I'm Your Country (If You Want Me)

"-and they found the good Mayor in a rather awkward position. Though from what I've heard, the girl didn't look too unhappy to be there, so maybe he's got something going for him besides-"

It was almost noon, and the sunlight was coming in warm and buttery through the giant windows on the front of the building. Metropolis was a city of light and glass as surely as Gotham was a city of darkness and stone.

"-approval rating is in the toilet, baby, and you can bet your bottom dollar that he's not going to be on the ballot come election day. Which, come to think of it, might be the reason that girl was so damn cheerful. If I can get ahold of her name, maybe I can do a little digging, see if anything pops on her financials-"

Eighty miles away, the tractor grumbled down the field, turning over fresh new earth in its wake. A pencil scratched restlessly across paper, a calculator clicked, and his mother muttered numbers under her breath. "Six hundred twenty two and three cents-"

"-not like it would be first time someone got to one of the politicians. On the other hand, since the Mayor wasn't really fighting her off, I doubt he was exactly white as the driven snow. I mean, he's sure as hell got a reputation, I'm kinda surprised he got elected in the first place-"

Thirty miles down the freeway and about sixty feet down, he listened to the high-speed clack of keys, surrounded by the hum of an oversized computer and then a pause, punctuated by a grunt of annoyance. A long pause, and then another furious spate of typing, even faster than before. Even the bats remained respectfully silent.

"-a serious pervert, you wouldn't believe what he said to me at the fundraiser last fall. I mean, did the man even know I was a reporter? Not that I care enough to report about him being a failure as a flirt, though he looked like he was gonna grab my ass, and if he'd done that I wouldn't have stopped at a scathing report, I would have destroyed his life-"

And three miles away and about thirty stories up, there was a clink of ice against the glass, the swish of expensive scotch being very thoroughly enjoyed. Then a pleased hum, and the sound of a speed dial being pressed.

Clark picked up the phone halfway through the first ring. "Hey, Lex," he said, a smile spreading across his face.

"I'm going to surprise you one day."

"You just keep telling yourself that," Clark replied dryly. "So what's up?"

"Well, I just received a bit of good news. Have you heard about Mayor Greenlee's little peccadillo?"

Clark glanced over at Lois, who waved him off with a resigned smile. "Nah, not really. Tell me all about it."

Hauling Solomon Grundy's unconscious body back to maximum lock-up was one of those little pleasures in life that just didn't fade over time.

Batman was waiting for him when he came back outside, his body curled into the scant shadow offered by a single burnt-out streetlight, his arms crossed over his chest and folded under his cape. Superman crossed the street and hovered next to him, making sure that his own body blocked the security cameras. Batman hated to be recorded.

"Thank you for the assist," Superman told him. "A lot more people would have died if you hadn't gotten everyone clear of the fight."

Batman gave what on a lesser man would probably be a shrug. "I didn't have anything better to do."

Superman snorted. "Right. Well, I appreciate the help anyway. I know you have a city of your own to look after."

"Hmm." Batman turned to leave- no goodbye, Superman couldn't exactly be surprised- but then he paused. "Will you be joining me later?"

Clark curled his hands into fist to keep from reaching out. "I have patrol and… plans, but I can come by after that. It'll be pretty late, but-"

"I'll still be up." And then Batman was gone, only the fading rustle of his cape as proof that he'd ever been there at all.

Clark flew.

Clark made his way easily through the crowd on the ground floor of the club, oblivious to the heat and noise and press of bodies around him. He'd long ago learned how to filter his senses and focus on his objective. He wouldn't be able to function otherwise.

Lex was waiting for him upstairs, tapping his foot restlessly to the music, licking his lips slightly at the slide of fabric over bare, slightly damp skin. Clark listened to his accelerated heartbeat and smiled blandly at the bouncer at the top of the steps, tucking his glasses into his pocket and scrubbing one hand through his hair. "I'm looking for Lex."

