It wasn't the first time Wally was relieved to hear that something wasn't his fault. As much as Bats would have liked to blame him for the system failure that occurred on his monitoring shift, it was clearly a glitch in the system itself. Clearly a mistake on the programmers part, and not the user. That part he definitely didn't voice. Nobody did. It was left particularly un-said. Regardlessly Bats kept shooting him bat-glares from his place before the main console. J'onn and Shayera were at adjacent stations lending him a hand at finding the stray bit of code in the entire system that was wrong. Probably not an easy task in a program as vast as the Watchtower.

Diana, who was still learning how to operate the system stood arms folded off-side. She studied J'onn working, occasionally giving him a sympathetic smile. JL was working the industrial sized coffee machine and Supes stood by him, observing everyone and everything. He could have helped rather then stand around uselessly being a fair programmer in his own right, but the bat-glare always seemed to fall on him each time he opened his mouth to suggest so. GL was just starting to offer up the freshly brewed coffee when the tell-tale teeth-grinding began. Bats was losing his patience. The temperature was already dipping below frigid.

Next, the gloves came off. Literally. Bats stepped back and hopped onto the console of all things, pulling miniscule tools out of his belt. He pulled a metal panel off and tossed it haphazardly behind him that Supes saw fit to catch and set down neatly and began to pull a handful a wires to the forefront. An outstretched hand was all the hint the Big Guy needed for him to hand Bats a smallish briefcase. Moments later a handheld devise was manually wired into the Watchtower with a wickedly victorias 'HA!' from Bats.

"What did you do?" Diana queried, clearly interested.

"The botched code isn't anywhere apparent and searching for it is taking far longer then I have the patience for. I having my Remote-Tower handheld search and repair any anomalies or broken code for me. It'll be a faster process. When all systems are fixed it'll shut down completely and restart."

"So we just have to wait, right?" GL sighed. "How long will it take before we're operational again?"

"A system this colossal? Well... the damaged code still has to be found, and the re-formatting on this scale would..."

"Bruce?" Supes quirked a brow.

Bats groaned and grimaced. "A while. A long while."

Supes chuckled and handed Bats a tall mug of black coffee. It was as clear a reply as if he had spoken. Everyone stood back and collectively sighed. They would have to settle in until the Watchtower was operational again. Nothing to do until then. Even the javelins would be useless without the navigational specs received from the Tower. They had nothing but minimal power. Air, heating, and electricity. Not even a window to the outside.

***

They each had their own room so to speak on the Tower but somehow the League had ended up together in a small habitat on the same level as the main com room. Bruce must have had it built with everyone else in mind, because there wasn't a hint of Batman's utilitarian touch.

His old friend likely never thought he would ever find himself in here. Clark couldn't help but smile as he watched Bruce study the casual atmosphere with apprehension. They had decided to change out of their uniforms since there wasn't going to be any working going on for a 'long while', and clearly Bruce was feeling uncomfortable in both his regular clothes and this space.

Wally buzzed around the kitchenette at hyperspeed, preparing heaping amounts of food and drinks. Clark thought it was a good idea to stay out of the kids way so he claimed a spot at the end of a firm but comfortable couch across from a wide, flat screen and separated by a low rectangular table. The whole setup seemed reminiscent of his first bachelor apartment years ago. He didn't see a remote anywhere obvious so he contented himself to listen to the hubris behind him.

Shayera fluttered up to sit on top of the couch, her feet resting by his thigh. J'onn took the single recliner chair stoically after a moment, and John settled down on the opposite end of Clark. He grinned and nudged the Hawk, motioning to John. Shayera flashed him her teeth and changed her spot so that she was next to John instead. John shrugged indifferently, but twisted to sit at an angle that had him turning in her direction. Clark bit back a laugh. There was a bet going on between him and Wally about when those two were going to just give in and get it over with.

"Are you going to stand in the door frame the whole time, Bruce?" Diana's voice carried from behind him. Clark could picture him without even looking. Eyes downcast, discomfort likely painted all over him. "Come on." The Amazon came into sight leading, for lack of a better word, a very shy Dark Knight behind her.

Poor guy. Clark thought. Don't you know how to interact with people without having to pretend being vapid Brucie? Well, he didn't see Bruce going out to the local bar with 'the guys' or having any friends over at the Manor where somebody could accidently find out Gotham's Prince was the notorious Batman. Do you even have any friends? He also wondered, a little shocked. No. No time for friends and pleasantries for the Batman, right? Only the mission. He frowned for a fraction of a second but then turned it into his mega-watt smile. No friends and pleasantries for the Batman maybe, but what about Bruce Wayne? Not Brucie, who had hoards of hanger-ons, but the genuine Bruce Wayne?

"What channels do we get on this thing, Bruce?" He asked, a simple ice-breaker to draw the Knight out of his shell.

