Fake Empires by Copperbadge, Mature
Fandom: DC Comics
Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Length: 11,730
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: At AO3
Why this must be read: For one thing it's told entirely 1st person POV which can't have been easy to do, but which works flawlessly here. That he starts out in Clark Ken, Ace Reporter mode plays a big factor in getting the right. When it opens, he's out to get at the mystery that lurks behind the bland facade Bruce Wayne shows the world, and where getting the answer to that question could have been the end of things, here the author uses it as a prologue for a story that juggles identity!porn, the delicious slow burn of UST, and these two men getting to know and trust each other--with one of the best last lines ever.
The comm link goes with me pretty much everywhere, once I look into the circuitry enough to know there's no GPS in it. It's one-way; he can call me, but I can't call him, which seems smart, if not particularly friendly. Still, he does call -- not frequently, but with reasonable regularity. To ask questions, to see if I've heard rumors. Eventually, sometimes, he seems to call simply to talk out knotty problems with someone. His mind is incisive, but I think it helps him to have another person to talk to. It helps me, too. I can keep tabs on Gotham this way. He's never needed my help, but even if he did, he wouldn't ask. Now, I have a way of knowing.
Besides, I find I like talking to him. When he doesn't call, I miss it.
And then one evening he calls, breathless, and says, "You can get a message to Superman, can't you?"
"Sure."
"How fast?"
"Well, it's no bat-signal -- "
"Tell him to get out of the cape and get under cover. There's a hit out."
"A hit?" I ask, amused.
"I'm not screwing around, Metropolis. Find him as fast as you can and tell him. I'm on my way now."
"You know he's the Man of Steel, right? Bullets tend to ricochet."
"Not when they're made of Kryptonite."
I can feel myself tense. "Where'd they get Kryptonite?"
"I don't know yet. No more stupid questions, Kent. Go, tell him. I'll call again when I know more."
He clicks off -- well, that's the end of that.
I wasn't even particularly planning on going out tonight. I walk to the window and look out, down into the streets of Metropolis, wondering. It's crazy enough, putting a hit on Superman; it's maddening and frightening to know they might have bullets that could do real damage to me. I'm not used to feeling vulnerable. Kryptonite's one of the few things I fear, and I've never liked the feeling.
I should suit up. I should find these clowns and handle them. This is my city, not Batman's.
Fake Empires
Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Length: 11,730
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author Website: At AO3
Why this must be read: For one thing it's told entirely 1st person POV which can't have been easy to do, but which works flawlessly here. That he starts out in Clark Ken, Ace Reporter mode plays a big factor in getting the right. When it opens, he's out to get at the mystery that lurks behind the bland facade Bruce Wayne shows the world, and where getting the answer to that question could have been the end of things, here the author uses it as a prologue for a story that juggles identity!porn, the delicious slow burn of UST, and these two men getting to know and trust each other--with one of the best last lines ever.
The comm link goes with me pretty much everywhere, once I look into the circuitry enough to know there's no GPS in it. It's one-way; he can call me, but I can't call him, which seems smart, if not particularly friendly. Still, he does call -- not frequently, but with reasonable regularity. To ask questions, to see if I've heard rumors. Eventually, sometimes, he seems to call simply to talk out knotty problems with someone. His mind is incisive, but I think it helps him to have another person to talk to. It helps me, too. I can keep tabs on Gotham this way. He's never needed my help, but even if he did, he wouldn't ask. Now, I have a way of knowing.
Besides, I find I like talking to him. When he doesn't call, I miss it.
And then one evening he calls, breathless, and says, "You can get a message to Superman, can't you?"
"Sure."
"How fast?"
"Well, it's no bat-signal -- "
"Tell him to get out of the cape and get under cover. There's a hit out."
"A hit?" I ask, amused.
"I'm not screwing around, Metropolis. Find him as fast as you can and tell him. I'm on my way now."
"You know he's the Man of Steel, right? Bullets tend to ricochet."
"Not when they're made of Kryptonite."
I can feel myself tense. "Where'd they get Kryptonite?"
"I don't know yet. No more stupid questions, Kent. Go, tell him. I'll call again when I know more."
He clicks off -- well, that's the end of that.
I wasn't even particularly planning on going out tonight. I walk to the window and look out, down into the streets of Metropolis, wondering. It's crazy enough, putting a hit on Superman; it's maddening and frightening to know they might have bullets that could do real damage to me. I'm not used to feeling vulnerable. Kryptonite's one of the few things I fear, and I've never liked the feeling.
I should suit up. I should find these clowns and handle them. This is my city, not Batman's.
Fake Empires