dceu_kinkmeme | DCEU Prompt Post #1

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DCEU Prompt Post #1

Welcome to Round One of the DCEU Kink Meme!

Please have a look at the extended rules here.

The important rules in short:

Post anonymously.
Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
No prompt spamming.

Please direct any questions to the Ask a mod post. For inspiration: list of kinks .

Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun! Please link to your fills on the fill post.

Here's the discussion post for all your non-prompt/fill needs.

We now have a non-DCEU prompt post for any prompts in other 'verses (comics, animated series, other movies or TV shows etc.).

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We're nearly getting somewhere orz

There is, in fact, more downstairs than there is up. Bruce slides back a veneered panel in the bedroom and taps a sequence into a digital pad, and what Clark thought was a wardrobe folds aside to reveal a utilitarian stairwell, complete with industrial-grade steel-tread staircase. A series of striplights flicker on, spilling their hard light into the bedroom.

It illuminates Bruce, standing there in full Batman regalia, sans cowl. It's one hell of a juxtaposition: Bruce Wayne's face above all that form-fitting armor, no trim three-piece suit to disguise the cut of his physique. It almost makes it harder to accept as reality, and Clark feels like he needs to touch the edge of the uniform where it contacts Bruce's neck, bridge the two identities with his fingertips.

He stops that train of thought as soon as he realizes it, stuffs both of his hands into his sweatpants pockets and covers by adopting an impressed expression--easily done, because he is kind of impressed, actually. "Very James Bond," he says. "Very Batman."

Bruce casts him a speculative look. Clark parries with the sunniest smile he can muster this side of dawn.

He's led down, then along a cavernous tunnel constructed from blocks of reinforced concrete, steel grating underfoot, all meticulously fabricated and borderline sterile until it dramatically cleaves into natural rock outcroppings. Bruce strides on ahead while Clark stops to stare up at the cavernous space, into the tenebrous pockets that the utilitarian uplighting can't quite chase away.

"Wow," he says, turning on the spot, squinting into the shadows. The dark is when he misses his enhanced eyesight the most; he can make out something indistinct fluttering in the gloom, but only barely. He takes a wild, wild guess at what it might be. "Are there actually bats up there?"

He hears Bruce's footfalls scuff to a halt. "It's possible," he says after a moment, cagily.

"Wow," Clark says again, under his breath, and picks up again at Bruce's impatient jerk of his head.

The rest of Bruce's lair has the same aesthetic, all glass-clad hard surfaces and severe angles that cling to the natural undulations of the cave walls, cantilevered steel beams supported by the unyielding bedrock. There's some kind of workshop up in the mezzanine, but apparently that's not part of the tour--and nor is the graffitied uniform entombed in a glass coffin at the foot of the stairs.

(Bruce must have to walk past it every time he comes down here, grief like a millstone around his neck; too heavy to carry easily, too huge to leave behind.

Clark wonders where the kryptonite spear is.)

They pass the Batmobile--battered and smeared with salty residue; when Clark flattens his palm on the hood, the metal is still warm--and Alfred, in a pair of grimy overalls, paging through screenfuls of diagnostics.

"I see you didn't manage to keep out of the bay this time," he says to Bruce.

"Not through lack of trying."

"I find that very hard to believe, sir." He swipes across his tablet screen. "I'm sending this to your desktop so you can read it later and think about what you've done."

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce says with easy sincerity. "What would I do without you?"

Clark remembers now: the voice in Bruce's ear at Luthor's gala. He and Alfred are a team--one that's long been established, that much is obvious--and now Clark is going to be part of a team as well. He's blindsided by how keenly he wants it. The idea has tapped into a wellspring of longing he didn't realize was there.

(He wants to know Bruce like that, he thinks, watching him animated in conversation. He wants that kind of trust, to be allowed a measure of his burden.)

*

This bit of cave is apparently a gym, if the mats on the floor, the racks of weights and the punchbag are anything to go by. The sledgehammer and the tractor tire are more of a mystery, but Clark doesn't want to ask.

