huge fan of the headcanon that Duke can just... turn invisible and no one except for the BatFam/certain Associates know/can avoid him
Like Bruce is leading Clark and Diana through the Manor and chatting and randomly walks around the middle of the hallway for no reason and Diana follows him while Clark just walks headfirst into Duke and neither Duke nor Bruce realized what they'd done
Tim is casually talking with a couple of friends he has over and randomly picks up a sandwich from the plate in the middle of the table and holds it over his shoulder where it just disappears
Steph is helping Alfred set the table and just shoves a glass bowl into the abyss and lets go and Alfred is two seconds away from screaming when he realizes 'oh, Duke is holding it' and Steph didn't even realize he wasn't visible.
Hal is gesturing while telling a story on the Watchtower and turns to look at nothing and goes "You were there, tell them" and the emptiness starts talking and Barry nearly has a heart attack until Duke flickers into existence.
I like to think that the "no metas in Gotham" rule never existed prior to Tim.
Dick and Jason grew up perfectly fine with Uncle Clark and Aunt Diana zooming around, chasing their dad, or playing extreme parkour with Uncle Hal and Uncle Barry.
But when Jason died, things changed.
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Clark and Diana remembered the day the rule was established so clearly.
It's been weeks since the death of the second Robin, and the Batman hasn't been in the Watchtower for longer than that
Penny-One sends correspondences, curt but sufficient. "All is well"
But they see it in the news. Batman raining hell on Gotham's underworld, leaving a wake of broken bones and infected wounds.
The rogues have never been more scared of him, mostly because the ghostly laughs of his young sidekick is nowhere to be heard, and so the Bat had no reason to smile or return any good-willed banter
Arkham had to be locked from the inside, to stop Vengeance from crawling in
The JL only really decided to act on it when Dick dejectedly called them from the Watchtower, looking more spent and exhausted than he's ever been
"I don't know how to help him," he quietly admitted
So the JL agreed to send Clark and Diana to check on Bruce. There was a consensus that those 3 had always been closer than most; more like family than friends
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They come to the manor wearing underwhelming clothes, warm food, and a general plan on how they might help their friend
"Can we even help him?" Clark asked as they flew over Gotham, "It's not like we can bring Jason back."
Diana stared at him, like she was genuinely considering such a prospect. "It's not about returning what was taken from him, but a reminder of all that he still has left," she says instead.
They arrive at the manor. Alfred is only a little surprise to see them.
"I didn't expect such an underwhelming countenance from the likes of Her Majesty and Superman," Alfred teased.
But it doesn't go past them, the gaunt in his face and hollowness of his gaze
Suddenly, Clark and Diana were struck with the realization that whatever they accomplish here would never be enough
Clark lost his planet. Diana had once died. But they had no memory of it, no preconception of what was stolen from them
This family is too aware of the empty space in their once fine and happy circle
Alfred led them to where Bruce was. The small talk was strained, but how could it not be. There's a stack of books in every other room they pass. A pair of slippers in every other doorway. Diana winced when she saw a reusable tumblr in the kitchen counter where they left their cooked gifts; a Wonder Woman collectible with her own signature on it
"How have you all been?" Clark asks, trying to make conversation.
Alfred tells them about the press jumping over the iron walls of the manor. He tells them about the flowers and toys left at the steps of Wayne Enterprises, and how Lucius looked nauseated at the sight of them. He mentioned seeing Dr. Leslie Thompkins thumbing over the death certificate, lost in thought. He mentioned about the Gordons coming for tea once, and how Barbara Gordon burst into tear when she saw Jason's shoes by the doorway.
"And Master Dick comes and goes, as he always does," Alfred sighed dejectedly, "I have the feeling he doesn't quite forgive himself for not being around as often to treasure what was taken from us so soon. He compensates, but not too long."
"Poor boy," Diana mumbled.
"Yes," Alfred repeated carefully, "Poor boys indeed."
-
They come to the manor wing full of bedrooms, to Jason's room.
Inside was clean ā too clean. Not the cleanliness of discipline as the bedroom's owner had; it was the cleanliness of finality.
Alfred allows them the liberty of going in first and making of the situation as they will
Clark and Diana, in their long careers as heroes, have seen loss and anger so many times
But nothing prepared them for seeing their dearest friend under the same duress
Maybe it didn't help that they saw Bruce inalienable as Batman at the time. Cool, calm, and collected Batman, never overtaken by emotion, every response and movement accounted for, and not a thread out of place in his impenetrable armor
Today there was none of that.
