#superbatlove

Chapter 12

13. The Shape of Truth

Location: Clark’s apartment, Metropolis. No more places to run. Time: 2:13 a.m. State: Desperate after a week.

Clark hears the window before he hears the boots. Not because Batman is careless—Batman never is—but because Clark has spent an entire week listening for him and his heart has been racing ever since he heard him cross the bay.

The cape moves first in the darkness. Then Bruce enters the apartment, clad in black armor, shoulders rigid. A statue barely daring to set foot on the generic living room-kitchen floor.

Clark slowly puts down the book in his hands.

Neither speaks immediately. The rain taps softly against the windows.

Bruce looks exhausted.

Clark stands.

Clark: Hi.

Bruce clenches his jaw.

Bruce: I need to say something before I lose my nerve.

Clark feels his chest tighten instantly. Because Bruce never says things like this, and he wonders if it’s because normally he doesn’t feel them and is now in a crisis—or if he always does feel them but hides it, unnoticed by anyone.

Clark nods once.

Bruce doesn’t move further into the apartment.

Bruce: I owe you an apology.

Clark blinks.

Clark: An apol…?

Bruce: Let me finish.

The words come out rough, unmodulated.

Bruce: I’ve spent weeks trying to avoid this because I thought… because I believed it would taint something important.

A sudden chill runs through Clark.

Bruce: You’re my friend. My partner. The person I trust the most. And I…

His voice almost breaks.

Bruce: …I’ve tainted it.

Clark’s heart cracks a little. He steps forward immediately.

Clark: Bruce, no…

Bruce finally looks at him. The white eyes of the cowl, but even covered and in darkness, seem terrified.

Bruce: I constantly desire you.

The room falls silent. Bruce breathes once, and a human could have heard it. Bruce, who is shadows.

Then it all begins to spill out of him, as if truth has finally broken a dam.

Bruce: I think of you when you’re not here. I wait for you. I feel calmer when you’re near. I trust you with things I trust no one else with. Sometimes I hear or think something and wish you were there to share it with me. You make rooms feel safe. You make me feel safe. Me.

Clark checks that his mouth is closed. Bruce clenches his fists at his sides.

Bruce: I love your kindness. Your ridiculous hope. Your self-control. I love the way you look at people, as if they deserve to be saved. I love your voice. Your laugh. I…

He swallows hard.

Bruce: I think I’ve loved you longer than I know now, because I appreciated many of these things before the Rann mission, but I couldn’t admit it to myself because I wanted to feel there was something I hadn’t poisoned or ruined.

Silence.

Then Bruce looks away abruptly, embarrassed that these words exist outside of him.

Bruce: I’m sorry. The outburst and… I’m so sorry for loving you, Clark. You deserve better.

Clark crosses the room before he can think. He gently takes Bruce by the arms.

Clark: Better?

Bruce freezes.

Clark smiles, helpless, warm, face unmasked by relief.

Clark: Bruce… I love you too.

For a moment, Batman seems completely vulnerable.

Carefully, Clark releases one of his arms and reaches up to pull back the cowl. He’s never as handsome as with his hair mussed and stuck, his huge gray eyes.

Bruce blinks once.

Clark stares at him. A moment passes.

Clark: I’m going to kiss you.

Bruce breathes in, unable to speak, only nods like a starstruck teenager.

It’s a soft kiss at first and at the end.

Bruce’s gloved finger brushes Clark’s cheek as they part, staring without blinking.

Clark: Tell me the sky is red. Or that you voted for Mayor Hill. Or that… or that you don’t love me.

Clark’s voice is fragile. Bruce opens his mouth, ready to say any lie except the last one.

Bruce: It’s… it’s…

And he can’t.

Clark’s face falls, but Bruce just presses a little closer.

Bruce: Don’t be sad. It’s okay. At least you’ll never doubt what I’ve said.

A scant consolation, in Clark’s opinion.

Bruce exhales, exhausted, over Clark, as if he’s finally laid down the pillars of the Garden of the Hesperides.

Bruce: Diana was right. It’s a relief.

