The food was always good in these places, Clark had to admit. The glittering chandeliers, artfully decorated tables were honey to smooth the bitter pill of swallowing down the fact the Daily Planet had new owners.
Bruce Wayne. Wayne Industries.
Not many newspapers were independently owned nowadays, especially not the larger ones. Some days, he missed when he worked for his local newspaper in Smallville, when he could publish anything he wanted... if not for the threat of Luthor suing him.
Iit was just part and parcel of being a reporter. Weigh the risks carefully, how much it would affect himself, others. Whether the truth was more important than safety.
He absently took another bite of his cake, tuning in to the various conversations around him.
"--she's doing fine, good thing my mother is--"
"--having an affair with a man? seriously? I thought he had a wi--"
"--damn, but Brucie Wayne looks fiiine tonight--"
"--wonder if they'll let us run that story about--"
Nothing important, and Clark was about to spread his focus further out when there was a sharp ringing of glass.
A quiet fell over the crowed, eyes trained up on the polished figure on stage. Bruce Wayne, masculine in figure and a handsome face. His eyes were a grey-blue, ringed with hazel around the pupil. He had an affable if air-headed personality though Clark could see hints of something darker, something predatory that lurked under the mask.
As an alien amongst humans, he was a master of observation, noticing people and their mannerisms, learning to emulate to better blend in. He was pretty human, not only in looks but in socialization, but that otherness never left him. His parents taught him how to think like a human, the social rules of Midwestern American culture as natural to him as flying. He had to teach himself how to not act Kryptonian, denying the natural motions of his phsyiology.
It's clear to see when he watches old videos of Kryptonians in the fortress of solitude, their disregard for gravity, the limitations of joints and ligaments. They only look human. He used to forget it often when he was younger.
He'd throw a baseball and sure, he'd pull the strength but the coach would still notice the unnatural rotation of his arm, the snapping motion of his wrist that in a human would scream injury, dislocation.
It's not something humans consciously learn but subconsciously notice when someone doesn't move human. Even amongst the Justice League, he's still surrounded by humans. Humans with powers but humans nonetheless. Even J'onn takes on the form of a mostly human amongst them, thought Clark thinks his true form is something closer to a shifting mass than solid flesh.
Aliens pretending to be humans tend to be pretty darn good at reading subtle body language for what it is--and body language is telling clark that bruce wayne is not who he is pretending to be.
Drawing himself out of his thoughts, he focuses his gaze from it had been resting on the flower centerpiece to look at Wayne. Je unexpectedly meets the man's gaze, sharp recognition in his eyes.
Clark drops his gaze appropriately lower to gaze somewhere over his shoulder. He's seated pretty far, the man possibly can't be singling him out. It was just an unlikely coincidence.
He spares a glance at his face again, but no dice, Bruce is firmly locked onto his direction. Maybe he's looking at Cat Grant, who's two seats over?
Grey blue meets glass-tinted blue.
"I simply cannot wait to work together with you. I'm sure we will all become such good friends and accomplish great things together."
The words drown out all other sounds, quieting the world for a moment.
"I look forward to being on the side of the press for once." The spell is broken, as Bruce lifts his head and cracks his silly joke.
Clark adjusts his glasses, narrowing his eyes at Bruce Wayne. He does not trust this himbo exterior.
"Hey, J'onn, how ya doing?" Clark asks, drifting to float beside him as J'onn surveyed some screens, reading some reports from the look of it. The strange subsonic song that was his body's version of internal sounds was familiar to him, a pleasant white noise against his hearing.
"I am doing fine, as you humans might say. How may I be of assistance today?" He pauses the scroll of the text, looking at graph.
"Aw shucks, you don't need to be so formal," Clark rubbed his hand against the short hairs of his neck. "It's nothing League-worthy, just something personal."
"Personal?" J'onn turned his face a degree towards him, one eyebrow raised. It was a tad bit too high for a moment before it morphed into a more human-looking muscle motion.