The bouncer nodded deferentially and stepped aside. "Of course, Mr. Kent. Mr. Luthor is in his usual room."

Clark nodded. "Thanks, Timothy. How's business tonight?"

Timothy cracked an expression that might, on a lesser man, have been a smile. "As it always is, Mr. Kent. Booming."

"That's good to hear." He tucked his hands in his pockets and headed down the nondescript hallway, stopping at the last door on the left. He didn't bother to knock.

Lex looked up from the very talented dancer less than six inches away from him and smiled brilliantly. "Clark. You're on time for once."

"Yeah, I know, stop the presses." Clark ambled in and took a seat across the table. The dancer was moving a little closer to Lex, almost in his lap now. She was really very good. Better than the blonde from last week, who'd almost tripped over her own heel. Clark had seen the deep bruising on her calf, just below the visible layer of skin, in the shape of one large, heavy hand. He'd tipped her generously, dropped a word in Timothy's ear, and stopped by her apartment before she'd had a chance to get home, just to put the fear of God into the drunk on her couch. He hadn't even had to wear the suit to do it.

He'd spotted her with a tray on the floor, on his way in. Her smile when she'd seen him was worth a lot more than the roll of Lex's twenties he'd given her.

"This is Christina," Lex said, as the dancer moved into his lap properly. "We've just been getting acquainted. Christina, this is Clark. Say hello."

Christina's smile was a perfect, subtle curve of a generous, dark-painted mouth. Clark liked her immediately. "Hello, Clark."

Clark slouched a little lower in his seat. "Nice to meet you."

Lex's smile got wider, looser somehow. Clark suspected that the glass of scotch next to his elbow wasn't the first, or probably the second or third, either. Lex was celebrating. Knowing him, he'd probably been quietly celebrating all day. It took a lot to get Lex even a little bit drunk. "It could probably be nicer, couldn't it, Clark?"

Clark sighed, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. "Wouldn't want to interrupt your fun."

"Oh no, I think I can sacrifice ten minutes or so." Lex slid one hand up Christina's beautifully defined bicep. She really was a dancer, then, just as he thought. Sometimes they weren't. "Why don't you let Clark get to know you for a little while?"

Christina leaned slightly into his touch when it skated over the curve of her shoulder and his thumb brushed her neck. "I'd be delighted."

Clark watched as she rounded the table and slid sinuously into his lap, balancing with her knees on either side of him in the extra-wide chair. Her body was a perfect curve as she rippled against him, boneless in her grace. Her groin was pressed hard against his.

She winked at him when she noticed he wasn't hard, and kept going. He slipped a couple of hundreds off the billfold on the table and tucked them into the tops of her high-heeled boots. Her smile practically lit up the room.

Clark was busy watching Lex, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the reflection of the low light on the curve of his skull, the way the tip of his tongue always caught against the scar on his upper lip.

Lex was watching Christina. He didn't notice anything else.

Clark stayed for an hour the made his goodbyes, kissed Christina on the cheek and squeezed Lex's shoulder, nodded to Timothy and smiled at the pretty blonde girl who no longer had any bruises hiding under her skin, and when he got to the door, he left his glasses in his pocket and his clothes in his car and flew away under the cover of the new moon.

He kept an absent fragment of his attention on Gotham, to the rustle of Batman's cape and the crunch of gauntleted fists into cartilage, and let himself drift in the air above Metropolis. He heard the sound of a woman crying out in pain as a fist knocked her back against her kitchen counter, a baby sobbing in hunger while its mother injected poison into her veins three feet away, the shuffle of the homeless down the back alleys, searching for a place to spend the night.

But none of it was a job for Superman.

In the desert, dressed in a hard black shell that made him seem more alien than Superman had ever been, he stopped seven rapes and destroyed two caches of weapons, one from each side, and left pleased with his own symmetry. He left seven broken wrists behind in his wake, always the one attached to the hand that had been used to strike. They would not be hurting any more women any time soon.

