Chapter 3: An Evening with Friends

Clark stared pensively at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. He and Bruce had only exchanged a few words since they'd left HQ and he'd said he was going to bed, while Bruce had gone down to the Cave. But he couldn't sleep, even though his fatigue was real.

He thought about what Niles had said to him, what Dick had said to him. It had affected him deeply. And because he had been emotionally affected in two different ways, he felt vulnerable. His day had been so weird. He had seen his mother, seen Bruce fight, tinkered with his pickup, had dinner with Bruce, seen the others at Watchtower... It had been such a quiet day. So normal, in so many ways. How long had it been since he'd had a day like this? How long had it been since he'd been afraid to talk about himself, about his life, without fear of repercussions?

Besides, he had never seen Bruce in this light. He had always been a very reserved man, always on the defensive, who revealed very little of his life. And yet, during their dinner, Clark had caught himself drinking in the Bat's words. He had been fascinated by his adventures, by what he was saying, and he was discovering facets of himself that he never thought existed. He was almost convinced that Bruce had not told anyone else about his life episodes and he felt privileged.

He could see the dark-haired man's pale eyes sparkling as he told his stories. God, he was beautiful without his neutral mask. He had thought this to himself several times while Bruce was talking and was surprised that he didn't end up drooling. The charisma the man exuded when he was engaged in a story had pleasantly surprised Clark, who had repeatedly felt chills run through his body...

Just at this memory, a new shiver ran down his back, bringing him back to reality. For a moment, he had completely forgotten what he had just learned. How could he let Bruce distract him so much? This was not good, not good at all, he knew.

He got out of bed and dressed quickly, deciding that the fresh air of dawn would do him good. He ventured into the park, his steps unconsciously guiding him to the spot where Bruce had trained the day before, now. He brushed his fingertips against the broken bark of the tree, then continued on his way. He came across a number of trunks as damaged as the first one, both recent and old. He had no trouble imagining Bruce and the other Robins practicing in this huge park, day after day, for years.

His steps then led him to the orchard, where magnificent citrus trees of various kinds were growing, and he could not help but notice Alfred's remarkable work in maintaining the estate. The hedges were finely trimmed, the shrubs had remarkable geometric shapes and the symmetry of some of the paths made the garden beautiful.

But he had not yet seen the rose garden. It was splendid. That was the first thought he had, as the sun colored the horizon in orange tones, and the flowers were still closed. He was going to see this. The roses, arranged by color, were opening as the sun came out, and at this simple scene, Clark was in awe. It was such a simple thing, yet one he had never seen in his life.

He walked slowly down the aisle, brushing his fingertips over the flowers, which opened to their sumptuous bright colors of red, pink, yellow, white, and more subdued tones for others, with mixed colors, gradations. Some were yellow in the center and the color lightened so that at the end, the edge of the petals was tinged with pink. Another one had a yellow center and the rest of the petal was a bright red. Its aggressive tones only made it more beautiful. He was fascinated by the manifestation of these opposite colors that did not seem to want to mix and showed an incredible beauty.

He sat in the middle of the path, legs bent in front of him and leaning on his elbows to look up at the sky. He had to squint when the sun's intensity became too strong and he ended up lying down completely to protect his eyes. With the light morning breeze, he could barely feel the gentle warmth of the sun on his skin. He was satisfied to observe the splendid sky which was imposed in front of him, covered with small cottony clouds whose edges seemed of gold so much they shone. The contrast of light made them on the contrary darker and behind, the nuances of pink and blue intermingled and it was simple. It was beautiful. It was silent. The Silence. No screaming, no crying, no alarm sirens, car horns and other extraneous noises that he couldn't necessarily always mute. The silence was so nice. It felt really good.

He sighed with relief that he had managed to relax. Niles' words were still lingering in the back of his mind, but now they had less impact on his state of mind. He was more serene.

"Insomnia? "

Clark gasped and his heart missed a beat, so surprised had he been. He turned to face Bruce's impassive face and relaxed. Of course it was him. It could only be him to appear out of nowhere like that. With his superpowers, he was already managing to be surprised, so without...

"You're scary," he said, straightening up. "But yeah, I needed to clear my head. "

Bruce didn't pick up on his first comment. Clark noticed that he was dressed in his gym clothes, a black tank top and shorts. God, those things were way too tight.

"Do you want to go work out with me? "

"I'd love to," he replied, perhaps too eagerly.

