When the wooden door opens, Ma greets Clark with a kind smile.
It falls just as quickly when she actually sees him.
"Hey, Ma." Clark croaks around the lump that's formed in his throat. He doesn't look into her eyes, not while tears are streaming down his face and his clothes are still ripped and singed. "Could I...could I stay the night?" His voice is just above a whisper.
"Oh, Clark," Ma rushes to pull him into her arms. Her fingers find each hole in his sweater, likely already thinking through how she'll mend it, but all Clark can focus on is the faint smell of dried rosemary and fine soil.
He's never missed her so much, standing here in his small, small mother's arms. He barely fits, but she's always made room for him. An alien in her home, strong enough to crush her skull like it were glass...
Is he really such a big, scary monster?
"Come in, come in!" Ma insists, her wrinkled lips turning up in a forced smile. She pulls him into the house proper, then onto the soft couch. "Let me get you something to drink, Honey."
"Ma," he goes to protest, but she's already hurrying away. Any other visit, he would smile at her relentless hospitality, but not tonight.
A cup of water is carefully passed to him, as if Clark were a child again. He takes it just as gently, fingers barely clutching around the glass a she holds it in both hands. They tap absently. He isn't very thirsty. The water reflects his image back to him, and Clark can see his red eyes and the pathetic expression he's wearing.
Rao, it's like he's never grown at all. Clark sees the same teen that cried days and days after Lana broke up with him. Unruly curls, a wobbling lip, and pain in his eyes.
"What happened, Clark?" Ma asks, her hand coming to rest on the back of his own.
Clark answers without looking up. "Where's Pa?" He sniffs.
"Out with Hank. He's got a pair of calves coming tonight."
The relief that fills Clark comes with a second wave of guilt. It's not that he doesn't want his Pa around, or that he couldn't use the help but...oh this is all just such a mess! He knows Pa would just give him a stern look and tell him he's being silly, but Clark isn't. He's not being dramatic or blowing things out of proportion. Not this time.
He sees Bruce in his mind's eye. A man at the end of his rope, losing sleep over a stress he never truly trusted Clark with. Not even after all the progress they made. Even when he admitted his...his fears. Worries.
He shook Luthor's hand.
"Honey, you know I love you." Ma says, drawing his attention again. "Please tell me what's wrong."
Clark stands silently, the glass discarded. He moves past Ma, ignoring her when she follows him, and makes his way up to his old bedroom. The lights are out and the room is nearly empty, but his blanket is still there. Rough from years of tears. Blue. A small dog stitched into the corner.
He curls up under the blanket and squeezes his eyes shut. Clark thought coming home would make the hurt easier, but it hasn't.
Soft footsteps, the patter of a heart. Ma's smell.
The bed dips and a hand tucks curls behind his ear. Clark bites his lip hard.
"Ma?" He whimpers. "Were you ever scared of me?"
"Clark-"
"Be honest!" He begs. "Please..."
Gently, Ma turns him to face her. Her smile is haloed by the hall light, greying hair falling over her shoulder. Her elbow rests on his hip, but it doesn't hurt.
Why would it?
"I was never scared of you, Clark. I was scared for you." She clicks her tongue. "My son could lift mountains, but people in this town have always been too- too stuck. They get an idea and they don't let it move, not even a little."
She kisses his forehead and Clark gasps at the pure love in that act alone.
"You're my boy. My sweet, precious, confident boy and I'll be damned if anyone makes him think otherwise."
Clark sucks in a breath. "But I could hurt you. And Pa."
"So could anyone else. But you know what separates the people like you and people like my brother? You care. Your heart is so big, so full, you can hold the whole world inside of it. People like you love, Clark, and you'll keep loving because that's who you are."
He doesn't know what to say, so he settles for, "I love you, Ma."
She pulls him into a strained hug. "Oh, I love you too. I know you try so hard to keep people safe. I know you're different and different can be scary, but Superman isn't just powers. He's our hope. Right?"
"R-right," Clark sniffs.
Truth, justice, and a better tomorrow. A symbol for everyone who needs one.
"Stay the night," Ma says. "Your Pa will be back tomorrow and we can go see the new claves. Maybe Hank will pick out some names for them."
"Yeah, maybe." Clark cracks a smile.
