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Batman stared at Superman.  ”What?”

The Man of Steel looked down and rubbed the back of his head with one hand, looking exactly like a small boy caught stealing cookies.  ”I had to come clean, Bruce.  I’ve been feeling so guilty.  I’m so sorry.”

“You had the Fortress hack my communications?  You read my messages?”  Bruce heard the anger in his voice like a lash;  Superman winced.  ”I thought after all this time you trusted me.”

Clark looked up quickly:  ”It’s not that, Bruce.  Of course I trust you.”

“Then why—”

“—It wasn’t Batman’s communications I was intercepting,” Superman said sheepishly.  ”It…it was Bruce Wayne’s.”

Batman’s anger transmuted into bafflement.  ”What?  Why would you be reading Bruce Wayne’s emails and texts?  You know there’s nothing interesting there.”

Clark’s color was high;  he looked away and shuffled his feet, saying nothing.

“I mean, the last few weeks have been nothing but talking stocks with Lucius, arranging to buy a new car, setting up a lunch date with Svetlana—”  He broke off, his eyes narrowing.  ”Clark.”  Superman backed up a couple of steps, still not looking at him.  ”Were you spying  on my communications with a Russian supermodel?”

“You were so friendly with her at that fundraiser, and then I saw you smiling as you were texting her, and I just…”  Clark swallowed.  ”I don’t know what possessed me, Bruce.  I just couldn’t stop reading your conversations with her.”

Bruce ran back through the last two weeks of superficial e-flirting and grimaced.  Then a new thought struck him and he stared at Superman  again, this time with a very different kind of disbelief.  ”Clark…were you jealous?”  Don’t jump to conclusions, don’t get your hopes up… ”Were you…interested in Svetlana?”

Superman muttered something nearly inaudible, but Bruce did manage to catch “…not Svetlana” out of it.

“Well, for the record, I’m afraid you’re out of luck, as she prefers the ladies.”

“Oh,” Clark said.  He didn’t seem very disappointed.

“I, on the other hand, appear to have a weakness for ridiculously noble,  selfless defenders of Truth and Justice…especially if they have just the tiniest streak of possessiveness,” Bruce said.

“Oh?”  Clark seemed much more interested in this statement.  ”That’s a funny coincidence…that’s my type too.”

Bruce grimaced again.  ”There may be a problem with…that whole ‘tiniest’ part.”

Clark smiled.  ”Okay, I would also accept ‘gigantic streak of possessiveness.’”

“That’s a relief,” said Bruce.