"Are you sure we're allowed up here?" Clark watched the window skeptically as they neared the Watchtower. Bruce docked the Javelin in the same efficient, accurate manner as Clark remembered.
"Batman authorized your return, Superman."
"Technically, you're not Batman."
"I built it, I own it. With his inheritance, Dick can build his own floating satellite." Bruce pulled on his cowl as he exited the Javelin. "Batman may not always be me, but I'll always be Batman."
A blur of red reached them before Superman even stepped onto Watchtower flooring.
"Bats! What's up? Sick gauntlets, what are these, like version two point oh?" Red clad hands pulled up Bruce's forearm for closer inspection. "Oh, Supes, you're back!"
Superman took one look at the situation and gave his best advice. "You would really want to stop gripping that hand."
Confused eyes stared back at him. "Huh?"
"Flash." Batman growled warningly.
"Ooh, that voice, man." Wally pulled away sympathetically. Best not catch whatever bacteria Batman had. "Here, have a cough drop."
"He's, uh, not Dick." Clark pointed out helpfully.
"Oh." Wally squinted at Batman's exposed jaw. "Dami?"
"His dad." Clark managed to warn before Bruce pulled off his cowl.
Wally's face went on a color slideshow. He dropped Bruce's gauntlet like a hot potato. "Shit. I didn't sign up for this. I better get running. See ya, Supes and Daddy Bats!"
"Daddy Bats. What is he on?" Bruce replaced his cowl with a frown.
"You might want to know his heart rate was spiking at five hundred miles per hour." Clark sighed. "Batman Senior rising from six feet under. You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
Batman shrugged. "If I travel back in time, I'm not allowed to change a thing. But if I travel into the future where I'm dead, I can do whatever the fuck I want."
"Like shocking Wally into a panic attack."
"Is that what you hear?"
"Close. He's clutching his chest in the cafeteria." Superman gave Batman a skeptical glance. "He thinks you're a vampire... and he's found Diana. You just made her your unofficial walking information center."
"Come on." Batman removed his glove and pressed his hand against the handprint sensor. "Let's get this over with before someone dies of shock."
"Nostalgic, isn't it?" Batman locked the door to the Watchtower training room.
"You're not taking off your armor?" Superman asked skeptically.
"I'm not activating the red sun either."
"You should. I insist."
"No. The point of training is for you to regain control on your superpowers. I'm not here to teach you basic punches and kicks." Batman raised his fists and parted his legs to maintain his balance. "Come on."
"That armor can't protect you."
"It's kevlar."
"I have super strength. You activate the red sun, and I'll attack." Superman's frustration was surging. "I can't control my strength. I might hurt you."
"That's the idea." Batman lunged himself at the alien. His knee brushed past Superman's face, an inch from contact. Superman fell back immediately. He felt the stinging sensation of the sharp breeze on his nose. "Even Alfred can break your nose at a speed like that."
"Well what do you know, you got my attention." Superman shoved Batman back into the wall, crunching the metal behind.
"That's more like it. Use your heat vision."
"I can't-" He narrowly dodged the Batarang aimed at his face.
"Save yourself. I'm going full out."
The next Batarang didn't make it back to Batman's hand. Half of it melted into a puddle on the ground. Superman hadn't had the chance to look at it closely. Batman's kick reached his stomach the next second.
It hurt. "Kryptonite." He breathed out, trying to maintain his balance. It felt as if a footprint was etched onto his skin. It burned.
"A diluted solution, compounded with lead. It won't stop you from using your super powers, but you'll hurt from direct contact." Batman's boots flashed with a line of green. "You beat me now, or you cry later. My equipment only gets better."
Superman's punch was square on the cowl. Super strength broke off a fraction of the material. Bruce immediately blinked to avoid the shards of his lenses from entering his eyes. That moment of hesitation was enough for Superman to tackle Batman to the ground. The latter managed to slip out of his grip the moment his back hit the lightly cushioned floor. He bounced up with the ground as leverage, shoving Superman face first beneath him. Then Superman's elbow came at his face from an impossible angle. Batman flipped back, avoiding the direct hit at his jaw, but Superman's hand was steady on his ankle. He bit back the pain of super strength hitting his side.
"Careless." Superman managed to spit out, along with a mouthful of blood. The Kryptonite-laced equipment was strong and tailored to defeat him, it was... the reason why Bruce would get cancer.
The next hit caught him unawares. Batman was back on his feet, teeth and fists clenched, his posture ready. Glowing in subtle green light, in the light that would eventually suck the life force out of him.
"Take it off." Clark muttered. He tried to crawl up, but Bruce's fist made contact with his jaw a second later. The hit forced his head back painfully. The ceiling lights swam chaotically in his vision. He wiped the blood off his face. Somehow Bruce had forced him to bite his tongue. Blood was seeping across his sensitive taste buds. The familiar taste of blood. Like all the times he had kissed Bruce when he was weak and on the defining verge of a bottomless abyss, standing one step before the cliff.
