#hellsangel921

Bruce wasliving on the streets since his owners, the Wayne's, died. One night they didn’tcome home. He waited for them, but they had never returned and Bruce had runoff and also never returned to Wayne manor. Bruce knew they were dead; everyonetalked about how the Wayne’s were killed.

Once, awoman found him and took him with her. He hated her, she almost never fed him buthe could run away and lived on the streets. It was hard at first. It was coldand he was hungry. But he learned to survive.

Through theyears, Bruce defended his territory and helped other stray cats. Then he founda lone kitten whose mother died. He took him in and looked out for him. Dickwas usually very cheerful and loved it to run and jump around. They had found asmall, abandoned house where they found shelter to sleep and eat in. They wereout mostly at night wandering the streets, looking for something to eat thatthey brought to other strays.

One day whenhe came back to his shelter alone, Dick was out on his own more often since he wasn’ta kid anymore, Bruce dropped the rat he had caught, when a young one jumped outof the shadows and stole it from him. Bruce chased him and they fought. Brucewon but ended up taking the lad in anyway. It took them a while to get used toeach other but in the end his two boys got along well.

After six months with virtually no incidents, Bruce had to begrudgingly admit that this “Justice League” would be a permanent thing.

The team had come into their own, figuring a way for six loners to work together to protect the planet. They managed to keep the infighting to a minimum and save the world at the same time. They kept their home base secure and in one piece, even spending time there voluntarily a few times out of the week. And Clark… things were going surprisingly well with Clark.

Since his resurrection (which, while Bruce was pleased, still unsettled him), Clark had been a welcome addition to the team. He was moderate where Bruce was extreme and more trusting where Diana was cautious. He worked well with Barry, encouraging him when he was at his most insecure. Trusting where Victor was still unsure of his new abilities. Friendly and welcoming where Arthur was still slow to form bonds with the others. Superman had no shortage of fans in the public, especially after returning from the dead.

Over time, Bruce was surprised to find that he’d become one of them. Clark was insistent on letting bygones be bygones and insisted on spending time with Bruce, despite Bruce’s lack of enthusiasm. Bringing him dinner after missions, sending him cards on his birthday and Christmas. He’d even taken to asking Bruce questions on late nights monitoring the satellite warning systems. All to Bruce’s begrudging acceptance.

After everything they’d gone through, Bruce had been uncertain of how Clark would feel about working with him, but Clark had been nothing but kind to him.

Which, of course, Bruce found unsettling.,

Bruce wasn’t a trained psychiatrist, and he wasn’t sure if he believed in psychoanalyzing every stray thought for some hidden meaning. But, when he kept having the same nightmare night after night, he started to question things.

+

It was happening again.He was in the desert taking down parademons, the heat beating down upon him from above. Sweat dripping into his eyes, bone tired and losing power as he fought like his life depended on. It was over all too soon, strong grips on his shoulders and arms as he was dragged to the ground and everything went dark.

He woke up in Clark’s lair, again.

This time, alone when Clark dropped down. Clark strode forward, his mouth a grim line as his jaw tensed. Bruce’s heart pounded in his chest, beating faster with every one of Clark’s determined steps. Bruce grimaced, knowing Clark could hear the uptick; knowing Clark would take it as a sign of victory. The Gotham Bat, strong-willed, fiercely determined and stubborn… and scared of what Clark might do to him.

Stretching upward, Bruce tugged at his bindings with futility, harder as Clark grew closer. He came to a stop, a few inches from Bruce, eyes narrowed, mouth unfairly plush and full. Bruce willed himself to return to Clark’s gaze but there was something about his lips that held Bruce’s gaze. The redness, the slight indentation where he’d bitten down on them some time earlier. The way his tongue poked out to wet them as he began to speak.

Bruce’s stomach turned over, tense and anxious as Clark opened his mouth –

Then Bruce woke up in bed, drenched in sweat.

+

It was the same dream, night after night.

Sometimes, Clark spoke and it was the same thing he’d said the first time Bruce had this dream. More often than not, Bruce awoke before Clark was able to speak. It made no sense; while Bruce was still wary of Clark’s abilities, he wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t see Clark going on a rampage any time soon and trying to take over the earth. He didn’t worry about Clark trying to kill him. If he hadn’t retaliated by now, he wasn’t going to.