"I think... my new boss knows about me..." Clark pursed his lips, unconsciously floating a tad bit higher and doing a lazy spin. Wayne never said it out right, but he hinted at it or made off-color jokes that seemed normal for his behavior but always had a double-meaning directed towards him. Clark felt a bit of unnatural draw towards him, constantly catching his eyes whenever he lifted his head up. He suspected that Wayne was a magical person or meta, but that seemed absurd as he was perfectly ordinary in every other sense.
His hearing didn't pick up anything unique either other than the sounds of typing, inane conversations and the muted sounds of bodily functions. His heart rate was absurdly low for a playboy millionaire but he must keep a strict training regime to keep his muscular shape.
"I see. You would like me to accompany you to your place of work to read his mind and see if he knows of your alternate identity." J'onns' low bass voice washed over him, that melodic unplaceable accent a soothing sound to his overtaxed ears.
"Yes! Well, if you're willing of course. I wouldn't want to be a bother--"
"Superman, i am willing. I will accompany you to work tomorrow. Since this is on such short notice, I will remain unseen but nearby. I may establish a mental connection if I notice anything, if that is alright with you?" J'onn abandoned pretense of studying the report, turning to face him, solemn gaze weighing on him.
"Thank you! Of course, do what you think is best," Clark smiled, feeling relieved to soon understand what Bruce Wayne was after.
J'onn floated over Clark's shoulder, arms crossed as ze considered the situation. As part of zer Martian physiopsychology, ze was able to split zer conscious, working mind into separate thought-streams and use zer abilitues to survey a population at large.
As soon as Bruce Wayne had came within a 5-mile radius, J'onn had immediately recognized his psychic signature.
Ze had been vaguely aware that Batman was Bruce Wayne, a fact that had he had managed to pick up from him but filed it into his peripheral memory where ze usually cataloged personal information of non-martians that ze learned simply by existing.
Ze did not mean to but it was inevitable with humans as they were a very psychically-blind species. In fact, in zer experiences' almost all other species were not attuned to the psychic senses. Some humans could have some rudimentary control of their psychic projection by training with meditation and self-discipline but it was not the refined control of a Martian. Things still slipped through occasionally, though J'onn never gave Batman any mention of it. He had a stronger shield than most, but not one without inherent holes where stray thoughts and emotions slipped out without J'onn having to probe for them.
Coming back to zer problem, J'onn watched as Batman attempted to attract Superman's attention with what he thought were clear, pointed hints at his real identity. Clearly, Superman was aware he was hinting at his identity as Superman but he didn't pick up the hints about Batman. At least, that was how Batman perceived it.
Superman was apprehensive and suspicious, spying the danger to himself. The majority of the Daily Planet bullpen was perceiving this interaction as courting a mate, or colloquially known as flirting. Which ze conceded it was, albeit a very uncommon form of human flirting.
It wasn't simply lust which drove Batman's persuasive efforts but a serious mix of affection, respect and admiration with romantic overtones. It was a heady mix that washed over zem, the emotions more potent due to their familiarity and shared bond.
Superman's attention sharped as he headed into an empty storage to retrieve more paper. "So?" He asked quietly, less of a word and more of a broadcasted word.
*"There is no malicious intent from him."* Ze hedged his answer, now caught in between both of zer friends' secret identities and affection for each other. Ze could not reveal one's secret without betraying the others' confidence, even if it was unknowingly gathered.
"But does he know?"
*"I am unsure. He is not as open to me like other humans."* Another white lie, even though it was based in the truth.
"So he's a meta? Magical? Alien?"
*"No, he is a plain human. Some humans are able to build a psychic shield with meditation and self-discipline. It seems he is one."* This one is a full truth at least.
"Brucie Wayne? That Brucie Wayne? The very one the Daily Mail, Gotham Gazette and Eastern Tribune called dumb, ditzy Brucie Wayne?"
*"Yes. Also, he is about to come into the closet."* Ze turned zemself invisible and phasable once more, right in time as Superman pretended to be struggling picking up five boxes of printer paper.
"There's my favorite reporter!" Batman gave a vacuous grin which was at odds with his sharp psychic presence.
"Oh, M-Mr. Wayne!" Superman stammered convincingly, morphing into his meek human persona without a second thought, wiping his glasses as he stood from his crouched position over the boxes.
