Chapter Text
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Chapter 1
One advantage of taking a break from his Batman duties was the ability for Bruce to enjoy, at last, a few long, restorative nights of sleep.
The downside, however, was that it didn’t free him from daytime responsibilities as the CEO of one of the world’s largest conglomerates. Even though he was actually experiencing one of the worst migraines of his life.
It was during these kinds of moments that Bruce Wayne appreciated his third identity—the most famous of all—Brucie Wayne. The beloved Brucie, flamboyant playboy, delightfully irritating, a generous philanthropist but an airheaded heartthrob who lit up parties and tested the patience of his associates every time he opened his mouth.
Today was no exception. During an endless meeting about a potential partnership with LexCorp, Brucie upheld his reputation, eager to escape work sooner. A very graphic and detailed comment about his latest sexual escapade with Russian twins allowed him to cut his day short, with the delightful prospect of indulging in a well-deserved nap in his office before heading home. A little extra rest wouldn't hurt.
After all, he might be on vacation—a concept that still seemed unrealistic to him after nearly ten long years of loyal service as the nocturnal protector of Gotham’s ruthless yet beloved city—but that didn’t mean his nights entirely belonged to him.
At least, not for the coming months...
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As Bruce walked into his office, any desire for relaxation instantly disappeared, replaced by a surge of alertness that shot through his body like lightning.
In front of him, illuminated by the golden and ochre rays of the setting sun streaming through the massive windows of his office, stood Superman. His intensely blue gaze landed on Bruce, his cape following his body’s movements—a body that only appeared human—as he took a cautious step forward.
Though Superman was approaching slowly, almost cautiously, with a reassuring smile, Bruce was not fooled. Everything about him radiated power, a monstrous force held back solely by his goodwill. Bruce and the rest of the world had witnessed it since Superman's arrival on Earth less than a year ago. All you had to do was watch the news, come across a hastily posted video on social media, or, worse, witness firsthand one of his public displays of power to understand what Superman was truly capable of.
A near-divine being who could claim to be the protector of Metropolis one day and humanity’s annihilator the next.
Motherfucking Superman.
"Good evening, Mr. Wayne," Superman said, extending his hand as naturally as if he were an old friend. “Pleased to meet you.”
One of the main downsides of taking a break from his Batman duties was having to set aside his relentless research on this mysterious alien who claimed to be a hero, willing to protect the human race he professed to love so much. The second downside was that Bruce couldn’t rely on the protection provided by his suit and ingenious gadgets to attempt a quick smoke-bomb exit through the window. A temporary retreat for now, until he could discover this dangerously enigmatic being’s weakness.
Bruce had promised himself that. And he was a man of his word, no matter this threat coming from the sky and above. But Batman was on vacation. For now, Superman would have to settle for Brucie.
"Oh my God! Superman! What a surprise!" Bruce exclaimed, shaking his hand with feigned excitement, like a teenage girl meeting her overwhelming crush.
He suddenly moved away from his uninvited guest to rush to the minibar beside his large, polished desk. He was still wearing a flawless host’s smile despite the tension in his neck. Thank God Bruce could always control his heart rate. His pulse rarely betrayed him, no matter the danger. At least Superman’s super-hearing would give him no advantage over Bruce.
It was a small victory, but it was something—and for someone as proud as Bruce, even the smallest win counted.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
“No, thank you. I never drink on duty.”
“So the rumors were true,” Bruce chuckled, winking playfully as he raised his glass to a stoic Superman. “You are a boy scout. ”
If Superman noticed the mocking tone hidden in Bruce's comment, he gave nothing away. Between a sip of his ginger ale, Bruce watched him intently, waiting for any subtle cues that might reveal his next move. Polite but infuriatingly unreadable, Superman stepped forward, closing the small distance that Bruce had strategically put between them.
Now, Bruce was physically pinned between his desk, leaning against it with no escape, and Superman’s imposing frame. The alien was just a few inches taller than him and too close for his liking.
Dangerously close for a supposed boy scout . Bruce cursed himself as he felt inconvenient heat invading his cheeks.
But cornered or not, the man still had his best assets: his remarkable intelligence and the charm he had perfected over years of navigating charity galas and high-society events. Man or woman, his expert charm could still throw anyone off balance. As many would say, Bruce was very skilled with his tongue. In every sense of the word.