He didn't fly, and he didn't use his speed. They saw him arrive and they saw him leave. He didn't speak. He didn't use a name. He never, ever let a single American soldier spot him even for a moment.

He inspired more fear than Superman had ever done. And sometimes, he thought he was doing more good.

When he heard the tell-tale sounds of the Batmobile pulling into the cave, of Bruce undressing and typing up his report, Clark shed his black metal shell and flew to Gotham.

This was Clark's favorite part of sex. The after part, where they both lay side-by-side, as cooling sweat evaporated off of human skin, as one heart slowed from a thundering gallop and his own beat in ceaseless, steady counterpoint. His muscles never shook, his lungs never strained for air, and his body never reached its breaking point. He would never be able to lose himself in the sheer physicality of intercourse, but lying perfectly still afterwards, every sense bent on Bruce's rapidly normalizing body, he felt a little closer to understanding the human tendency towards self-immolation through sex.

"Superman wasn't seen over Metropolis tonight," Brice said, his voice as steady as if he hadn't been gasping for air forty seconds before. "You mentioned patrol, earlier?"

Clark resisted the urge to roll over and bury his head under the pillow. It was a childish impulse, left over from the years when something as simple as a pillow could still almost block out the sounds of his alarm, and it wouldn't help him now. "Your pillow talk could use a little work, Bruce, you know that?"

"I'm sorry, dear," Bruce replied, his voice as dry as bone. "And how was your day?"

Bruce's sense of humor would probably just about always be horrifying. Clark had long ago resigned himself to this fact. "I was in the other suit."

"Hmm." Bruce approved of Clark's other endeavors in a general sense, but then Clark thought that he'd also made a point of not inquiring too closely into what those endeavors were, exactly. "Where?"

"Middle East."

Bruce turned a very mild version of the Dark Knight's frown in Clark's direction. "You know they don't welcome American heroes."

"Trust me, they don't think I'm American," Clark said in flawless Arabic. "It's fine, Bruce. I'm not playing politics. I'm just saving a few lives." He grinned. "Not that you're one to talk."

"It's hardly the same thing." But Bruce didn't seem particularly inclined towards argument, tonight. He almost never did when Clark was in his bed. "And before patrol?"

Bruce was like a dog with a bone about some things. "I was with Lex."

"Celebrating Mayor Greenlee's latest and very public peccadillo, I take it?"

Bruce's voice was so aggressively neutral that Clark didn't even try to bite down on his urge to laugh. "We go out every single Thursday, Bruce, you don't think by now you would have managed to deal?"

Bruce was silent for a moment, weighing his words. Clark waited.

"It's not always easy, knowing that the man sharing your bed is in love with someone else."

That- Clark rolled over, faster than even Batman could react, and pinned Bruce underneath him, chest to hips to thighs. "Once again I say, not that you're one to talk."

Bruce went stiff with outrage, either at the pin or at his words Clark couldn't tell. "Catwoman and I hardly-"

Clark snorted. "I wasn't talking about her, though I do think it's interesting that she was the first to come to your mind. No, I was referring to something a little closer to your heart."

Bruce was silent much longer this time, with only the frantic beat of his heart to reveal his distress. "Clark- you have to know I would never- not Robin, I wouldn't-"

Clark cut him off with the delicate scrape of his teeth along the outer shell of Bruce's ear, with the careful flex of hands that could crush coal into diamond around Bruce's own. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this anymore than Bruce wanted to talk about it. "I'm sorry, I'll stop teasing." There wasn't any need to prove more secrets he already knew. "I was talking about Gotham. I simply meant that you are far more devoted to your city than you could be to any lover, Bruce. That's all."

Bruce's body relaxed by increments under his own. "And I suppose you have no such priorities. Superman."