"Make me." Batman growled. Clark saw the hit, even raised his hand to match the movement, but he was one second too slow. His nerves sent back a series of signals, mixed with pain and numbness and... The weakening grip of Bruce's hand, the wound at the back of his skull. They haunt him. He saved Bruce, didn't he? The underground tunnel. Bane. Bruce is breathing, but barely. He isn't even conscious.
A flash of smoke. Batman's tactics. Clark swung his fists at the smoke, lunging himself into the spot where he thought Batman was one second ago.
"Too slow."
A blinding hit on his temple. Clark staggered back. He swept the room with heat vision. He could sense the black-clad figure crouching down to escape the blanket attack. Metal was melting. Hidden cabinets breaking off from the wall. His heat vision was strong enough to destroy the room if he wanted to. The smoke was still blinding him. He couldn't see past the clouds of gray matter.
"Still too slow." Batman growled.
Always one moment too slow.
Clark heard metallic objects being thrown at his feet. He leaped instinctively before the mini bombs were detonated. Bruce wasn't lying when he said he was going full out. Superman's flashy uniform made him a lamppost in the thick smoke. He could hardly see Bruce's dark armor.
Too slow. Bruce's hand fell to his side. Bruce's head lolled weakly against his shoulder. Clark flew him to the Batcave. Leslie was waiting. Alfred strapped him in. Then Clark was pacing, waiting for a horrible truth. Helpless. Too slow to save Bruce's life.
Batman was circling him in the smoke, Clark could sense it. Theatricality as a weapon was a horrifying thing. There was no way of telling when Batman would attack, which direction he would come from. Suddenly Batman's gauntlet was crossing his chest. Kryptonite-laced metal worked like poisoned fangs against his uniform. Take it off. It's killing you and you don't even know it.
That urgency seemed to drive some sense into him, for he suddenly remembered the twenty times Bruce chided him to be too slow. That super speed he had wasn't for kicks and punches. It was for flying. Sweeping the grounds. Blanket attacks. This training room was smaller than Bruce's dining room. He didn't even have to use x-ray vision or heat vision to keep track of Bruce. He didn't need to play by Batman's games, playing cat and mouse in zero visibility. He could sweep the room like a super powered vacuum cleaner.
Following that clarity Superman lifted off from the ground. He started flying in circles, sweeping every corner of the room. He gained momentum. The centripetal force was quickly disturbing the smoke storm that Batman had created. The room was merging into a blur of white rendered walls, silver metal cabinets, blue safety cushions... And a passing black shadow trying its hardest to maintain its position. Bracing itself against the strong wind that forced to tear it down.
The next moment Bruce found himself on his back. Bewilderment hit him like a fast returning sandbag. Superman was straddling him, his weight heavy on Bruce's thighs.
"You won." Bruce said grudgingly, glaring at him through one white lens from the unbroken half of his cowl. "Now get off me, you big log."
When Superman didn't comply, Bruce raised his hands to shove him off his lap. Of course that didn't work. He was about to complain when Superman's hands were on his armor again. This time with an urgency unlike before.
"H-hey," Bruce began uncertainly. Not that sex after sparring was unwelcome, but shouldn't they at least get somewhere more private?
"Take it off." Clark demanded, his voice cracking. He was struggling with the hidden clasps. His fingers were testing where the chest piece could be detached from the shoulder piece.
"A mattress behind my back would be welcome-" Bruce snapped. He watched as Clark tore off his gauntlet and threw it far away to the other side of the room. "That's worth more than your entire retirement income."
"I know, I know." Clark buried his face in the curve of Bruce's neck and swallowed. His voice was not half as strong as his grip. "Please don't wear this anymore."
Bruce cocked his eyebrow. He knew Clark couldn't see his mocking expression anyway. "What, kevlar?"
"Kryptonite. You'll never be fighting against me. So don't wear it." Clark was breathing heavily into his neck. His breath was hot and his voice was quivering ever so slightly. "I'll spar with Conner. And I'll make sure I have full control before I go back onto the field as Superman."
"I've always had Kryptonite in my belt, Clark." Bruce scowled. "You've never had a problem with it."
"Maybe that's part of the reason, isn't it?" Clark's expression was pained when he looked up. Gently he caressed Bruce's face. "No one is exposed to as much alien radiation as you are. It's always these little things that count. The Kryptonite that you carry around in your utility belt. The Kryptonite-laced equipment and weapons that you own. You can defeat me without Kryptonite. You have a great mind, a brilliantly inventive mind. So seal them away. Take care of yourself. Promise me."
Bruce looked away, until he was forced by the overwhelming silence in the room to answer. "Fine." He ground out through clenched teeth. "But we're still sparring. I'll learn to defeat you without Kryptonite. Watch me."
"I know you will." Clark pressed his lips onto Bruce's. He read the man's surprise through the quick defensive posture he put up and the back arching away from him. Then Bruce eased into his kiss and returned it with all the fervor of his superhero alter ego.
"Bed. Now." Bruce panted, and Clark grinned. He picked him up and scanned the corridor with x-ray vision. Then he raced them both to Superman's private quarters. Not even Flash would catch him at this speed.
"Whoever finds the leftovers of our training room is gonna be pissed." Bruce murmured.
But truth be told, he couldn't care less.