"Need a hand with that, chum?" Batman took two boxes from him, "Look at you, all humble, I'm sure you could out bench anyone in this city! Don't know why we need to be shy!"
J'onn wished ze could've copied the human habit of pinching the nasal bones together. The move would have no affect on zer physiology but the placebo effect would still be effective.
"I'm sorry I cannot tell you more, my friend," J'onn said sitting in kitchen, drinking tea from one of his chipped mugs.
"Are you sure he doesn't mean me any harm? How can you know that he has no malice but not if he knows my secret identity?" Clark leaned against the wall, stirring a spoon of honey into his earl grey.
There was a pregnant pause before J'onn answered. "Emotions... bleed out while thoughts are more... formed? I am not sure how to explain to a non-psychic. Emotions are which most thoughts are based on so they are easier to pick up on."
Clark narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the ground for a second, taking a sip. J'onn's unconventional pause meant that he was hiding something but what? After many battles together, Clark was sure that J'onn had good intentions but perhaps Bruce tricked him? It was not out of the realm of possibilities.
"What if you interacted with him? Would you be able to read his mind then?"
"I am unsure if that would lead to anything. I could attempt so, but I am unaware of how strong his mental shields are or if he would become aware of my presence. He is a regular human based on my observation, so why do you believe him to be nonhuman?" J'onn asked, picking at his meager offerings of a charcuterie board. It was plain crackers, slices of pastrami, two cheese and gherkins. Clark didn't need to eat as much as regular human, so his kitchen was always sparingly stocked but J'onn's use of his powers all day required replenishment. Clark's Midwestern sensibilities simply could not send him back to the Watchtower without at least attempting to feed him.
"He just has this unnatural allure to him. Whenever I look at him, he's looking back at me. His eyes draw me in. His voice rings out clearer than any human I've ever met. I hear so much that it can become overwhelming so I try to focus on sound and voices to help ground myself. It's strange that I focus on his unwillingly when he's a stranger to me."
"I see..." J'onn intoned, unblinking orange beacons of focused on him. Clark met his gaze head on, staring into his slightly light-emitting eyes.
"Do you? Want to share what you just figured out?" Clark didn't think he would, as J'onn seemed to be internally struggling over hiding something. J'onn never paused when speaking unless he was trying to lie.
"No. It is not mine to share. It requires some self-exploration to figure out but it is not harmful to you." J'onn finished off the last of the makeshift board before he floated into a standing position.
"Er... maybe not the best word choice?"
"Hm, perhaps."
Clark was about to ask him if J'onn was willing to put up with his paranoia once more before J'onn answered, "Yes, I will contact you when I have made a suitable identity that will allow me to enter your workplace and have a one-on-one interaction with him."
"Thanks J'onn," Clark smiled, holding back the urge to hug him. He really was such a good friend.
It took two weeks before J'onn was able to come in disguise. He had created an identity as one of the new interns that would flooding the Daily Planet for the summer; Carly Guinta, a Filipino girl who was in her last year of high school and was hoping to become a journalist.
Clark managed to use his superspeed to switch his assigned intern with Rodriguez who had J'onn.
"Hi, I'm Clark Kent, investigative journalist here with the Daily Planet. It's nice to meet you," He shook his hand with not-J'onn. He was clearly trying to fake a more bubbly demeanor but he could hide all of his serious demeanor.
"Nice to meet you as well, I'm Carly Guinta!" Not-J'onn eagerly shook his hand. "I'm so excited to be here!"
"Please treat me as a regular intern. I do not want to 'blow my cover'." J'onn established a psychic connection with him, that tell-tale warmth blooming in the back of his mind.
"Are you sure? Won't you find this all boring? I can try to not burden you with all the usual intern duties?" Clark sent back, dropping his hand in the mean time.
"Do not worry about me. This is not the worst undercover identity I have assumed." J'onn sent over the link as physically he talked about something at the same time.