"Normally any. Satellite feeds are down with everything else though. You could probably only play any avi, dvd, or bluRay discs." Just that short answer, murmured, and the man before him retreated back into silence.

"So, Movie-Nite at the Watchtower." Wally proclaimed from the kitchenette and sped out of the room in a blink of the eye to return just as quickly. He dumped a pile of dvd's on the table and returned to the kitchenette. Appetizing scents were beginning to drift out of there. "I wasn't too sure what everybody liked, so there's a variety. Mostly comedy. My favorite. Who doesn't like a good laugh, right?"

John reached forward and rifled through the collection. "You like Mel Brooks films, I take it, Wally?" He smiled. "I never got to see Dracula Dead and Loving It. Can we watch this one?"

Clark pulled out a copy of Robin Hood, Men in Tights and added it to the 'to be watched' pile. "I love that movie."

"Blazing Saddles there?" Shayera asked. John nodded. "That's a classic." It was added promptly.

Surprisingly J'onn reached out and lifted Wrongfully Accused out of the pile. "A one-armed, one-eyed, one-legged man?" He raised a brow. "What is this about?"

"Leslie Nielson." Shayera replied. "It's hilarious. Good pick, J'onn."

"Is this a good one?" Diana asked, holding up Hot Shots.

"Charlie Sheen, Diana. Also a classic." Shayera insisted, as the Leagues apparent movie-buff.

"Did I grab Airplane?" Wally called out.

"Yeah, you did. I'll to add it to the pile, Wally." Clark replied. They had each chosen a solid comedy of their own to marathon while the Watchtower was offline. Clark was glad he hadn't pried the doors open in the hanger bay and took off earlier. Part of being a team should getting to know each other. They would work better together if they formed bonds, he thought. Just as the other dvd's were about to be set aside by John, Shayera piped up once more. Everyone had chosen a movie... but Bruce. The Dark Knight shrugged shyly--that word again--and said nothing. "I don't see you as a comedy type. What do you usually watch?" He asked.

"Nothing. I-I haven't seen a movie since I was a kid."

Not missing a beat Clark motioned to the pile. "Well, no time like the present. Pick one."

Bruce seemed to draw in on himself at the same time as he tentatively reached out and pulled a dvd free. "What is a Spaceball?" He asked so honestly the heavy laughter that followed was a given. He felt a little bad for the blush touching the embarrassed Knight's visage, but not enough to stave his amusement.

"Spaceballs is an extremely funny movie. Good eye, Batman." Shayera wheezed. "Sorry to laugh like that. It's just, you can be pretty adorable when you're out of costume."

"Right." The Knight muttered.

Never been called adorable before? Clark wondered idly. Their team was filled with the inherently kindest people he knew. There really couldn't have been a better group of people to teach the Batman some social skills. So far so good.

Wally chose that moment to set out a spread of food that suited to college-kid feel of the area. Chili-cheese-fries and nachos, steamed hot-dogs, pizza, cans of beer he must have retrieved from his quarters, Vodka mixed lemonade, and kahlua coffee in a large pot. Napkins were placed in a pile, plates too. Utensils were forgotten about. Wally popped in the first movie, John's pick, and made a dive for the empty spot next to Clark. Diana tsked and climbed over him to occupy the area where Shayera had originally sat. Clark spread his legs a little and patted the small spot between them with a mischievous grin.

"You can sit in my lap, Bruce"

"I'll pass, thanks." Bruce said with a quirk of his lip, but still sat between his legs, back up against the couch on the floor where he could stretch out his legs.

Only a touch jilted Clark made sure to bother him for everything on the table at least twice. As expected, watching movies with a crowd turned into a competition of sorts for who could come up with the funniest comment first. In all honesty, Bruce's confused observations won out every time. Clark found himself becoming less engaged in the conversation and more focused on the man below. The lip-twitches and near-smiles at the funny parts that had everyone wiping tears from their eyes. How he obligingly passed up plates of food and drinks but never had any of his own. His eyes followed Bruce out the room mid-way through Blazing Saddles and found him again as he returned minutes later, and again when he left part-way through Hot Shots. To check on the Watchtower repairs. He knew Diana was starting to give him strange looks of her own, but he just couldn't stop observing the Batman in this unfamiliar habitat.

It took seven highly amusing movies to do it, but at last Bruce Wayne caved during his movie-pick, Spaceballs. It started with a barely audible gasp, an involuntary smile, and by the time Dark Helmet starting claiming that he was surrounded by assholes the Justice League were witness to a rumored impossibility. Bruce chuckled, which turned into laughter when Dark Helmet had his men combing the desert, which had him doubled over and gasping for breath by the time Helmet and Col. Sanders decided to find Lonestar by watching their pre-release of Spaceballs. Only then did Clark witness him reach out for a slice of cold pizza and a mug of kahlua. Clark heated the two items with a zap of laser vision the Dark Knight thanked him for by tipping the mug towards him and smiling.