He stands in the center of the cavern, shoulders back, chin up. Bruce paces around him, looking him over like he's a prize mule at the state fair. Not for the first time, Clark wonders why his life persists in being quite so weird.

"You have good posture." Bruce unclips his cape as he circles, letting it crumple onto the floor. It drops like there are lead weights stitched into the hem. It's probably the case. "And you're in excellent physical shape."

"Thank you," Clark says, erring on the side of flattered.

"But you didn't work for it. Did you." It is unequivocally not a question. "You didn't sweat."

"I," Clark says, and there's no reason why he should feel ashamed of this, but he does anyway. "I didn't have to."

"Hm. This is going to be difficult." Bruce stops his pacing, brings himself into Clark's personal space. Clark hadn't really noticed that Bruce is a touch taller than him, but he's feeling it now.

"I didn't think it would be easy." Clark offers him a lopsided grin and a quirked eyebrow. "So, when do we stop the macho posturing and get down to business?"

Bruce smiles back at him, claps both his hands on Clark's shoulders in something that reads as camaraderie. That lasts approximately two seconds before Bruce presses his hip against Clark's, twists, and through some bullshit manipulation of physics, puts him flat on his back. It drives the air out of him like he's been slugged in the gut.

Bruce gets down on one knee, arm slung casually across his thigh. "I'm not just going to teach you how to win a fight, Clark. I have to teach you how to survive when you lose one. How to take a hit, how to fall. You need discipline and you need fearlessness. Never being afraid isn't the same as being brave."

"That sounds familiar." Clark sits up, runs a hand through his hair. Maybe not the best time to poke at this sore spot, but he can't help it. "What was it… 'only men are brave'?"

Clark expects Bruce to go blank or hard-eyed, but instead he grimaces, gives his head a small shake. "Not my finest moment."

Clark sees the guilt shadowing his face. "Apology accepted," he says gently, getting to his feet and offering Bruce a hand up--not that he needs it. Clark thrills a little when he accepts anyway.

Then he tries catching Bruce's calf with his own, attempts to pivot the man's weight on his hip and-- Bruce turns in his hold, slams him back down onto the mat and immediately pins him with a straddle, presses his wrists to the floor either side of his head.

"Amateur," Bruce growls, thighs tensed against Clark's flanks. Clark can feel his own pulse where Bruce's grip is tight on his wrists.

"Well," Clark says, a little breathless, trying not to laugh with it.

"Getting ahead of yourself. Points for trying, though."

*

Oh, you're gonna find a lot more things an intimate transgression, Clark. Hehehe.

Alfred and Clark interacting is always cute y/y :D

Bruce just having Clark stay at his place. Clearly that was the only possible solution, yep, good thinking, Bruce.

http://45.media.tumblr.com/016f8cb1e4d7f737d6d06169ed984805/tumblr_o4cfdmFGaY1sjytego4_250.gif
;D

Clark is definitely ending up in his bed, one way or another!

I'm glad you like it, OP! It kind of veered off into 'Clark is flustered about suddenly living with Bruce' territory which I probably should have anticipated, but now most of that is out of the way we can start getting down and dirty <3

Yesssss, this is so good. Like Clark I always love Bruce's dual identity. :D

He stops that train of thought as soon as he realizes it, stuffs both of his hands into his sweatpants pockets and covers by adopting an impressed expression--easily done, because he is kind of impressed, actually. "Very James Bond," he says. "Very Batman."
Clark is so cute. <3 And can I just say again that Bruce taking Clark to the Batcave is one of my favourite things ever? Clark is so impressed. And the mention of the glass case with the uniform, my heaart. I generally love your description of the cave.

Snarky Alfred is always great. And this gives me so many feels: and now Clark is going to be part of a team as well. He's blindsided by how keenly he wants it. The idea has tapped into a wellspring of longing he didn't realize was there.

Bruce examining and studying Clark is so hot. And the height difference, yesssssssss, and Bruce smiling at him just before he puts him on his back. I also loved his little explanation of what he needs to teach Clark.