Bruce was in sweats, covered in bandages from the brutal patrols spent beating absolution out of Gotham. His hair was a mess, eyes swollen and sunken, and his body had lost its lustrous color. He should look like a few pounds lighter, but gravity pulled him in like he would crash into the earth at any minute
He was hugging something loosely to his chest. A red hood jacket, its arms wrapped over and under his arms, the hood held onto his shoulder
He cradled the jacket like he used to cradle Jason
Bruce was sat on the edge of the bed, leaning on the bedframe like it was a chore. He was staring at the ground. If he noticed them, he doesn't do much to show that
"Master Bruce, Miss Diana and Master Kent are here to see you, as Master Dick mentioned the other day," Alfred said.
No response. No shift in his gaze.
Diana stepped closer, posture akin to one disturbing the peace of a feeble animal.
"We have been worried, my friend, for you," Diana said earnestly, voice so honeyed and soft, "Your comrades in arms notice your absence, and what have you been up to since. We wanted to see what we can do for you in your darkest hour; if not to bring light, then at least to be your guiding candle."
Clark nodded, stepping behind Diana and holding a hand at her shoulder.
"We know it's hard, Bruce, and we're here to make sure you know you don't have to do it alone," he added carefully, "Dick... called and asked us to intervene, sure, but we've been meaning to do this anyways! We just... we wanted to be sure it's something your family will let us do."
Bruce doesn't move. Clark swore his heart beats slowly than normal, Diana noted how his breath is coming so uneven.
They had the inkling that the mere act of living takes too much of their friend.
A leap from how Bruce was when Jason was here. When he lived, Bruce's heart was always jumping in joy, his breath often startled by laughter or speech.
Jason, his sweet boy, the second robin. Jason who adored the women among the capes and challenged the men in uniform so well, making the world a little brighter, a little more conscious.
Diana slowly sunk to her knees, trying to be at her friend's eye level.
"We are so sorry for your loss, Bruce," she said, "And if there's anything we can do at all to help, we will do it gladly."
Then they hear it.
A hitch in breathing. A large drum of the heart. They feel Alfred flinch close by.
Bruce finally looked at them.
-
There was so much hatred in his eyes.
"Where were you?"
He knows his anger startled them, the question even more so. Diana sat up straighter. Clark even more.
Bruce noted how they fashioned themselves like normal people. It only served to stir the rage boiling in him further.
How dare they come here, trying to share his grief, offering help that he didn't need (not anymore).
How dare they come here, masquerading like people that couldn't have possibly done anything to change what happened.
Diana with her magical abilities. Clark with his superhuman senses. Their supernatural strength, speed, ability of flight.
Diana was wearing gloves over her fist that could've plummeted his son's killer to the ground.
Clark's chest, which usually bore the banner of hope, was wearing a cotton vest instead.
They look like human.
"Bruce, we-"
They're not human.
"Why are you here?"
Bruce stood up, staggering a bit. His knees almost betrayed him.
He saw Clark and Diana almost try to help him, but he swat them away, tightening his hold on the jacket pressed to his chest.
Jason's jacket. The jacket he met his sweet boy in, a lifetime ago. The jacket that Gotham delivered him with.
His sweet boy, forever 4"11 at age 15.
"Why didn't you do anything?" he growled, one hand steadied on the bed canopy, the other holding his son's jacket close.
Diana stood, her face twisted with betrayal.
"Bruce, what could we have done?" she beseeched him.
Rationally, Bruce knew that there was nothing. There was a big world (universe, even) full of people who needed help. And at the time, Jason was with the Batman ā fighting for him, calling for him, needing him.
But in comparison, what could Batman have done?
Batman who was still a man. Batman who, beneath it all, will never be more than the bloodied child that crawled his way out of that alleyway that night.
Wonder Woman and Diana were inalienable from each other, as were Superman and Clark Kent. They had powers, invincibility, tuned senses.
They were gods among men; and no matter how much they try otherwise, they will always be more empowered.
They could've been faster than him. They could've been stronger than him. They could've been more enduring than him.
They should have been.
But they couldn't and didn't, and so why should they come here and pretend like they understand how helpless a death his son suffered and how ugly this grief was, as if they weren't invincible and powerful and heroes and godlike-
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Before they knew it, Bruce was hitting them.
Weak punches, at best. Even at his best, without the levelling technology, his hits would always feel like a childish tantrum to Clark and Diana.
