classic superbat cat transformation fic except instead of bruce being magicked into a small domestic kitty he's just this huge fuckin jaguar.
everyone is worried when batman stops responding to his comm mid-battle, and clark can't justify abandoning his post when hal is closer to b's last known location.
and then hal's blood curdling scream pierces through the comm and clark is racing fast enough to create a sonic boom, except...what he sees is more than a little confusing.
one of the sentry droids that the aliens have been using for protection lays sparking off to the side. hal is flat on his front, cheek smushed into the pavement, clearly unable to move very much—what with the massive cat perched on his back.
"um, hal?" clark asks, inching forward. "everything okay?"
the cat licks over hal's hair as he grumbles, making it stick up in all directions. "i think spooky got transformed," hal says, his voice strained under the cat's—bruce's?—weight. "he scared the shit out of me, but he was only going after the robot."
"yeah..." clark says, distracted. "i see that." as he steps closer, the cat lifts its massive head, eyes piercing as it tracks his movements. it's tail flicks quickly, ears swivelling forward to give clark its full, undivided attention.
clark shivers. that's definitely bruce.
the battle wraps up and clark manages to corral bruce back to he cave with the rest of the league in tow. they call zatanna. she says to let the spell run its course, as its safer to let it be than try to tamper with bruce's physical form any further.
that leaves bruce stuck as a big cat for a week.
he prowls around the cave, slipping into the shadows with ease and using the rosettes in his fur to help blend in with the rock walls. more than once, he sneaks up behind a league member and pounces on them with a snarl, effectively terrifying them but never causing any real harm.
clark is the only one who maintains the opinion that bruce is cute. the others shoot him weird looks and then promptly designate him as bruce's babysitter for the week he's stuck like this.
clark really doesn't mind. bruce obviously enjoys sneaking up on people, and from the research he manages to do while bruce sleeps, clark discovers it's actually a common way for jaguars to play and teach each other how to hunt.
time progresses. bruce takes it upon himself to groom clark's hair multiple times. clark just smiles through it, privately amused and also grateful for his invulnerability after feeling the sharp bumps on bruce's tongue. bruce initiates play hunting and tackling far more than clark would have expected, but he's not going to complain. clark takes time to work on his articles when bruce slinks off to rest, except apparently bruce gets sick of that, because he clamps down on the arm of clark's chair with his powerful jaw and literally drags it over to the cots in the cave. they rest together. clark tries to enjoy the warmth of bruce's back against his side while it lasts.
all in all, the week passes quickly enough, but as the hours tick down to minutes, clark admits to himself that a part of him will miss how playful bruce was as a big cat, and also how much time he got to spend with bruce, alone together, completely uninterrupted.
and then bruce turns, and clark watches it happen before his eyes as bruce's fur shrinks away to scarred skin and hard muscle, his padded toes stretching into thick, callused fingers, and the shape of his eyes returning to a more natural almond.
clark notices two things, after it's all said and done:
the ears and tail didn't disappear with the rest of the fur
