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The patrol was over for the night, Gotham was quiet— or as close as quiet it can get. In the basement of the Manor, Bruce was already typing into the computer, cataloging weapons and any intel.
It was a rather peaceful night, he thinks, shutting down the computer, before using the elevator up. When he reaches the main floor, he smells the savory scent from the kitchen.
As if Alfred had eyes and ears everywhere around the house— which he probably does— he calls out to Bruce, “Go get cleaned up first.” He paused in his tracks, a slight grumble before he reluctantly retreated to the bathroom.
A smirk tugged the edge of Alfred’s mouth.
Bruce feels the cold air in the bathroom when he undresses, a slight shiver ran down his spine as he turned on the shower. As soon as he got in, all tension left his body, feeling relaxed in the sensation of the warm water.
Not long after, he turns off the water. His arm moves to grab a towel off the hanger, feeling the cold as the hairs on his arm rise, drying himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist.
A curse left his mouth, realizing that he forgot to take his change of clothes, he abruptly left the bathroom. When he arrives in his bedroom, he browses through his wardrobe— torn between a simple shirt or walking around half-naked.
The sound of a notification from his phone breaks him out of his thoughts. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants, he walks to the nightstand where he left his phone. As he puts on the sweatpants, he taps the phone once to see a notification.
A message from the same journalist who danced with him some nights ago at the fundraiser.
Leaving the towel on the bed, he picks up the phone as he runs a hand through his slightly drenched hair.
His hand moves across the screen before finally landing on the app with a red dot on the top-right corner.
Good evening Bruce!
How are you?
Bruce contemplates between lying or telling the truth, a huff of exhaustion left his mouth as his fingers moved between the letters.
Fine. A bit tired.
You?
Doing great honestly, just a bunch of articles to write about :)
Anyways, I wanted to ask if you want to go watch a movie with me?
A movie?
Yeah, you wanna?
I don’t usually.. do that sort of stuff.
Oh
Well, that’s okay really
His fingers hovered over the letters, eyebrows furrowed as his mind went bizarre with the sudden invitation. Bruce knew what a movie is, he watched some with Alfred and his.. parents when he was younger but as he grew older, he never touched another one again. Not out of dislike, just.. never really knowing the point of watching movies anymore.
Of all the people that Clark could possibly ask, why him? He wasn’t really the social person to.. go out with. Hell, the last time he talked to someone other than Alfred is.. Clark.
He walked out of his room, down the stairs as another message popped up.
It’s okay if you don’t want to
No pressure!
Clark probably knows his answer already, suddenly feeling the slightest light of hope slowly turning dim. He sat at the table across Alfred, hands never leaving the edges of his phone, fingers still hovering.
Frozen.
Alfred’s eyebrows raised slightly, “No phones at the table please.” A small apology left Bruce as he put his phone down next to him, picking up the utensils.
He notices the confused look on Bruce, normally he would shrug it off, thinking it would be related to another case Bruce had worked on. But, the phone would come as a reason why, Alfred contemplated.
Knowing Bruce, he never uses his phone other than to message Alfred when he is out at a fundraiser or gala.
“What has gotten into your mind?”
Bruce pauses for a second, before he slowly puts his spoon down. “A friend of mine—” Alfred’s interest increases. Bruce doesn’t normally have friends, outside of Batman of course, “—asked me to go watch a movie with him.”
A hum of understanding, Alfred wipes his mouth with a napkin. “And your issue is whether or not to accept.”
He nodded, not even surprised that Alfred could read his expressions and mind. His hands fidgeting under the table, playing with the fabrics of his sweatpants. Eyes gazing down on the spoon like it had done something terrifying to him.
Then his ears picked up the sound of a quiet laughter, he lifted his gaze from the spoon to Alfred, who was trying to hide his laugh behind his napkin. Keyword: trying.
Bruce feels a bit of annoyance at the display of Alfred laughing at his dilemma, the one person he could trust to tell everything about is.. laughing.