"Not my finest moment."
Aw. Such a perfect way of sort of apologising for Bruce, and I love how Clark recognises it for what it is. And yay, sparring! I love how incredibly physical your descriptions are, if that makes sense? It's great. :D

Bruce excels at a ridiculous number of things. Martial arts, acrobatics, foreign languages, detective work, disguises, manipulation, engineering, building/repairing various gadgets ... Clark finds it incredibly hot.

Could be a five times fic?

Thank you, OP! I do love Clark's relationship with Martha, and Bruce's with Alfred (and Bruce visiting Martha post-canon is a bit of fanon I'm not going to let go of easily). I may have indulged myself a bit, hehe <3

Haha, I need those little details or sometimes my prose would get sparse to the point of nonexistent. Wat is writing how do i??

Needless to say, Alfred will be doing a lot of head-shaking in the near future >:)

Thank you <3

Thank you!! Clark is so precious <3<3 But a lonely-feeling precious, sometimes.

I love an Alfred who is 100% done with Bruce's nonsense. He is probably going to be approx 200% done by the end of the fic :D

And yesss, finally getting to the parts where I can get physical with them! I have a thing for sublimated lust, and vaguely sexy sparring is definitely one of my fav expressions of that!

Yes, please!!

It's a mix of Clark from DCEU and comics. Mr. jumps-into-bathtub-fully-clothed and frying-eggs-shirtless knows he looks good, and Mr. golly-gee-gosh from the comics.

Thank you so much, anon! I liked piling on the smaller problems, but I figured it would take something a little more like that to really push Clark - I'm glad it makes sense to you, too. :D

:D :D :D :D :D I have to admit, I had a lot of fun backing Clark into this corner - even trying to claim he's just friends with Bruce would come out weird and awkward and like he's lying about being Bruce's boyfriend! THERE'S NO OTHER WAY. Bwahahahaha! But yes, I did have to give him one last unhappy shove. (It's okay, though, everything'll be fine in the end.)

:D Haha, thank you for your faith, anon - hope you like the next part as much as you're anticipating!

treading water in this bottomless pit of embarrassment

What a perfect description, anon! And yes, poor Clark - but I'm sure once he's fake-dating Bruce properly, there won't be any more angst on the horizon ... <.< >.>

:D I think if there's one thing I can pretty much guarantee you with this fill, it's additional awkward conversations for Clark. ~~YOU'RE WELCOME~~

FAKE DATING PROXIMITY ALERT. Technically I guess we're not really there until next time, but still. AND IT ONLY TOOK 4K WORDS TO GET HERE. \o/

It takes another week for Superman to end up in the same place as Batman, and by then Clark's definitely grateful for it—the staring and the picture-taking have only gotten worse. Basically every day Cat can greet him with a completely new massive photo of his own face, deer-eyed and hapless, and more and more invasive speculation about whether he and Bruce are actually dating, or Clark is just—

("His boytoy," Cat had repeated mercilessly. "That's—"

"No, no," Clark had said hurriedly, "thanks, I—I know what it means," and then he'd made a break for it before she could read any further.)

Anyway.

This time it's actually Superman who needs Batman's help: the super senses are great for a lot of things, but Clark can't keep an ear on everything that's happening in every LexCorp building at once. If nothing else, he does need to sleep. But considering that Luthor's last big idea had left Clark six feet under for longer than he wants to think about, he can't really afford to not know what Luthor is up to, either.

Luckily, there's some LexCorp offices in Gotham these days, so Clark actually has some reason to think Bruce will lend a hand. (Not that Clark thinks Bruce would kill him, or would help Luthor do it. But if—if Batman decided it was for the best, in that clear-eyed stone-faced way he has; if he didn't help Luthor, but maybe just didn't stop him either—

It's uncomfortably easy to imagine, which is why Clark mostly doesn't let himself go there.)

