#dcships

1. Truth Under a Broken Sky

Coordinates: low orbit over Rann. Mission status: Thanagarian artifact neutralized. Participants: World’s Finest (currently, off-universe).

The final blow is delivered in tandem, as always. Clark holds the gravitational core with both hands, containing an explosion that could have folded the city in on itself, while Bruce—magnetically anchored to a shattered satellite—inserts the disruptor manually, milliseconds from implosion.

There’s no margin for error. There never is when it’s the two of them.

The artifact collapses inward with a dull sound, nonexistent in the vacuum. Space stills. The debris drifts like a metallic cemetery.

Clark exhales first. Bruce takes a few seconds longer.

They remain suspended in silence, floating among alien junk and stars that are too bright. Clark moves closer—close enough for Bruce to notice without sensors.

Clark: Are you okay?

The question is automatic. Mission routine. Nothing personal.

Bruce opens his mouth to give the usual answer.

Fine. Operational. No structural damage.

But something catches. Like an invisible hook around his chest.

Bruce: No.

The silence that follows is… enormous.

Clark blinks. Not because he didn’t understand, but because his brain needs an extra second to slot that answer into the right place.

Clark: …no?

Bruce closes his eyes. Just for a second. Long enough to know he can’t fix it now.

Bruce: I’m not okay. I’m tired. My ribs hurt. And I hate fighting intergalactic things that could kill me just by… thinking too hard.

Clark doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t smile.

Clark: Bruce…

The name, said like that, without the suit as a buffer, tightens something behind his sternum.

Bruce: I’m human—he continues, because he can’t stop now. And sometimes I forget that matters until I’m hanging off a broken satellite waiting for something not to explode.

Clark closes the distance completely now. He doesn’t touch him. He respects that boundary as if it were sacred.

Clark: Thank you for telling me.

Bruce opens his eyes. Frowns.

Bruce: That wasn’t… an invitation to—

Clark: I know.

A few seconds pass. Then a few more. Space doesn’t rush anyone.

Clark: Do you want me to take you back? Or would you rather use the Zeta?

Bruce should lie. Say it doesn’t matter. That he doesn’t need anything.

He can’t.

Bruce: You. I hate Zeta beams, anyway.

Clark nods without hesitation.

They don’t say anything else. They’re a little scared.

Justice League

Superbat OTP or Wonderbat 

Rouges gallery 

Batcat Het OTP, Riddlebat, Twobat, or Brutaila (sometimes)

NOTP

I loved them since the GL:TAS, I'd love to see more of them tbh 💚💖

Chapter 1

2. The Impossible Lie

Location: Batcave. Time: 2:53 p.m.

They confirm it in the Batcave.

Clark leans against the main console, arms crossed, watching as Bruce removes his cowl with slow movements.

Clark: Does it hurt a lot?

Bruce freezes.

Bruce: No.

The word comes out… wrong. Ill-fitted.

Clark tilts his head.

Clark: Bruce… does it hurt?

A second attempt. No qualifying words.

Bruce: Yes.

They look at each other.

They both know Bruce should have lied.

Clark: Unexpected.

Bruce: Yeah.

Bruce presses his lips together. His mind is already racing: variables, risks, possibilities of exploitation. He doesn’t like any of them.

Clark: Let’s try something.

Bruce should say no. He doesn’t want to risk talking.

Clark: Do you trust me?

The answer is immediate.

Bruce: Yes.

Clark swallows, even though it means nothing. Bruce trusts him—that’s not new, although… does Bruce really trust anyone? But he said… maybe…

Clark: Do you always tell the truth when you answer me?

Bruce closes his eyes. Curses silently.

Bruce: No.

Clark smiles.

Clark: And now?

Bruce: Yes.

It’s a growl, but Clark is used to it—and he has super hearing.

Clark: Since when?

Bruce shakes his head.

Bruce: I don’t know.

Clark: Are you giving me short answers to avoid saying more even though that’s going to slow us down?

With a snort, Bruce leans back against the Batcomputer and looks at him, brows furrowed.

Clark: Bruce, if this is happening, it could be dangerous.

Bruce: I know. And we need to figure out whether it happens with everyone or, coincidentally, only with you.

Clark: That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Clark sees Bruce struggle—but the answer slips out before he can stop it.

Bruce: Definitely not.

Clark laughs and Bruce grumbles a little, but the moment fades and they both sober up again.

Clark: If anyone finds out—

Bruce: They won’t.

Clark: I would never use this against you.

Bruce swallows.

Bruce: I know.

And that’s the worst part. And the best.

Clark steps closer.

Clark: Do you want me to avoid asking you questions?

Bruce thinks about it. Really thinks.

Bruce: No.

Clark raises an eyebrow.

Bruce: I hate being exposed, but it’s a relief not having to avoid it and, since for now it’s only you, it’s okay to stop pretending and rest.

It’s almost verbal diarrhea on top of a lot of very pretty words, so Clark can only smile.

Chapter 5

6. Kara Zor-El Doesn’t Believe in Subtlety

Location: Metropolis, two days later. Status: a beautiful spring morning.

Kara lands on the balcony of Clark’s apartment with the energy of a happy meteor.

Kara: Clark! I brought food and an incredible story and— (stops) Oh.

Bruce (not Batman) is there. No mask. Coffee in hand. Looking out the window like he once lived in a small downtown apartment.

Bruce: Kara.

Kara: Bruce.

They look at each other. Kara smiles. Big. Too big.

Kara: You’re not usually here.

Bruce takes a breath to answer.

Bruce: No. I don’t usually come here.

Kara blinks. Then looks at Clark. Then looks back at Bruce.

Kara: It’s morning.

Bruce: Yes.

Kara cares far less than Dick about looking unhinged: zero.

Kara: There’s a lot of sun.

Clark clears his throat.

Clark: Kara.

Kara: No, no, relax. I’m not judging. I’m just… —she makes a wide gesture— observing.

She sits on the couch, still watching them.

Kara: You’re more relaxed —to Bruce—. And you —to Clark— are way too attentive.

Clark turns red. Bruce frowns.

Bruce: What you’re implying—

Kara raises a hand.

Kara: I don’t care. Nothing matters to me as long as it works.

Bruce looks at her, unreadable.

Bruce: Is that all?

Kara: Bruce, my civilization disappeared. I learned not to complicate things and to value what matters.

Bruce rolls his eyes and Clark tilts his head, possibly moved by her words, so Kara doesn’t let him speak.

Kara: Are you calm because you feel safe here?

Bruce swallows. He can’t lie.

Bruce: Yes.

Kara nods and turns to her cousin.

Kara: And you’re watching him because he’s calm and you’re afraid something will happen to him and that never ever again in the entire universe and in every reality will he be able to be calm.

Clark: No, but—

Kara: No but yes?

Clark: Partially.

Kara smiles, genuine.

Kara: Then it’s fine.

She jumps to her feet.

Kara: Great. Now, who wants to hear how I almost broke a satellite by accident and then it did break because Krypto peed on it?