“Bruce, you do not need to worry about anything. You should accept it,” Alfred began, slowly calming down. “It would be good for you to go out some time anyway.” He leaves Bruce alone at the dining table.
A sigh left Bruce’s mouth, not knowing what to do. His hand moves almost robotically to his phone, leaving where he left off.
Sure.
Almost immediately, Clark comes online again. Like he is waiting for his response.
Really?
Yeah.
I wouldn't want to force you to go or anything
You're not, don't worry.
Great! Are you free on Saturday?
Yes.
Okay, Saturday it is. Meet you at Holland’s Cafe?
📍 Location
It’s here by the way
What time?
Oh right
Are you okay with five?
Yeah.
Great, see you then! :)
See you.
It’s done. Bruce is officially going to melt under the sun. Well, he will just have to hope that it runs smoothly.
🦸♂️🦇
The streets are bustling with sounds, from the chatter around him to the birds soaring through the sky. He feels out of place once again, his grip on the sleeves of his jacket tightens. He is thankful for the sunglasses he brought, otherwise the people around him would’ve assumed that he was staring at them.
The hood of the jacket hides his hair perfectly from the heat, although his entire body is sweating from it.
Everything around him seemed blurry, his movement almost like it's controlled as he follows the app’s navigation to the meet-up point.
Bruce was early, by an hour and thirty, he had assumed that the ride here would take longer. So now with the extra time, he had nowhere to go other than the cafe.
Once he finally reaches the cafe, he lifts the hood up, opening the door as the sound of a bell rings. The cafe itself was quiet thankfully, not too much noise. He orders a cup of coffee, dropping a ten dollar bill in the tip jar.
He finds a secluded spot by the corner, a window facing the outside. As he sat down, he pushed his sleeves, leaving his lower arm open. A sigh of relief escapes him, the cold air of the air conditioner hits him.
To pass time, he had thankfully downloaded an app. A game, Alfred had said when he showed him.
Ironically, the game itself was about a detective running around a small town to solve a murder mystery. The reviews on the game say it is hard for those who don’t play close attention to the details.
Thankfully, Bruce does. Not long after, he had gotten deep into the game, feeling the amusement that kids feel while playing certain games. Whilst he was connecting the pieces in the third puzzle, the waitress came with his coffee.
The waitress herself — Alice, from the nametag pinned to her uniform — smiles at the sight. “Well, it’s not everyday that adults like us play games.” She commented, putting the cup of coffee down in front of him.
He paused his thinking, slowly coming back to reality, he smiled awkwardly. Thankfully, Alice knew an awkward smile when she saw one. “Want paper and pen?” She asks to which Bruce nodded.
Bruce takes a sip of his coffee while waiting for Alice’s return, the main reason why he came here in the first place slowly coming back to him. His left leg bounced up and down, nervous for the movie.
A minute later, Alice comes back with some papers and a pen, wishing him luck before going back to doing her job. He mutters his gratitude before continuing his game.
The riddles in the game were intriguing, slowly but surely catching his attention. It wasn't hard riddles— for him at least, but he can see why the reviews say that it is.
An hour later, he had finished the game. Thus came the option to choose the murderer. Based on the many scribbles on the papers, he chooses the one with black hair and red eyes.
Bruce knew he wasn’t wrong but he still held his breath before the screen showed a huge ‘Congrats!’ and played a scene of the murderer getting arrested. He was.. happy with this discovery, closing the game with a sense of content.
Then, he messages Alfred that he had finished the game, showing him the end results. A smile tugged the edge of his mouth when Alfred mentioned he wasn’t surprised and congratulated him.
“Wow, that’s.. quite the stuff you got there.”
His head snaps from up, his eyes meeting the other.
“Clark.”
“Hey Bruce, seems like you got here early.” Clark smiled, taking the seat across him— once again.
Bruce shrugged, picking up the paper before stacking them neatly, pushing it to the side.