He took one last sip of his drink, his piercing gaze never leaving his guest while his tongue went slowly over his lips to catch the last droplets lingering there. His expression turned seductive, a dangerous glint shining in his steel-blue eyes. Then he spoke again, his voice deliciously hoarse:
"Usually, I wait until the first date before offering a private tête-à-tête in my office. But for someone as special as you, Superman..." Bruce lifted his hand toward the proudly displayed 'S' on the alien's chest, brushing the blue fabric with his fingertips in a falsely hesitant yet promising caress. "Maybe I could make an exception?"
Superman gave a silent smirk, completely unfazed by Bruce's bold attempt to seduce him.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Wayne, but I'm not here for that."
It didn't shake Bruce's resolve. If anything, it only made him more determined to get under Superman's skin.
"Please call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne was my father’s name," Bruce purred before placing his hand on the other man's chest. In the process, he discovered that his body temperature was higher than a human’s. The warmth radiated from his hand throughout the rest of his body, pleasant but inconvenient, sending a small shiver down his spine.
Once again, it did not escape Superman’s sharp focus, who smiled. Bruce suddenly felt truly vulnerable.
He knew that kind of smile. Once in a while, Bruce had seen it in the faces of his worst foes as he was on the verge of losing. Killer Croc, Double Face. The Joker. They all had this triumphant smirk. Bruce could still remember the fear, the raw emotion he felt while trying to survive, pushing his body beyond human limits to survive through the night. Seeing that expression of total power on Superman’s face, along with its almost supernatural beauty, was terrifying.
And even more so when he leaned in close to his ear, whispering in a soft, calm voice:
“I know who you are, Bruce.”
—-----
When Jason returned to the Batcave after his patrol as Batman, he encountered a perplexing scene.
Bruce, head in his hands, looked furious, barely holding back from smashing the Batcomputer screen where videos of Superman in action across the globe played on a loop.
Seated next to him, Tim looked equally frustrated, his face twisted in exasperation as he snapped shut his math book, clearly unable to concentrate in this tense atmosphere. Despite the dark looks thrown his way, Dick was on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Jason could have sworn he saw bats fleeing in panic, startled by Dick’s outburst of hilarity.
Removing the Dark Knight mask, Jason approached his brothers, raising an eyebrow and pointing at Dick, who hadn’t even noticed him arrive.
“What’s going on? Why is he laughing like a lunatic? I heard him from the entryway. Even Alfred’s furious.”
Since Bruce was in no mood to say a word and Dick was nearly suffocating with laughter, Tim took it upon himself to quickly explain the situation to Jason. He did his best to be as concise as possible. After all, the situation was embarrassing enough without dragging it out.
More importantly, he didn’t want Bruce to lose his cool entirely or Dick to laugh himself to the point of choking to death. By the end of Tim’s brief story, his cheeks were slightly flushed as Jason looked at him with a mix of disgust and horror.
“Wait… You’re telling me Superman thinks Bruce Wayne is Batman’s sugar daddy?”
He ignored the sinister growl emitted by his father, still crouched in front of the computer, as well as Tim’s moan of despair. They both looked as if they wished for nothing more than to disappear into the deepest depths of the earth.
Only Dick seemed amused by the situation, laughing even harder at Jason’s choice of words. Jason barely resisted giving him a well-deserved kick to the ribs.
“It’s not exactly the term Superman used, but let’s skip over that awkward detail... Anyway, I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to link Batman’s equipment to Wayne Enterprises,” Tim explained, his voice revealing just how serious he thought the situation was.
After all these years operating in the shadows, it was the first time anyone had come so close to the carefully guarded secret of Batman’s identity. And it wasn’t just anyone—it was Superman.
This couldn’t have been worse.
That realization struck Jason hard, immediately overtaking the fury he’d felt on hearing that Bruce had been practically ambushed by the alien. Everyone in the Batfamily was aware of Bruce’s opinion about the hero of Metropolis.
No wonder Bruce was fuming beneath the surface. Jason would have felt the same helpless anger if the Joker had trapped him in broad daylight, using his civilian identity to exploit his weakness.
A silent rage seized him as he imagined his father, defenseless, facing a Superman whose strength was beyond measure.
His heart clenched at the thought of that all-too-familiar suffering. Despite their strained relationship since Jason’s resurrection and all the turmoil that followed, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for Bruce.