So he meets Batman on a rooftop, overlooking one of LexCorp's industrial parks, and carefully broaches the subject of Bruce maybe doing a little extra monitoring. Just, if he happens to have sensors of some kind that Luthor might not detect, or can hack himself a back door into some of LexCorp's less secure servers.

And at first Clark thinks he hasn't done it carefully enough, because Batman turns to look at him sharply and doesn't say anything for a moment.

But then: "Should be possible," he allows, slow, and Clark can't tell whether it's actually grudging or it just sounds like it when it's said in Batman's growl. "The information can be pulled together into a report for you—Mondays?"

"Like—next Monday?" Clark says, startled. "You'll have it set up that fast?"

Batman looks away. "Do you want the reports or not," he says, and it's not really a question.

"Yes," Clark says quickly. "Yes, thank you. Thanks."

Batman doesn't say anything back—Clark briefly tries to imagine a friendly "You're welcome" in his modulated voice, and almost laughs out loud—but he does kind of nod stiffly.

Not the best warm-up act for the most awkward conversation in the world, Clark thinks, but not the worst. "There's something else I need to talk to you about," he blurts, before he can talk himself out of it; and Batman—winces? Moves, anyway, short and sharp, and to no purpose that Clark can see, which is unusual for Batman.

"So they're asking you about it, too," Batman says grimly, without even waiting for Clark to elaborate.

And—Clark blinks. It's turned into a genuine mess for him, sure, but that's because he's never been worth a story before in his life, at least not as Clark Kent. Bruce has been in the papers here and there basically since he was a kid—Clark hadn't really thought this would be more than a blip on his radar. A few more flashes in Bruce's face; one or two new questions added to the storm that get shouted at him after Wayne Enterprises press conferences; but nothing really out of the ordinary.

But Bruce's choice of words says otherwise. "And you—haven't been able to get them to stop," Clark hazards.

"Denial hasn't proven effective," Batman says, which, yeah, that's fair, considering how the media tends to work. A blanket "that's not what happened" without a convincing alternate explanation is the kind of thing that makes Perry slam a fist into his desk and say Dig deeper, Kent!

But surely Bruce has had to weather something like this before. "Then what is effective?" Clark says.

"Constructing an appealing narrative supported by the evidence," Batman says, "except they've beaten us to it,"—and it's Batman's voice, but the words are all Bruce Wayne. Which captures the weirdness of this entire interaction in a nutshell, Clark thinks: Superman is on a roof in Gotham at midnight, earnestly listening to Batman's social media advice. "Or removing the evidence."

"You mean—" Clark says, catching up, and then balks. "You're not leaving the League. And neither am I, not over this. We're—we're better when we're working together, you know that," because they are: he might have died, but so had Zod, and that would never have happened without Bruce, without Diana. And if either one of them needs the other but—but second-guesses, doesn't ask, just because of this circus, and then something happens—

"It's that," Batman says, "or stop denying it."

"Stop—oh." Clark swallows, and decides to start small. "Will that, uh. Will that help?"

Batman tilts his head a little, silent, and then looks away again; Clark can't help wishing he could see Bruce's face, just for a second. "In the short term, it'll get a lot worse—and then we'll hit saturation. That's what will make it yesterday's news. If it will cause problems for you—"

"No, no, it's—everybody at work thinks we already are," Clark admits. "Perry took me aside the other day to tell me if he's going to fire me for anything, it'll be for being late with the Mont-Simard piece, not for being Bruce Wayne's arm-candy." He clears his throat. "What about you?"

"The stock might take a small hit; nothing serious." Batman pauses, and then something in his voice changes, somewhere behind the modulator: "This is far from the most damaging thing the shareholders have ever seen Bruce Wayne do. You're actually a cut above his usual type."

It takes Clark aback somehow, hearing it, though he can't pinpoint why. Maybe it's just that it feels sort of—cold, hearing Bruce slot "Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter" into the lineup and measure him out.

But that's what everyone else will do. Really, Bruce is almost doing him a favor, preparing him for it.

"Okay," Clark says aloud. "All—all right, then."

Batman doesn't answer; he just zips out a grappling line and drops away into the dark.