That’s a better consolation, if you ask Clark. So he laughs softly against Bruce’s hair, hugging him tighter.

The end.

Bruce Wayne is a force of nature in Gotham. He’s a shadow that towers over his enemies, a man whose very presence sends chills down the spines of criminals, allies, and even the Justice League. The Bat’s glare alone can make grown men quake. He commands fear, and in Gotham, it’s his ultimate weapon.

Yet, there’s one person he simply cannot intimidate: Clark Kent.

🦇 Bruce doesn’t need to hide in the shadows or make people tremble to be effective. He’s the Dark Knight, the embodiment of fear and power. But Superman? He doesn’t need fear. He is a beacon of hope, light, and unwavering positivity in a world full of darkness. And that’s exactly what Bruce can’t stand—because Clark doesn’t need to be intimidating.

When Batman glares at Clark, the Man of Steel just smiles back. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t shrink under Bruce’s intense gaze. He doesn’t even blink. He just looks at Bruce with that calm, steady gaze and says something like, “Bruce, you need sleep. Again.” 😴

It drives Bruce crazy. Because Bruce knows: deep down, Clark is the one person who doesn’t need Batman to be the Dark Knight. Clark sees through the layers of armor, past the angry façade Bruce puts up. He sees Bruce, and somehow, that’s even more unnerving than any threat Batman could ever muster.

Superman doesn’t fear Batman—he cares. And that’s something Bruce is still learning to process. 💔

It’s not the intimidation Bruce craves. It’s the understanding. But don’t tell him that. His ego won’t survive the confession. 😅

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Mystical vision on the rooftop

By the time the manor had endured Damian’s curses, Tim’s theories, Cassandra’s quiet revelations, Dick’s haunted nostalgia, and Jason’s unnerving “book miracle,” Halloween was upon them, darker, rainier, and stormier than ever.

On one strange, calm morning, after returning from patrol with everyone already asleep, it came to Bruce like a premonition: gifts left with intent, personal details no intruder should know, each Robin confronted without fear. Too precise to be random. Too intimate to be hostile.

So he went to the manor’s roof. Alone.

Batman: “Enough games.”

That “cold wind” the kids had been feeling ever since Cassandra mentioned it, and Jason confirmed it. That subtle “breeze” at the back of the neck. A shadow detached itself from the night behind him—taller, broader, cloaked not in darkness but in calm.

Superman: “Missed you.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched.

Batman: “You’ve been following my family. Interfering in my city.” Superman (smiling): “Checking in. Leaving presents. Trying to make an impression.”

Bruce’s silence was heavier than any storm. Clark stepped closer, almost shy.

Superman: “You once said I had to be creative. Show I was interested, prove I wasn’t a violent threat… but also that they couldn’t beat me.” Batman: “Did I say—?” Superman: “In that Cat Grant interview.” Batman: “That’s—!” Superman (cutting him off): “And don’t tell me that was Brucie talking. I know your kids protect him more than they do Bruce or Batman. If I’m going to win them over, it has to be for real.”

For once, Batman didn’t have a response ready. Clark shifted his weight, uneasy.

Superman: “Did I screw up? I thought it’d be kind of funny when they found out… that they’d respect me, and—”

His words trailed off.

Batman: “You’re Superman. If anyone doesn’t need to earn their respect as an enemy, it’s you.”

Silence stretched again.

Superman: “They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”

Bruce finally processed it all. His shoulders slumped, his body eased.

Batman (softly): “They’re going to love you.” Superman: “You don’t look happy.”

Bruce turned, exhausted after a long night and months of uncertainty.

Batman: “They’ll blame me for every fight we have.”

Behind him, Clark’s laugh broke the tension as he landed lightly on the bedroom balcony.

Superman (grinning, floating closer): “Wait! Does that mean we can start dating publicly?” Batman (without looking back): “Stay for breakfast. If that’s public enough for you.”

A moment later, the ghost stirred up another cold breeze—but Bruce didn’t notice, wrapped in Clark’s arms.

In the end, it wasn’t a ghost or a curse. It was something far more dangerous.

A man in love.

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