But what else can Bruce do to make them feel the throbbing pain in his entire body, the cruel endlessness of the suffering his broken heart subjects his mortal coil with ā all so that they may finally understand...
"I don't need you! You weren't there!" Bruce screamed, punching at Clark's chest and shoving a motionless Diana.
"I hate you both so much! You can't just come here and talk to me like this! You weren't fucking there! You didn't save him! You weren't there and Jason's dead because of it! FUCK YOU! You can't just come here, you fucking bastards! HOW DARE YOU FUCKING COME HERE AND ACT LIKE YOU COULDN'T DO ANYTHING! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"
Tears spilled from Clark's eyes as he tried to resist, trying to steady Bruce's flailing arms without hurting him.
Diana took a step back, not quite trusting her voice and hands. She remembered the presence in the room with them and turned. Alfred was there, hand clamped out his mouth, eyes glassy. He too didn't quite know what to do.
"MY BABY IS DEAD! He's dead and you could've saved him! What GOOD are any of you! I HATE YOU! You could've saved him ā YOU SHOULD HAVE SAVED HIM! Fuck the world and fuck your code! He needed YOU! Where were YOU!?"
They hear hurried footsteps. Dick arrived. He takes one good look at the situation and pushed into the tense frame.
He pushed Clark off his father, pulling him in.
"B, please, that's enough," he said- begged.
Bruce's face was ruined with tears and red. He buried his head into his son's shoulder, sobbing his voice raw.
"I... I should've saved him, Dick. I could've done something. He's dead, Dick. My baby's dead and it's all my fault. Oh god..."
Dick's gaze was wide and too piercing as he looked back at all of them. His jaw shook as he forced his orders out.
"Everyone ā out. Now."
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Clark and Diana are deferred to sitting in one of the drawing rooms, leaning against each other on one of the couches.
An hour passed, maybe two. They only ever measured time for however long it took for Bruce to stop wailing.
They didn't need Alfred telling them what they already knew. Bruce is grieving. He doesn't mean any of it. He's projecting his misguided sense of guilt onto people he trusts not to take it personally.
Childish trauma responses, they're aware; but then again, they knew that Bruce never really outgrew being the terrified little boy that watched his parents die needlessly in an alleyway.
The same alleyway, they know, that he would later find his dearest son; the son he now mourned.
Alfred came to find them, bearing tea and sandwhiches.
"I must thank you for the large servings you brought. I admit, I can't find it in myself to cook dinner after the... events this afternoon."
Clark vividly remembered Bruce sending them a picture of Jason wearing matching aprons with Alfred. He had a feeling it was something related to that.
"You still have a standing invitation to join us for dinner, as always, though I won't hold it against you to leave. Neither will Master Dick nor Master Bruce."
Diana shook her head, "We don't want things to end on such a sour note, especially considering the circumstances."
"You have my thanks," Alfred answered.
He joined them on one of the other chairs, taking a cup of his own. Diana watched him, sensing that there was wisdom to come about.
"He was also angry when the first sighting of Superman was spotted in Metropolis," Alfred said carefully, meeting Clark's mournful gaze, "He said... what good are the wonder and novelty of the supernatural and extraterrestrial, if it only served to worsen the fact that so much needless violence happens every day. The same needless violence that took his parents from him, for example."
Clark and Diana shared a look.
"We have our limits," Diana said, "The Abrahamic faiths must mistake you to generalize all gods as omnipotent and omnipresent."
"I am a man of no faith. You'll find that in this city, there are none who worship a church honestly," Alfred replied, smiling patiently at her, "There are no gods in Gotham."
He stirred the cup like he stirred their wondering.
"Money, sex, crime, people would say that they worship those, but it's obsession rather than belief. An argument can be made that it's the same thing, but faith is meant to be gentle and comforting; anything that isn't that is heresy."
"There's hope," Clark offered.
"Yes. Hope," Alfred laughed bitterly.
"The same hope, perhaps, that made Bruce believe that as long as he trained and he worked, that the people he cared about will never experience needless violence again."
"Is there a point?"
Alfred shook his head, smiling still, "No. There's no point. Just an understanding, I hope, that in this house and this city, your powers mean nothing."
He leaned back and sipped heartily.
"It's not what the people you want to take care of need from you," Alfred said with a tone of finality.
There was a knock on the doorway. It startled Clark and Diana that they didn't sense it.
Dick was standing there. Despite the training and accolades, he's never looked so little.