“Seems like we got thirty minutes to kill.” Clark checks his watch. “Wanna go to the theater first or stay here?”
Once again, Bruce shrugs. “You choose.” His fingers began fidgeting around with the pen under the table. Suddenly feeling nervous again, hoping that he hadn’t killed the mood.
Thankfully, Clark reassures him. “Theater it is. Hopefully it isn’t too packed today.” Bruce nodded, standing up with Clark taking the papers.
“You can just throw it away.” Bruce muttered, Clark hummed before dropping it into the trashcan. Before leaving, Bruce hands the pen back to Alice, mumbling a thanks to her once a again before going out.
The walk to the theater was quiet, sometimes Clark would talk about some rock band or the dog he took care of. Bruce silently thanked him for keeping the conversation alive throughout the walk.
Somewhere halfway to the place, according to Clark, he feels something touch his left hand. He turns his head slightly to see Clark’s pinky, hovering around where his hand hangs loose.
An idea popped into Bruce’s mind, linking his pinky with Clark’s. He assumes this is normal, though he wonders why Clark’s face is turning a tint of red. A silent shrug, his free hand dug into the pocket of his jacket.
Bruce hated it here. The theater is packed with people everywhere. Apparently, a new big movie had released yesterday and now everyone was here to watch it. His pinky, which is still linked with Clark, tightened.
Every step he takes moves him back twice, his right side keeps getting bumped into, apologies fly around in the sky as people move past one another. Like the blessing he is, Clark moves Bruce around like fluid.
Smooth.
A low whistle escapes Clark’s mouth, shaped in a ‘o’ , as he looks around the place. “Forgot to warn you, sorry.” Clark turns to Bruce apologetically, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck.
Bruce shrugs lightly, “It’s fine.” It’s not, but it wasn’t Clark’s fault.
Without a warning, Clark wraps his arm around Bruce’s waist, moving them towards the ticket booth. Seeing how long the line is, the two walk to a corner.
As a wave of people surfaced, pushing them towards the corner. Clark, unintentionally, turns himself into some sort of shield for Bruce, pinning him against the wall under his arms.
A warm fuzzy feeling fills Bruce's stomach, all of a sudden his face feels hot. God, did he want the earth to just open up and eat him alive.
“Mind waiting here? I’ll buy the tickets.” Clark said, oblivious to Bruce’s reaction. Bruce nodded, tilting his head downwards, staring at the floor— hoping that Clark doesn’t see the possible tint of red.
A small mutter of ‘stay here’ later, Clark’s shadow slowly drifted away, leaving Bruce alone. He inhales sharply, realizing that he is now alone in a packed theater. His hands fidgeted around the sleeves of his jacket again.
For a moment, he misses the feeling of having Clark linking his pinky with his. Bruce quickly removes that thought, focusing on how the crowd is seemingly increasing in numbers.
Must be a big movie. Bruce thinks.
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he begins to grow interest with the ground, staring at it like it is a fine art in some museum.
Not long after, two shadows caught his eye, walking towards him.
Bruce tries to remain calm, hoping he didn’t have to throw a punch at them. His ears picked up the sound of giggles, watching as the shadows stopped in front of him. With a sigh, he reluctantly lifted his head up to see two girls in front of him.
Noticing the tint of red around their cheeks— like Clark when he first linked their fingers together— his eyebrows furrowed together.
“Can I help you?” Bruce winced silently at how hoarse his voice was, must be the lack of water. He silently hope that his voice wasn't recognizable.
The other girl pushes her friend forward, “Hey!” She shouted to her friend before clearing her throat, embarrassed, “I was wondering if I could.. get your number?”
Bruce’s confusion grows every second that past, many possible scenarios and questions rushing into his mind but only one became clear; why? Was there some intention that Bruce hadn't noticed?
As soon as he opens his mouth to reply, an arm wraps around his waist like it belonged there. His head snaps to his side, a sigh of relief escapes him when he sees Clark there.