It doesn't feel like anything's really been decided; they didn't even—they didn't even say the word "dating", let alone preceded by, "So, okay, we're definitely going to pretend to be—" After a day or two, Clark starts to second-guess himself about whether the conversation even happened. Maybe he'd chickened out; maybe the increasingly dubious memory is just what he wishes had happened.

But then, the next time they end up in close quarters in civilian clothes, Bruce meets his eyes and Clark knows he didn't imagine a damn thing. Bruce raises an eyebrow and doesn't say anything; and that's not much to go on, but he's Batman, he must have a plan, so Clark nods.

And in the end it's perfectly simple. They don't rush the exit, that time—they don't make it look like they're trying not to get caught. Bruce smiles and leans in and waits until they've definitely been noticed, until someone's already leveled a smartphone at them and the red light is steady, before he takes his hand off Clark's arm.

That's all. It's not so bad. Nothing Clark can't handle.

I don't even know where to start with this, anon, everything about all of it is so great (and I feel like I've told you that already? BUT IT KEEPS BEING TRUE). The description of Bruce, and of the entryway to the cave, and the whole cave itself - and the parentheticals just SLAY me, Bruce and his grief, how much Clark wants to be let in. YES GOOD *grabby hands*

AND THEN. Posturing and bullshit physics, lol (YEAH, IT'S WEIRD HAVING THEM APPLY TO YOU, ISN'T IT, CLARK), and ~touching for ~reasons, YAAAAAAY. This is so marvelous and I love it, and I love that you've given up on guesstimating the number of parts because I want like FIVE HUNDRED. ♥

I love how carefully Clark treads around Batman. It's kind of cute. ;D And I loved this bit: Batman doesn't say anything back—Clark briefly tries to imagine a friendly "You're welcome" in his modulated voice, and almost laughs out loud—but he does kind of nod stiffly.

And yay, Bruce is as unhappy and uncomfortable about this whole thing as Clark is.

We're—we're better when we're working together, you know that
You know, this reminds me of that Steve/Tony quote, "I'm better at everything when I'm doing it next to you" or something along those lines, and it made me smile a lot. :D

"This is far from the most damaging thing the shareholders have ever seen Bruce Wayne do. You're actually a cut above his usual type."
Oh Bruce, always so systematic and calculating, it's beautiful. And Bruce talking about Bruce Wayne in the third person is always great anyway.

That's all. It's not so bad. Nothing Clark can't handle.
That is so ominous, haha. :D So happy the fake dating is going to happen now (and the 4k setup were amazing, anon, no worries), I am just so excited about all of this. :D

/very very happy OP

*grabby hands* Yay another chapter! The set up is great.

After Clark comes back to life, Bruce finds himself confronting feelings of intense protectiveness for him, which is ridiculous because Clark is Superman. But Bruce also knows, intimately, how someone so invulnerable could be so vulnerable. So even though Superman still does his thing, Bruce really, really hates it when Clark gets into situations where he might get hurt.

tl;dr give me protective, grumbly but caring and tender Bruce

Oh gosh I can see this, so cute! And what if Bruce acts very protectively with his usual cover of gruffness in public? Much to everyone's bemusement...someone fill this please!

'Superman is on a roof in Gotham at midnight, earnestly listening to Batman's social media advice': best line. Thanks for writing! And, great setup. No-one will ever complain about 4k of believable reasons for ridiculous situations.

I badly want Batman's opinion on this. Sure, it's not the worst thing Bruce has dated, but is his discomfort from him getting Superman's home life all the attention, or from not being able to run around yelling 'NO THATS SUPERMAN I'M NOT DATING HIM DON'T YOU REMEMBER THE THING WITH ZOD'?

*claps hands* Oh, thank you, OP - just in general I am so very pleased you're liking this, because tbh it's kind of getting away from me and I keep throwing more and more stuff in. /o\ SORRY

Haha, you can probably tell I'm basically a fan of Clark starting out with very little idea how to handle Bruce's compartmentalization, and then slowly figuring it out.