The timing couldn’t have been worse for him, especially now.
Without warning, Tim shot him an accusatory glare, his eyes narrowing.
“Jason, aren’t you curious to know what object Superman used to trace Batman?”
“Stop with this stupid suspense and spit it out, Drake.”
“A batarang,” Tim replied, his voice full of reproach. “The same one you threw at him when he was flying over Gotham last week while you were on patrol.”
“And how the fuck was I supposed to know that a single batarang would give him so much info on Bruce?”
“I told you not to engage with him if he came near any of us. Bruce told you a million times. Even Dick. What the hell were you thinking?”
Jason swore under his breath, angry at himself and his little brother’s holier-than-thou attitude. How was it his fault if he finally decided to take action against the alien who kept flying over his city?
Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Superman dodged it with ease and flew away as if nothing had happened. Batman and Jason retreated into Gotham’s shadows, avoiding the alien until a contingency plan was in place. Despite wanting to face Superman again, Bruce had made Jason promise not to interfere, assuring him that he’d handle it himself once his leave ended.
He’d better. Jason wasn’t backing down next time, promise or not.
“Look on the bright side,” Dick said with a reassuring smile, positioning himself between his two brothers to keep them from lunging at each other. He was used to being the mediator during their minor disagreements. Everyone agreed Jason and Tim still needed time to get along—or at least talk civilly. But they had bigger issues at hand. “At least Superman doesn’t know Bruce is Batman.”
“Thank God. Who in their right mind would think that brainless Brucie Wayne could be Batman?”
“For now. Let’s not declare victory too soon,” Tim said gravely, again taking on the role of the adult, despite being only fourteen.
“Because the alien should think Bruce Wayne is Batman’s fucking sugar daddy, funding his gadgets in exchange for sexual favors? Man, give some self-respect to Batman.”
“Half of Gotham already thinks he’s sleeping with Batman anyway. And the other half claims they’ve already slept with him, so nothing new under the sun.”
“At least nobody suspects he has a secret relationship with Superman. That would be the worst to happen.”
“Oh, come on, Dick,” groaned Tim, massaging his temples. He could never be comfortable with the subject of his father’s love life.
“Alien or not, he is pretty good-looking,” said Dick pensively. “You think it’s the same down there for him? Last time, I caught Barbara reading some fanfiction about an astronaut getting stranded on Mars and meeting a super-sexy alien with three di—”
“Dude, you’re disgusting!”
“Hey, watch your language, little Tim!”
“And you’re the one saying that?!”
“Grayson, I swear I’ll punch you if I have nightmares about this shit tonight,” Jason muttered through gritted teeth.
“That’s enough, all three of you!” Bruce interjected firmly, reminding them of his presence during their embarrassing conversation.
The three men immediately stopped bickering and turned to their father who had finally broken his almost eerie silence.
“May I remind you that I’m still here? So please stop talking about this sugar daddy nonsense” he pleaded with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. He knew that it wouldn’t stop his sons from shamelessly dredging up all the wild rumors about his personal life, imagined or otherwise.
The most bothersome rumor for Bruce was the supposed secret relationship between Bruce Wayne and Batman.
It started a few months ago.
First, it was only anonymous whispers on forums, then it grew on social media, eventually solidifying into articles in respected newspapers like the Daily Planet and Gotham Gazette. A clandestine romance between Gotham’s most eligible billionaire and its masked protector was too juicy for the gossip columnists to resist, despite Wayne Enterprises’ repeated efforts to deny it.
Somehow, Bruce made it worse unintentionally, thanks to his Brucie persona and his habit of making a fool of himself in front of the reporters. He’d swear on camera that his heart still belonged to no one, but it was hard to believe him when he convincingly declared he had a weakness for, in his words, “a dark and dangerous partner who could ruin my life for one unforgettable night.”
It was even harder to deny the rumor when Batman had been swooping in a bit too often lately to save Bruce Wayne in broad daylight, breaking his own sacred rule of only intervening at night. It had become a vicious cycle. More and more people believed Bruce and Batman were lovers, including Batman’s enemies. Kidnapping attempts became more frequent , forcing Batman to keep saving Bruce like some damsel in distress. And once again, the tabloids would pounce on these stories, fueling a rumor that was seriously starting to get under Bruce’s skin.