Ma stands, her knees popping as she goes. She turns away to leave, but when she looks to him again, Clark has already dawned his cape and is floating in front of the open window.
She meets his gaze with a knowing, sad look. She doesn't need words. He knows.
With a nod, Clark slips out the window and soars into the night air. The clouds leave droplets against his face and the edges of a sunrise paint the world around him pink and orange.
People need him, even if Bruce doesn't. And Superman will always be there for them.
Clark has never been a stealth hero. But for this, he'll need the element of surprise on his side.
It helps that Luthor doesn't know Superman heard his conversation with Bru- Batman. He thinks his plans are face, his alliances are safe.
Clark can't wait to finally get one up on the arrogant jerk.
Finding the right lab is easy. Clark uses his reporter role to look through shipments of toxic materials from LexCorp. They lead out to five different locations: Metropolis docks, LexCorp warehouses, LexCorp Labs, a landfill in Maine, and...
Ace Chemicals. Gotham.
Clark, as Superman, investigates the other locations first. Whether in a blind hope the obvious isn't true, or just to be sure, he can't say. But when every warehouse, lab, and shadowed crevice with Luthor's name turns up empty, Clark has no choice but to cross the river.
Now, for the stealth aspect.
He walks in as Clark Kent. Gotham is eerie at best when the sun's up. Grey clouds and smog. But Gotham at mid-evening, just a few hours from sunset? It's downright scary. The night is more predictable. You know it's dangerous, you know to watch your back and hold your breath with every passing shadow. But this is a time where the danger hasn't quite settled over yet. There's a promise you might make it home safe. It tilts in the middle like a scale, never quite leaning to either side.
For Clark, it's the perfect time to blend in.
"Clark Kent of the Daily Planet." Clark flashes his ID at the first worker he sees. The poor woman looks dead on her feet, her eyes unseeing as she leans down to look at his card.
"Kent..." She mutters. "Whatcha want, Kent? Gotham's a scary place for someone like you." Her voice is higher than he thought it would be, shrill and nearly playful, if she didn't sound so damn tired. Her New Yorker accent is thick as well, unlike anyone's he's heard from Gotham. He wonders if it strikes a cord from the locals, considering the New York-New Jersey fued, or if that's all rumors.
"I'm looking for a statement from your shipping department. I hear the whole building might as well be a nuclear plant with how unstable it is. The people should know-"
"It's nuclear." She corrects, her emphasis on 'ee-ar'.
Clark blinks at her. "I...okay?"
"Ya just pronounces it wrong, is all." She shrugs. "It's a wonder how you reporter types make so much. Can't even say a single word right." She tsks at him, as if he were being completely ridiculous by correctly pronouncing a word.
It's nuclear.
"Ma'am, I don't really make that much." Clark rubs at the nape of his neck. "I make fifteen an hour."
Her eyes go wide. "Fifteen?! I make twenty-four! Shit, Kroy, you gotta ask your boss for a raise! Fifteen...that's practically -hehe- criminal!" She covers her giggle with one hand, something close to insane slipping into her eyes. She's smiling wide now, the exhaustion all but gone.
Before Clark can get a word in, she's shoving at his back and directing him towards the door. "Now, you go tell your boss that he's undercharging you and you won't do another paper until you're making more than some chemical worker, okay? Gee, my boyfriend makes more and he's a clown-"
Wait, he was here for something!
Clark turns out of her hold and stands his ground. "Ma'am, I appreciate the concern, but I need to speak with your manager."
Her hands go to her hips. "Oh, you're like that, are you?" She scowls. "And what if I tell ya to get lost?"
"Then I'll write that you were unwilling to see me and more journalists will be at your door by tomorrow morning."
She looks down, her teeth working at her lower lip. Eyes flick between him, the room around them, then the metal stair case leading to the main chemicals room. "I don't know..." She sounds nervous. Scared, maybe? Her heart is pumping faster and faster the longer they stand here. "I-I can't! My boss...He'll get mad at me and..."
"I won't go snooping, Ma'am. I just want a quote. That's all."
"Fine," She sighs. "Right this way."
The woman leads Clark up the stairs with an impressive slouch. Where she was nearly bouncing on her feet before, she's now dragging her every step. Her hand slaps onto the door knob and pulls it open with some effort.