:D NONNY I LOVE THAT LINE. (Apparently I am all about various pairs of superhusbands these past few years - and I've never actually written any Steve/Tony, though gosh does that Steve/Bruce prompt make me want to try.)

And Bruce talking about Bruce Wayne in the third person is always great

Man, I'm so lucky you're as interested in identity wrangling as I am, OP. :D

I ... actually may take another part to get to the dating? D: But the fake courtship is definitely starting up in the part I'll be posting shortly!

Thank you so very much for all your support, OP, I'm so glad you're enjoying this so far and I really (REALLY) hope you continue to. ♥

:D Haha, thank you, anon - I'm so pleased you like it!

:D Haha, thank you - and thanks for reading it! I hope you're right; you're certainly all being very generous about how long this is taking to get anywhere. /o\

Poor Bruce - I think it's probably a combination! :D He reacted to the talk show question the way Bruce Wayne kind of had to, but I imagine he's been kicking himself for it ever since: he didn't know about the picture but he SHOULD HAVE, he was INADEQUATELY PREPARED and CLARK IS PAYING FOR IT, oh, Bruce. And as much as he'd love to say "I would never," the reasons he would never are things he can't tell anyone, like, yes, THAT GUY IS SUPERMAN ~~AND I KILLED HIM ONE TIME AND AM WEIRD ABOUT IT~~. OH, BRUCE.

SOMEHOW I'M STILL MANAGING TO DRAG THIS OUT EVEN MORE. OOPS. This is getting more self-indulgent by the part, and I'm sorry. Also, judging by past experience, this part being long is only a sign that probably the rest of the parts will be even longer. Double oops?

Except of course it can't stay that way. For all that he tries not to absorb much of Bruce Wayne's popular image, Clark is still well aware of the pattern his relationships have tended to fall into, and they don't involve Bruce keeping his hands on people's arms fifteen seconds too long.

But Bruce is—Bruce is actually really considerate about the whole thing, in a weird way. He doesn't just dive into slipping Clark tongue every time they're within fifty feet of each other, or ferrying him around in limos half-dressed, or—whatever else. He eases them into it instead, just a step at a time.

Clark, newly aware that Bruce has been dogged about this at least as much as he has, guiltily googles and finds more video than he'd expected: Bruce had never made a joke like at the talk show again, had looked at the cameras with dismissive smirks and said things like, "I assure you, Mr. Kent has better taste." But nothing he'd tried had stopped him from getting a half-dozen followups every time.

And now that Clark knows what Bruce has been doing, it's easy to see how his tack has changed since the roof. He smiles at the questions before he brushes them off—less like he thinks the person asking is stupid, and more like he's someone with a secret he's happy about. (Clark had realized Bruce was a good actor, even if he'd never been sure whether it was Batman or Bruce Wayne who was the act. But Bruce is—Bruce is a really good actor.) He says things more like, "Don't jump the gun, he hasn't said yes yet," and, "Clark's not that kind of girl—but I'm wearing him down," with terrible sleazy winks tacked on at the end.

In response, like magic, the gossip blogs start to change their tone. Or most of them do, anyway. It's like before they were trying to kind of—punish Bruce for lying to them, thinking he could trick them; but now that he's conceding, letting them in on it, they just seem pleased to have something to speculate about. People stop trying to catch Clark before they can lose sight of him and start smiling, waving, before they take his photo. It only seems polite to smile back, and before he knows it, Cat's greeting pictures in the morning turn more flattering. And while the speculation about Clark's past dating history seems really excessive, he finds that he actually prefers six detailed paragraphs attempting to gauge the exact shape of his ass over the posts that baldly asked readers to weigh in on whether he was just using Bruce for his money.

Even if the former leads to Cat shouting things like, "—a perfect Kansas peach, Kent!" down the hallway after him.

Ron starts giving him crap for it again, of course, and so does Lois; but it's easier to take their fond hassling when it's—when it's on purpose. Clark rolling his eyes and turning vaguely red and trying not to look at the shirtless picture of Bruce Wayne that Lois has made into his desktop background are all just part of the plan.