Exhausted, most were yawning by the end of the credits. The Watchtower was still murky, so still running on reserve power. In all likelihood nobody was going home tonight. But a quick look around told him that nobody seemed to mind that. Wally was too sleepy to speed-clean, so Clark did it voluntarily, returning to the now subdued room of heroes. Shayera had moved into John's lap, J'onn seemed content dozing on his chair, Diana seemed to tolerate Wally cuddling up to her leg, and Bruce had stolen his spot to talk to Diana. Clark had no reserves about taking his place on that triangular space between Bruce's thighs. The Dark Knight even accommodated him by shifting to allow him more room.

"I suppose there wouldn't be any blues or jazz exposure on an island like Themyscara." Bruce yawned. "You should expose yourself to the music in America. There's quite a variety, I'm sure you'd like a lot of it."

Diana yawned herself, too tired to even reply.

"We're going to head down, guys. Have a good night. I had fun." Shayera dipped her head and John followed with a raised hand in parting.

Diana dragged herself off the couch and pulled the drowsy Wally with her. "I'm putting the Flash to bed and then I'm resting myself. Fair night, gentlemen."

J'onn, strangest of all, simply smiled a little too knowingly and phased out, his transparent body sinking through the floor and vanishing.

Clark stood, offering a hand to Bruce he was surprised to see taken. He lifted thee Knight up and set him down before him. There was the silence again from earlier that day, but ti didn't feel cold or awkward now. It was an amicable and soothing silence. Bruce stepped around him as if expecting him to follow and he did. Right back into the com room. There on the main console screen was a simple message. Reboot. Y/N. Bruce hit the "Y" and the system began the process.

"Just in time for it to be operational by morning." Clark commented.

For an odd reason Bruce smiled guiltily. "My handheld found and fixed the code while we were watching Hot Shots. If I had rebooted then we could have gone home in about an hour from now."

"You didn't though. How come?"

"I didn't think any of you really wanted to leave. If I had fixed it we would have been running tests and all that instead of watching movies. I thought..."

"You did right, Bruce. We've all been working together for a while but there was still an unease that crept in every now and then. We weren't comfortable with each other personally. I think tonight changed that. And tomorrow morning we'll all share breakfast together, run your tests, and head back. Except Wally. He has a shift to make up."

Bruce laughed quietly. "Strange what can result from an accident." He murmured. He said nothing but Clark knew he felt the change of the air in the Watchtower. The hand he placed on Bruce's shoulder was covered by one of Bruce's own and squeezed.

"You don't just re-format computers you know." Clark yawned.

"I suppose you don't." Bruce replied thoughtfully and gave Clark a look over that he had never seen the Dark Knight give anyone before. "Good night, Kal-El of Krypton."

Clark stood there for a while processing the depth of that last meaningful look. There was a world of possibilities within reach if only he would reach out and take it. Alone in the Watchtower com room he stood as full and proudly as he would in front of a crowd of Metropolis citizens, and whispered silently into the night.

"Good night, Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham."

It just didn't make any sense.

Granted, he had better things to worry about at the moment... Crashing plane and all he was guiding down to a safe landing just after extinguishing a potentially devastating forest fire. No doubt if he chose to focus now there would be the sounds of people screaming all over the globe waiting for him to help. It was a never-ending battle. One that used to have him running ragged. How could even Superman be everywhere at once saving everybody who cried out? The guilt had reduced him to lonely tears once upon a time. When he was young, and all his powers were still raw and new to him. When he didn't have the maturity to grasp that even Superman had to sleep. Had to eat. Had to bathe. Had to work. Even if people were dying while he did these things. The point was, there were plenty of things to occupy him. He didn't need to be so wholly consumed by the puzzle that was Gotham's Batman.

It just didn't make any sense, though!

Month's ago The Watchtower had shut down while the League was all present. Stranded until the problem was fixed the Justice League had had, of all things, a movie night. Strange use of time for people who rarely had time to spare, but the experience of sharing meals and company together had cast away many of the unspoken rifts between them. Smiles came easily in each other's company and disagreements rarely turned into arguments. As a whole, they were more effective. Clark regarded them all as friends now, and was not the only one to think so.

Perhaps the most intriguing part of the night, for Clark, had been the opportunity to study Bruce without vapid Brucie or stone-wall Batman masks to hide behind. It had been an awkward process. Bruce had taken a long time to relax, and had said next to nothing, but by the end of the night ha had smiled, laughed, made light conversation... and tolerated Clark placing an affectionate hand on his shoulder. Reciprocated. Bruce had called him by his real name and wished him a good night. Come the morning however...

