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#basically i saw a gifset of henry cavill in nighthunter and HAD to do something with it
bruciemilf · 1 year
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Okay besties, I have an idea for you;
AU where the justice league was rooted in a small town; everyone knows everybody and no one knows anyone. Not really. But them? Oh, they know eachother.
They knew Clark and Bruce would tie the knot right after graduation.
They knew Diana would take new York museums by storm. They knew Hal would grow into his dad's aviator jacket. They knew Barry would wear gold around his neck in the Olympics. They simply knew.
Except for the fact that Clark had no idea Bruce would go on to divorce him just to marry an old sparring buddy, -- Khoa something; he doesn't know to this day, and he refuses to learn, -- for reasons he wouldn't divulge.
And bruce didn't anticipate his ex husband being the one who would investigate his husband's murder.
Funny how death brings people together.
Not until Dick, their boy, his boy, too, - He's Jon and Kon's brother just as much as he's Jason's, Tim's, and Damian's, and no piece of shit paper could take that from him, - told him, a bone white paleness to his cheeks the day of his weekend.
Their home is chaos; Not a chaos he knows, a chaos he loves, but a disservice on their once home.
Four different cars parked in front of Bruce's manor, dark enough to blend in the depth of night, give Clark a pretty good idea of what he'll find.
" This is bad. This is really bad, right? Oh god, is he moving? He just looked at me, I SWEAR he just looked at me,--"
'' Who gave Barry coffee?" Clark doesn't want them to be shocked when he enters, because really, he's not supposed to be here. The spark of twisted pleasure when they see him Is small, but it's there. " Who died?"
Hal skips over the corpse currently occupying the living room carpet, a frenzy in his eyes, " We do NOT have time for your shit, Kent. It's bad enough Wayne dragged us along to his little graveyard shift,--"
Clark doesn't particularly want to know who's that Oliver tosses Russian words with over the phone, but he takes a pause, only to point sharply at the pilot, " As if you have anything better to do you plane crushing fuck--"
" One time! One time!"
" Quiet down! You're upsetting Bruce," Command and order came to Diana as naturally as flight does to birds; Out of them all, -- jaded and secretive and wore out by life like a pair of shoes, -- she holds the crown of stability for sure.
Clark envies her. Maybe because she's her, or because she has an arm around Bruce.
He's tired; And scared. Clark's pretty little ghost.
Blanket over his lean, strong shoulders, knees nestled to his chest, shivering under Diana's arms. His eyes haven't left the living room.
Not until Clark walked up to the bottom of the stairs, where he could catch a better view of purple and blue rendering Bruce's sharp cheek.
There's something undeniably demure about Bruce Wayne; Youngest of them, softest of them. Clark adored it; He's always been a beast of a man, -- granted, raised with Martha Kent's southern loving ways, but you can't make a puppy from a wolf.
Bruce very much disagreed, and told Clark as such. That they compliment eachother.
Clark can't help but be sad at Bruce's softness now; But he's not stupid enough to think Bruce weak, and God help you if you're that man. Maybe Khoa was that man.
Bruce's eyelashes flutter like a butterfly's wings, " ...Clark." You came.
" Hi, baby." You called.
He closes his eyes, silently letting embarassment take him. Hal facepalms behind him.
" Not to interrupt your weird Eye Make Out slash Emotional Hug contact, but seriously, we need to call the police!"
" No!" Bruce raises to his feet, fingers twisting and fiddling, a nervous habit. Clark wants to capture him in his arms and never let him move, " No. No police."
Diana's voice is gentle, " Why not?"
" Because he did it!" Hal says, " I mean, it's pretty obvious!"
" Oh shut the fuck up-"
" That's absurb--"
" Hal, you're scared I get it, but Bruce would never,--"
" I did," Bruce declares, sentencing them to silence. " I did it. "
A tension filled cloud slowly drips over them. Hal begins pacing even more. Barry joins him. Oliver's yelling gets louder, and the Bruce's fingers shake worse.
Clark, wordlessly, pulls him upstairs, hands gentle on his smaller wrists, ignoring the call back from downstairs, where death still lingers.
Bruce won't look at him when he asks, " Did you do it? Really?"
" He was going to hit me."
" He was already hitting you," Clark spits the hateful truth, acid hissing over his tongue like a well-sharpened knife, " He was already hitting you. And you didn't kill him then. "
A shiver, a tremble, Bruce turning his back as if to protect himself. Clark's heart hurts. He's never been someone Bruce needed protection from, " Please, --"
" So you were either going to stop him from hitting you... Or from hitting someone else," Bruce's frame moves from him, departs again, and Clark follows, because he let Bruce walk away one time and it got them here, " ...Or someone was gonna stop him from hitting you."
Bruce freezes, gaze wide. Only he's not looking at Clark. He's looking at what's behind him.
Clark follows the line of sight.
There's Jason, their youngest, their tallest, terrified, and teary, and blood soiling his hands.
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