Author's note: one of my favorite scenes in "Mask of the Phantasm" (GREAT movie, by the way!) is when Bruce says to Alfred, "Well, you're wrong!!" and hops in the Batmobile and drives away all pissy. That's the Bruce I was picturing for this chapter.
Chapter Four: Thanks for ruining my night
The downside of relying on gadgets was that sometimes they broke. And whenever one of Batman's most essential gadgets--namely his grappling gun with the retractable cable--broke, he was forced to use alternate methods of scaling the towering edifices of Gotham's business district. His most reliable method in those situations was also the most old-fashioned, and required the greatest expenditure of energy:
Up the side of the building he went, hand over hand. He'd vanished from Metropolis just before dawn and had spent the daylight hours pacing and brooding in his cave, once again unable to sleep. When the sun had finally surrendered he'd gone prowling through the streets of Gotham, proving once again that the petty criminals of his city were his personal punching bags.
But breaking the noses of teenaged gangsters was barely a warm up. There was going to be a meeting that night between some of Rupert Thorn's old friends concerning the sale of illegal firearms, and Batman had been looking forward to it for weeks.
The malfunctioning grappling cable was a minor annoyance.
The major annoyance arrived when he had just about twenty feet left to climb.
Superman appeared out of nowhere, floating up silently beside him as if riding an invisible elevator.
"Need a ride?" Clark asked, just as amicable as ever. How he managed to look amused without seeming even the least bit smug was beyond Bruce's comprehension.
Bruce grit his teeth. "No."
Clark shrugged and slowed his ascent, so that he was hovering next to Bruce as the man finished climbing to the roof. "I waited for you back on the Watchtower," Clark stated.
"We never agreed to meet back up on the Watchtower. You could have called."
"By the time I realized you weren't coming, I figured you were busy."
"Hnph," Bruce grunted. His hands were starting to feel the strain, even through his gloves. It had been a long and strenuous climb. "Well I'm 'busy' now," he pointed out.
"We're going to talk about what happened," Clark informed him. Apparently the issue wasn't up for debate, so Bruce didn't challenge him. Instead, he pulled himself onto the roof, and immediately began coiling up his grappling cable.
"Diana thinks you don't want to have anything to do with her until she proves that she can handle herself in a relationship," Clark began. Batman, meanwhile, was already examining the rusted-over hinges on the metal cover of a large exhaust vent.
"We talked about it, and I had to convince her that using me for a romantic test subject was a bad idea."
"You actually rejected her?" His voice was angry, but Batman didn't look up. He wasn't having any luck with the rusted grate, and reached for a pouch on his belt to try a different tool.
"I knew she wasn't serious about what she was offering," Clark explained.
"If she offered at all, she was serious," Bruce replied. "Just as I was serious about what I told her. My mission comes first. I won't let her get in my way." The rusted metal still refused to budge, and Bruce reached for his belt again, taking out a laser pen.
"Here," Clark said dismissively, and seared through the rusty hinges with his eyes, without even asking permission.
The laser pen snapped in Batman's fist.
"You may not be in a position to 'let' her do anything," Clark continued. Ignoring him, Batman lowered himself into the now-open exhaust vent. "She's in love with you."
The Bat's voice rumbled up out of the darkness, coldly sarcastic. "Then she can join my fan club."
Superman took a deep breath, rolling his eyes to Gotham's blanket of smoggy purple clouds. Then he looked down at the black square hole his friend had disappeared into, and exhaled, shaking his head. Bruce certainly was in a mood.
"What are you doing?" Batman demanded in an impatient whisper as Clark followed him into the vent.
"Talking to you," Clark replied, unfazed.
"They're right below us," Bruce hissed. "This isn't a good time to chat."
Superman squinted at the floor. "Actually, they're two floors below us," he reported. "And, by the way, this air duct doesn't connect to the room that they're in."
Batman grit his teeth. "Then it's a good thing my sidekick for this evening can punch through walls."
Clark smiled. "I thought you hated it when I helped you out."
"Does that stop you?"
"No."