Clark had heard Bruce coming about five miles before he reached the Daily Planet. He didn't really have a 'set' range for his hearing but it was unusual to focus in so strongly on a single individual when he wasn't looking for them. The only people that this happened to was his parents and J'onn, which was likely more because his bodily functions sounded so differently than any other person he'd ever met.
There was nothing special about his long, slow heartbeat or the slightly whistle noise of his breath that came from a broken nose.
"Are you enjoying your work at the Daily Planet, Master Bruce?" The British voice of the driver asked him.
"Very." His voice is low. Lower and raspier than Clark has ever heard him speak and yet... it's familiar.
Not-J'onn is doing watching the safety protocols and tutorial videos assigned to the interns. He's seen him morph into an undercover identity and even objects, occasionally but when Clark is acting alongside J'onn's cover, it's only more obvious how skilled J'onn is in espionage. A true shapeshifter, able to blend in amongst anyone and anything.
So, Clark stoically ignores his distracted senses and acts alongside J'onn as they wait to spring the trap. He notices Wayne when his shoes click against the concrete as he gets out of the car, his higher Brucie voice as he calls out greetings, the closing distance between the two of them.
"So," He tries to think directly at the space where the psychic connection is in his mind, "What pronouns should I use for you?"
"Please use she/her pronouns verbally while I am in this identity. However, I do not care what pronouns you use while I am in my regular identity. Martians do not have the concept of gender or sex." Not-J'onn projects while still watching the videos.
Clark can't help but glance at her, surprised, before he looks back at his screen. His worldview is briefly flipped upside down before it starts clicking. Of course, J'onn doesn't have a gender when his species are literally shapeshifters. What is the meaning of gender when they can change it?
"Then why do you present yourself as a man usually? As in, as Martian Manhunter, you copy a lot of masculine human traits and everyone uses he/him pronouns for yourself." Clark asks, pretending to scroll through a document as they speak psychically.
"My Martian Manhunter identity is a mix of human traits with my base form traits. It was not meant to come off a masculine originally but I had only seen men to base my information off of at the time. Also, presenting as masculine is beneficial in being taken more seriously across most human cultures. I do not care what gender I am perceived as but I have noticed female identities are not taken as seriously in rescue or combat situations so I default to presenting as male."
"Wait, so what pronouns should I use for you?" He didn't want misgender his friend, or more accurately gender his friend at all.
"Any pronouns are acceptable but if you are worried about 'misgendering' me, you can use ze/zir pronouns. Using they/them pronouns are uncomfortable for me as it was meant for bonded and merged couples in my society, which I am currently not."
Clark spun this over in his mind, a reporter's mind reorganizing the new information and what he already knew. He was already coming to new implications about what this meant about J'onn and his--zer people.
He was thinking about how to tactfully ask J'onn some more questions about zemself and zer species before a knock startled him. He'd been so caught up in J'onn and his otherworldly presence(aura?) that he hadn't even once focused on Wayne approaching.
He spun around his chair. Bruce Wayne was leaning against the cubicle wall. "Oh, hello, Mr. Wayne, how are we doing today?" He smiled, hopefully conveying earnestness and surprise, not the wariness he was feeling.
"Oh I'm doing great. Y'know I never knew how much good reporters do. You guys are heroes, prevailing against misinformation and evil, fighting for truth and justice!" He made a little punch-up motion with that, "What sort of heroic work are we doing today?"
He considered himself lucky that Kryptonian physiology didn't do involuntary eye twitches.
"Oh, uh nothing like that, Mr. Wayne. Just editing and research." He rubbed the back of his neck feigning bashfulness.
"And who's this? Your new intern?" Bruce turned his attention towards Not-J'onn.
"Hi, it's so awesome to meet you! I'm Carly Guinta!" Not-J'onn beamed, pumping Wayne's hand eagerly.
"Oh-em-gee! A baby reporter! So cute!" Ugh, that awfully fake golden retriever personality. How did no one see that he was faking it?
"You should take your baby reporter out for an interview! Show her the ropes! hey, what if I gave you two an interview! It'll be great: a Bruce Wayne exclusive!" He enthused, spreading his hands in an invisible rainbow.