Clark's face lights up with green, red, and orange. He stares in awe at the massive vats of bubbling, glowing chemicals. It stinks of sulfur and something close to iron. More workers pass around the room seemingly at random. One holds a clip board in his hands, lazily marking things down as he looks at the readings of each gauge. He looks sickly pale, more so than any gothamite Clark's met before, but he shakes the thought away. That doesn't matter right now.
"Thank you, Ma-" When Clark turns to the woman behind him, he finds the space empty. Alright...
A few heads turn his way as Clark walks along the catwalk, but other than that, he's ignored.
There's an office in the East corner. Clark tries to look through the walls, only to find it's been lined with lead.
That's exactly where Luthor would be, then.
With a destination in mind, Clark steps out of view and turns his eyes to one of the gauges. He follows the line down to a pressure cap at the bottom of a chemical filled vat. Using his heat vision, Clark burns a hole in the cap and the pressure blows out with a small explosion. Chemicals errupt from the pool and spill out across the floor.
All the workers, far from the explosion, immediately begin shouting. An alarm sets off within the minute and Clark watches an evacuation signal go off as the manager tries to close the vat with a massive, heavy lid.
Now that the stage has been cleared, Clark steps out of the shadows with his yellow family crest stretched across his chest. He lifts off the catwalk and flies right through the office window, the reinforced glass doing nothing to stop his entrance.
And just as he thought, Luthor is there. There was a risk he wouldn't be here, but the gamble paid off.
"Superman!" Luthor jumps up. "What- how did you find me?!"
"Slime like you leaves a trail, Lex." That was a pretty good line, honestly.
Luthor scoffs. He stands as if nothing's happened and walks out of the office. Superman follows after, hesitantly.
"You know," Luthor starts, "I really can't say why you've decided to break into Ace Chemicals. Or why you assume I'd be here. Care to enlighten me, Superman?"
Clark's gaze never lets up. "I know your plans already. There's no hidding it from me."
"Right. I suppose you did find me. But if you really knew all my plants, then why did you follow me into the trap?"
Clark has only one moment to blink in confusion before it all clicks into place too late.
It happens in four steps. First, Luthor's foot passes a laser sensor. Next, lead boxes fall from the cieling and splash into each of the eight bubbling vats. Then, once the lead boxes have disolved, the kryptonite breaks down and fuses with the present solutions. And lastly, the green glow from before turns into a burning radiation that knocks Clark's entire world off kilter.
He gasps through the pain but it only spreads the burning into his lungs. The very air he breathes is laced with krytponite. It's everywhere, covering his skin. He needs to leave, but he can't fly and his eyes are starting to water from the stinging.
Clark catches himself on the metal railing, his grip already sweaty and shaking. He glares up at Luthor.
"You...won't..."
"I won't what?" Luthor kneels in front of him. He grabs Clark by the jaw, blunt fingertips digging into his soft flesh. "I won't win? Don't kid yourself, Superman. It was only a matter of time."
Clark hisses through his teeth. He can't break out of Luthor's hold. "Did...Did Batman set this up?"
Luthor hums in thought, his gaze turning to the rest of the room. "Why don't you tell us, Batman?!" He shouts at seemingly nothing.
A shadow moves down below, but Batman is quickly found by the two crew workers from before. The woman swings a cartoonishly large hammer straight into his side as the other tries to cuff him.
"Wait! Luthor orders. "Let him go."
The pale worker from before stares up at Luthor with a deep frown. He throws his hard hat onto the floor in a fit of rage. Green hair, red lips, wide smile. The Joker. "Are you stupid?! We have him!"
"Come on, Mr. Luthor!" The woman wilts, her lip poking out in a pout. "Mr. J's dyin' to do Batsy in!"
Luthor doesn't waver. "Let. Him. Go. Or you won't get paid a cent!"
The Joker's lips turn up in a too-wide smile. "Oh well. Who needs money anyway? Revenge is so much swe-"
A shot rings out and Clark flinches at the sound. He looks up through hazy eyes to see Luthor pointing a gun downward. Clark follows the line to Joker's right thigh, where the clown is clutching his filthy jump suit.
"Hey!" The woman shouts. "What the hell?! You can't shoot-"
"I'll shoot you too if you don't shut up!" Luthor snaps. "Get out! Both of you! Otherwise that wound may become fatal."
The pair snarl up at Luthor, but reluctantly leave.