Clark went through the wall first, taking it like a champ as the Uzis unloaded on him in surprise. In the strobe-light flashing and deafening staccato of the gunfire, nobody noticed the shadow that slipped around behind them and dropped them one by one to the floor.
It was over in less than a minute. Clark crumpled the weapons up into balls as if they'd been made of tin foil while Bruce zip-tied the unconscious criminals, and suddenly they were standing around watching the dust settle.
"Well, that was fun," Clark said, hands on his hips. "Bad guys defeated. Now can we talk?"
"Outside," Bruce snarled. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He'd been spinning up all day for that raid, and now that it was over he had no outlet for his excess adrenaline. He would've used the walk back to his car to calm down, but with Clark on his heels still 'explaining' about Diana, every step just made him more pissed off.
At last they reached the Batmobile, which he'd parked in an alley several blocks away. Bruce went around to the driver's side while Clark stopped on the passenger side. "…and I know you have a heart under all that Kevlar because I can hear it pounding away," Clark was saying. "So if you'd just turn off the big bat-computer in your brain and give her a chance--"
Bruce opened the door and glared at Clark across the top of the car, cutting him off. "This conversation is over," he growled. "Thanks for ruining my night!"
With a wing-ish flap of cape, he tucked himself into his vehicle and slammed the door. Clark sighed and reached for the sleek black handle on the passenger side door—and just as his fingers brushed it, he heard it click.
Locked.
He paused, his eyes frozen to the sight of his invulnerable hand poised to open the door. Of course he could tear the door right off if he wanted to; he could rip the entire Batmobile into ribbons. Bruce knew he couldn't keep Clark out. But he'd locked the door anyway.
Clark let his hand drop to his side and glanced through the tinted window, getting a good look at Bruce's bat-eared profile. It occurred to him then that the reason the Batmobile wasn't already screaming away was because Bruce was expecting him to break open the door and get in.
Clark didn't know what to think, didn't know how to react. He was Superman. Nobody made him feel this…hurt.
Looking away, Clark stepped back, and for a second he stared down the dark Gotham street. Then he turned, and walked away.
Bruce revved the engine and peeled out, but couldn't take his eyes off the red cape in his rear-view mirror. Guilt swarmed his conscience and he cursed under his breath, and then reached for the handbrake. The rear wheels locked, he wrenched the steering wheel, and the vehicle skidded around 180 degrees. The engine roared in indignation as he stepped on the gas, and Bruce tried to rationalize that a depressed Clark was just one step away from a Superman who was taking over the world.
But deep inside that Kevlar-shielded heart of his, he knew that had nothing to do with it.
He pulled up beside his friend and rolled down the window.
"Clark. Get in the car."
Clark didn't look at him.
"I'm sorry," Bruce growled. "I admit, I wanted you to break the door. I wanted another reason to be mad at you. Please just get in."
Clark stopped abruptly, and Bruce stood on the brakes. The Batmobile leaned forward, and then settled back, grumbling. Clark opened the door and slumped into the seat.
They drove for a minute or two in silence before Bruce felt compelled to say something.
He glanced at Clark; the man of steel was looking out the window. Bruce took a breath, but Clark preempted whatever he was about to say.
"How'd it go with Lois?" A quiet question, a neutral tone of voice.
Bruce nodded a little, appreciative of Clark's willingness to change subjects.
"Fine," he said, and immediately knew that a one-word answer wouldn't suffice in this case. "We had a nice visit," he submitted. "Talked about you."
Clark smiled. "Talked about me, or me?" he asked, and from the inflection of his voice Bruce could tell which 'me' meant Superman and which meant Clark.
"Both," Bruce told him. "And just so you know, you need to tell her who you are. That would solve all your problems. Lois has loved you for the longest time and it's not fair of you to keep her waiting. She wants a closer relationship with you."
Clark shook his head, and decided he wanted Bruce to be as clear as possible on this point: "With Clark or with Superman?"