"We already ran a Bruce Wayne exclusive last week..." That is not how news cycles work, especially
"I've also got something to say! If you really want, I'm sure you can find something scandalous about me." He winked, "You can find out what's really under the mask."
"Mr. Wayne!" His assistant's barked, rounding the cubicle wall, "You cannot miss another appointment!" He began trying to usher him out.
"Aw, but Ryan-," He whined, playing the petulant child, "I'm sure the shareholders will understand."
"No, they won't. Now please move along." Clark and Ryan shared a commiserating look, now work friends even though they'd only met a month ago. Bruce Wayne was very persistent.
"Alright, alright, I'm going, but remember! Interview, next Tuesday at 9! I'll be waiting!" He voluntold Clark."
Could the man not be any less obvious?
Zer footsteps echoed thorugh the metal hallways of the Watchtower as ze approached Batman. He was in the labs, running tests on a recent strain of virus that was having a strange effect of causing humans to spit petals out. In the media, it was currently dubbed as the 'Hanahaki disease'.
"Batman." Ze state his name as greeting, cape flaring as he came to a stop.
"J'onn." He replied, monotone in voice but warm affection psychically spreading in the wake of his word.
The humming vibrations of the space and the whine of lab equipment filled the air for a moment. J'onn was unsure how to tactfully broach this subject with the human.
"Am I... too much?" Batman chose to break the silence instead.
"No." J'onn immediately replied, "well... yes. You are not too much but the identity you take on is."
"It's never failed me before." Batman did not look at him, mixing up solution for the petri dishes.
"Clark is not stupid. He is an award-winning investigative journalist, he's noticed that you know his identity. The hints you are dropping are based on your own level of information and thought processes." Guilt and self-deprecation colored the air so J'onn added: "Batman, you are considered one of the best detectives for a reason. What you might consider obvious, another human would not."
Batman grunted thoughtfully at that. He was consider zer words.
"You should be more honest. Say the things you feel instead of repressing them and dancing around them."
"And you?" Batman's control was mental control was good so the plainative thought-question startled zem.
Then why do you repress your own feelings towards us?
Zer mind was flooded with memories he had buried deep, tainted with the red martian dust of his homeworld.
Any time ze felt affection, the feelings linked back to the ones ze lost. M'yri'ah. K'hym.
Ze had been the lone watchman, the last manhunter that had stood guard over the resting place of his people before the human astronauts had landed. Ze had what felt like millennia to get over the deaths of zer family, zer people.
Ze did not feel like ze had ever gotten over it.
On a tertiary thought-stream, even as zer primary ones were lost in reliving those painful memories, ze's body had formed the corresponding human body language to transmit zer pain to Batman.
A cool gloved hand rested on zer shoulder, Batman once more transmitting sorrow and guilt.
"You are not wrong." J'onn said, after fighting back the tidal wave of grief. "Feelings sneak up on you. You cannot control them. When I feel affection or love for others, it is linked within my mind to the family I lost. Even though it has been so long, it still feels fresh whenever I think about them." If ze were a human, perhaps zer voice would be choked up and shaking. Instead it was delivered in zer usual smooth baritone.
"I'm sorry for your loss, J'onn." And he was. Unlike Clark, he remembered what he had and had lost, the space which his parents had occupied would forever be empty.
"Thank you... Bruce."
"I'm so excited but so nervous," Not-J'onn said as they walked through the bullpen. "He seemed nice when we talked to him, do you think he'll be nice one-on-one?"
Clark was sure ze saying this for the benefit of all his peering coworkers. "I'm sure he will be," He found himself replying automatically, dreading each step towards the conference room. He could hear Wayne's heartbeat in there already.
It felt like it was all coming to a close.
Clark opened the door, letting Not-J'onn in first. He gave smile, meeting Bruce Wayne's eyes. They reminded him of icy lakes on a balmy winter morning, beautiful but dangerous.
Wayne wasn't smiling for once. A stern slash of a mouth that seemed familiar.
"Please sit down." A low tone, almost growly.
"Is there something wrong?" Clark pulled out a chair, watching this new version of Bruce Wayne. Whoever this was, he still felt... wrong, but more realer than other Bruce Wayne he had seen.