It didn’t make sense that Bruce kept having this dream, but he didn’t know how to stop it. If he knew how to control his subconscious, he would’ve gotten a good night’s sleep at least once in the past twenty years.

“Bruce? You still with us?”

Startled out of his reverie, Bruce focused up to find Clark studying him, a friendly smile on his face. Bruce’s mind supplied a picture of that self-assured grin he saw in his dreams. Shaking himself a little, Bruce nodded, straightening up in his chair and focused on the tablet in hand.

“Okay, usually I’m the only one that spaces out. That was weird,” Barry whispered to Victor. “That was weird, right?”

Victor shushed him, crossing his arms as he returned to Diana. “It was weird,” Barry muttered.

+

“All the people I’ve murdered by letting you live,” Bruce sneered, pulling the ropes taut as Clark stood before him.

He smiled.

Stepping forward, they stood mere inches apart, the scent of Clark’s skin in Bruce’s nose. He smelled clean – of soap and something flowery, soft. These days, you were lucky if you could find a place with running water. Clark had clearly found paradise, at the end of the world.

And here he stood with that infuriating, self-satisfied grin. “What are you smiling at?” Bruce demanded, his muscles straining.

“You,” Clark replied simply. “Speaking as though you had any choice.”

He lifted his chin, eyes alit.

Bruce shot up in bed, breathing labored.

+

“I’ve gotta get home, I trust you can keep things under control here for at least twelve hours?” Diana said, sliding on her jacket.

Clark saluted with a smile. He was always smiling. Bruce didn’t understand it.

He continued changing into his civvies, the room quieting now that they were the only two left. There was the sound of a light footstep on the hard floor and Bruce tensed, nerves frazzled and on end after months of sleepless nights. Clark froze, a few feet away. With the cycle of cool air in the dressing room, Bruce caught his scent.

So familiar. So clean.

Clark cleared his throat, drawing Bruce’s attention. His brows rose, a hesitant smile spreading across his face. “So, do you want a ride back?”

“A ride?”

“I can take you back.” At Bruce’s silence, he mimed taking off, his hand dropping awkwardly when Bruce didn’t seem receptive. “Or not. Just a thought.”

“I have a plane.”

“Right, right, of course.” He backed up a few steps, clasping his hands together. “Probably safer. I should get back to Lo.”

He turned around, his cape whipping at his legs. Bruce watched quietly, willing his heart to calm down.

+

It was happening again.

Bruce didn’t try to pull at the ropes anymore.

He let himself hand there, waiting for Clark to approach. Clark’s head cocked to the side as he took in Bruce’s expectant expression, his calm heartbeat. Instead of being met with distrust and annoyance, Clark’s face softened in response. He moved closer at a calming pace, almost so as not to frighten Bruce. When stopped a few inches in front, his eyes were almost… kind.

“Bruce,” he greeted with a hesitant smile. He searched Bruce’s face for a moment before nodding once, averted his gaze briefly. “You haven’t figured out why you keep coming here.”

It wasn’t a question. “No, I haven’t. Maybe you can enlighten me.”

“It’s your head, Bruce. I don’t control what happens here.” Bruce stared pointedly at the ropes hanging him aloft and Clark’s smile widened with amusement. “I don’t control that either.”

He reached out a hand, sliding it along Bruce’s stomach slowly. Bruce’s insides twisted in response, Bruce’s mind racing. He wondered if this was the familiar anxiety, except it didn’t feel familiar. He wasn’t fearful as much as he was apprehensive. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he was impatient. He was anticipating it.

Clark’s eyes were a bright, gleaming blue, studying his face quietly, lips soft and red as he swiped his tongue over them. His hand was broad and warm as it slid down Bruce’s front to his belt. Clark used it to yank him forward, his front pressed against Clark’s. Here, the heat was almost unbearable, seeping into Bruce’s body as Clark held him close.

Clark must’ve loved this, Bruce mused. He was boiling in his armor. He wanted it off.

Now.