Good. Clark much preferred sarcasm to the near-panic he'd seen in Bruce's eyes. "It's a little different for me. Metropolis is where I lay my head, but it's not my city. Gotham belongs to you."

"And you're telling me that if that cell phone went ff, or if you so much as heard him say your name, you wouldn't fly off?"

Clark leaned up on his elbows so he could stare down at Bruce in exasperation. "If something happened, if Joker broke out of Arkham, if Poison Ivy took over Central Park, if Two-Face pulled a heist- you'd be down in that cave so fast my head would spin."

"That's different," Bruce argued. "You'd do the same if there was an earthquake, or if aliens- well, other aliens- invaded. You've always done the same."

"Yes, that's true," Clark said mildly, and when Bruce started looking triumphant, he continued, "but my point still stands. I protect the world because I live in it. You protect Gotham because it's yours and you love it." He took Bruce's thoughtful frown as an excuse to lean in and steal a kiss, till Bruce's mouth was slack and smiling under his own. When he pulled away, Bruce's breathing was just a tiny bit faster, and Clark took that for the achievement it was. "I'd never get between you and your first love, Bruce. Kindly return the favor."

Bruce's hands curled into fists at the small of his back. "Part of you is always with him. Even when you're with me."

He sounded almost… needy, for a man who'd practically tried to break Clark's wrist the first time Clark had touched him, he'd been fighting so hard against his own attraction. Bruce's clenched jaw said that he knew exactly how he sounded. The pleading, defiant look in his eyes said that he didn't care.

Clark said gently, "And when I'm with him, part of me is always with you."

The wild look faded, replaced by confusion. It wasn't something that Clark saw often on the Dark Knight's face. "I don't understand."

This was why it had always been Lex. From the day he'd confessed his secret, when his powers were growing almost past his control, Lex had always had an almost innate understanding of what that meant for Clark, of just how many pieces Clark's life had, and just how widely they were scattered. He'd always known that after a certain point in Clark's life, he would never be able to give his full attention to anybody, to anything. He'd never resented that, when even Chloe turned bitter every time she caught him listening to something miles away.

But Bruce, with all his skill and paranoia and detective's instincts, knew everything there was to know about Clark's powers. He seemed determined to know everything there was to know about Clark, period, because that's what love meant, to Bruce. A complete lack of secrets. Sometimes, Clark wondered if that's why Bruce had picked him, because it was so very difficult to keep a secret from Superman.

It made him want to tell Bruce everything, make him understand. But that wasn't the way things worked. Bruce had to get there on his own.

Bruce was learning Kryptonian. Slowly, and with a clumsy human accent, but he was learning. He used it to curse when he came.

"I know," Clark said, and bit Bruce's earlobe. Sometimes, a kiss just didn't say enough. "You will."

Saturday morning brunch at 5th St. Diner with Chloe was a tradition lasting to their early days at Met U, when they'd still been struggling undergrads, bitching about exams and papers over French toast and waffles. It had lasted through years of college, graduation, internship, and separate jobs in separate cities. Barring national disasters, interstellar missions with the Justice League, and the occasional bout of the flu, neither one of them had ever missed.

"You know, I always thought your little crush on Lex was stupid, but hey, it's not like I could talk you out of it. But this- this, Clark, takes the cake."

Clark lowered his menu until he could peer at Chloe over the top. "You're going to have to be a little more specific," he said wryly. "Really, there's been kind of a few to choose from recently."

"I'm talking about your thing with Bruce and you know it." Her hands curled around the coffee mug as if she wanted to brain him with it. "It's stupid, it's stupid and risky and you're just going to get screwed over. Messing with Bats only ends in tears, and you should know that already."

Clark gave up on ordering breakfast and laid the menu back down on the table. "No, I don't know that. What I do know is that Bruce has been my friend for years, and we've been trusting each other with our secrets for almost as long. That seems like a good basis for a relationship to me."

"Relationship?"

If Chloe's voice got any higher, Clark mused, dogs would come running. "What did you think it was?"