He didn't reply to that, simply reaching forward and pressing a button on a small box on the table. Clark flinched back as there was a brief sharp screech before it faded. Some sort of privacy device?
"I don't think it needs to be said that this is off the record."
"Um," Clark didn't even get to reply before Wayne cut him off.
"There's something that needs to be said. It has been brought to my attention that you were not aware of all of the facts," Wayne made very intent eye contact with him, which Clark couldn't help but be drawn to look back into. "Yes, I know who you are. And I thought you should know who I am. My therapist has been... insistent that I should be open... with my feelings."
Wait, what?
"I... like you, Clark Kent. I would like to pursue a relationship with you."
"I think you're forgetting something," J'onn spoke, not in his Carly voice, but in zer usual voice. Clark whipped his head around, surprised to see J'onn still in disquise but why?
"Oh, right."
Then, it was like a switch had flipped and instead of Bruce Wayne, Batman sat in front of him. The broad shoulders, the growly voice, the hard set of his jaw. BRuce Wayne was Batman and all those little quips, little moments fitted together like a puzzle.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you've been putting on the dog this whole time?"
"What?" Batman was more expressive than usual, sharing a glance with J'onn.
"You've been pretending to be--to be some sort of dumb socialite this whole time?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Clark rubbed his forehead, head spinning with all these new implications, "Actually, why go to all this trouble to flirt with me in my place of work? We already work together! I've been stressed for two months thinking you knew my secret identity! Just why...?"
Bruce didn't reply, implacable Batman mask on but his slight rising heart rate betrayed his embarrassment.
"I believe that Bruce did not fully think through the implications, focused more on overcoming his fears of pursuing you." J'onn chimed in, Bruce turning to glare at zem.
"Also, why didn't you tell me anything?" Clark turned to look at Not-J'onn feeling a little hurt by zer betrayal.
"I could not reveal either of your secrets to the other without betraying someone's trust. I apologize for the hurt I have caused but I was between 'a rock and a hard place'."
"I don't know what to say. I'm upset at both of you for doing this. Bruce, you know history with Luthor, what do you think my reaction was going to be when another billionare owning my workplace, decides to allude that he knows who I really am?"
"Hm," He gave one of those low Batman grunts.
"And J'onn, if you knew what was really going on, why did you agree to go undercover? Why not just tell him?"
J'onn didn't have an answer for that, eyes at the floor as Clark ranted at him.
"Just," Clark swept a hand through his hair, "I can't believe both of you. Would it be so hard to just be honest about your feelings and intentions?"
"You're right," J'onn said, still in zer Carly-form, but eyes now shifted to zer usual orange-red glow. The light cast a glow as the bridge for zer nose and browbone as their eyes met. "I should have not interfered."
"That's not my issue! My issue is, if you knew, why not just say so?"
"In my experience, humans are fearful when I reveal things that were only in the depths of their mind, but never spoken. They think I read their minds. I do not, humans simply transmit their thought out loud psychically." Ze crossed their arms, a defensive position. In the back of his head, Clark wondered when had J'onn had such an experience.
"We all know what your powers are, J'onn, we're not going to get upset at you for using them. Anyways, since you know so much, what about the other thing you mentioned? The self-exploration thing?"
"That would be best left to a private conversation."
"When clearly privacy has helped us so much." Clark deadpanned,"I would appreciate it if you could tell me what you meant now, so I can just deal with everything all at once."
"Alright," Ze nodded, "From what I have been able to pick up, Krpytonians have a subconscious drive or sense that allows them to determine what will be the ideal partner or partners for them. It manifests as a draw towards voices and eyes."
Oh.
This is too much to handle for one day. First his boss is secretly Batman who likes him and wants to be what? Boyfriends? Next, he finds out that secretly all this time he's been biologically attracted to his two best friends?
Is he even attracted to them emotionally? With his feelings? Clark doesn't even know.
"I think I need some space." And he stood up and left. Damn whatever rumors the bullpen would churn out, let Bruce and J'onn cover his ass.