It's fine.

And it's not all Bruce for long. Clark does his part, of course. Wayne Enterprises holds a ground-breaking ceremony for their newest building going up in Metropolis, and Perry gives the story to Lois—and then Clark goes anyway. When someone notices, because he can pretty much count on that these days, it's the easiest thing in the world to duck his head and clear his throat and say, "No, I'm—I'm not here for the Planet, I'm just—uh—"

Bruce notices him about halfway through the event, and—and does a good job pretending to be pleased, Clark thinks. His face lights up, he abandons the conversation he was partway through with a laugh and a handshake and doesn't look away from Clark. And Clark braces himself for—for he doesn't know what, struggling to imagine what Bruce might do: hug him? Grope him, more like, or—or kiss him, even—

(Bruce doesn't do anything but keep a hand on Clark's elbow, stand a little too close, and keep smiling. By the time the party's over, Clark's teeth ache with waiting.)

In fact, Bruce refuses to rush it so hard that that actually becomes a spectacle of its own. He starts—sending Clark things, flowers and good wine, weirdly excellent lunch for the entire Daily Planet office. "Your boyfriend is awesome," Ron tells Clark sincerely, mouth still half-full of a piece of lightly-toasted bruschetta with tomatoes, olives, prosciutto. He makes a noise as he finishes chewing, and then his eyelids kind of flutter as he swallows. "Seriously, when you're finished with him? Point him my way."

It's nothing like what Clark's been expecting. Definitely not Batman's brusque goal-oriented focus, but not really Bruce Wayne's brand of slick ostentation either—it is ostentatious, of course, but also kind of—courteous? Or—Clark's not sure how to quantify it, exactly. He just knows that thinking about it for too long makes him feel like the ground's gone unsteady under him.

He can't track Batman down just to ask him why he's giving Clark so many presents. And crying wolf, or manufacturing some kind of crisis just to get Batman to come around—one of those is a bad idea, and the other is just stupid.

But then it occurs to Clark: he doesn't need to. The whole reason they're doing this to themselves is because they need an explanation for why they're seen together sometimes out of uniform. Clark doesn't have to have an excuse, doesn't need to be Superman. He can just walk right up to Bruce's office building—and Bruce can't even make him go away without setting off a dozen TROUBLE IN PARADISE??? taglines. It's perfect.

Clark knows where Bruce spends most of his day—so does Diana, because Bruce had wanted both of them to be able to find him in an emergency situation without having to shake down half a dozen skyscrapers. And the receptionist clearly recognizes Clark, even though Clark's only been here about twice, and never when Bruce wasn't expecting him: his eyebrows start to go up before he catches himself and puts on a professional smile, and he calls Clark "Mr. Kent" before Clark even has a chance to introduce himself.

But he also buzzes up to Bruce without hesitating or feeding Clark any lines about Mr. Wayne's prior appointments. And when he says Clark's name into the phone, Clark can hear the breath Bruce draws on the other end of the line. "By all means, send him up," Bruce says, and his tone is teetering on the edge of implying filthy, filthy things; Clark shuts the hearing back down immediately, but he can feel his ears going red.

He decides not to think about what the receptionist is going to imagine is happening in Bruce's office.

Bruce is waiting for him with one eyebrow raised, his hands loosely clasped over a tablet that's playing a muted video of what looks like some kind of press conference at the UN, and the whole skyline of Gotham stretches out behind him through the plate glass, Metropolis gleaming faintly in the distance.

"A personal visit? You shouldn't have," he says. "You could have just sent another thank-you note. I think Alfred's been getting them individually framed."

"You mean you don't just have an intern shred them?" Clark says, which, whoops, comes out a little more hostile than he meant it to.

Bruce goes still. In partial profile like that, backlit, his facial features are briefly difficult to pick out; for a moment it's like Clark's looking at Batman instead.

