Chapter Text
The first time Clark asked Bruce out was still relatively early in their relationship. They’d only recently learned each other’s secret identities, which had seemed to Clark like a major turning point, though Bruce insisted on acting like nothing had changed. But Clark knew better. The issue of identity always felt like an enormous barrier between the two of them; between Clark and any other member of the Justice League, really, but he’d known Batman the longest, and with him the issue was therefore most noticeable. For a long time, Clark felt like he would never truly know the man behind the mask. But now, with that particular secret out of the way, Clark felt like his chances of actually developing a genuine friendship with the Batman seemed exponentially higher.
But, as Clark soon realized, there was no way for any sort of “getting to know each other” to actually happen on the job. Bruce refused to use their real names or make any reference to their civilian identities even when it was just the two of them on a rooftop in Gotham, let alone in the Watchtower, surrounded by surveillance cameras and League members who only knew them as Batman and Superman. So, Clark figured, they’d have to spend time together outside of saving the world. It was the only way their relationship, which was currently strictly professional, would ever progress.
Admittedly, Clark’s reasons for wanting to form a friendship with Bruce were mostly selfish. He had plenty of friends; Superman and Clark Kent were both generally well-liked people. He had his colleagues at the Daily Planet, Lois especially, and he had the other League members. But Bruce was the only League member who knew who Clark was, who he really was, which meant Bruce was the only one Clark felt he could really open up to, if only Bruce were less hostile. Lois also knew Clark was Superman, and her friendship was invaluable to Clark, but she would never fully understand what it was like, the immense responsibility, the fear of failure that came with regularly saving the world. Bruce would understand this, Clark had no doubt.
There was also a secondary reason for Clark’s interest in Bruce, one Clark tried not to acknowledge, even to himself. Clark had always felt intrigued by the Batman, ever since the beginning, even before he counted Bruce a friend, back when he wasn’t sure Bruce’s vigilantism was in Gotham’s or the world’s best interest. And the more Clark got to know Batman, even before learning his secret identity, the more intrigued Clark became. “Intrigued” in the sense that, in his everyday life, Clark found himself thinking about Batman constantly, bringing him up in daily conversations whenever he could to the point where Lois began to laugh at him and his “bat-crush.” “Intrigued” in the sense that Clark, if he was being honest with himself, just might have been a tiny bit attracted to the broad, rugged Gothamite. And learning Batman’s identity – learning he was, in fact, the incredibly handsome Bruce Wayne – had certainly not helped Clark on that front.
Attraction aside – because Clark didn’t even think he wanted to pursue a relationship with another League member, and he was certain Bruce would agree even on the slim chance the feeling did turn out to be mutual – Clark was certain spending more time together was something that would benefit them both. His motivations weren’t entirely selfish. He would never pursue this possibility if he didn’t think it would also be good for Bruce, who only interacted, it seemed, with the same handful of people (outside of his vapid billionaire playboy façade) and could probably use another friend.
So Clark made a decision. He would try to convince Bruce to spend time with him outside of work.
In retrospect, he probably should have planned his approach more thoroughly. Because the first time Clark asked Bruce to spend time with him – in the form of an invitation to dinner – he hadn’t really given it much thought at all. He approached Bruce after a League meeting, once all the other members had left the room, leaving just the two of them.
“Any plans tonight?” he asked, trying to sound casual. For all his strength and genius, Bruce could easily be scared off in social situations. Bruce looked up at him, and even though Clark couldn’t see beneath the lead-lined mask, he knew exactly what facial expression Bruce was making. It was one he was intimately familiar with: scowling, one eyebrow raised, with a look in his brilliant blue eyes that threatened, “You’d better not be wasting my goddamn time, Boy Scout.”
“Patrolling,” Bruce answered shortly. Of course. Clark felt ridiculous for even asking. The only time Bruce did anything but patrol the streets of Gotham all night was when the Wayne household was attending or hosting a social function, and even then Bruce had Oracle constantly monitoring the Internet, security and traffic cameras, and police scanners, and usually sent one or more of the Batkids out halfway through the night to do a sweep of the city.
“Any chance you’d like to join me for dinner somewhere?” He almost said “my treat,” but then realized how unnecessary such an incentive was when addressing Bruce Wayne. Of course it wouldn’t be Clark’s treat. A pair of Bruce’s shoes cost more than Clark made in a week.
“No,” came Bruce’s blunt reply. Clark couldn’t say he was surprised. He shrugged his shoulders easily, not the least bit offended. It was nothing personal. Not when Bruce was involved.
“Alright,” he said, teasing. “Your loss.”
Bruce scoffed and left the room without another word. Clark smiled to himself as he watched the man leave, black cape sweeping dramatically behind him. Oh well. He’d try again some other time.