"Mark my words -agh!- Baldy! You'll regret this!"
"I highly doubt that." Once the two have waddled out, Luthor lowers his gun and addressed Batman. "Sorry for that. I try to stay professional but...well, I'm sure you can understand."
Batman doesn't answer. He stays hunched on the floor below.
Clark stares down at him. How is he here? Last Clark saw him, Bruce was barely able to move at all, let alone fly in like this. His leg...
Concern turns to anger as Luthor keeps talking. Something about needing a new get away vehicle and that he "shot the last driver".
Batman uses his grapple to pull himself onto the catwalk. He stands beside Luthor, eyes running over Clark's form like a beast about to devour him.
Through the pain and burning, Clark can do little to stop the anger that's taken hold of him. All of that hurt and betrayal resurfaces. He may die today and Clark won't go down without telling Bruce exactly what he thinks.
"You're no better...than him." Clark nods to Luthor. "He'll kill me. You know that, but y-you don't care, do you?"
"Enough from you." Luthor kicks Superman hard enough to send him onto his back. He groans against the throbbing in his head. "No one likes a chatty hostage."
As Luthor wraps thick chain around his arms, Clark swallows his nausea and bares his teeth at Bruce.
"C-Coward!" He hisses. "I've done no-nothing but help!" Clark pants has a shiver rolls over his body. He's starting to feel feverish. "I save people...I just...wanna save people."
Batman's lenses narrow, but his lip is twisting against his teeth. Good. He should feel guilty for selling him out. He should feel filthy and dirty for sending another hero away like a rabid animal.
"Is that all I am to you?" Clark keeps eye contact, even as Luthor pulls him to his feet. "I'm an alien...a freak...to dangerous t-to live."
Batman finally reacts and the action is violent. He grabs Clark by a fistful of dark curls and shoved him forward. Clark barely keeps himself from crying out with how it jostles his throbbing skull and aching muscles.
"Move." Batman commands.
Clark will not go quietly. He pushes against's Luthor's hold, just to get knocked down to his knees.
"I loved you," Clark gasps. "I loved you, Br-"
Batman slaps a hand over his mouth. Anger speaks in his every action, including the way Bruce's skin lights up.
"Don't! Don't you dare say it!"
"I did!" Clark says as he breaks the hold on his mouth. "All I w-want is to protect you." He's panting again. He feels like he can't get enough air. "You're so...nice. I thought you were...nice."
Luthor rolls his eyes. "Oh, please shut him up. I didn't come here for this."
But Batman's still staring at him, mouth slightly agape. "Kal-El..."
"No!" A burst of strength gives Clark enough energy to refute. "Don't call me that! You don't deserve it."
They stumble forward another few feet before Clark, once again, falls. He lands against the railing this time, his teeth snapping when Luthor tries to pull at him.
"Batman, sedate him or something! I'm getting tired of this!" Luthor orders.
Bruce stares down at Clark.
"Batman! Are you listening to me!?"
Gloved fingers touch the edge of Clark's jaw, turning him to meet Bruce's eyes. There might be some emotion there for Clark to catch, but he doesn't care to.
All he sees his executioner. Metropolis' executioner. Possibly even Gotham's.
Clark spits. It lands on Bruce's cheek.
One moment, Bruce is standing slowly and the next, he's punching Luthor in the jaw and kicking a button on the wall. Machines beep around them and Clark watches over the rail as heavy lids fall over all eight vats. One by one, the effects of the Kryptonite dampen until it doesn't hurt at all.
The healing comes first. Clark feels his skin repair itself where it broke -he didn't even realize his knees were bleeding. Then comes the strength to stand.
Luthor holds his bloody mouth, his eyes going wide as he realizes what happened.
"Ivy 's rwight!" He mumbles. "You were neber going to helb me!"
"You're a bigot with a god complex. I don't like your kind in my city." Batman growls. He throws another punch and Luthor is knocked out cold.
Clark stares in shock. How- what-
"You're right." Bruce says, pulling off his cowl. Clark can see stitches cross his brow and bruises just under his bangs. He looks bad, but Clark doubts he looks any better himself.
"I'm a coward. I was scared of you, so I searched for ways to stop you. I gathered kryptonite and intimidated an innocent reporter into helping me. I-" Bruce swallows. "But it was a bad call."