"Well, Jesus, I didn't think you were actually serious about this. What the hell were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all?"

Clark's mind went back to Gotham, to the way Bruce had laughed when Clark had pushed him to the limit, the way he'd whispered "Kal" when Clark had slid home. "Mostly, I was thinking that I like who I am when I'm with him, and I like who he is when he's with me." That was a new thing, mostly. Plenty of people tried to be better because of Superman. Only one other person had tried to be better because of Clark.

Chloe stared at him for a long, thoughtful moment. "It sounds like you're giving up on Lex," she said finally. "Aren't you?"

"That implies that I ever had any hope to begin with," Clark replied. "Which I didn't. Romance aside, I know for a fact that he's never been attracted to men."

"How can you be sure?"

The same senses that had allowed him to know that Bruce was attracted- painfully, violently, past the point of all repression- let him know that Lex had never looked lustfully at another man, not when Clark was around. And Clark was around quite a bit. "I'd know."

Chloe didn't look like she disagreed. She'd known Lex as long as he had, after all, though no one knew him better. "You have to know that he'd figure out a way to rewrite his sexuality, if he had even a hint of what you wanted."

Clark wrapped his hands around the tea mug, heated past the point of scalding and pleasantly warm against his palms. "I know," he said. "And that's the very last way I'd want him."

Chloe sat back, looking oddly… satisfied. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"You've grown up," she said. "Back in the day, you would never had have the self-awareness to figure that out."

"Yeah, well. It's been a few years. Even I had to learn something in that time."

Chloe put her chin in her hand and stared at him. In some ways she'd come a long way from the girl he knew in Smallville, but in others she hadn't changed a bit. Her hair was a smooth, professional bob instead of the crazy quills that used to spike out every which way, and she was wearing a suit instead of thrift-store finds, but the piercing look was exactly the same. "I think you're wrong about Lex," she said. "And I think picking Bruce, of all people, is the bad decision to end all bad decisions-"

"Even in my lineup?" Clark joked. She threw him an irritated glance.

"Hush, you. Yes, even with your history of incredibly stupid decisions, this one stands out."

"But?" he prompted.

"But, and this is the important part, I'm kind of glad you're doing it anyway."

If Clark hadn't known her for so long, he probably wouldn't have been able to translate, but-

"Because I've grown up."

Chloe nodded. "Because you've grown up."

This was why she was still here in his life, even after as many years and fights and broken hearts as they'd been through. She knew all the desperately human parts of him, and she loved him anyway.

"Thanks, Chlo. That- well, it means a lot."

She snorted, moment over and she was back to her usual self. "Well, yeah, it had better. It's not like you can run your own life, after all."

He smirked at her and picked up his menu. "That's why I have you, Chloe. When all else fails, I can always count on you to call me stupid."

"Excuse me, I do gossip, too," Chloe tossed back. "For example, I'm sure you're about to tell me all about a certain billionaire of our mutual acquaintance."

He raised his eyebrows. "I thought it was stupid."

"It is, that doesn't mean I don't want to hear all of the juicy details. C'mon, Clark, spill a little. What else are girl friends for?"

Clark thought of Gotham, where Bruce was still in bed, fast asleep. Clark tracked the steady in-and-out of his breathing, the flicker of his closed eyes as he dreamed. When Clark had left, he'd taken advantage of the empty space to sprawl out, managing to cover a surprising amount of the king-sized mattress with his outflung limbs. He liked to claim his territory even in sleep. If Clark were human, his arms and ribs would show the evidence of Bruce's clutching hands, when he forgot himself in the lands of dream. He rather liked being held that way, so tight he was afraid Bruce would hurt himself on invulnerable skin and muscle. He liked being something that someone was afraid to lose.

Thinking of Bruce's oversized monstrosity of a bed, the frame made out of some sort of reinforced titanium that Clark was unlikely to damage even in the throes of passion, Clark said, "Let's just say that the billionaire thing has its benefits." Bruce would forever be replacing his headboard, otherwise.