"Then follow me. "

Clark had regretted following him. For one thing, because he was walking behind Bruce. Bruce, with his muscular buttocks that were much too tight. Damn, were his shorts a second skin or what? He had to contain himself if he didn't want to let anything show. He pretended to go and change to do a few minutes of meditation to concentrate again, chasing everything that looked like the physiology of the Bat. He put on a white tank top and a light grey jogging suit, which he had thought to take with him, and went down to the Cave, where Bruce was waiting for him.

No sooner had he stepped into the battle space than he threw a stick at him. Clark caught it in midair, immediately adopting a posture that would allow him to attack or defend at the same time, deciding to focus on the fight.

"This will be a chance to really test ourselves and perfect our techniques. Five hits. "

Clark, for once, didn't feel the need to respond, just nodded.

Bruce attacked. His strokes were quick, precise, strategic. He tested his reactions and analyzed his footwork. But Clark had learned to do the same. For the first few minutes, their exchange remained even, with no one seeming to dominate the other in either technique or strength. Then came the real fighting phase, when their attitudes suddenly changed. Bruce hit him in the back the first time, then in the shoulder. Clark didn't let it bother him. He preferred to be thorough, since he would not have the upper hand with his strength. He hit Bruce in the femur and then evened it out by hitting him in the temple, aiming for vital points.

The exchange intensified. Both men were putting more force into their punches, which were meant to be more agile, faster, and moved much more. They relied on footwork, feints, and combined counterattacks. For one of the few times in his life, Clark felt out of breath, and it was so sudden that he was surprised. He wasn't used to being exhausted so quickly, let alone feeling pain from such blows. He ignored these facts. He hit the Bat in the liver at the same time as he hit his femur. He then attacked, seeking to throw the other off balance to gain the upper hand. The technique worked, but he didn't expect the nice spin and double heel strike he got in the chin, nor the hit aimed straight at his chest. He got up quickly, massaging his chin, wiping the blood that had escaped from his mouth when he had bitten his tongue while taking the blow. He attacked and the exchange resumed, while Clark had adopted an entirely offensive attitude, leaving no way for the other to attack in turn. Bruce's feint that followed almost immediately amazed him. Just as his stick had been parried, the right blow he received sent him tumbling to the ground and he lost his stick. Bruce lunged at him with a vengeance and immobilizing him, he placed his baton to Clark's throat, defeated.

Time stood still around them. Bruce, straddling Clark, caught his breath without removing the stick from under his throat. Clark was just as out of breath and his breathing did not subside. The vision before him was far too exciting. That was the word, exciting. Bruce's flushed face, beading with sweat, watching him, watching him stare at his lips... No, he wasn't dreaming, Bruce was staring at his lips. And he was on top of him. His throat was dry and if he didn't get up now, he was going to give himself away. Because the vision of a man as handsome and well-built as Bruce on top of him could only make him turn on. He ran his tongue over his lips and swallowed to try to speak, in as normal a voice as possible.

"Bruce... "

The clear gaze plunged into the other man's azure eyes and locked. Bruce's pupils were dilated and... Rao, he's beautiful, was the only thought that crossed Clark's mind.

Then the tension of the moment broke as Bruce pulled away and took several steps away from Clark, looking away.

"Is your mouth okay? "

It took the dark-haired man several seconds to come back down to earth and even longer to understand what the other man was saying.

"Don't worry, I just bit my tongue. "

The metallic taste in his mouth confirmed that it was still bleeding a little, and that it was becoming very sensitive. Bruce turned to look at her. Clark swallowed hard at the worried look on her face and the disheveled hair...

"You cut your lip too. "

Clark frowned and ran his fingers over his lower lip, which had indeed split and was beginning to swell.

"I've had worse, you know," he said with a smile.

Something passed in Bruce's eyes that Clark couldn't identify. The Bat immediately pulled back his mask of impassivity.

"I have to go to Central City for the day. Do whatever you want. Try to get some rest. "

And off he went, leaving Clark alone in the Cave. He shrugged and left the place as well, heading for the shower. A nice cold shower.

Clark's day had gone by faster than he thought it would. He had decided to rebuild his pickup and to do so, he had gone to get the parts he needed after a thorough inspection of the vehicle. He spent most of his time taking the engine apart, cleaning it, cleaning it thoroughly again... Alfred had offered to call a mechanic several times, but Clark had refused. It had clearly kept his mind busy and he was glad of it.