"You can see him, if you want."
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Bruce is in his room now, lying in his own bed.
Showered, notably, and his bandages looked cleaner.
But the grooming didn't change the fact that he looked tired, hollowed out of all life and meaning.
He was still cradling the same red hood in his arms.
This time, when they knocked, Bruce reacted immediately, looking up at them.
Clark and Diana knew that no comfort or promises can change what became of the boy, nor can any of them afford to shatter the code that allows them to (try) make the best world they possibly can.
So this time, they stand by the doorframe, pillars of patience rather than paragons of truth and hope.
They will not leave. Even if Bruce would beat his anger at them again. Even if Bruce curses them, drugs them with whatever can weaken them enough to kill them. No.
Bruce knows this.
It's why he suddenly burst out crying again.
Diana and Clark move quicker than ever, rushing to sit on the bed with Bruce. They help him sit up and hold him close as he sobbed uglyly, still holding the tangible memory of the sweetness that was ripped from him.
There was no room for power or divinity here.
Gotham needs no gods.
Gotham needs protectors.
And Bruce will be protected, they swear this. He will be allowed to grieve in peace.
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this was just "reasons why bruce is an atheist" in my notes
I might move this to ao3
also i rlly love DC Trinity siblingism. they're so pookie bear to me. thats 2 god creatures and their favorite human. I also wanna write them as a throuple soon?? I just don't have experience writing poly romance kekw. anyways I leave this story to interpretation. I just like writing the 3 of them caring about each other
It's admittedly exciting and akin to engineering trials, to have his powers tested to some hypothesis or another, especially since Hal's lantern power is such an outlier.
And it means that Hal can solo his darling husband, pookie bear, hunny bunch Bruce Batman Wayne, as they explore the........ creativity of the Green Lantern powers.
"Your powers are linked to your willpower. I want to see if your will controls your lantern powers or is it vice versa, by making you resist your own will."
Bruce was currently rattling on, one hand on Hal's thigh and keeping him on the cot.
His lips were plump with water and stolen kisses that Hal had been indulging in throughout the several test runs.
Hal can't look away. Hal doesn't want to look away.
"Of course, it's established that there is a tendency for your lantern powers to manifest subconsciously, even before you can be conscious of your desires and what you want to will to existence. That's more instinct than anything. We do, however, need to see if it's consistent. We only ever see it in action, under circumstances that cannot be studied under."
There's a tiny beauty mark in the corner of Bruce's left eye, and it draws attention to the way that his left eye had a speckle of gold around the iris that his right doesn't.
Hal wants to kiss it.
He really wants to kiss it.
Yes, he's already kissed Bruce's lips, eyes, and cheek for the last two hours, but what's one more? And it's not like Bruce would stop him! He's his husband! He's at least 98% sure that their marriage contract includes an unlimited kisses clause.
So Hal leaned in to do exactly that...
...only to have a clipboard stop his mouth from reaching his husband.
"You seem to be very interested in kissing me," Bruce noted out loud, his voice colored with enough apathy to appear professional.
Hal blinked, "Obviously. Why else would I be leaning it, Spooky?"
Bruce nodded, took a notably large step backwards, and went back to writing on his clipboard.
"Could you try resisting the will to kiss me?" And let's see if that makes your will-reliant powers react to that."
What.
"What?"
Bruce was already walking away, humming like he's satisfied by that confused response, already putting his cowl back on and writing away on his clipboard.
Meanwhile, Hal sat there with his dumbass on the cot, processing slowly the request.
"Wait, for how long?! And does it mean ALL kisses are off the table? Does this mean YOU can't initiate kisses either? Bruce? BRUCE!"
If Bruce will agree one day, Hal will blame it entirely on Arthur forcing him to watch animal documentaries with him.
If it ends up not being stupid at all, then Hal is taking all the credit.
He knows, logically, bringing home weird rocks from outer space has to be a recipe for disaster at some point.
Specifically: bringing weird space rocks to Gotham, of all places, full of freaks who might do something awful with outer space material.
But Bruce smiles so cutely when Hal offers him a "souveniers" from extended missions.