Clark doesn't know what to say. What to do. Everything's moving so quickly and Luthor's knocked out and Batman actually doesn't want him gone and-
"Kal-El, you are more than just an alien-"
"Clark."
Bruce's eyebrows crease. "Clark?"
"My name. No one calls me Kal-El but government officials and, well, you."
"...Clark."
They stand in silence.
"...I wanted to say that you aren't dangerous." Bruce breaks it, eventually. They aren't meeting eyes anymore, but Clark doesn't mind. "You do good for Metropolis. No matter what you are, that's more important."
Clark can't help but laugh. All his frustation, all his anger and betrayal, yet he laughs. It's just too ridiculous. "Really? Bruce," he stops, breathes, then looks at Bruce properly.
X-ray vision tells him that Bruce is wearing a leg brace. His wound is stitched up and wrapped tight, but it's obvious now how he keeps weight off of it.
Bruce has hidden his injuries well behind the bat suit, but with the cowl down, Clark don't need x-ray vision to see him. The real him.
"You see the worst in people." Clark says. "You assumed the same of me."
"Yes." Bruce steps forward. Limps, more like. "Even you."
"But I don't." Clark smiles. The anger is gone, lost to the kryptonite poisoning and chains on the floor. "I like to believe everyone has the desire for good. Or they did, at some point."
Example A being Luthor.
Bruce looks so much like the man he was the night before. Shaky, tired, vulnerable.
Honest.
"you told me who you are." Bruce says. "Let me, now.
"I am Bruce Wayne, son of Martha and Thomas Wayne."
He steps forward.
"I watched my parents die at the age of nine and have lived everyday at of my life lost."
His hands find Clark's, threading themselves together like woven fabric.
"I conquered fear, then become it as the Bat. I'm a detective, a philanthropist, a vigilante, a playboy,"
His other hand goes to Clark's chest, right over his beating heart.
"and somewhere in between, I'm still that child in an alley."
Clark feels every breath. His skin tingles unlike he's ever felt. It's tender, somehow. Soft and gentle, the way Clark always has to be.
"I love you because I have no sense of self, but you found one for me. You took off my masks and saw...me." A pink tongue licks against chapped lips. "I'm scared to ask what you saw."
Ma's voice rings in his ear. "I'm not scared of you. I'm scared for you."
"I saw someone who cares about his people." Clark allows himself to reach back, to touch the sweaty locks that once fell into orderly lines. Somehow, this seems more natural. "I saw myself. Someone people fear and others adore. A-a child's drawing and a savior to those in need. Hope."
Emotion plays on Bruce's face clearly now. Surprise, awe, and something deeper. Joy, but less blind. Shock, but with confidence.
Love.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Clark leans down. He curls his fingers into Bruce's hair and the man follows his lead like he's breathing for the first time.
"I...May I kiss you-"
The answer is clear in the eager press of Bruce's lips. They move together like oil and water, a swirl of patterns and shapes that mold seamlessly. Never crossing, but no less together.
Clark can feel the smirk before they break away. "Does this mean you forgive me? For pretending to betray you?" Bruce mutters against his lips.
"If you forgive me for leaving you."
It earns him an amused huff. "Hm. I don't know. My leg still hurts like a bitch."
A second kiss stops him. This time, Clark is consumed with the need to hold. He cups Bruce's face, then trails down to pull his hips close.
He feels right, kissing Bruce. Like...like something wonderful. It's not warm blankets and hot soup like Ma, or tractor grease and sunsets like Pa, but something else. Like...
Smoggy skies and rooftops. Like a storm finally at calm, or headlights in rain. He loves Bruce the way the sun loves the moon. His powers can hurt the Earth, but the moon will always bask in his warmth. And he'll watch it reflect back.
They land with a start and Clark flushes bright at the realization that he was floating.
"So," Clark tries to sound more confident than he feels. "Is, uh, that better?"
Bruce smile up at him and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"Much."
Their jobs aren't done. They still have to find the Joker and bring Luthor in. A new agreement needs to be made, one were Bruce Wayne and Superman are allowed to return to their own cities with a continued friendship -or something more.
But for now, this is all Clark needs.
So sorry for the late update! A storm hit my town and I lost power for days! Another thanks to everyone who's enjoyed this fic. It's been a ride for me to go through and it pulled me through a pretty tough month.