And then it was time for their evening. Oliver had arranged to meet them at a pub in Atlantic City, and Clark made his way there using the Watchtower teleporter. He ran into Dinah, who had had the same idea as him. He was surprised to see her without Oliver, but remembered that he too was a businessman and had a busy schedule.

So this evening was one of the rare occasions, when all of them were in civilian clothes and planned to have a good time. It was so rare to see them without their masks or outfits. Clark was, as usual, dressed in a red plaid shirt with a tank top underneath, along with jeans and his leather jacket. Sitting next to him, Diana was wearing a loose white top and red leather pants, which fit her perfectly. Clark remarked to himself that she looked much more feminine dressed that way than when she was in her Wonder Woman guise... it was contradictory, but it felt that way. And it did the same for Dinah, where her pretty brown hair fell over her shoulders and over her pretty floral dress. Maybe he was too used to seeing them scantily clad. Or maybe he just didn't care. Next to him, Oliver was wearing a T-shirt printed with a Funk music band and Barry was wearing a Flash T-shirt. The latter had shown up with a wide smile on his lips, proud of his joke:

"Next time I'll wear one with the Batsignal! "

The dark look Bruce gave at that moment made everyone laugh. It was just the two of them, without Dick, who couldn't make it. Clark hadn't wanted to take a drink at first, out of pure reflex. Then Dinah had reminded him that since he no longer had his powers, the alcohol might have a new taste, indeed.

His first few sips had made him wince slightly, feeling the drink tingle in his throat. It was no different than when he normally drank. So he thought he'd let himself go and try this once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Their evening started in a very pleasant atmosphere. They talked about everything and anything, and Bruce would even elaborate on a subject. For a while, Oliver and Clark had discussed the statistics of the Cubs and Chiefs at length, strongly disagreeing on who was the best team of the season. Obviously, each was supporting his own team. Bruce and Barry discussed gadgets and new technology, and Diana and Dinah talked about Carter and Shiera's collection in their museum, with Hawkman and Hawkgirl's fondness for antique weapons being common knowledge.

The discussions drifted, becoming more and more personal as the beers passed. Barry had concocted some sort of super-powered serum that would make him feel like he was under the effects of alcohol, because in his opinion, drinking alcohol like water was pointless. And Clark had been quick to confirm, feeling the intoxicating effects of the drink for the first time. It was a strange experience that made him a little groggy.

They talked about Aquaman and Mera, who was pregnant. It was rare for superheroes in the League to have families, because the world and its dangers did not necessarily give time for a fulfilling social and love life. Barry was happy to be married to Iris, the woman he had always loved, and she was a strength to him. Oliver and Dinah, for them, their bond was more of an anchor to reality. Everyone around the table knew about their dark past and knew it wouldn't take much to tip them over the edge. But since they were together, they had stabilized each other. And that was a good thing.

As they discussed the subject, Clark kept his eyes on Bruce. He wanted to see his reactions and, as he had suspected, the Bat remained closed. It amused Clark more than it should have, and he couldn't help but caress his closed features with his eyes, Bruce's jaw line, his full lips... He was hypnotized by his face, by the icy blue of his eyes, by his jet-black hair through which he dreamed of running his hand. He just found this man beautiful to fall.

The more time passed, the less Clark cared about being seen by others. He stayed in his contemplation, wondering what it would be like if he started drawing his face. Or the rest of his body. Bruce in his costume, or practicing. He was pulled out of his thoughts when Diana remarked that he and Bruce were the only singles in the group.

"You sayin' that 'cause you 'n' Steve are going at it," Barry said, mischievously, his cheeks flushed.

"We're just trying to see how it goes. We're very busy. I'm a little scared. "

"Oh, we're all busy, look, Dinah and I are saving people, and we still find time to hang out at the house, right chick? "

Oliver winked at his wife and met her dark eyes.

"Call me chick again and I'll make you live the worst night of your life", she replied, scathing.

"I wait hat", he answered her, blowing her a kiss.

Dinah, slightly irritated, started again the subject.

"But you shouldn't be afraid, Diana. Let it happen and see how it goes. "

She nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at the two bachelors.

"And you, gentlemen, no one in sight to launch you? "

"I don't have time for this," Bruce replied curtly, trying to keep his calm.

To Clark's ears, it sounded like a future challenge. He'd had way too much to drink and had become completely uninhibited.