Clark’s brows rose as he slid a finger to the clasp and pulled off the utility belt. Bruce barely processed the release of its weight before Clark was unfastening the clasps of his armor. This must be a dream because there was no way Clark knew where to find every opening, opening clasp, every fastening. He removed the suit as though he’d been doing this just as many years as Bruce had.

When Bruce was bare, save for his briefs, Clark took a step back, looking him over. His eyes were invasive as they scanned Bruce’s toned and scarred body. This had never happened in his dreams before and Bruce didn’t know what to expect. He started to ask, his voice rough and distrustful and… tentative.

Then he woke up, half hard and sweating.

+

“Batman, I need your eyes,” Clark said over the comms. He flew overhead, surveying the city. “Are you seeing this?”

“OF course I am, Superman,” Bruce groused. He rubbed tiredly at his brow, watching the monitor as Clark looped once more around Metropolis. “As are you. What do you need me for?”

“Seeing as I’m not at all an expert in bomb defusing, I need your brain.”

“Could you not simply fly it out of the city?”

Clark laughed; Bruce grumbled in response. “I could, if I knew where it was. You know how these guys think. If you were hiding a bomb in a crowded city, where would you hide it?”

“You can’t hear the timer?”

“Bruce, can we just work together on this one?”

A beat.

“The point with the greatest impact. There’s a ball game today. I would think it would be hidden in the dugout for the home team.” He paused, his voice lowering. “And Clark?”

“Yes, Bruce.”

“Don’t ever try to ‘throw me a case’ again. It’s beneath both of us.”

+

Damn it, Bruce swore internally as Clark, once again, undressed him.

He’d had this dream several times now and each time it ended the same way: Clark studying his bare form before he woke up in bed alone.

It was shocking the first time. Confusing the second time. Annoying every time since. Bruce was frustrated and he told himself he wanted Clark to just get on with it – whatever it was. If only to break him out of this annoying state in limo, waiting for the next step.

This time, Clark started to take a step back and Bruce growled, “Get on with it.”

“With what?” Clark asked, brow furrowed. His mouth twisted in response, drawing Bruce’s gaze to his lips again. The bow, the plumpness of his bottom lip as he frowned. Bruce’s breath caught. Swallowing, he drew Clark’s gaze to his throat. Clark hesitated, rasping, “What is it you want from me, Bruce?”

His eyes cut to Bruce’s, knowing and critical.

Then, Bruce woke up alone.

+

Clark wouldn’t stop staring at him during debriefs.

The others were starting to notice.

Bruce kept his focus on his tablet, the numbers and text blurring before his eyes.

+

“What is it you want from me, Bruce?”

“I don’t know,” he said for the twelfth time.

“Then why am I here?” Clark demanded.

Bruce woke up alone.

+

“It’s not just me, but, he looks like shit, right?” Barry tried to whisper, slipping his jacket into his backpack. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is very, very good looking in kind of a scary, don’t look right at him, kind of way but he looks like he hasn’t slept in a few thousand years.”

“He works nights,” Victor tried, less stiff and impersonal when he was speaking to Barry alone.

“Boys,” Arthur chided, waltzing by. Bruce came around the corner to find him gesturing to his ears. “Bats have great hearing.”

Victor cursed, starting out of the room.

+

“Why am I here?”

“I don’t know.” Bruce hung from the ropes, too exhausted to fight. He was just so damn tired.

“You can’t believe that,” Clark said, a grim twist of his mouth. He turned away, calling over his shoulder. “This is your head.

“You’re blaming me? You brought me here.”

“This is your dream. Or your nightmare. Whichever way you think of it. I don’t control what happens here.” He turned back around, his eyes narrowed, arms crossed. “Think, Bruce. I know you’re good at that. Why am I here?”

Bruce resisted the urge to ignore Clark and tried to think logically about this. If someone else came to him and asked him his thoughts on this dilemma, what would he say?

He kept dreaming of Clark because there was something between them that Bruce couldn’t’ resolve. He was tied up because that forced him to face the issue head on. He was stripped down because – because… well, there was no way this was just a complex, frustrating wet dream, right? He was repressed but not that repressed. If he got hard thinking about a man’s body, there were worst things to worry about.