Though something about him is different, his eyes and whole.. demeanor is. Bruce couldn’t get an idea on what it is but he notices how the girls took a few steps backwards, muttering apologies, looking flustered, before disappearing within the crowd.
“You okay?” Clark turns to him, his other hand moves to tuck Bruce’s loose hair behind his ear. The warm feeling returning, Bruce looks the other way, nodding.
“Great!” The other smiled, back to the cheery guy that Bruce knows. He shrugs the sudden change off when Clark mentions that their movie would start soon, “You want popcorn?”
Popcorn was something that Bruce had long forgotten the taste of, he shrugs again, unclear on what he wants now besides going back to the Manor and hide under his blanket.
Bless the angel that he is, Clark made the decision for him anyway. “Popcorn it is!” Clark walks him over next to the line of people who are watching the same movie as them.
Thankfully, Clark didn’t take long, returning with a bag of popcorn with two bottles of soda. To be fair, Bruce doesn’t really enjoy soda a lot but he had to show his gratitude to Clark for letting him sit aside from lining up.
Not long after, they sat next to each other as the seats around them began to fill up.
Bruce takes a deep breath, his hand grips around the armrest as the theater lights dimmed. Just two hours of this, he got this.
Right?
No, he does not. In his opinion, the choreography of the fighting scenes were inaccurate or rather unrealistic but he doesn’t comment on it, not wanting to ruin Clark’s experience.
Occasionally, his hand reaches over to take one or two popcorn from Clark— who eventually holds the bag of popcorn on the armrest between them.
On the other hand, Clark tries to watch but keeps sneaking glances at Bruce, amused by how stiff he is. He leans in, whispering reassurance to Bruce, “You’re doing well.” To which Bruce nodded to, thankful to the dark lights that hide the red.
Halfway through, their hands brush on the shared armrest. Bruce jerks his hand back immediately, ears turning pink. Clark pretends not to notice.
Until a few minutes later, he slowly puts his hand there again, leaving enough space for Bruce. He hesitates, then slowly lets his hand rest beside Clark’s, linking their hands together fully.
To be fair, Clark thought the genre was action, not horror. Now imagine his surprise when a fricking jumpscare comes out of nowhere. He tried to not scream or flinch, really, but he does anyway. Clutching Bruce’s arm, who stiffens but doesn’t pull away.
Unconsciously, his grip loosens but his arm is still wrapped around Bruce.
“Sorry.” He whispered, finally pulling away from Bruce’s arm. “It’s fine.” Bruce muttered, lightly shrugging.
Near the end, Clark leans his head back, content. He sneaks a glance at Bruce, who’s finally relaxed for once, eyes calm as he focuses on the movie.
Bruce feels his gaze, a bit nervous now that he was being stared at. “Stop staring.” He muttered. A smirk tugged the edge of Clark’s mouth, “Can’t help it.” He shrugs, focusing back on the movie.
🦸♂️🦇
The credits rolled, and the theater lights came up. Clark stretched, grinning, while Bruce read every name that played a role in the movie— or he was just staring at the screen.
Outside, Clark is all smiles while Bruce is all frowns. One, he is being squished between Clark and other people as they walk out of the theater. Two, the movie alone was decent but the choreography didn’t make sense, the villain’s plan had no clear intention, and the ending didn’t satisfy him.
Clark says that there would be a sequel, to which he asks Bruce if he wants to see it with him when it comes out.
Bruce felt content, really. To think that Clark would believe so much in their friendship to last that long, it wasn’t even an if— it was a when.
When it comes out.
Honestly, Bruce didn’t know if Clark alone was a gift from the above or not, to finally have someone who understood his lack of communicating yet continues to do it with him anyway.
The flashing race of thoughts in his mind came to a finish when they finally made their way out. The sun is no longer there as the moon is already high up in the sky.