"I may have someone in mind, but I'll risk a lot if I go for it," he replied with a broad smile.

As glimmers of interest flashed in the eyes of the others, he met Bruce's dark gaze. It only made his smile wider. He took several sips of his pint.

"I bet it's Lois Lane! Man, she's gonna eat you alive with her temper! "

"Because Iris, she doesn't eat you alive, does she?" replied Clark, with a smile on his face.

Barry pretended very theatrically that he had received a wound in the chest.

"Ah, touché! "

Dinah, who was not losing a bit of the gossip, leaned toward Clark.

"So that's her? She's a hell of a journalist. And she's really pretty. "

"There are far more beautiful women on Themyscira," Diana said.

Clark rubbed his chin, thinking about Lois' face and her curves.

"I'm thinking about it, the growth of your beard makes you look pretty sexy," Oliver said. "If you decide to grow a beard, I can give you some great advice! "

"Shut up, Ollie. We'll find out if it's Lois," said Barry, tapping his colleague on the shoulder.

"So?" prompted Dinah.

Clark glanced quickly at Bruce, who was downing his pint rather quickly and standing back. The opportunity was too good not to bother him.

"And you, Bruce, don't you want to know? "

The Bat crossed his arms over his chest, showing off his pectoral muscles under his gray T-shirt. Sexy. Even the dark look he was giving him now was having an effect on him.

"You date whoever you want, it's none of my business. "

Clark nodded.

"Hmm... that's true. Besides, I don't want my life as a flying man to get in the way of my life. I don't want to spend my life alone in a cave! "

The second black look didn't stop Clark in his tracks. He had just discovered that he loved to challenge Bruce.

"And yes, Lois is beautiful, but it'll never work out between us," Clark replied.

Disappointed looks came over the faces of his friends.

"Too strong a character, I said! "

Clark laughed.

"No, Barry, it's even simpler. She's not my type at all. "

There was a silence where everyone seemed to take in what he had just said. But the alcohol was slowing down the neurons a bit.

"You're saying that... "

Dinah couldn't finish her sentence, her eyes round like marbles. Clark finished his drink. He was about to answer when he felt someone grab his arm and make him stand up.

"What- "

"I think it's time we all went home, we've all had too much to drink, especially some of us. "

Bruce had walked around the table without Clark noticing. He turned to him.

"You're a killjoy, Bruce. Do you mind staying with us that much? "

"No. But I don't want you messing up the upholstery of my mansion. "

And without even saying goodbye to the others, they left, leaving the rest of the group with a slight smile on their faces.

Well, Clark had to admit it, he was drunk. Totally drunk. It was weird. He felt all weird. His vision was blurry and the sensations he was feeling were completely different. His center of gravity felt like it had shifted, too, because he realized he wasn't walking straight. When he'd realized it, he'd clutched Bruce's T-shirt in panic.

"Bruce! Bruce! The floor... it's buckling! "

"It's the effects of the alcohol, Clark. "

As they walked up the driveway of Wayne Manor, for Clark to sober up a bit in the cool air. He found it increasingly difficult to walk. Eventually he stumbled and Bruce caught him. He put his arm under his shoulders and supported the Kryptonian on his hip. At this contact, waves of shivers ran down Clark's back.

"Are you cold?" asked Bruce, who had noticed.

He nodded. They walked through the doors of the mansion and Bruce helped Clark up the stairs to his room. The farm boy was not at all proud. He was unable to undress himself, and Bruce felt compelled to help him. That was bad. It was really bad behavior. He was making a fool of himself in front of the Great Batman.

"I'm sorry, I feel ridiculous. I don't want to bother you anymore, you can leave me alone. I'll be fine. "

In front of his discomfited face, the dark Wayne smiled slightly.

"To tell the truth, I was quite curious about your ability to hold alcohol. I knew what to expect."

As Bruce helped the brown-haired man finish removing his shoes, Clark replied, trying to reach into his own shirt to remove it.

"Are you saying you wanted to see me drunk? "

"Sort of. "

This time, the billionaire's smile widened in front of the bewildered face of his opposite.

"T's not nice. "

Clark couldn't even pretend to be offended. But he did note the other's amusement and couldn't help but remark as he lay in bed.

"It suits you. "

As the host had decided to leave the room, he frowned, scrutinizing the angelic air that his guest displayed.

"About what? "

Clark positioned himself for sleep. Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for an answer. After a moment of silence, he finally answered.

