aftermath

nine

IX.

A little off your game today," is the first thing Bruce hears as he steps into the Watchtower's private quarters. Of course, that's not true.

"I came in here to catch a break, Clark," he retorts, "Not be hounded by your false accusations."

A chuckle, and then footsteps padding lightly behind him. He might take a quick shower, update those files he hasn't had time for, and-

There's a tight grip on his arm. And the grip becomes so tight it's on the verge of breaking his arm.

Bruce turns around to say what the hell are you-

It's not Clark.

It is Clark, on the outside. The hair is black and curled, blue eyes, blue suit, red S splattered across his chest. Same physique, same face, same cape. But his face- he wears an expression of malice Bruce has never seen before. A light wave of stubble across his jaw- No, that's not right.

He's not right.

"Clark." Bruce says, and his voice would sound exactly the same to anyone but...

"Scared, aren't you," the thing grins horribly. Bruce feels it a violation, the way he twists his lips and makes a terrible mess out of beautiful features.

Mustering all his strength, Batman yanks his arm out of the other man's hold. He already begins planning an escape route, from the simulation floor to the fake wall. How did an intruder get into such private quarters? And why? H e just needs the kryptonite, to weaken him... enough...

He reaches for his belt, and realizes, with a cold wind of breath, that the familiar lead casing is not there.

Icy gales flit through his skull, and dims out every light that had been circulating inside. As if mimicking his mind, the quarter's lights begin lowering out, pair by pair, and the temperature drops.

"Looking for your kryptonite? It's not there." Superman steps closer.

But it's always there.

"I 'm excited to do this, actually. I've been waiting awhile."

A silent, fierce question in Batman's eyes.

And then he is hit across the face so hard he flies through the room entirely, and lands with a thump on the other side.

The impact shocks Bruce to the core, knocking the air from him, and one side of his face is already melting into a mirage of red and purple- he can feel it. What is this? A demon, or illusion (mind games?), or a shape-shifter-

A sudden burst of wind and Superman is right in front of him, mouth a grim line, one eyebrow raised. And he does the unthinkable-

He kisses him.

It's hard and long and unforgiving, and Batman is so surprised he stays stock-still for a second, and then he's bringing his own fist around, with tremendous force, out of astonishment and anger.

Superman's head twists a little to the side, and his eyes go wide. Anger flares up in them, and he says, "You pack quite a punch."

Bruce is grabbed by the cape and hurled against the wall. The force renders him nearly unconscious, fighting to stay awake, struggling to stand back up. He counts his injuries. Assesses the damage. If he can keep the thing talking, he can learn more. Extract more information.

Find out what makes him tick.

Why did he kiss him? It's not like Clark and he- it's not like-