If not sexual frustration, then maybe Bruce found himself stripped down every night because – because his suit was his protection. Was all of this because, deep down, he was still afraid of Clark?

+

“Bruce?”

Bruce blinked drowsily, looking up from his tablet. The table were all watching him quietly, Clark concernedly. Bruce cleared his throat, setting the tablet down. “If we try searching these five locations for increased energy output, we should be able to narrow down the search areas to more manageable segments. IT should take less manpower. I’ll get Oracle started on it.”

No one spoke, Clark’s brow furrowing. Diana spoke up, “That’s great. Thank you, Bruce.” She looked to the others, “If that’s all, we can call it a day. Maybe take a break tomorrow. Get fresh eyes on this Thursday.”

The group dispersed, very pointedly avoiding Bruce. Clark hung back, his hand on the door. He lowered his head, his voice soft. “Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not working.” He turned around, moving in closer, crossing his arms. His biceps tensed, the blue fabric stretching tightly over them. Bruce wondered what it said about his work in Gotham if he was finding himself so easily distracted by the smallest of things these days. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Bruce said, leaning back in his chair.

“You’re unfocused, slower to respond and quicker to tire. If you’re like this with us, I can’t imagine what you’re like alone.” His voice was tender where his eyes were fierce and searching. “And you are alone, aren’t you?”

Bruce’s temple pulsed, earning a smile. “Yeah, you don’t seem like the type to work with a big team.” He sat down on the edge of the table. “You need to rest.”

“I’m sorry, did I miss the part where I take orders from you?”

“Not an order. It’s a fact.” He planted his hand on the table. “You are drowning. I don’t know if there’s some new threat you’re not telling us about, if somebody’s after you, but trying to deal with it by not dealing with it isn’t working. Let us help you,” he said gently.

“I’m fine.” Bruce stood up, slowly, aware that his vision swam more these days when he rose to his feet. “You need to go back to your city and I need to go back to mine.”

He started towards the door, keeping his gait steady and sure. As he neared the door, Clark called out, “If you space out like that during a meeting again, we’ll bench you. We’ll have no choice.”

Bruce continued.

+

“Why am I here—”

“You scare me,” Bruce bit out. Seventeen nights of this and he’d had enough.

“What?” Clark’s eyes widened. “Why? We’re friends now.”

“You could kill me without a second thought.”

“I would never do that.” Clark moved in closer, eyes pained. Bruce cursed the stubborn pull at his heart. “You know that.”

“My… friendship with you doesn’t change facts. If something were to take hold of you or we become adversaries again, you would have an upper hand.”

Clark shook his head, lip caught between his teeth. “No, no, that’s not it.” He came up to Bruce, annoyance readily apparent. It was a look Bruce rarely saw on Clark’s face in his waking hours. “You must be missing something.”

“Clark, there is nothing else—”

“You missed something.” He strode out of the room.

+

Bruce’s head shot up, blinking drowsily at the monitors. He tugged his glasses off in frustration, tossing them to the side as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a few moments before reaching out for his glasses and again.

A hand slid them further away.

Bruce looked over sluggishly, taking in Clark’s presence in surprise. And annoyance.

“I’m officially banning you from the headquarters.”

Bruce glared, “You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.” At Bruce’s frustrated twist of the mouth, Clark tried for a smile. “Look, Bruce, I’m really trying here.”

“You’ve already benched me. What else do you want from me?”

“I want you to get some rest.”

“Clark,” Bruce tried.

“All of this will keep. We are not facing an active threat at the moment. If you go home and get a few hours of shut eye, the world will not stop—”

“Why do you care?” Bruce shouted, slamming his hand on the desk and startling Clark into silence. “Why do you care what happens to me? If I’m sleeping enough or if I’m – if I’m well?”

Clark stared at him with wide eyes as Bruce continued, “I tried to kill you! I put my years of experience and skills and intelligence into trying to end your life! I turned my back on a vow I made years ago and spent months trying to hunt you down. And now you’re here trying to tuck me in and I cannot for the life of me understand why.”

Clark stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Maybe we’re just different people, Bruce. I forgive others when they make mistakes. You did everything you could to bring me back.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair. “You think you owe me.”