"Smiling. "

Bruce shrugged, keeping his smile to his surprise.

"Tomorrow you won't remember. "

"Mh. Never underestimate the memory of a krymtonin. "

The last word was not spoken in an understandable way, Clark's voice dulled by fatigue and alcohol. While Bruce expected Clark to continue, he soon realized that the man of steel had finally fallen into a deep sleep.

Clark was tapping away at his keyboard in the kitchen of the mansion. Sitting on a high chair, with a good liter of black coffee and a more than dubious "special hangover Alfred-style" concoction, he was rewriting a draft of his article. He already had enough elements to write it and by habit, he always kept his elements carefully in memory until the deadline of his article. All his material having remained there, he had taken, in addition to his stuff, his backup material. And for once, he started typing his article early.

He was doing it to take his mind off it. To forget his discussion of the day before with the others and Bruce. To avoid thinking about the nightmare that he had had and that had prevented him from continuing to sleep despite his hangover. Which meant that he had barely slept for a few hours, that he was tired and that he had started working when it was barely six in the morning.

He erased the last paragraph he had just written again, massaging his temples. He had a headache. A really bad headache. He knew it was one of the consequences of alcohol abuse, but this was the first time he'd ever had one. Drinking in one go the strange mixture that Alfred had just brought him, he grimaced when he felt the horrible taste on his tongue and turned his attention back to his screen.

He sighed while taking his head in the hands. He didn't feel very well and he couldn't keep his concentration to work. Deciding it wasn't good to sit around without getting his mind off things, Clark went online, checking the news for the first time since his return.

He'd been on the run from the world since Doomsday, he was aware. To tell the truth, he was afraid of what he might have seen, the disasters, the crimes, all the things he could have done something about if he had his powers. What he found did not cheer him up, as it did every time he did it. His father and others had told him that he couldn't save everyone, that what he did was already a lot. But Clark was looking at the lives he hadn't saved, and he knew that was one of his faults.

He closed the web page and went to make himself a coffee to erase the bitter taste in his mouth. No, it was definitely not a good start to the day. He started writing his article again, determined to get it right. He wasn't capable of saving people at the moment, but at least he could do that. It seemed useless and futile next to his duty as a vigilante, but he knew that it might open some people's eyes. He had long understood that to change a world, it had to come from everyone, not just a handful of men.

He swallowed half his coffee in one gulp to focus on his work. He wrote a long and critical article, denouncing the actions that were taking place in the Congo and who was to blame for them. Perhaps he was putting too much emotion into it, unloading too much on it. His article sounded more like an accusation, even a condemnation, than anything else. That was not his role as a journalist. His role was to inform the public about what was going on in an objective way.

He sighed, erasing what he had just written to get back to a blank page, trying to be as straight as possible. But he was not satisfied with his work. Once again, he rewrote the passages that didn't suit him, rewrote the connections, brought the subjects in a different way. After this draft, he stopped to massage his temples again and noticed that he had been in the kitchen for more than two hours. And that his last coffee was still hot.

"Don't erase it, it's fine like this. "

Clark jumped out of his chair and almost spilled his cup. He turned back to Bruce, dressed in his sporty outfit, quietly sipping his coffee while he stood right behind him.

"Bruce! You've really got to stop showing up like this! "

Clark's shoulder was touching Bruce's warm chest. The contact disturbed the reporter a little, and if the Bat noticed, he didn't remark on it.

"I thought you were purposely ignoring me when I poured your coffee for you. "

The reporter suddenly felt stupid. At this point, it wasn't even a lack of attention, it was worse!

"Ah... thanks for the coffee. And the article... "

A slight chuckle tugged at the corner of Bruce's lips.

"When it comes to Clark Kent, the simplest things are the most likely. "

The dark-haired man felt himself blush with shame.

"I was distracted, sorry. And sorry for my behavior last night. "

"Do you remember your whole evening? "

Embarrassed, the interloper scanned his article, scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah. I feel pretty ashamed about that. Alcohol is treacherous. "

There was a silence, during which Bruce ate some of the toast Alfred had prepared for him earlier. His expression was closed, as usual, but Clark suspected he was thinking. Clark took a few sips from his cup and refocused on his article. He typed a few more lines before Bruce spoke again.

"I would have thought you'd be asleep by now. How are you? "

"I found out what a hangover is. I feel like I have hundreds of parademons fighting in my head."

