They say that the world was built for two

[kingofrooks]

Who: The Superbat Husbands. By which I mean Bruce Wayne [kingofrooks] and Clark Kent [isitablurred]
When: Backdated to December 20th, 2011.
Where: Batcave
Summary: Bruce goes home after dealing with the Shadow. Clark is waiting for him.
Warnings: Uh. It's these two, plus that Shadow. Probably massive tl;dr, talks of violence and mindfuck and gore, and even more fucked up

Comments

[kingofrooks]

"There's nothing to fix," Bruce said, flatly, turning around to look at Clark, his eyes sharp and cold and hard. All of his shields had slammed down, guarding everything that he thought, and instinctively, he calmed his autonomic reactions as well. He stopped his heart from trying to beat faster, stopped his breath from becoming shallow pants. He gritted his teeth and glared at Clark.

"The source is the same as any other. My Shadow isn't the first, or is it new. Perhaps you haven't been paying attention."

He knew that was false. He knew that it was as impossible for Clark to not pay attention as it was for him to do the same. But it was so much easier to try to piss Clark off than to actually try to talk about what happened, even- especially after that little speech he had with Re-l. Especially after that phone call. He had revealed himself too much today, his shields and armours torn away to reveal the bleeding, vulnerable flesh underneath, and he hated that. He hated being so exposed. He hated that the entire island now knew the worst part of himself; that they had seen what he had tried so desperately to keep hidden.

A long, shuddering breath.

"You can be useful by getting out and leaving me alone, but apparently that's too difficult for you to do." He turned away from Clark, his hands open and laid down against the keyboard. He placed them there, unmoving, his posture far too tense- so he wouldn't clench his fingers into a fist.

He kept talking. It was easier, this way- turned away from Clark, and not looking at him at all.

"There's nothing to fight; there's nothing to stand together about. This affects Batman's reputation alone; if you want to be concerned about what the island will think of Superman because of this, then I'd say that it's time for you to step up with that public relations campaign."

A brief glare over the shoulders.

"Now leave."

[isitablurred]

Clark grit his teeth at the insinuation, and rose from the chair completely, leaving the chair empty for Bruce to sit if he wanted and moving to stand at the end of the console, looking down at his friend sadly.

"I'm getting really tired of you acting like I'm some big blundering idiot whose only real purpose here is to make things more difficult for you. I'm your friend, and your ally--one of the few you actually have left, and if you only treated me with a little more understanding, a little more respect, then all those things you're tring to carry on your own two shoulders--you might suddenly find that the weight is a little easier to bear.

"Now I've been here as long as you - months, in fact - and the only concession I get is that you listen to me sometimes. Just sometimes. But in return I have to take your little hissy fits, and listen to you when you're determined to be your own worst enemy. For someone who's so dedicated, so good at what he does, you'd think you'd get to the end of something before you declared it a lost cause. You'd think you'd use all your resources, instead of pushing us away."

He stepped around the chair, circling until he could look Bruce straight in the eye again, measuring the ground he stood on before he spoke again. He'd always been frank with Lex, too, but the more he saw of Bruce like this, the more it felt like those last days. 'You're not welcome in my house. Get out.'

It was a painful sense of deja vu.

"Is it easier to hate me than accept that someone actually cares about you? Enough to ask you how you feel? To tell you you're not alone?"

[kingofrooks]

There was a long pause. Bruce's eyes were closed, his hands tense upon the counter. The problem wasn't that Clark was right - of course he was. Bruce knew that he was wrong from the very moment that any of those words came out of his mouth. He knew that Clark was better a person than he had ever painted him, simply because Bruce didn't stand idiots- and he more than stood Clark the months they had spent together.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? That was the exact fucking problem. The closer Clark was to him, the greater danger he was in. Not from Bruce's enemies - what on Earth could the Joker do to him now that Kryptonite didn't seem a problem - but from Bruce himself. Because Bruce would do whatever it took to accomplish his goals. Even if it meant that he completely alienated Clark. Even if it meant killing him. He had to choose one of them.

"You don't get it," he said, tipping his head to the ceiling. He didn't see a single thing; only darkness that seemed to want to swallow him. Bruce took a long, shuddering breath.

"You've seen what I can do. You've gone through it first-hand." Bruce carried the scars. The burns across his chest. Clark's house's shield, burnt into his skin. "And now you're telling me that you've seen what I want to do to you, and you want to know how I feel. You want me to think you not an idiot."

He glanced sideways, his gaze not cold but utterly blank. Drained of emotion, all of it locked away, tucked in a corner of his head so he didn't have to fucking think about any of it.

"Being a little contradictory there, aren't you?"

If Clark left right now, there was a good possibility that they wouldn't talk to each other again- or at least, for some time. That would be best.

It would be.

It would.