Sure, breakfast was good, his friends were welcomed faces, and the Watchtower was back online, but the Batman was long gone. Whatever tests had been needed had been done, a full report had been posted, the main console had been put back together, and Batman's private ship was gone. His communicator was either off or he was ignoring it. Clark had called his private penthouse line, you know, considering that he had worked with Bruce on and off before the Justice League and he considered the man a good friend, only to have his good friend curtly remind him in the gruff growl of the Bat that he was 'part-time' and promptly hang up. The Batcave was also a 'business line' and not to be called unless the world was ending. After that, nothing. No communication in or out from Gotham.

A brief light of humanity had managed to shine through the murk of Batman's shroud for a handful of hours months ago at the cost of a blackout that was still in effect. And it didn't make any sense to Clark. Bruce had seemed almost scandalized at his show of concern, which strangely had hurt him more then he would have thought.

In a manner quite unusual for Metropolis' Superman, Clark set the smoking air-liner down and took off without so much as a Superman Pose, or even a smile for the camera. He needed to fly. It was the one gift the yellow sun of earth had bestowed upon him that he never took for granted. In his Man of Steel uniform his feet near forgot the feel of the earth. Hovering was something he had to focus on not doing as Clark Kent. It was like a drug. The feel of wind, the freedom... Soothing. He circled the globe aimlessly in random patterns by chance slowing to a halt over, believe it or not, Gotham City. Clark held his place in the polluted haze that was Gotham's airspace and trained his eye down on a source of much hubris. A benefit banquet of some sort.

"Wayne's benefit banquet." He mentally slapped himself. Jimmy had grabbed a plane over to Gotham to take some photos of the event. The proceeds were being donated to one of Bruce Wayne's children's aid charities. Mr. Wayne had become well known for following his father's philanthropist example.

Clark looped lazily towards the outdoor event searching out the faces of hundreds of dark-haired men before he found the one he was looking for. Of course Bruce would have been easier to find if he had just looked to the largest gathering of women. Gotham's Prince was always surrounded by models, actresses, and reporters. All in the tall, slender and beautiful variety. Gushing women hung on to every word out of his mouth, and his physical being if they were close enough to get a hand on him. Clark descended slowly, noticing how the corners of Bruce's lips and eyes twitched with the strain of holding his well-meaning but empty-headed Brucie persona.

"Look! Up in the sky!" A voice cried out. Something Clark had long gotten use to hearing. "It's Superman!"

All eyes turned upwards instantly, including Bruce's. There was a flash of something dark and ominous in those dark blue eyes before the phony Brucie grin fell into place. Clark waved to the crowd and hovered a foot off the ground before Bruce Wayne. Women squealed around them, two tall, handsome, well built men within a foot of each other, each wearing million dollar smiles. He felt hands ghosting over his fluttering cape, the girls almost afraid to touch him, but it was the only other man in this particular cluster that he was smiling for.

"Well this is a surprise." Brucie admonished. Below the mask, Batman was seething and was aware Clark knew that. "I don't remember any men of steel being on the guest list, but then again I can keep track of anything until I replace my PDA."

"I'm afraid I've just crashed your party, Mr. Wayne." Superman posed with hands on his hips, chest inflated. His copyright stance.

"I can see that."

At that moment Clark realized that he didn't know where he was going from this point by being here. It's not like Superman could just claim he had stopped by to see Bruce Wayne, his friend. Public knowledge was that these two men had never met before this day, after all. None of his sudden panic showed on his face thankfully, but he knew he was neck-deep in Kryptonite if he didn't come up with some excuse to be hovering here. There were camera flashes and video cameras capturing every second that passed between them now.

"Actually Mr. Wayne," He began, setting down just before Bruce and offering a hand up the billionaire had no choice but to shake in this public display. "I've heard so many great tales of your ceaseless generosity, it touches my heart. I wanted the opportunity to tell you how much I admire your selflessness in your many causes."

"That's an honor to hear from a heroic man like you. I'm not saving lives like you, but my organizations can minimize the suffering of many people. I take the compliment on behalf of all the aid organizations under the Wayne Enterprise umbrella."

"You don't just pull a man from a fire and be done with it, Mr. Wayne. You have to treat his burns and nurse him back into health. There's more then one way to save a life." All things that Bruce knew inherently. Batman pulled people from the fires, but Bruce Wayne was the one who paid for many treatments and rehabilitations, hired men who would otherwise be goons, and offered homes to thousands who didn't have one.

Brucie made an enlightened noise. "I never thought of that." He tittered. "My guests are paying to rub elbows with Gotham's finest." He explained. "If I so chose to match the amount donated tonight from my own personal account, could I perhaps persuade you to stay for a bit, Superman? I'm sure there are many people who would pay for a chance to see Superman in the flesh. Help out a good cause?"