The man dressed in black smiled at the hint and the image was all the more accentuated. But his smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, returning to his usual seriousness.

"I was referring to your state of mind. I know that your situation is not easy and the loss of your powers-"

"I'm fine, Bruce. I'm handling it. "

Clark slammed the screen of his laptop and stood up from his chair. Bruce had touched a nerve and the Kryptonian didn't feel like talking about it. He was not in the mood. He left the room and headed for his room, under the inquisitive gaze of his host.

Clark had a long, hard day. He had spent more than half his time writing his paper. It had taken him a long time to concentrate, as his headache persisted. But he wasn't one to complain about it or feel sorry for himself. He had tried several times to rest, to take a short nap, but nothing helped. When it wasn't his headaches that kept him awake, it was his dark thoughts.

He always had dark thoughts when he knew he couldn't avoid a catastrophe. And then, he missed so many of the responsibilities he had... Kara was currently managing his duties to the Fortress and Kandor for him, but she couldn't handle it for too long, he knew that right now was not a good time for her either.

And then, he had to admit it, he missed his superhuman condition. It was quite ironic. And quite human: never satisfied with what you have. He had dreamed for years of being a human, of living a simple and normal life like theirs, of having the same concerns as them. Now that he was human, he wanted to be the superhero who saved lives and served his world. Who protected it. He felt so useless, so miserable, stuck in the shoes of Clark Kent, who should be on the other side of the globe right now.

He had to go back. Go back to the Congo, to still keep the Clark Kent cover without giving away suspicion. Lois was quite a snoop and would be asking a lot of questions if his return to Metropolis seemed more than a little suspicious.

There was a knock at his bedroom door. Clark went to open it for Alfred.

"Master Bruce is waiting for you in the private room. "

"I'm not hungry, thank you, Alfred. "

"I must insist, Mr. Clark. Master Bruce is waiting for you. "

Clark sighed, knowing full well that he would not win against Alfred and Bruce's insistence. Besides, he didn't feel like fighting them.

He followed Alfred through the mansion at a leisurely pace until he reached the private room in question. Plunged into darkness, the only source of light came from a TV screen whose image was paused. Bruce was waiting for him on the couch in front of the TV. Clark was slightly surprised. It was unconventional of Bruce to act this way.

"You clearly need to relax, Clark. And I know you won't do it on your own. On that, we're the same. Now come on. "

The reporter merely nodded and joined him on the couch. On the coffee table in front of them were steaming boxes of pizza and two beers. Bruce handed one to Clark and they toasted, the brown-haired man finding the situation too bizarre to refuse.

"I don't know what your taste in movies is, but I hope this is okay. "

Clark hesitated as he took his first sip, glancing at the screen.

"Star Wars?! Who doesn't know? Actually, I'm surprised you like watching it. "

Bruce smiled weakly.

"I used to love watching that when I was with my dad. "

Clark smiled back, wistfully.

"Me too. I loved those times. "

There was silence between them. Bruce finally started the movie and the two men began to eat the pizzas. It was a nice moment. Really nice. Clark relaxed, enjoying this simple moment, the simple pleasure it brought. And besides, the pizza was really good.

He felt the warmth of Bruce next to him and relished his company. He favored the moments that Bruce was willing to share with him, knowing full well that Gotham's bat was quite withdrawn. It was times like these when he felt close to him and he knew what it meant to Bruce to open up in this way.

Clark allowed himself to let his guard down. He told himself that nothing was going to happen at the mansion anyway, and if something did happen, he couldn't intervene without putting himself in danger. And then Bruce was by his side. He couldn't have wished for better company at this moment. He slid back into the couch to make himself more comfortable, just as Bruce had done, and a few minutes later he didn't even try to struggle as his eyelids closed.

Bruce had taken his eyes off the screen in front of them for a while. He was leaning against his armrest, staring at the drowsy brunette beside him. As he fell asleep, Clark had tipped over to the other side of the couch, to the Bat's slight regret. He watched his bulging, contracted muscles, his face tense and his features of fatigue. He knew Clark wasn't well. He could see it clearly. But the Man of Steel wasn't ready to talk about it given his behavior that morning. He could only imagine how he must feel. It frustrated him that he couldn't help him, more than he would ever admit.