"I found this pretty rock 2 sectors down. A lot of blue occurs there naturally, unlike on Earth" ā Hal, as he handed Bruce a small mineral that looked very much like the blue of his eyes
"They use this rock for throat medicine and the ring said it's okay for humans. The species that mastered its properties communicate by singing" ā Hal, as he gave Bruce a pocket of rocks in teabags, because the last time he'd been on Earth, Bruce had a grated, broken voice
"This mineral can be used for paint, for Damian, or make up, for you.... n-not that you need it! But like, you know, hahaha you do make up and stuff..." ā Hal, handing Bruce random dusty rocks, ducking away before he can mention he saw that billboard ad of Bruce Wayne with a cosmetic company
"I know you like studying this stuff. This cool rock literally works on good vibes." ā Hal, giving Bruce a love pink rock that turns a curious blue shade when transferred to a wonderous man's hand
Hal isn't being a coward!
Hal is simply biding his time until the opportunity presents itself at a time when he is mentally prepared and resolute to take advantage of the chance to... act!
"So.... you're being a coward?"
"SHUT UP OLIVER, WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON!"
One day, Hal is sure he'll say it.
One day, Hal will tell Bruce that Arthur made him watch a documentary on penguins and penguins present their potential mates with pretty rocks as an act of courtship.
One day, Hal will tell Bruce he likes him.
Grown ass man that he is.
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"Penguins court by giving each other rocks."
Bruce blinked, looking at Damian. "What?"
The boy, without looking away from the thinkboard of their latest investigation, rattled on:
"Some species of penguins present items necessary for survival but have some level of rarity, like pebbles, to their intended mates, so that to ascertain that they are interested in them and can take care of them well. Perhaps the Penguin is thinking to court the strained branches of the Minotaur's criminal network. What do you think, Father?"
"..."
"Father? You- Why are you suddenly very pink in the face?*
In theory, maybe I get the āweāre all just playing with barbies, theyāre fictional characters, no interpretation is incorrect because itās an interpretationā argument. But actually no, not all takes are equally valid. Framing something as an interpretation doesnāt mean it inherently has merit. Some takes are completely incorrect and betray a fundamental misunderstanding of the source material. They just arenāt a reason to harass people or send death threats
with the marriage of convenience with BatLantern it is desperately important that Bruce starts falling first and quietly and Hal remains oblivious that they're More for many, many years
Bruce has always had an appreciation for Hal, always respected him and liked his thoughts, liked his bravery, admired him for his talents and skills and etc etc. (admired his beauty)
As time goes on and they're married he starts to feel comfortable enough brushing away Hal's hair. He feels at ease enough to press a kiss to his cheek, against his forehead, behind his ear. If Hal asks, he can always just claim its for the cameras, even though none are around, even though theyre alone, but Hal never questions it, so Bruce keeps it up. He makes them coffee. He asks Hal out on dates that Hal doesnt realize are dates. He wraps his jacket around Hal's shoulders and holds his hand in order to pull him through the streets.
Hal just thinks they're two good friends and Bruce is nothing if not a Committed To The Story man, so he accepts the affection (and a part of him has always craved it) and leans into it and he likes being taken care of and taking care of Bruce, they're friends, its fine
Hal crashes in Bruce's backyard after a particularly bad mission and Bruce was having a party but when Ace barks at the backyard he dismisses everyone and spends the night carrying Hal inside and fussing over him and Hal doesnt realize that he had guests over, he just thinks Bruce wears a formal suit at home all the time even though its never happened before.
Just Bruce leaving events to go home to his husband and falling in love with Hal but recognizing that Hal doesn't realize it until finally it slams into Hal all at once and he's like 'oh you fucker- we've been in love!'
BatLantern can go either way with Who fell First versus Harder, but I think I prefer Bruce falling first and Hal harder
Because falling first insinuates a gentle carress, a soft steeping of tea over a prolonged period of time. Bruce watches Hal and falls in love piece by piece. He feels his heart squeeze a little when he watches Hal hug Billy after a rough mission, murmuring words of encouragement when tears bud in the young heroes eyes, tousling his hair and defending him against anyone else.
He watches Hal and sees his skills and heart and care and dedication and falls in love one smile, one prolonged touch, one gentle murmur of 'you okay?' at a time.
Falling harder insinuates a rough and quick tumble from the tip top of a tree, hitting every branch on the way down and creating a cartoonish crater in the earth when finally hitting the bottom.
Hal sees Bruce laugh in the Watchtower, years after Bruce has already fallen in love with him, and it just slams into him all at once as he he realizes 'wow i'm so in love with him' and he trips over his own feet and ends up in the medbay because he ate shit so hard on the tile
Bruce takes him there, hands gentle against his sides and supportive in the way hes always been but Hal is just now really noticing and his heart is beating so hard and loud hes sure everyone can hear it and hes so gone oh no its serious and meanwhile Bruce is just glad he can touch his crush and take care of him without Hal doing his usual thing of brushing him off and actually letting him mother him.