And how was Superman suppose to say no in front of all the media? Clark agreed readily, but his insides were doing back flips. Batman was still livid beneath his faux persona, but there seemed to be a hint of satisfaction and relief surfacing. He wasn't sure if he should be uneasy or simply downright afraid. So that was how he found himself posing for pictures and letting strange women kiss him on cheek though most snuck down to the corner of his lips. Just enough to claim they had kissed Superman for real. He shook hands, swept the handi-capped Police Commissioners daughter up for a gentle flight over the party after she had voiced her secret desire as a child was to be able to fly, and played extra nice. There wasn't a moment that passed that people weren't focused on the Man of Steel. So focused, that nobody seemed to notice when their Host vanished from his own banquet. Bruce had disappeared, and there was no way for Superman to simply disengage himself from the party. Not that people were now donating large sums to a needy cause just for their own chance to shake his hand.

He had come to Gotham by a force beyond his control. A subconscious need to understand why after showing Clark that there was a shy, sweet person lost so far down inside the Batman, Bruce had become more then stone-walled. He was downright hostile. Snappish, curt, and giving the League the cold shoulder. Giving Clark more then a cold shoulder. It didn't make any sense, and it had been eating away at him months. So strong was his need for an answer that he could have endangered Batman's secret by showing up here. Bruce had a right to be pissed and he was. Batman had used him as a diversion and escaped his own party, leaving Clark alone with his questions. Wherever Bruce had gone, Clark had no immediate way to reach him and get the answers out of him by force if that's what it would take. Instead, Clark had to steel his vast patience from the withering effect of the crowd of sycophants and tolerate inane attempts to get him into bed by a fair amount of people from both sides of the coin.

Alcohol was freely flowing come midnight and the media was politely directed out so as not to compromise the reputations of all parties still involved in the party/orgy by the look of things. two minutes passed twelve and already a slender hand slapped his bottom, a voice purring about steel. He found himself sticking close by the table Barbara Gordon and her two-young gentlemen friends had occupied all night as more and more people decided debauchery was the only natural follow up to being generous. Not that he was a saint in any way ,shape, or form... He did have an active fantasy life and a good left-hand grip since real life hadn't presented him with someone to curl into at the end of a day. It was just... He was a country soul. And SmallVille's folk just didn't get molested by strangers. One more hand creeping south of his yellow belt later he had pulled up the last free chair at the safe table.

"Sorry, you don't mind if I hide out here for a bit, do you?" He didn't think he was pleading, but desperation changed a lot of things.

"Not at all, Superman." Barbara said soothingly. "Too many invasions of your personal space, I assume?"

"I don't know why people can't take me at my word when I tell them I'm not actually made out of steel... Human curiosity at it's best, I suppose." He frowned still feeling hands on him even though he was safely tucked in away from the crowd.

"We're all detectives in this city." The red-head said wistfully, which earned her a sudden intense look from her two escorts.

Clark raised a brow and studied the young men. They were physically similar. They could have been brothers, but he didn't think they were. Good looking kids. Seemed like good people just from the vibe he got off of them. He extended a hand over the table to the elder of the two. "I don't think I got your name earlier, son."

"Richard Grayson." The young man dipped a head as he spoke.

Richard Grayson... Dick Grayson? "Bruce Wayne's son, Richard Grayson?" He wanted to be sure.

Barbara giggled. Dick sighed. "Yeah, I guess I am his son. He did raise me for a solid decade." For whatever reason, the concept of Bruce being a father was very amusing for the trio before him. Clark could understand if the children knew Bruce was Batman, but if they did know, they gave nothing away. "I owe him a lot. Great guy. Good mentor."

"Have you ever told him that?" He asked impulsively. His question was met with an eruption of laughter.

"He'd kill me!" Dick threw up his hands.

"It's Wayne Manor's golden rule." The younger boy spoke up. He had an air of confidence quite rare to see in a kid his age. "You never make Bruce feel old. It doesn't end well."

"I'll keep that in mind." He mused over his new arsenal for only a moment before he glanced at Barbara's watch. "Shouldn't you be in bed or something? You're sort of young to be in..." He motioned to the heavy partiers at a loss for words.

"It's a Saturday?" The boy offered up.

"Actually, Tim, our new friend is right. It's way past time Babs and I took you home."

"Seriously?" Tim exclaimed. Dick and Barbara nodded collectively. "Man... I can't believe I was sent to bed by Superman."

He laughed and apologized, standing to retrieve Barbara's coat. He helped her into it as any gentleman would and shook hands with the boys one last time. "You're good kids. Take care of each other, all right?"