Beside him, he heard someone swear. Clark looked like he was stressed. “Something wrong?” Bruce asks, fully facing him.
“Ah— no.. not really?” Clark runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just.. I left something at work.” His exhale came out clipped, edged with irritation.
Bruce hummed, understanding. “Is it important?” He asks, to which Clark shrugs. “Not really, I can just get it next time I clock in.”
Clark begins walking, Bruce follows willingly. “You sure?” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Positive.” Clark turns to him for a second.
The two continued to walk, silently under the moonlight, stars painted across the dark sky. Bruce began to wonder if Gotham’s sky would be this pretty if there weren’t any pollution.
Should put that into the list.
His eyes look around; the streets are cleaner, the buildings don’t look like they are about to collapse anytime soon, and the people here are way nicer. But Gotham is everything that this city isn’t.
Other than that, he enjoyed tonight. A lot. Watching a movie after like.. years, going out as any normal person would, meeting friends. Bruce thanks Clark silently for letting him experience ‘normal’.
“Did you have fun today?” Clark asks, breaking him out of his space. Bruce grunted, hoping that Clark gets the indication— which thankfully, he does. A chuckle is the response Bruce gets.
He blew out a breath, low and disgruntled, as if the effort of admitting anything was too much.
“I’m glad.”
Hearing that, Bruce stopped. Clark’s voice slowly fading away, his hearing began to sound disembodied like he was underwater.
It hit him, sudden and sharp, like being caught without armor. The world didn’t slow down, but his breath did. He realized he was staring at someone who doesn’t make fun of him, someone who never looked at him weirdly, someone— who understands him.
Clark’s chattering about the movie with that easy, boyish smile that seemed to light up every streetlamp they passed— stopped as he realized that Bruce stopped walking.
“Bruce?”
Bruce tore his eyes away, scowling at the pavement, but his chest betrayed him with that tight, burning ache. He shakes his head, picking up the pace as they began walking again.
Clark didn’t question him, didn’t have to.
Their shoulders brushed against each other, warm and steady.
Not long after their walk, they bid each other goodbye as it was getting late. Making promises to text when they get back home safely.
That night, a new feeling had developed. On the way home, a small smile finds its way to Bruce’s mouth. Somewhat a rare sight, but one thought ran to his mind.
Was it always this warm?
Hey! Are you home yet?
I hope you are, it’s late already..
Yes, I am.
Are you?
Yep! Already showered and everything
Anyways, thanks for today! It was really fun :)
Yeah.
Thanks.. too.
I had fun as well.
That’s great to hear! I hope I wasn’t too much to deal with.
No. You were fine.
Okay then
Well, I’m gonna head to bed
Gonna catch some sleep
Text you tomorrow?
Sure.
Alright
Goodnight Bruce
Night.
🦸♂️🦇
That night, Clark tossed and turned in his bed. Then, he realized, maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. The way his heart beats faster when he is around Bruce, the way he would feel relaxed whenever he is holding Bruce’s hand.
The way Bruce always muttered three words when two would do. Commentating, to the point that Clark doesn’t feel annoyed, rather feel amused by it.
Clark had noticed it all — of course he had. He always noticed Bruce, even when he didn’t mean to. Especially that confused look on Bruce when those two girls approached.
At that moment, Clark felt.. anger. No— not anger, no way. Maybe he was just imagining it.
It clicked. The moment Clark knew it was more than some coincidence, it was.. love, all came from this one night.
When their shoulders brushed. Lightly, barely at all, yet instead of pulling away, Bruce lets it happen.
Clark felt his breath hitch. Not because of the touch— no, he loves it— but because Bruce was letting him.
He should've brought that necklace. He curses himself for forgetting about it at work, making sure to bring it next time they meet up.
Next time.
Finally, he realized what this all meant for him. Cold hands that embraced him willingly, even if it was hesitant, a quiet walk of only his chattering and Bruce listening to half it, that was it.
And Clark thought— Dang it, I’m falling for him.