alternate universe where batman is blind. (or, batman if he had a toned-down version of daredevil's skillset lol) (with a side of preslash superbat)
his eyes are completely white, no trace of colour or variation in shade except for a slightly darkened pinpoint at his irises.
bruce wayne wears coloured contacts. he'd begged alfred for them nonstop as a child after his parents were gone, when the children at school bullied him for his eyes and the wayne's were no longer around to make the other kid's parents correct the behaviour. alfred eventually relented, and they settled on a shade close to thomas wayne's: a bright blue. bruce felt happier with them knowing he looked more normal, and he was so relieved that his father's eye colour made him that way.
there aren't many photographs of a young bruce wayne, except, of course, for the famous one of him standing over his parents' bodies, pale eyes wide, stark against the dark blood streaked across his face. but even that photo had been printed in black and white, and so nobody in gotham actually remembers that bruce's eyes are devoid of any colour.
he spends years travelling across the world, training under different masters to hone his other senses and make up for his lack of one. the experience is gruelling, and painful, and he fails a hell of a lot more than he triumphs in the beginning. but bruce doggedly pursues mastery—he will never be caught unawares again, not like that night, when the rain had muffled the sound of the mugger, and bruce could only tremble as he heard his father shout, could only wince as his mother screamed, could only fall to his knees and cry when the officers found him and asked him if he could identify the killer without thinking.
the batman doesn't need white lenses. with eyeblack smeared around his eyes, everyone he encounters assumes he's some kind of creature. he has a few different features in the suit to help him sense things, like tiny 360 degree microphones on his shoulders to help with audio input, and gloves with easily detachable palms when he needs to feel something to understand how it works.
he meets clark kent at a luncheon when ace uses her service dog training to stop kent before he walks into a table of food by shoving her body between him and the canapés. mr. kent apologizes profusely and somehow manages to get bruce to agree to a quick interview.
bruce is not unconvinced that the whole ordeal was orchestrated, but he could use a break from all the business partners and people trying to grab at his dog, so he agrees. they end up at the edge of the gathering. mr. kent is kind, respectful, and funny in a way that sneaks up on bruce. he finds himself genuinely laughing when mr. kent manages to squeeze in a joke or to, unable to stop the conversation when it's the most interesting one he's had all day.
but—with gotham being, well, gotham—bruce's fun is quickly cut short by a rogue attack.
stupidly, damningly, bruce is caught completely unawares. mr. kent immediately ushers him further away from the luncheon crowd before explaining he must help the others and running off.
well, so does bruce. it sounds like poison ivy—vines cracking pavement as they surge out of the ground is a very distinct sound. the batsuit is in the car, there's no time to get it, so bruce commands ace forward to help evacuate the screaming guests and sets off after her, shouldering two people at a time and guiding them all further away from ivy.
he's on his fourth trip back for more people, heart pounding, when he gets whacked hard by a vine flung through the air. the wind gets knocked out of him as he lands, and he's definitely got a cracked rib, but he's more upset that he didn't anticipate it. he can't afford to lose focus, even for a moment; that quick lapse of judgement could cost people their lives, and god, maybe it already has—
"mr. wayne!" calls a familiar, if slightly deeper, voice. before bruce can protest, he's being lifted off the ground into kent's arms. kent's very strong, very muscular arms.
god, what the hell is he wearing? kent's shirt is so tight and...slippery. bruce isn't sure he's felt anything like it, before. which should be nearly impossible—ra's made him commit the texture of almost every known material on earth to memory. if bruce had felt this before, he'd know it.
he decides to focus on the more important matter. "mr. kent," he says heatedly, shoving at kent's shoulders and trying to squirm out of his grip. "what in the world gives you the right to pick me up like some ragdoll—!"
"oh gosh," mr. kent says, grip wavering on bruce. "that's not what i—there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, you see—"
"superman! bruce wayne was saved by superman!" someone shouts from below.
...below. how high in the air is bruce right now? he quickly changes tack, pulling kent as close as he dares, gripping him tight instead of pushing him away.
except—except he's not with kent, is he? at least, not entirely. "superman," bruce echoes slowly, ears straining for any telling reaction. "clark kent."
mr. kent—superman—sighs. "cat's outta the bag," he says sullenly. bruce gets the distinct feeling of descending, an odd experience considering there's nothing under his feet, but soon superman is helping him to stand on solid ground again with a hand on his bicep and the other on his waist.
"if you could—" superman begins hesitantly. god, he's got a handsome voice. "i know it's a lot to ask, but it would...it'd mean a lot if you didn't tell anyone about this. about me."
he sounds so heartbroken. bruce doesn't want to be part of any reason for that uneven tone. "of course not," he says, absently tugging at his clothes and smoothing down his hair. "you saved me. it's the least i can do."
bruce doesn't have to see to hear the smile in superman's voice as he thanks him profusely, pulling him into a tight hug.
"thank you," superman says earnestly as he pulls away.
"thank you," bruce replies, smiling wider than he has in a long time.
(a month later, superman meets batman for the first time on a rooftop in gotham. clark had spotted the coloured film over bruce's eyes immediately when they first met, and peeked underneath to check for any eye strain he might be hiding in case clark needed to move them somewhere with more shade.
but now those same pale eyes face him , and clark is helpless to do anything but whisper a quiet, shocked, "bruce," into the air between them.)
andulkaphoto
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
gracieabrams
izzy806