He wanted to reach out to Clark. To reassure him, to tell him he was there. But that wasn't his style, he wasn't like that. He wasn't the kind of person to show affection to others. But boy, with Clark, he acted so differently, he felt different. You'd have to be blind not to notice, and Alfred wasn't, nor was Dick. And you'd have to be even more blind not to notice Clark's interest in him. Bruce now had no doubt that the Man of Steel liked him. He felt strange. He couldn't get comfortable. He couldn't dismiss the idea. Even worse, he liked the idea.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt a stirring next to him. Clark seemed to be having a bad dream. He was fidgeting violently and that immediately worried Bruce. He got up from the couch to approach Clark's face.

"Clark, wake up. Clark! "

He put his hand on his chest to try to calm him down. The reaction was immediate. Clark grabbed Bruce's wrist and sent him waltzing into the table, almost immediately getting to his feet. Bruce was back on his feet in less than a second, also moving reflexively, and faced the man of steel. What he saw made his chest tighten. Fear. Clark's eyes were filled with fear.

"Bruce... I... I'm sorry. "

The reporter turned and almost ran out of the room. The Bat stood there for a minute, not sure what to do. He had just seen Clark scared. He'd never seen Clark scared. The Man of Steel had been afraid.

His body moved faster than he thought it would. He ran to join Clark and found him in the park, completely confused.

"It's a bad idea for me to be here. I shouldn't even be here. I'm sorry, Bruce. I'll be gone tomorrow. "

"Clark wai-"

Both men looked up at a new source of light in the sky: the batsignal.

"Duty calls," Clark said in a neutral tone.

"We'll talk about it when I get back. "

Bruce left with a grunt and retired to the Batcave. He would deal with this story when he returned.

Wayne Enterprises. There were intruders in his own building. He was doubly angry. He didn't like leaving Clark in such a state of mind, and besides, his building's security platform would recognize him. He could always make it look like he had hacked into the building's system to make his entrance. That's probably what the thieves would believe.

He found them near the mainframe. They were also trying to hack into the system and he had no trouble stopping them. Simple henchmen. Nothing to show for it. Whoever their employer was, the damn mercenaries had no idea who he was. What a mess. The evening had started out well, though.

Batman hurried to return the thieves to Commissioner Gordon and, as any vigilante would do, he went around the city to see what else he could accomplish. He arrested a man who was robbing a grocery store, another who was beating his wife and saved another man from a drunk driver. Just routine.

He was about to return to the Batcave when a bank robbery occurred. At first glance, there was nothing ordinary about them. More evil was coming to Gotham. If Pandora's box had to open somewhere, it was surely in Gotham City.

The robbers wore animal masks and possessed some special technology, probably derived from alien technology. He would inform Hal Jordan or John Stewart when he saw them. In the meantime, he had to take care of them.

There were five in all. Batman made his entrance, disabling two of them with an electrocuting batarang. The rest was simply a matter of blows. He dodged most of them, but against three men, he was bound to get hit. His armor was largely absorbing for him, so he distributed his blows, not without venting some of his fury. And when none of the men showed any resistance, he decided it was time to stop. The sirens of the police cars were already close. This moment it was time to go home.

Clark was waiting for him in the Batcave, leaning against the console with a cup of coffee in his hand. Bruce was surprised to find him here, but he didn't mind. He took off his cape and mask and sat down in his seat, cold. Clark hadn't even sat on it while waiting for him.

"You were worried. "

Clark didn't answer. He knew it wasn't a question. He stepped away from the console to allow Bruce to use it and make his own reports. In another life, Bruce might have made a good cop.

"I wanted to make sure it was okay. I called Ollie. He's lending me his jet so I can fly back to the Congo quietly. I'll meet him tomorrow in Star City by way of the Watchtower. "

"Clark, I don't blame you for earlier. You can stay. It's not a good idea to go there. You're taking a risk. "

"Don't talk to me about risks, Bruce. You take risks all the time, just like the others. I'm invulnerable. I'm the one who risks the least. Right now, I may not be able to stop bullets with my bare hands or fly, but I can do my job. "

He pulled away from Bruce and headed for the elevator back up to the Mansion when he was held back by a firm grip.

"Right, you're vulnerable now. We can't risk letting Superman take his life so stupidly! "

The dark-haired man pulled away sharply, visibly irritated.

"So what, I should just hole up in the Cave and wait for my powers to come back? Sorry Bruce, but I've had enough of the ostrich technique. "

This time Clark was angry. He got into the elevator and Bruce followed him.