The Fortress of Solitude truly lived up to its name.
It took a few hours before Clark managed to uncover what J'onn had been talking about in the archives. Section Culture, subsection folklore, subsection superstitions. They called it zhruaovemin, developing from the root words of aovehm and zrhymin.
It was not believed widely by people, believing themselves as having advanced beyond simple mating desires. There were a few scientific studies done on it but no consensus whether it was real or not.
Considering Clark had never heard of this superstition before and yet had experienced it, he was bound to believe it. There were stranger things in this world than a Kryptonian sort of soulmate sense.
His subconscious thought that not only Bruce, but also J'onn, would be the ideal mates but what did he think? What did Clark Kent, Kal-El, think of his two best friends? Was he attracted to them?
Clark had never given much thought to his sexuality, afraid that he might hurt someone if he truly let himself go after one experience in 8th grade. He had been so nervous to ask his crush out that he unthinkingly crushed the wooden door frame he was holding onto in his hands.
Given the recent revelations, he was exploring his feelings under new light and he was finding that no, he seemed to be equally attracted to all genders and non-genders. He found both Bruce's and J'onn's forms appealing when he let himself actually think about them.
And... he could see himself falling in love with them.
Bruce's determination and hope. J'onn's kindness and care. Both of them so strong and resilient through their lives. Maybe that was his type? Sad but also strong?
So, he liked both of them and he knew Bruce liked him but what about J'onn? J'onn was hard to read on a good day and he'd never mentioned romance or partners except that one time regarding pronouns.
Maybe he should just pursue a relationship with Bruce and leave J'onn out of this, no matter his feelings?
But this is what got him into this predicament: running from his feelings, not being honest.
'It's the mark of a honest man to brave even when he was afraid,' Pa always said.
It was time to brave and try, even if he wasn't sure of the outcome.
Epilogue:
Clark and J'onn let themselves into the Manor, through the smaller side door by the kitchens. It was the more private entrance and used more widely by friends and family. The wide, double-doors that lead into the foyer were not used as often by the three people living here.
Together, they carried some last-minute groceries into the kitchen, as requested by Alfred. Dick grinned at them as they entered from where he was stirring a pan filled with caramelizing onion.
"Shanah tovah, Uncle Clark, Uncle J'onn!"
"U'metuka," Clark grinned back, setting down his bags. "Are you excited?"
A quieter "Shanah tovah," from J'onn, greeting Alfred. "We picked up some fresh salmon from Alaska. Clark got some honey and apple cider from his relatives from Minnesota as well."
"Yes! We didn't have any Jewish people with us in the circus so I never celebrate this Rosh Hashanah before," Dick chattered in his slightly accented English, "We sometimes had a day when most crops would be picked? I don't know English word for it, but it's when you gather everything and you have lots of food and music after. We don't have farms obviously so it depend on what country we were in so usually we just celebrate solstice days and New Years and Christmas, which chajges days sometimes, I don't know why? Why do different countries celebrate Christmas on different days? Oh, and birthdays! We had lots of birthdays! I liked it whenever we celebrated Petya's birthday because he always set off the coolest fireworks!"
Clark smiles and makes easy conversation, heart light as they move in the kitchen in a familiar dance. J'onn's cooking skills are not great but better than Bruce's surprisingly. Ze doesn't seem to understand human cooking appliances nor how Earth things cook, so Alfred relegates zem to washing the dishes.
He isn't surprised when Bruce's hands rests on his back, turning to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Shanah tovah," He murmured into his skin, breathing in his scent. He was still dressed from work, but his suit jacket likely left behind in his study.
"And a happy new year to you as well," He replied, stepping back to let Clark carry the pot to the stove.
Bruce drifted to J'onn for a moment, resting his hand on the back of his arm as the two exchanged a quiet moment.
It was nice, different than what he had with Ma and Pa, no less good but simply different. He didn't think it'd work out like this in the beginning of their relationship, to slot in so easily into each others lives but was it a surprise after everything they had gone through together.
Maybe it wasn't the traditional New Years he celebrated, but it was still a new beginning. And it was a very sweet beginning indeed.