so! first day of batflash week. combined both prompts and had a lot of fun writing this!! @batflashweek
here's the ao3 link if you'd rather read it on there!
The hospital wing of the Watchtower was all but silent-- Most heroes had gone home by this time, save for the unlucky on monitor duty and the few that wanted to raid the fridges of the cafeteria for a free late-night snack. Outside the window, stars glimmered in the void of space, and the lights were turned low. It was, Clark thought, really peaceful.
The only downside was that the reason that Clark was on the Watchtower still was an unpleasant one. There had been an attack, and the League had been called in to do their job. Some space aliens or other had decided that Earth was prime real estate, assumed that its defenses were minimal due to the fact that space travel was uncommon, and gotten their butts kicked. However, in the chaos, Bruce had been pretty badly injured. There'd been an explosion, and well... Rebar through the gut was not the most pleasant thing one could experience.
Thankfully, Wally had been able to get him to safety and stabilize the injury in time, with the grace of superspeed. To his credit, Bruce had a very high pain tolerance, but no matter how many anesthetics he received, he was just a normal baseline human and would need a while to heal.
That was why, at this moment, Clark was standing next to Bruce's bed in the aforementioned hospital wing, along with Wally and Doctor Mid-Nite.
"Are you sure he'll be alright?" Wally asked Doctor Mid-Nite with a worried frown.
"I'm right here, you know," muttered Bruce, though his voice was without venom. It was softer than usual, and the fact that it was directed at Wally made Clark feel off-balance.
Doctor Mid-Nite smiled. "He'll be fine, but I'd rather he stay here overnight for observation just to be safe."
"See," said Bruce, looking up at Wally. "No need to fret. I'm fine."
"Knowing you, you'll take the first chance available to get out of bed and back to work."
"I won't." Clark swore Bruce was pouting. It was... really weird.
Wally patted Bruce's hand. "That's because I'm going to make sure you won't." Bruce glared at Wally, but there was a distinct lack of malice.
"That's unnecessary. I'll be fine."
"I'd rather know for sure you're getting the rest you need." Wally stared pointedly at Bruce. "Besides, It'll give me a chance to start that book Alfie leant me." Alfie?
"You know he probably hates that nickname."
Wally shrugged, sitting down in a chair next to Bruce's bed. "If he says something I'll stop."
"He won't."
"Fine, how about I call him Al?"
"That's worse."
The two were so utterly domestic, and it left Clark feeling as if a rug had been torn out from under him. Since when had the two been so close? Since when had Wally been spending time at the manor to the point that he had regular interactions with Alfred. Why was Bruce smiling so softly at Wally, like the redhead had hung all the stars in the void of the night sky. And why in god's name were they holding hands?
Clark's mouth moved faster than his impulse control.
"Are you two dating?"
The two stared at him, and Clark wished very hard that he could fly around the world and turn back time to before he said that.
"...What."
Silence prevailed a few moments more.
"Are we dating?" Wally asked with a look more thoughtful than Clark had ever seen on his face. Bruce turned to look at Wally, though that did not lessen Clark's distinct sense that Bruce might just kill him.
Now it was Wally's turn to get Clark and Bruce's incredulous looks, but he just shrugged them off like nothing. "It's a good question. Would you like to? Date, I mean?"
Bruce was quiet for a moment, and Clark could all but hear the cogs turning in the skull of the world's greatest detective, emotional inept extraordinaire.
"Yes." And that was that. Clark felt distinctly like an intruder as he watched Wally lean down and press a kiss against Bruce's lips, a warm grin straining the speedster's cheeks. Even Bruce was smiling, albeit slightly.