"You don't understand, there's too much at stake, the decisions you make affect so many things."

The elevator stopped.

"What are you dreading? Clark Kent's death, or Superman's? "

He left the elevator and went to his room. His bag was ready and laid on his bed. All his things were ready. He was about to leave. This hurt Bruce's feelings.

"Clark wait. "

Bruce instinctively grabbed his arm. The Kryptonian froze, showing a surprised expression at the gesture. It was not in his nature to act this way. Realizing his misbehavior, Wayne let go and opened his mouth to speak when the doorbell rang. And he was in his suit. Clark let him into his room and handed him a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, which Bruce hurriedly put on, then left the room.

Clark did not follow him. He was not to be seen here. Bruce walked down the stairs to the entrance where he found Alfred opening the door.

"Lucius! What's going on? "

The dark-skinned man took off his hat and stepped into the hallway, but did not give Alfred his coat. He was only passing through.

"There's been a robbery at the Gotham docks. Some containers have been broken into, the ones registered under the name of Jason Kane. "

"Shit. What merchandise was taken? "

"The entire contents of container KC-4739 only. Commissioner Gordon has been put on the case. It won't take him long to figure out it's a fake name. "

"That's not the most important thing, I'll take care of Gordon. I just need to find the contents. Thanks for the heads up, Lucius. "

The black man put his hat back on.

"It's my duty, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Pennyworth, sorry again for the inconvenience. "

"Goodbye, Mr. Fox. "

Bruce should wear his costume again tonight. He passed Clark, who was coming out of his room with his things.

"Problem? "

"The Bat needs to come out. "

"I'll walk you to the Cave. My meeting with Ollie is in three hours. I'll go to the Watchtower until then. "

There was silence between them until the secret passage to the Batcave.

"How long before you return? "

"Five days. Lois will pick me up at the airport. "

"What will you do after that? "

"My job, whatever it is. "

"Take care of yourself. "

"You too. "

Clark gave Bruce a final nod and they parted ways.

INDEX CHARACTER

Arthur Curry/Aquaman : King of Atlantis but half-human, half-atlantean. When he does not live in Atlantis on his throne, he lives in Amnesty Bay, in his lighthouse with his wife. Founding member of the Justice League

Oliver Queen : aka Green Arrow. CEO of Queen industries, he survived a plane crash that killed his entire family, making him the sole heir to the family empire. He is married to Black Canary, aka Dinah Lance.

Carter Hall : aka Hawkman. Reincarnation of an Egyptian prince, he is in perpetual search of the love of his life (Shiera) through all his reincarnations. One of them always ends up dying when they meet again to live their love together. He is either an anticaire, an archaeologist, a historian,...

Dinah Lance : aka Black Canary. Wife of Oliver Queen. Brown-haired, she uses a blonde wig with her costume. Expert in assassination and hand-to-hand combat, she uses her boosted voice as a power. She is also part of the Birds of Prey.

Iris West-Allen : Wife of Barry Allen aka The Flash. She is a redheaded journalist with whom Barry grew up as a child. Iris is the aunt of Wally West, known as the Kid Flash (in this version, it will be the first Wally and thus the redhead).

Lois Lane : Clark Kent's famous reporter and teammate at the Daily Planet. In this version, Lois and Clark are very good working partners, and Lois keeps her character as a fierce investigator.

Lucius Fox : General Manager of Wayne Enterprises. He is a great friend of the Wayne family, and in particular the engineer who helps him with the design of his Batman material. Lucius knows the secret identity of the Batman, as well as everything about Bruce's secret equipment.

Mera : Siren of Atlantis, wife of Aquaman/Arthur Curry. The only one Arthur knows in Atlantis who is able to master hydrokinesis (the control of water). Mera fell in love with Arthur after saving him from an assassination attempt (the day they met). It turns out that she keeps many secrets about where she comes from, who she is and why she is in Atlantis (which is a very big secret). She is a strong warrior and assassin.

Rao : Kryptonian divinity of the sun

Shiera/Shayera Hall : aka Hawkgirl. Reincarnation of an Egyptian priestess, cursed in the same way as Hawkman. She is also either an archaeologist or a historian etc.

Steve Trevor : Secret agent of ARGUS (Advanced Research Group Uniting Superhumans). He was a former Air Force pilot and was rescued by Diana Prince (with whom he fell in love). He is also in charge of spying for Amanda Waller (director of ARGUS) about other superheroes.