It was even worse now that he discovered this rumor had raised Superman’s suspicions towards him. No surprise that, after linking Batman’s finances to Wayne Enterprises, the alien concluded they had some kind of “sugar daddy” relationship.
After all, God forbid Bruce Wayne could have any kind of normal relationship.
“Let’s be cautious, but Dick’s right,” Tim concluded philosophically. “It could be worse. Better for Superman to keep believing this rumor than risk him figuring out Bruce is Batman.”
“Yes, but now I can’t help picturing Superman reading tabloids in his fortress. Kind of ruins the myth,” Dick sighed, secretly a fan of the fascinating and charismatic man in blue.
Despite his bad mood, Jason couldn’t help but laugh as he imagined the world’s most powerful being, coffee in hand, reading the latest Vicki Vale article on Gotham’s two favorite princes. But, as usual, this short moment of lightness didn’t last long. With a scowl, he turned to Bruce, who had retreated into a defeated silence, finally tearing his tired gaze away from the computer’s screen.
“I know this all seems funny,” Bruce admitted, his voice dark, “but it’s worse than you think. If that alien linked Batman’s gear to Wayne Enterprises this fast, imagine what he’ll find if he keeps digging. Or if that information leaks to the wrong people.”
Lost in the grim hypotheticals spinning in his sharp but pessimistic mind, Bruce was only brought back to reality when Dick spoke directly to him:
“B, do you know what Superman wants? I mean, he didn’t just drop that bomb on you without explaining his intentions, did he?”
Bruce furrowed his brow, not hiding his irritation at the glaring lack of information and control he had over this entire situation. His headache wasn’t going away anytime soon.
“I suppose not. But I really don’t know for the moment. Lucius arrived at my office at that exact moment, and Superman left without a word.” Bruce remembered how he had flown out the window, leaving the two men stunned long after his departure. Anger had then taken over and hadn't left him hours later. “But I’m sure he’ll show up again. He wants something from me, and he won’t stop until he gets it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Bruce turned toward his screen, staring at one of the images where Superman’s face was shown up close.
It was impossible to miss the raw determination that radiated from his blue eyes. The same look he had witnessed during their first encounter when Superman had pushed him to his limits.
He would never forget that look.
“I just know it. Superman is unpredictable and dangerous. It’s only a matter of time before he tries to make contact with me again. And I don’t know if I’ll have enough time to find out why. Or to prepare myself if I have to fight against him.”
Dick paused for a moment. He looked intently at his two brothers, probably searching for an answer that no one had at the moment. At the predictable lack of response from them, an unusual concern marked his face, contrasting with his usual unshakable optimism. He took a deep breath before asking his father again:
“So what do you suggest, B? You have 4 weeks before going back to work. Don’t tell me you seriously think you can avoid him during that time. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to easily give up.”
Unfortunately, Bruce couldn’t refute this fact.
“I can try, at least. I doubt Superman would try to kidnap Bruce Wayne in broad daylight. Whatever his intentions, he still has a public image to maintain.” He paused, coming up with a resignation that hardened his entire face. “Anyway, I don’t have a choice. I’ll ask Lucius to replace me as much as possible at Wayne Enterprises during the day to give me enough time to continue my investigation.” Then, with a genuinely apologetic look, he added, “I promise this won’t interfere with my time with your little brother. You know that remains my number one priority.”
Tim, who had remained silent until then, simply nodded before leaving the Batcave. Dick and Jason followed shortly after, knowing full well that no words or arguments would make Bruce leave the Batcave before the first light of day.
Over his shoulder, Jason took one last look at the image of Superman on the Batcomputer screen, his hands clenched, unable to escape that dangerously hypnotic blue gaze.
That gaze, fiercely blue and alien, reminded him of the danger Bruce was currently facing.
The danger Bruce—and his entire family—was currently facing.
As he slipped out of the cave, drops of blood still trickled from his clenched fists.
—--
A few days later, Bruce had fallen back into the near-usual rhythm of his existence, minus the Batman part.
His daily life as Gotham’s favorite socialite among the golden class forced him to organize far too many high-society parties, each minute of which he hated.
Once again tonight, Bruce was the center of attention, surrounded by his guests on the rooftop of one of the many imposing buildings he owned in Metropolis—a city he had been trying to avoid as much as possible lately for obvious reasons. Once again, businessmen with sharp interests and sculptural models gravitated around him like bees to their queen. A typical ordeal for a true introvert like Bruce. He would have given anything to escape to the peace of his manor, where he could finally read the books gathering dust on the corner of his desk.