"I'm pleased to say you're exactly as sweet as the Daily Planet says you are. I know you're only here to help charity, but I'm glad I was given this once in a lifetime opportunity to meet you. Can't say we ever see you here in Gotham." Barbara said honestly.

He caught himself before he could say 'aww shucks' like any hayseed being complimented by a pretty girl would. "I don't know about that, Miss Gordon. I have a pretty good friend who lives around here." He said instead, lifted a hand in parting, and drifted gracefully up into the sky.

He hovered, purposely drowning out the sounds of everything but the rush of wind. A light rain had just decided to fall but it held the promise of growing into a torrent soon. It felt good soaking through his suit. He was fond of the crisp feeling that came with cold weather. Lulled by the falling droplets he coasted on the wind, eyes closed. Bruce had wriggled away... Still unwilling to explain his sudden attitude. Why?

Gunshots. Multiple. He reacted so quickly by the time he opened his eyes he was standing in a bank before a man with a semi-automatic still smoking from one end, people crying behind him. In a blink he had crushed the gun and secured the man with the help of a nearby traffic sign. Tying men up with the pole of a stop sign never seemed to get old for some reason. He noticed there was a collection of masked men already cuffed, guns broken apart. He noticed a lot of blood. He noticed a rambling woman in a suit, Bank Manager, according to her name badge. He noticed a grimacing Dark Knight with a staggering hold on a desk. He didn't need to x-ray Bruce to know he had been shot. Multiple times. Not everybody could bounce bullets of their chest...

"Are the police on their way?" He asked the manager. Her wild eyes snapped into focus and she nodded. "That's good. Stay here."

He went to Bruce's side and helped support the injured man. He felt sick just looking at all the blood. All that time he had been trapped at Bruce Wayne's benefit, Batman had been out risking his life for his city. "You're going to protest this so I'm letting you know before hand that I'm not putting up with a temper tantrum." He intoned.

"You're not going to--"

"Zip it." Superman told Batman, carefully gathering him into his arms. The Knight must have been weaker then he looked for he didn't even make an aggravated noise as Clark cradled him on the trip back to the Cave. Bruce pursed his lips and debatably turned his head a fraction into Clark's collarbone. Almost seemed regretful when Clark set him down on the metal operating table and left to fetch Alfred.

But he sure did glare daggers when Clark returned with Alfred in tow.

"What were you doing here tonight, anyway?" Bruce demanded venomously.

"Perhaps interrogations can wait until after I'm finished, Master Bruce?"

"If I'm going to be lying here while you dig bullets out of me I might as well be doing something useful at the same time." Batman tore his cowl off and whipped it into the dark of the Cave. "Talk." He hissed at Clark. "And no anaesthetic, Alfred." He quipped at the unfazable older man, pulling away from the syringe. "You know I hate anaesthetics." He glared at Clark again. "Talk, already!"

Clark's head was swimming from all the mixed messages he was receiving from the man. Bruce seemed caught in the pull of two extreme ends. Clark couldn't pin down exactly what to two extremes were quite yet, but he recognized that Bruce was trying to make him angry, make him pull away and leave the Dark Knight alone at the same time as these tiny hairline cracks in Batman's mask were telling him another story all together. Bruce had been relieved to see him when he arrived at the robbery scene. His recall was as infallible of Alfred. Bruce had liked being held and carried by him for the first time. And while his tone was vicious now, his eyes were gentle and searching.

"Are you bi-polar or something?" He sighed, exasperated.

Bruce sat up straight, his anger melting away into confusion. "Am I..? Why would you--Hey!" He jumped as Alfred pulled out the syringe. "Alfred, I said..."

Alfred continued about his business as if he hadn't done a thing wrong. "That was a tranquilizer, Master Bruce. You're quite uppity for a man in your condition, I thought it best to sedate you so that I may work. You've lost a lot of blood we'll have to replace as well."

Clark could see the drug working through the man on a molecular level. Bruce faught to stay upright stubbornly, so out of his respect and general fondness for Alfred Pennysworth, Clark stepped forward and eased the Dark Knight down into a laying position. "Don't give Alfred a hard time, Bruce. I had to wake him up just to fix you up." He found he could still speak affectionately towards the man despite the earlier vitriol. Deft fingers worked the hard to see latches of the Kevlar body armor, freeing the Knight of them. He set the armor aside with the cape and gave Bruce's temple a caress with his knuckles, followed by his fingers combing the short black hair soothingly as Alfred cut away the murky and blood soaked undershirt. Bruce's expression was unreadable but his drowsy eyes were trained on Clark. "It's okay..." Clark whispered. "Whatever it is... I forgive you, all right."

"Clark..."

"Shh... I'll be here when you wake up. Go to sleep, Bruce."

"Mmm, Clark... I'm..." Bruce blinked slowly once more before his eyes fell shut and his breathing evened out.