Bruce, falling in love with Hal: I hear every love song ever written playing louder and louder the more often I hear your voice and your laughter and your cries.... and I'll enjoy listening until the songs end and it's quite enough for me... to tell you.. what I feel šš
VS
Hal, falling in love with Bruce: If we don't get married tomorrow, I'm gonna start biting people
A part of Batman's character that I don't see much discussion or debate is how he was the first human without powers in the Justice League. This means he established the rules of safety, combat, and equipment for the others through experience. When they try to teach the younger heroes, they're like, "Pffft, of course it's obvious, why is there a rule about this?" And the older Justice League members don't know how to explain the safety rule about not throwing heroes without powers because Batman was thrown a little too hard and had to continue fighting with broken bones, or the rule about not flying too close to them at high speed so they don't burst their eardrums. The reason? Because Batman experienced that firsthand he went through everything, first as a human fighter among gods. He and Green Arrow hold meetings to review and confirm the safety rules every few months
@loudlypanickinginvenezuelan no. 23 xx
"Hey, Rob!"
Tim lifts his head, and Bart gestures to him. He sets down his dumbells and starts across the room.
"Do you know what Protocol 23 is?"
"Protcol 23: Justice League members may not take off at super speed, flight, or jumps within proximity to other members of their team. Exemptions are allowed for Kryptonians, Amazons, and other team members on a case-by-case basis, but doing so will result in investigation for mal intent, and suspensionā"
Cassie holds up a hand. "Why do you know it word forā that's not the point. We're not talking about that. Look at this."
She gestures him to the monitors, and he leans over Bart's shoulder to look, the others filling in around them.
Bart clicks play, and Tim grins. "Ooo, baby Batman. That's one of his first suits."
"Yeah, but look at the file name." Cissie reaches past him, rapping her nail on the screen, and he hums. "Protocol 23."
Bruce fights back-to-back with Clark on screen, and Tim leans on the chair Bart is tucked into, arms crossed. "You interrupted my workout to watch B fight? You know I can do that every night if I wanted to, right?"
"Shut up." Kon shoves his shoulder, and they share a childish grin.
There's a sonic boom over the sounds of fighting, quickly followed by a familiar grunt. Clark can be seen in the background, holding off a swarm, while Bruce wavers and drops to his knees.
Blood seeps past the edges of his cowl, and Tim clenches his fingers so hard the leather upholstery creaks under his grip, watching B fall further, onto his elbows, head bowed. The footage is blocked as Diana comes into view, rushing to Bruce's side, and the scene swaps.
"Where did you find this?" he growls, watching Barry do the same to him. Clark, again. Barry again.
"I was bored," Kon explains, looking at him worriedly. "We were...we ended up pretty deep into the Watchtower's database." He leans over Bart, taking the mouse, and clicks out.
To rows and rows of files for JL protocols.
23 is the first. Which makes sense, one through twenty-two are regarding JL processes, thenā Protocol 23 is where they start looking at preventing injury.
Kon clicks on 24.
All enhanced Justice League members must undergo training on handling extraction to prevent further injury to casualties.
Tim's vision goes red as he watches Bruce bite back a scream as Arthur lifts him too brashly, and his arm visibly dislocates. That shoulder still gives him trouble to this day.
I desperately need more of this! This is amazing! Thank you so much for writing it!
Bruce looking at Tim low-key confused about Tim's reaction because of course something had to happen for those rules to be in place. Back in the day there was no base for how people with enhanced abilities interacted with normal humans. No one knew how little idea this people had regarding humans limits, or how easily a well meaning action could roll down into an emergency, all of that had to come from experience. You know the saying: Where there's a rule there's a story! And as first generation, as the experiment generation, Bruce was the story. Every. Single. Time.
I think merman Bruce x fisherman Clark is funny because eventually they have sex (how? That doesnāt matter). Ever since then Bruce hasnāt showed up and Clark thinks he just accidentally killed off some rare sea animalā¦ just for Bruce to show up after 9 months with a baby dick
Bruce didn't know English when they first met, but he learned some broken phrases from Clark over the months they befriended each other.
So when Bruce appears with a baby, he drops it in shocked Clark's arms and says: "You, me, baby."