Bruce gave him a look. "Doesn't matter. You're the same person." He caught the shift in Clark's expression, and almost read his mind. "Listen to me very carefully," he said, before Clark could accuse him of being cryptic. "Lois made her feelings clear. If she were to have a closer relationship with one of you, she wouldn't love the other any less."
"…You're saying she could be in love with two men at the same time."
Bruce jabbed an accusatory finger in Clark's direction. "Wrong. But I knew that was your problem. You're the one who doesn't believe that Clark and Superman are the same person. But the fact is, you are. And the one man in this world that Lois Lane will ever truly love IS Clark Kent AND Superman."
Clark mulled that over for a few minutes in silence, and finally sighed. "It's been a while since she's been up to the Fortress. Maybe I could bring her up there this weekend, if she's not busy."
He sounded so genuinely hopeful that Bruce cracked a smile. "Sounds romantic. But I think Superman should take her out to dinner in Metropolis."
"Superman can't go to restaurants, Bruce. People just stare."
"Let them stare all they want. Lois'll love it."
Clark grinned. "You're right," he conceded. "And as happy as I am to know that she might finally be taking Clark a little more seriously, it would be fun to take her out on a real date as Superman."
"Not to mention convenient," Bruce added. "Imagine just being able to fly out the window afterwards."
Clark blinked a few times. "Excuse me?" there was something ominous in his voice, which Bruce completely dismissed.
"All you'd have to do is tell her there's a plane crashing in Malaysia and, whoosh, you're free."
"I would never do that to her."
"You do that to her all the time!"
"But only when there really IS a plane crashing in Malaysia!"
Bruce shook his head. "You know what I mean. And since we're referring to ourselves in the third persons today, I can't tell you how many times Bruce Wayne has looked out a penthouse window and wished he had one of Batman's grappling lines."
Clark scowled. "You think I'd want to escape from her? You think I'd abandon her?" There was anger in his voice now, which Bruce immediately realized he needed to take seriously.
"No, I'm just saying that Superman wouldn't have to put up with the stuff that Clark would."
"Put up with?"
Bruce couldn't believe how riled Clark had gotten. He tried to clarify. "Clark works in the same office as her. She knows where Clark lives. Like I've told Diana, it's always a bad idea to date a coworker. That's why it'd be easier for you as Superman. It's not like Lois will ever show up at your Fortress and beat up your butler and key your Lamborghini."
"Lois won't do those things because I won't treat her like an object to be thrown out the second she requires care!"
Now it was Bruce's turn to raise his voice. "You don't know the first thing about women, and you dare to accuse me of mishandling them? I don't have to justify my lifestyle to you or anyone else!"
Superman narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I was wrong for thinking you and Diana had a chance," he said bitterly. "She deserves someone better."
"I'm glad we finally agree!" Bruce yelled. "And if she wants you, I hope you'll help yourself! The two of you are practically a left and a right sock anyway! And if I get lonely, don't worry, there are plenty of women who have no problem with how I treat them, including your precious Lois!"
"That does it!" Superman brought his knees to his chest, braced his feet against the dashboard.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bruce asked, but in an instant it became clear. The metal groaned as it tore. With one kick, Clark destroyed the Batmobile, effectively separating it into two pieces. The demolished engine block and the front wheels rolled on, sputtering, and came to a stop, while the rest of the vehicle dropped to the ground. Both Bruce and Clark were still in their seats, facing the open road. And then suddenly Superman was hauling Bruce out of the wreckage with one hand.
He rose into the air so that Bruce's boots were a few feet off the ground, and pulled him in close. "Lois already has one billionaire ex-boyfriend that isn't allowed to touch her. Don't make me add you to the list."
The 'weee-ooo' of a police siren greeted them then, and they both turned their heads to watch as the first GCPD cruiser arrived on the scene.
...to be continued!...
A/N: oh, I hope you guys liked this chapter! The scene of Bruce locking the door as Clark was about to open it absolutely broke my heart to write, although for a while I debated if Bruce would actually be that childish. Obviously I kept it in there, mostly so that I could write the bit after that where Bruce tells Clark to get in the car. Grin.
Just wait til you see what happens next!!