"I know you're sorry." He told the sleeping man.

Alfred was a classic example of a man who's words were measured in quality over quantity, so when the butler spoke after administering the anaesthetic to the uncooperative patient, Clark took his words to heart.

"However unruly Master Bruce has been, Mr. Kent, I hope that you can look between the harsh words and see what they truly stem from?"

"He doesn't make it easy."

"Master Bruce speaks... fondly of you and only of you, Mr. Kent."

"Aww, shucks, Mr. Pennysworth." He sighed. "I'm fond of him too. That's why I'm here."

He hated anesthesia. Anything that had the possibility to affect his muscle coordination and thought process was unwelcome in his eyes. Batman didn't have laser-eyes, super speed, or a lasso made by the gods of old. His honed body and mind were the only tools he had, and they were good enough for him. When they weren't compromised. Like they were now. Damned anaesthetic. Numbness was lingering through the core of his body. Alfred had drugged him fairly well, he supposed. Pain was minimal. But he was cold... Freezing. Another hated side-effect of anesthesia.

"Cold?" A quiet voice asked. By the sound the owner of the voice had been woken from sleep. "Here, let me..."

The bed dipped with an added weight that settled in, welcoming heat radiating from the larger body that curled around him. It was nice. He'd even go so far as to say it was what he had needed for a long time. Not out loud. But here within the safe, secret recesses of his mind he would admit that even Batman just needed a hug some days. Certainly he'd never, ever ask for one. He wasn't Superman after all.

Superman.

"Clark." It wasn't a question.

Clark had said he would be around when he woke up... But in bed next to him? Cuddling him? He wasn't ready for this. He hadn't been ready for months.

It had started with that stupid decision of his to watch pointless movies. He had convinced himself that the whole experience was just a social experiment rather then the pitiful cry of loneliness from the real Bruce Wayne he locked somewhere deep and black in the recesses of his psyche. Thirty-four days later he had fooled himself into believing that he hadn't suddenly started feeling light-headed when Clark smiled at him that night. Or when Clark touched him. He hadn't felt compelled to sit by Clark's feet just for the proximity. Sixty days is how long it took for him to ascertain that he had been so far removed from his usual element that the shock of being un-masked and trapped in a social gathering he hadn't anticipated was to blame for the things he had denied a month ago. Seventy-two days later... Today... He was just as confused as day one.

Emotions were caused by chemicals. This was science. He just... Didn't know the formula. It was like the dawn of modern chemistry all over again. Take one element (Dark Knight), add it to something new (Peers), add or subtract some properties (Work, leisure), and record results. So, Dark Knight added to Peers with the absence of work and an excess of leisure time equaled... What? A Dark Knight with a sudden crush on Superman?

Possibly.

But for what reason?

He thought back to the process of the experiment. He had realized there was no getting around the situation. The Tower would fix itself so they would just have to wait it out. The environment was casual. All elements of work had been cast away by changing into civilian clothes. This was the variance he believed should be focused upon. He had two perfectly constructed personas for what he had to deal with as a result of following his Mission. For once in his life, a situation had arisen where being Brucie and Batman were both out of the question. So... Somebody had let out Bruce Wayne. That shy, confused, nervous eight year old boy that retreated within himself over twenty years ago. Bruce Wayne... Still a big enough ego to occasionally remind Batman that his was a doomed path. Terribly lonely. And while Batman was committed to the choice, Bruce Wayne was always afraid of the day when the Mission wasn't enough... and he had become too self-sustained to ever be...

He wouldn't say it. That word was not foreign to him. He loved Dick, Barbara, Tim, Alfred, and would even say he had some love for Jim Gordon along with all that respect. But loving and being in love with someone were not the same. Bruce Wayne wanted to be in love with someone. Batman didn't have the time.

That was it. The cataclysm. Bruce Wayne was all he had been left with. An unfamiliar man to him, with strange and all too human desires. Diana had pulled him into the room. Taken him to Clark. His only true friend that wasn't a business partner or butler of some sort. Clark had been kind as he always was... and what? Bruce Wayne had responded to it? He had needed that kindness?

His eyes had been open for a while now but only then did he start to focus on the things around him. Clark was smiling down on him with lidded eyes, an arm and leg strung across his frame, keeping him warm. The other arm cradled his head, the hand slowly mussing his hair. He was a silent, soothing presence. He was attractive. He was damn-near invulnerable. Bruce would never have to worry about someone taking Clark away from him like a smoking gun had taken his parents.

He must have said as much for Clark pulled him in tightly and made a frustrated noise that couldn't have held more affection. "Is that what this whole things is about?" Baby-blue eyes closed, a small concentration line forming between his brow that Bruce found beautiful. "You think you're in love with me and you don't know how to deal with it. That's why you've been impossible to reach. Bruce... That would be so juvenile if it wasn't so cute and sweet at the same time."

