Bruce
The fight is going poorly. Even with the help of Superman the thing is wiping the floor with us. I'm assuming its some kind of alien but Superman would know for sure. He always seems to. I shake my head to clear it and turn back just as a black starfish thing with tentacles whacks me in the face. The last thing I see before everything fades to black is another one attaching itself to Superman's face.
Two weeks later and I've made up my mind, it's time to tell Superman how I feel. I've been pining for him for far too long. I take a deep breath and look in the mirror, checking my hair for the thousandth time. I have my speech memorized and nothing left to lose. Well actually there's a fair amount to lose but I'm not going to think about that. I texted him earlier today to meet at the bridge. I'm assuming he'll know where to go and if he doesn't, I don't even know what to do with him. At that point may as well give up on this. There's only one bridge I could be talking about, also it's not like there are that many. He has a 20% chance if he randomly guesses.
I growl and stalk out the door of the Batcave. He'll know where to go because it's the bridge where we fought our first battle together and the place we always go to vent.
I speed through the streets. No cops bother to pull me over, virtue of me doing their job better than they do. I haven't been this nervous since I asked my high school crush out in 10th grade. And even then, I'm not sure that even comes close. The months of silent pining after this man. The overthinking conversations and weirdly charged moments consume my waking days. When I'm not thinking about superman, I'm trying to sus out his secret identify. I'm pretty confident I know at this point, or I wouldn't be doing this yet, but I can't be 100% sure until I ask him in person.
That's how my speech starts: by asking him if he's the reporter Clarke Kent. From there I go into how much I love and value our friendship, but how for me it's grown into something more than that. A feeling I can't fight anymore. Fittingly the song "I can't fight this feeling anymore" By REO Speedwagon comes on the radio right as I'm parking on the bridge. I growl deep in my throat and punch the radio off.
"Not helping." I admonish the Batmobile as I get out and head for the usual spot. I know it's a car and therefore an inanimate object but who doesn't talk to their car?
I get there before Clarke/Superman and shoo a couple of pigeons off our bench. The city is overrun with the pests. I snort, thinking about how there seem to be a never-ending supply of both pigeons and super villains in this gods forsaken city.
"Laughing at me already?" a very familiar voice says from behind me.
I jerk upright and turn to see Superman in all his glory. He's truly breath-taking: jaw line chiseled from marble, one unruly curl brushing an eyebrow, blue eyes sparkling in the light from a streetlight, and that suit... his muscles look really good in that suit.
I take a breath to center myself before I respond. "Not at you. At the birds. Or well at myself. For thinking about the birds." I can tell that breath did absolutely by the word vomit that spews forth. I mentally kick myself and try not to look at the smirk that is spreading cross his perfectly shaped lips. "Never mind." I groan as he sits on the bench next to me.
"Sooo...Why are we here?" He asks. He sat next to me on the bench close enough that our thighs are almost touching. It's distracting as all hell. He's distracting as all hell.
I shake my head and run a hand through my hair. Or try to, I have the full suit on, so I'm met with the material of my helmet. I pull it off slowly, shaking my hair into some semblance of order (helmet head is real and now is not the time). I feel him stiffen beside me as he recognizes my all too familiar face. I am a super-rich, fairly well-known person in Gotham after all.