"Talking about me again, Clark?"

The voice was low, smooth, right in his ear. And it belonged to Lex.

Kryptonians didn't have heart attacks. His cardio-vascular system simply wasn't wired for it. But for a moment there, he could swear that this heart skipped a beat.

Chloe's expression mirrored his feelings, but from Lex's smug, expectant expression, none of Clark's panic showed on his face. Lex was just pleased he'd managed to startled Clark, for once, with no idea of what he'd interrupted or why his comment was so deliciously, painfully ironic. Clark hadn't given himself away at this late date.

"Not everything is about you, Lex," he said smoothly, just like this was a normal day and a normal conversation and absolutely nothing was wrong, and was rewarded by a snort of disbelief from Lex and a nudge to his side. Obediently he scooted over in the booth, and Lex slid in next to him with the sinuous grace that had so fascinated a much younger Clark, before he'd understood why he was looking.

"That's where you're wrong, Clark. I'm fairly certain that everything comes back to me eventually."

Chloe had recovered enough to have to bite her lip to hide her amusement. Clark was glad that someone could see the humor of the situation. For him, Lex's words just had the uncomfortable ring of truth.

"So who were you talking about, anyway? There's only so many billionaires you know, despite my earnest efforts to introduce you to young ladies of impeccable breeding."

"Most of those so-called 'ladies' wouldn't know good breading if it bit them on the ass, and considering some of those overfed little rats they carry around, it probably has," Chloe countered with gusto. This was an old argument between them. "If you can't even stand to be around them, there's no possible way Clark's going to pop the question."

Clark wasn't really listening to either of them. He was listening to the rustle of sheets as Bruce woke up and stretched, the pop and crackle of abused joints and improperly stretched ligaments. Clark hadn't really given him a chance to do his cool-down after he'd gotten back from patrol.

That's when he realized- Lex had snuck up on him. He'd been honestly startled at Lex's presence, because he hadn't heard him coming. Clark could pick out Lex's heartbeat in a stadium full of people from three miles up, but he'd been so focused on Gotham that he hadn't heard Lex walking up to him from three feet away.

He started to smile, and Lex turned away from his well-worn argument with Chloe to raise one imperious eyebrow at Clark. "Yes, Mr. Kent? You have something to add to the discussion?"

"I'm sleeping with Bruce," Clark said.

Across the table, Chloe suppressed a squeak of surprise and her hand came up to her mouth. Lex just tilted his head a few degrees to the left, the same way he always did when he was extremely surprised and trying to hide it. "Bruce."

"Wayne," Clark supplied helpfully.

"Yes, he is the only billionaire Bruce of our mutual acquaintance." The head-tilt changed to the opposite direction. Lex was recovering quickly. "How long has this been going on?"

Forever. No, that was Lex. "About a year."

"Hmm." Lex regarded him thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "And you didn't see fit to tell me earlier because…?"

Clark looked him straight in the eye and told him the absolute truth. "There are still some things that I don't know how to tell you."

Lex nodded. There was a glimmer of understanding somewhere in his eyes, probably buried beneath his conscious mind for now, but he'd get there. He knew Clark so very well, for so many years now. It wouldn't take him long to put the pieces together.

"I'm happy for you," and just like Clark, Lex was telling the absolute truth.

Clark matched Lex's simple smile with his own. "I'm glad," he said, and they both relaxed back into the booth, and Clark drank his tea while Lex flagged down the waitress for coffee, and Chloe started arguing with Lex about high society, and it was all terribly normal.

Bruce was in the shower now, pounding out some of the aches and pains of the night before with hot water and high pressure. He'd probably take at least another half-hour, if he re-bandaged the knife would from three nights back before he went down to breakfast. If Clark hurried, he could eat it with him.

Somehow, he didn't think Bruce would mind.