Clark sighed rubbing at his eyes. He turned around. “No, Bruce. I think you still think you owe me.”

+

Bruce thought about it: how could he could look out at Clark’s face across the round table day in, day out and still fear that one day – someday, Clark would turn on him. He’d thought it down to where everyone else would land. Diana would side with Clark because she fell more in line with his view of justice. Barry and Victor might see Bruce’s side of things. Arthur was the wild card – Bruce wasn’t sure if he liked any of them some days.

It was hard for Bruce to see Clark laughing and smiling and think about him pulling his heart of his chest.

So, he tried to see past it. Tried to figure out what would cut him deeper than that.

He thought about Clark held tight in Doomsday’s grasp, the spike stabbing him through the chest. He thought about helping Diana lower Clark’s still body to the ground. He thought about burying him so soon after they’d brought him back.

He thought about doing everything he could, examining every threat and employing every single defense system he could possibly think of… and it all being for naught.

He thought about failing Clark again.

+

It was the same. Every night.

Clark pacing in front of him, demanding that Bruce tell him why he was here. As though Bruce was keeping him here somehow. As if Bruce wasn’t powerless in this.

“I don’t know!” Bruce shouted, tugging on the ropes. “I don’t know why I’m here every single night! I don’t know why I can’t dream about anything else! About anyone else! I don’t know why it seems as if I spend every waking moment thinking about you and I don’t know why it’s so important to me that I figure you out. You keep asking me why you’re here but you never ask me why I’m here.”

“It’s your head!”

“Why am I in a bunker? Why don’t I see us in the League headquarters? Or in a restaurant or your apartment or the manor?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you?”

Bruce stiffened. “IT was this. This was the dream that pushed me over the edge.”

Clark moved in closer, his voice softening. “So, that’s why you’re here. Now again, why am I here?”

“You terrify me,” he began.

“Not this again,” Clark muttered, starting to turn away.

“You terrify me,” Bruce repeated. He softly added, “I can’t lose you again.”

Clark froze, turning towards him. “What?”

“I am scared to lose you again.” He swallowed, his heart beating faster. “I’m trapped here. I have no suit, no Kryptonite, no plan. I can’t get out, I can’t keep you out. I’m not scared you’ll hurt me. I’m scared you’ll leave.”

“You? Mr. Lone Wolf, you’re scared to be alone?”

Bruce averted his gaze. “You’re my friend.”

“And you’re mine. Why all of this to tell you that you want to keep me around?”

“I don’t deserve you.” He pants. “And even if you don’t leave, chances are I’ll lose you some other way. Something was able to kill you when nothing else could. Everyone goes away in the end. I let you get close to me, I let you in and you’ll leave or worse. But here, somehow in this place, we can go around and around and I can’t leave and you’re in control. You call all the shots. And you’ll never die because this is the one scenario where you’ve eliminated every last threat to you.”

Except me.

+

“He won’t speak to me,” Clark said, crossing his arms where he stood at the security monitor. Bruce leaned back in his chair at the mansion, listening over the feed to the HQ. “It’s been over a week now.”

“Why can’t you boys ever seem to get along?” Barry asked. The silence no doubt pointed to someone glaring at him. “I’m just saying, it’s like every interaction with you two is full of this extreme, heady, somehow sweaty, just a bit sexy tension. Like you’re seconds away from fighting to the death or having really intense sex. Like, in front of us.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re complaining,” Victor noted.

“I’m not. I say go for it,” Barry replied. “If it keeps you two from breaking up the band.”

“No one’s breaking up the group,” Diana said calmly. “Bruce just needs some time.”

“I’ve given him time. I’ve forgiven him. I’ve given him an out. He still insists on acting like my concern is just some disguised threat or a dig at his abilities. I don’t know how to work with someone who refuses to trust me.”

“I do,” Arthur said. “It’s not fun. Sometimes, you just have to do your own thing. Stop worrying about everyone else. The Bat’ll come around.”

“You think he’ll share his toys, too?” Barry asked.

+

Clark’s hand softly touched Bruce’s bare stomach as he leaned in closer. “Bruce.” Bruce refused to meet his gaze, stomach tensing with every slide of Clark’s fingers. “Come on, look at me.”