"Have I been thinking or talking this entire time?"

"Talking."

"Well... shit. Cat's out of the bag now."

Clark laughed softly but gave no indication on how he felt about the whole matter at hand. He hadn't moved away yet at least.

"Are you really in love with me?" He asked after a while.

"I think so. It sort of crept up on me when I wasn't looking."

"Are you... Is the reason you haven't been in love really because you're afraid you'll... lose them?"

"I don't have a stellar track-record." He admitted. "It's hard to when you have to keep so many secrets. I usually let people go before someone can take them from me. It's... less painful."

Clark fell silent for a long time before he spoke. "Are you gay?"

"Are you?"

Clark shook his head.

"Then what do you think, Clark?"

"Oh..." Clark drew in a long breath. "I guess I think sometimes people just sort of fit together. Something changes and, wham, all of a sudden the world makes sense again."

"What changed?"

"You."

"Me."

"Yeah. You were yourself for a few hours, remember? No mask, no phony extravagance. I may have only really met you once, twice if we count this current conversation, but I had a hard time keeping my eyes off you. It could just be science like you said. I'm near invulnerable and you're fragile in the most human of senses. Opposites attracting? Who knows, and quite frankly, who cares?"

"I do. I don't like loose ends."

"You know some things just can't be studied, right? It's primal stuff. But have you considered that it's not just you?"

"It's not?"

"Being Superman isn't as easy as people think. I'm lonely too... I'm adored from afar, the hero who saved the day, but up close people are terrified of me. I can crush rocks into diamonds with these hands. Imagine what I could do to a delicate human with them?"

"Feels nice." He murmured. The fingers in his hair, the hand on his torso tracing lazy patterns...

"I've spent a life time learning how to be gentle with you guys. Humans are like butterflies to me. Beautiful and expressive. I just have to hold you gently and don't touch your wings."

Cute analogy. "I'm not a butterfly."

Clark huffed a laugh. "Don't say that, my little Polynesian variety."

"I'll look up that species later... What's your point, Clark?"

"My point is I would never hurt them yet still people are scared of me. Even you're scared of me, but you never treat me any differently. You said it earlier when you were sort of fading in and out... Sometimes we superheroes need a hug too. Suppose we might have each seen what we wanted in each other? Somebody who knows all my secrets and can still trust me not to crush them when I hold them..."

"...And somebody I wouldn't have to worry about getting hurt because of my secrets." He answered hesitantly. "That's a logical conclusion." He couldn't admit it out loud just yet, but perhaps Clark could perceive it through his silence. It had been a relief to smile and laugh at silly movies like a normal person. More importantly, sharing a smile and a laugh with Clark had dug something out of him that he couldn't put back no matter how much time and space he had tried to put between them.

The bed shifted again and then Clark was hovering over him, strong hands cupping his face.

"Is this my bedroom?"

"Yes, it is."

"I don't recognize it in daylight."

"Bruce..." Clark lowered his head, shifting the angle until their lips ghosted each other's.

"Clark, I need to tell you something." He said with more urgency then he wanted. Clark's lips pursed, but he didn't move. He waited for Bruce to speak. "I want you to know this isn't a guaranteed thing. If I wake up tomorrow and things are different..." This wasn't going well. "Clark... Kal." He swallowed. "I might not be what you want. I will try to push you away and I will hurt you. I can't help that."

"We'll likely both do things we don't mean to, Bruce. This is all new to us. Let's just see how it feels as we move along and stop analyzing everything."

"Experiment." Bruce agreed.

Then, there really wasn't much left to say. They were both in the same boat. Both lonely and wanting, both unsure. Neither had ever been attracted to a man before yet they both seemed willing to try embracing whatever had grabbed hold of them.

Clark had made the first move, so he supposed it was his turn to show his willingness. His body still felt weak and numb but he forced himself up on his elbows and captured the other mans lips. Clark froze briefly before letting him in. There was a hint of apple flavour with possibly a touch of cream. Alfred's home made pie. He fought down a fit of laughter that would have been quite inappropriate at the given moment. Clark broke the kiss to give him a strange look, push him back down into a laying position, and settle over him like a warm and heavy blanket.

"It's too bad you're still injured. I feel a little adventurous." Clark said with a coy smirk.

"Super-libido a new power of yours? How about having a date first before you go down that road? Test the water?"

A heavy sigh. "When?"

"When I can get out of this bed?"

"Hmm... You're suggesting I must nurse you back to health so I can convince you to get back into bed with me?"

"Clark."

"I think that's a interesting challenge that I must accept." Clark shushed him with another kiss, running his hands everywhere he knew he wouldn't hurt. "Quiet, Batman. I'm experimenting."