But unfortunately, this time again, his real desires would be set aside. As well as tomorrow. And the day after. Maybe until his death, who knows?
On this pleasant early autumn evening, he played the part of a performer, effortlessly adopting the splendid costume of Brucie Wayne, charming and flirtatious host. As usual, he knew how to flatter his guests with smooth compliments and entertain them like no one else with his many true (or fabricated) anecdotes about his nocturnal affairs and extreme sports interests.This charade would last for another hour—just an hour—before he could feign drunkenness and slip away from a crowd that expected nothing from him except a few minutes of distraction at his expense, money, or his body for the night.
In general, this bitter reality left him completely indifferent. Wasn't he, after all, a soldier rigorously trained by the League of Assassins, with a robust body and mind Rationally, Bruce knew perfectly well that all of this was stupid. It was just a game of appearances, mere trivialities. But sometimes, like tonight, and without fully understanding why, it left him with a cold emptiness throughout his entire being. Surely one of the downsides of temporarily relinquishing the Batman armor.
At least when you spent most of your nights jumping from building to building, chasing Gotham’s most dangerous criminals, there was no time for introspection. No time to feel anything other than a dangerously addictive cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and raw rage.
No time to feel utterly, desperately alone.
He wrapped his arm around the hips of a sultry blonde—another aspiring actress desperate for a few seconds of fame by sneaking into one of Bruce Wayne's famous parties. The high-pitched giggle she let out at his touch had the desired effect. Back to reality, far from this moment of introspective dissociation that had been a little too long and dangerous for Bruce’s liking.
"Stay where you are, gorgeous. I'll go get us some drinks. The night is still young," he promised with a seductive wink before moving away from the lovely creature, who was already eager to lay her hands on him.
Still wearing a big, stiff smile on his lips, Bruce walked past the enormous pool where guests were throwing themselves in, nearly naked and merry. The bar awaited him at the far end of the rooftop. It had been a while since he’d wanted to get drunk. With a bit of luck, Alfred wouldn’t even notice if he allowed himself one or two glasses of cognac before going home and fully dedicate himself to his fatherly duties...
“Oh my God, look up!”
A lively murmur immediately rose, forcing Bruce to tilt his head toward the sky in search of the source of the commotion. Countless fingers pointed at a visitor floating in the air, someone who wasn’t on the guest list. Someone who couldn't possibly be subjected to a restraining order—something Bruce had used time and time again against overly persistent stalkers.
“It’s Superman!”
“Superman is here; this is incredible!”
“Superman, can we have an autograph?”
After all, no court in Metropolis, Gotham, or anywhere on Earth could contain Superman with trivial laws—or prevent him from crashing one of Bruce Wayne’s parties.
Glass tightly gripped in his hand, which he had somehow kept from shattering, Bruce watched a hysteria akin to that of rock star fans in a frenzy. Except this time, it wasn’t a harmless artist seeking fame, but Superman. An extraterrestrial being with powers so vast he could crush them all like insignificant ants if their existence posed even the slightest irritation to him.
Instead, oblivious to the danger, most of them crowded toward the figure in the costume as he landed, his eternal boy-scout smile on his lips, greeting them like a 1950s TV presenter.
Under different circumstances, Bruce would have laughed at the absurdity of the scene. For a brief moment, he imagined himself in the middle of a debate with Tim, a great lover of societal and philosophical analysis, about the dangers of idolizing figures. But not tonight. Not when Superman turned toward him, his unnaturally blue eyes offering no escape. Still as powerful and determined. Bruce could swear he also saw a glint of amusement...
Or perhaps triumph?
Before Bruce could form a coherent thought, Superman vanished from his line of sight, only to reappear inches from him, catching the glass that had slipped from his sweating hands. With his breath short and heart pounding, Bruce offered no resistance. He watched as Superman scanned him from head to toe, that infuriating smile still on his lips— a smile Bruce would have loved to distort with his fists.
“Good evening, Mr. Wayne. Sorry I’m late. I hope your little party isn’t over yet.”
Without waiting for a response, he brought the glass to his lips, wearing once again an expression of challenge and disdain that, for God knows what reason, was reserved only for Bruce.
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