“This is it, isn’t it? Why this is still happening,” Bruce said slowly. He’d realized his weakness; everything was laid out. There was no reason for him to continue to wind up here.

Except one.

“You tell me.” He smiled, that same frustrating smile. “It’s your head.”

Bruce was so tired of hearing that line. “There’s nothing left.” Clark’s brows rose as his hand spread out wide over Bruce’s stomach, sliding up to his heart. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Clark nodded with a soft hum, leaning in closer. Bruce’s heart ticked up a bit, beating faster as Clark neared. That scent, that familiar scent, filled Bruce’s nose as he held Clark’s gaze, powerless to turn away. Bright, honest, and fiercely blue. Clear as they’d ever been.

Holding nothing back.

Clark’s hand cupped Bruce’s head, eyes falling shut as he leaned in close.

Bruce awoke with a start, touching his lips softly.

+

Bruce had just pulled off his coat when he heard Clark touch down outside with a loud thud, the force raising the ground below. Sighing, Bruce rubbed at his brow and set about turning the monitors towards him. The door burst open and Clark marched inside.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t say you could come back!”

“I know that,” Bruce said simply.

“You need to rest.”

“I know that, too.”

His words seem to take some of the steam out of Clark’s anger and his mouth worked wordlessly for a few seconds. He strode forward, hands on his hips. “What are you doing here?”

“You were right,” Bruce admitted, focusing on the table before him. “I can’t forgive myself and take the risk that I’ll miss the bigger threat again. So, I have to be here.”

Clark sat down on the table, eyes soft and concerned. “You just said I was right. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I forgave you.”

“I know.” He looked to Clark, his breathing labored. “I understand that but I need to be here. I can’t sleep – I can’t rest until I know that you’re safe.”

Clark’s eyes widened, cutting to the doorway for a second before he pulled a chair over to the desk. “Okay, then I’ll help you.” He rested his chin in hand, studying the monitor. “What am I lookin’ at?”

Bruce watched him quietly, his chest tightening as he took in the soft bow of Clark’s lips, the delicate curl of his lashes. The scent in his nose. The old watch strapped to the strong wrists that ended in large hands, even larger than Bruce’s. The cut of his jaw, the thick biceps tensing as he leaned against his hand. The curious twist of his mouth.

The steady beat of Bruce’s heart as he found himself leaning in closer and closer to him over time.

Clark’s brow furrowed and he turned to Bruce in question. Bright, honest, and fiercely blue. Clark smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Come on, help me out here.”

Bruce nodded, returning to the screen.

+

Bruce awoke slowly, exhausted and weak.

“I thought I fixed this,” he muttered.

“Not quite. I’m still here,” Clark said with a laugh. “Let me just get you—”

“I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Good to know.” Clark sounded rather amused. Strong fingers carded through Bruce’s hair as he found himself lying on something soft. “Bruce, I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re afraid for me. Which isn’t something I expected.” Bruce’s eyes opened to find Clark sitting in a chair at his bedside. In the lake house. “I’m afraid for you, too. All the time.”

Bruce took in his bedroom, the covers beneath his back. He was wearing button-down shirt and business slacks. He must’ve changed in a hurry. “I’ve been doing this longer than you.”

“I know.” Clark stood up and climbed into bed beside Bruce, lying on his back. “But, you don’t take very good care of yourself.”

He turned on his side, smiling hesitantly. “I had a dream about this.” Bruce’s heart ticked up and Clark laughed, the sound washing over Bruce like a warm light. “I’ve been trying so long to end up right here. But I always thought you’d be naked and not falling asleep on me.”

Bruce blinked at him tiredly. “You had a dream about this,” he repeated slowly.

“I worry about you, I dream about you. I can’t seem to stop.” He shrugged, resting his cheek on Bruce’s pillow. He closed his eyes, breathing in deep. “You always smell just like this.”

Bruce watched silently, too afraid to move out of fear that Clark would leave. He turned on his side, matching his breathing to the slow rise and fall of Clark’s chest. Blue eyes opened softly, a tired smile on Clark’s face.

“What is that?”