumphs, both the ugliness and beauty inherent in humans, and that had driven the other man to want to protect them from what he perceived as a potential threat. And even though he didn't agree with Batman's methods, he was fairly sure that Batman would've been looking out for Bruce, just in case their target… reacted badly.

It hurt to think that Bruce believed, even after these few months, that ClarkKal-ElSuperman would deliberately harm him.

His mind eventually quietened… to a certain extent. He still hadn't been able to entirely put Bruce out of his mind no matter how hard he tried not to have his thoughts revolve around Bruce… like Bruce was the star and he was caught helpless in a spiraling orbit. He had already crashed and burned, after all, so why was it just so hard to let go of Bruce Wayne?

He was only vaguely aware of the passage of time. He knew he had been in his icy hideaway for perhaps a worryingly long amount of time. The upside was that it had been a Friday night when he'd left Metropolis, which meant he didn't need to worry about having Clark Kent put in an appearance at the Daily Planet the next day or two, or even about banalities like calling in sick. However, he was also fairly sure that Superman had probably missed some kind of disaster or another that he would usually have helped out in. That would probably cause some sort of commentary, maybe even stoke the flames of hostility between the groups that loved – worshipped – Superman and the ones who'd denounced him as a false god.

He wasn't a god – benevolent or otherwise. He was just… a person. A person more human than his alien biology belied, just why couldn't anybody, couldn't Bruce-

It had only been a few short months, he knew that logically. But Bruce had already entrenched himself pretty deeply in ClarkKal-ElSuperman's heart. Maybe it wasn't love… Not yet, perhaps. But it was going to take time for him to be able to move past this. For the sting to be gone. To pick up the shattered pieces of himself and patch them together. But it would probably get better. It just didn't feel that way right now.

Eventually, a voice broke through the trance-like state he'd placed himself in. It was always her voice, always Ma's voice that would do the trick. Always Ma who could pull him out of his self-imposed exile and his fears since he was a child hiding in the school closet because he just couldn't control his superhuman senses.

"Clark? Clark? Can you hear me? It's been almost two days, and I haven't heard from you. Are you all right?"

With his hearing, he could clearly hear her worry in the minute tremble of her voice. Clark was really more than old enough to stop having his mother worry about him like this. It also surprised him to know that he'd been gone for so long. He had been really out of it. Usually his body clock didn't fail him in this way.

He stood up, surprised to find that he wobbled a little. It had to be all psychological, how unsteady he was feeling. This time of the year, the sun barely set in the Arctic. By all accounts, he should be even more powered up from sunlight absorption… and strangely, this wasn't a thought that made him particularly happy. Because if he didn't have enhanced abilities-

Clark put it out of his mind. The priority now was to fly home to Ma and reassure her that he was fine. Just fine.

It took barely a blink of an eye for him to arrive in Smallville. Ma was waiting for him out by the back door, and he had to stop himself from picking her up immediately in a hug and burying his face in her shoulder because it would be very out of character for him. He didn't want Ma to be worried. He hadn't even told her about Bruce, or that he was seeing someone after Lois. Hell, the only person who sort of knew something about his relationship with Bruce was actually Lois herself. Even then, he hadn't told her exactly who he was seeing. Clark was certain Lois would've been able to figure it out if she truly wanted to. But she had respected his wishes about not wanting it to be known yet until things were more certain, and now Clark was forever going to be grateful to her for that. On one hand, she probably could've talked some sense into him about how getting involved with Bruce Wayne, someone rather vocally against Superman, was immensely stupid. On the other hand… Clark wasn't sure he would've been likely to listen to her.

"Hi, Ma," he said, pasting a bright, all-is-well smile on his face which he hoped was convincing enough.

Looking at the way his mother's brow furrowed just that little bit, he knew he hadn't done a good enough job of it. It had always been difficult trying to hide things from Ma.

"What's wrong, Clark?" she asked him, stepping closer to him to brush back a couple of wayward strands of his hair.

"Nothing, Ma. I just… lost track of time."

"For two whole days? And also missing hearing about the plant explosion in New Jersey?"

He couldn't help but flinch a little. Being reminded that he was also Superman right now wasn't doing wonders for his composure.

"Tell me what's wrong, Clark." Ma's voice was still gentle, but there was the edge of firmness underlying it. He wasn't going to be able to wiggle out of this one.

"There's… I…"

Her fingers came up again, brushing gently over his cheeks. He noticed that they came away wet, and that was when he realized that he was actually crying. God, could this whole situation get any worse?

Then he was being drawn into a tight embrace, and Ma was whispering soothing words of comfort into his ears as he started to tremble. He fought hard to stay strong, but despite having been made aware of his tears, he couldn't seem to be able to stop them. He let his mother lead him back into their home, let her seat him on the couch. After she sat down next to him, he let her gently pull him down so that he was resting his head on her lap and then she was gently stroking his hair, letting him cry. Clark couldn't help it, but he turned so that he could clutch at her as tightly as he could without hurting her, and then the silent tears became audible sobs.

Why did it have to be like this? Why was it so painful? Why did it have to be Bruce?

Haltingly, he told Ma what had happened, right from the very beginning. Nevertheless, he still couldn't bring himself to give her Bruce's name. But aside from that, he told her everything. Including how it still hurt, and just…

"Why does it have to be so painful, Ma?" he whispered.

"I'm so sorry, my darling boy," she soothed. "It'll get better. With time. But it will, I promise."

Clark knew his mother wouldn't lie to him. He just wasn't entirely sure if he'd ever be able to be completely over Bruce Wayne.

Once again, I welcome my new OTP with a huge heaping dose of angst! Classic me.

This was written before BvS came out, but I didn't get to posting it here until now. In any case, this was always meant to be an AU. Before I started writing this, I hadn't realized that Clark would turn out to be the woobie-r character compared to Bruce. There's also a companion fic/sequel that's in Bruce's POV. Be prepared for more feels!

Hope you enjoyed this!

carzla