And then Bruce swivels his chair just enough so he's looking straight at Clark, and says, "Is there a problem?"

"I—no," Clark says, because you haven't kissed me yet but I know you're going to is a totally inappropriate answer. "You weren't wrong about it getting worse to start with. And I know you warned me about that, but shouldn't we just—I mean, is all the stuff really helping?"

Bruce looks at him expressionlessly, and then leans back in that stupid chair, one forearm propped against the gleaming edge of the desk—shining mahogany, which somehow makes it even harder for Clark to drag his eyes away from the crisp white lines of Bruce's half-rolled sleeve.

"The longer it lasts," Bruce says flatly, "the more boring it gets. And, as I believe I mentioned: you're a cut above my usual, Clark."

Which, he did say that before, Clark recalls, but it—it sounds different like this: my usual, instead of his, maybe; and Clark. And it just—is different, looking Bruce right in the face like this. No cowl, no darkness, no Batman dispassionately talking about Bruce Wayne like he's a third person entirely. As distant as Bruce's voice is—

Or—or as distant as Bruce is making his voice, Clark thinks. Because, after all, Bruce is a really good actor.

"Which means," Clark prompts carefully.

Bruce glances away, spreads his hands. "I've dated a lot of people," he says. "People I could use—people who could use me. People who understood what they were getting into, who were happy to trade me their time and company on a limited basis for whatever it was they wanted: money, jewelry, a couple rides in a limo, and," he adds, with a brief sharp smirk at Clark, "some very good sex."

Clark can't help clearing his throat, but he doesn't let himself look away. He knows perfectly well that Bruce has had sex with lots of people. It's not anything worth being uncomfortable about. "But?"

"But," and Bruce looks away again; disinterested, Clark would think, except he keeps talking, so maybe—maybe it's something else. "But that's not going to be the case with you. It won't fly, not if anyone spends five minutes looking you up. And definitely not after the internet got a hold of those pictures of you waving politely at the paparazzi."

"One of them waved first," Clark tries to explain.

Bruce gives him a flat stare. "As I said. You're a cut above my usual, and everyone can tell—which means I must not be dating you for my usual reasons. I must think of you differently than I think of anyone I've dated in the past. I told you we needed to construct an appealing narrative." And this time he's still looking at Clark, voice so coolly disengaged he might as well be reading the phone book, when he says, "I have to have fallen hard, Clark. It doesn't make sense any other way."

It's silent after he says it—silent for too long, Clark realizes, and manages to scrape up a faint, "Right, of course," from somewhere. It does fit, after all: that's the groundwork Bruce has been laying, Clark can see it now. Joking about Clark's good taste, about Clark being a different kind of girl; moving slowly, none of the usual PDA splashed all over the tabloids, steadily ordering flowers over and over. Setting up something long-term.

Because—because the longer it lasts, the more boring it gets. And the tabloids want a scandal, not office lunches and arm-touching.

"Of course," Clark says again, more steadily. "Right. I—sorry. Thank you," and then before he can fumble anything else out, he turns and heads for the door.

Dude, if you write that Steve/Bruce prompt, I may explode. /OP who is apparently OP of ALL THE PROMPTS (okay, I prompt a lot, sue me)

I am so into identity wrangling, you have no idea. I'm starting to think we may be braintwins. :D *runs off to read next part*

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Page 17 of 99

DCEU Prompt Post #1

Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (3/who the fuck knows)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (2/4ish)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (2/4ish)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (3/who the fuck knows)

Bruce/Clark, competence kink

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (1/4ish)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (2/4ish)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (3/who the fuck knows)

Re: Bruce/Clark, competence kink

Re: Fill: Wreck Me

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (4/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (4/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (4/?)

FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)

Re: Fill: Whoever Falls First -- Bruce/Clark, sparring (3/who the fuck knows)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)

Bruce/Clark, protective!Bruce

Re: Bruce/Clark, protective!Bruce

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)

FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (6/?)

Re: FILL: tell all the truth (but tell it slant); Bruce/Clark, fake dating (5/?)