#superbat fanfic

superbattrash:

Okay, so. Remember this post from, like, two days ago, about the Black Mercy affecting Superbat? Yea, well, I made it a fic. This is the first chapter (it’s on AO3 as well), and I’ll get back to you on that happy ending thing. (sorry)

Please send all angst-blame over to @clarkjk because I did not plan on it being this angsty. It just sort of… happened. Beware of: angsty feels and a very small sex-ish scene (nothing explicit) and uh. Author taking a lot of liberties with canon 

Black Mercy. Clark can barely think the name without wanting to punch something. He would rather take on Darkseid that fall victim to another one of their visions. He still feels raw and wounded whenever he thinks back to his family– to the family they made him imagine.

At least this time they know what they are; they’ve been up against Mongul before, they know his tricks, knows how he’s twisted the alien plants into something dark and horrible. Clark can’t help but feel slightly relieved that it’s the original Black Mercy Mongul has brought with him this time. If they had to fight against them, he would rather it be the ones they know how to handle. Last time they had sprouted some sort of pollen and it had taken weeks for things to get back to normal even with Batman’s vast knowledge and quick work of an antidote.

The Black Mercy are still a challenge, no matter how many times they come up against them even if it’s the “regular” kind. It’s as if they get stronger each time. Logically Clark knows it’s because the images get stronger, the hold tighter, the longer the plant-like creatures are on a person. It’s ironic that the plant physically loosens its grip only when you’ve surrendered yourself to its visions.

It doesn’t help that there’s a longing for the images, the visions to be true. A longing that cannot be put properly into words because it is tinted in shame. They know they shouldn’t long for the slow death of a Black Mercy’s embrace, but there’s something about the hallucinations that tempt even the strongest willed man – or woman, Clark thinks as he glances at Diana. They’ve seen them before. They’ve felt them before. They’ve felt the happiness, fake as it may be. They should be prepared and for the most part they are. The Justice League knows how to defend itself – it is the people of Earth that are at risk, and it is those people they must defend.

Clark is on Mongul before anyone else gets the chance. He doesn’t want to risk anyone getting in between them so he keeps the fight to the air as much as he can. He knows the others are grateful, not only for the opportunity to work without dodging Mongul’s attacks, but also because they all know what happened last time one of the Black Mercy latched itself onto Clark’s chest. It had taken him longer than he would ever want to admit to see through the dream and because of that his team had been injured.

Sometimes Clark wishes they could say no or take a day off. Not for himself, he knows Superman doesn’t get to take breaks when there’s need for him, but for the rest of the team. Whenever he sees them get hurt, he feels their injury in his soul, wishes he could take it upon himself instead. There is nothing worse than watching the people you care about get hurt, but even more so when you know you can withstand most physical damage in a way none of them can. Clark would willingly put himself in harm’s way if it meant someone else didn’t have to.

This is especially true when it comes to Batman, to Bruce. The most human of all of them, the most vulnerable. Not that he sees it that way – or at least he’s not willing to admit to it. Clark understands now in a way he didn’t when he first met the Batman. Back then he’d been angry at this mere human who barked orders left and right, who took risks far greater than he was able to survive, should the worst-case scenario happen. Clark thought Bruce to be careless and selfish. He knows now that the opposite is the case. Bruce fights harder than any of them every single day; he’s been Batman longer than most of them have been able to control their powers. Clark included. They may not be far apart in age, but Bruce has had control over himself in a way that exceeds any human abilities far longer than Clark has been able to shoot his laser vision straight.

The admiration Clark feels for Bruce swell in his chest as he sees him swing from his grapple, catching a young boy falling from a crumbling building. Clark has to work harder, fight quicker, to get Mongul to surrender or retreat, so that the civilians can be safe. So that Bruce can be safe.

Clark knows his feelings for Bruce are more than those of the other Leaguers. Not because he doesn’t care about them, but because he more than cares about Bruce. He loves him.

It has never been Clark’s plan to confess his feelings; there’s no point. He knows Bruce’s response before even talking to him. “Too dangerous”, “A liability”, “Threat to the mission”, take your pick. Bruce can have his pick of partners and Clark knows he wouldn’t be the first choice. He’s okay with that, because no one else is Bruce’s first choice either. Gotham is. His children are. The League even, to some extent, and that includes Clark. He can live with that.

Still, there’s always that little spark of hope. Clark knows he shouldn’t, but he feels happy every time Bruce rejects another relationship. Clark can live through the gossipy articles, the rumors, because he knows that Bruce sleeps alone. He knows that the mansion is Bruce’s alone and the only people coming in and out are those who Bruce treasure. His family, his friends. Clark.

Because they’re friends now. With the identity reveal a while back, it was hard not to look closer at the team’s civilian lives. Clark for one was very curious about Bruce Wayne. The actual man, not the playboy plastered all over the Gotham Gazettes’ front pages. He checked out Diana and Wally too. Hal wasn’t much of a mystery; the guy never shuts up about himself. J’onn, of course, is a different story all together.

Clark is jolted from his thoughts by a punch to the face. He’s long since realized it isn’t the real Mongul he’s fighting: if it was, Clark would’ve been beaten bloody by now. Must be yet another trick and Clark is getting tired of tricks. It might not be the real Mongul, but it most definitively is real Black Mercy attacking the citizens and the Justice League can only do so much if they attach themselves to someone. So far it looks like they’ve cut, punched and blown up most of them though, so Clark takes a second to access the situation (Bruce would be proud) before he turns to fake-Mongul.

It takes him less than a second to blast him with his laser vision. There’s a scream of pain and that’s the last proof Clark needs that this is a cheap copy. Mongul would never show weakness and he’s able to withstand Clark’s laser vision with no visible marks. It’s one of the things that Clark hates about him. Another one of the things he hates about him.

As soon as Clark blast not-Mongul away, most of his men scramble to get back to the ships and it isn’t long before the invasion is mostly over. There are still Black Mercy plants scattered around the area, although most of them have been incapacitated. Thank God the attack happened in Metropolis and not Gotham – at least Clark doesn’t have to focus much to locate the rest of the still moving plants. It would’ve been harder in Gotham’s ever-present fog.

Clark lands on top of one of the surviving plants, crushing it into the ground. It wiggles under his feet for a short moment. Clark looks up to find Diana smiling at him.

“They’re retreating,” she says.

Clark nods, happy that it’s finally over. Even though the enemy hadn’t been the real Mongul, he hadn’t been weak either. Clark doesn’t have broken bones or deep cuts, but he is feeling rather spent. He would like a warm meal and a hot bath. But first…

“Where’s Batman?” He asks Diana.

He can’t see Bruce anywhere in the nearest rubble. It’s not weird though, Bruce does have a habit of disappearing when he deems the mission done. He has been better at saying goodbye at least the past few months though. Clark scans over the area, listening for Bruce’s heartbeat. He’s probably busy with reassuring some civilians – or he’s well on his way back to Gotham already, the grumpy bat. Clark will have to go see him later…

Clark frowns when he locates Bruce’s heartbeat. It’s calm and steady, not something’s not quite right. It’s too calm, too slow, even for Batman.

Without waiting for Diana, Clark shoots off the ground, heading straight for Batman. He hears the echo of Diana calling his name, but he can’t wait, he doesn’t have time. Something’s off, something is wrong with Bruce.

When he lands, the ground crunching underneath his weight, Clark gasps quietly.

“No,” he says, because right there, next to a crying child and its mother, is Bruce. He’s on his knees, looking straight ahead and even without seeing more than his back, Clark already knows what’s happened.

The Black Mercy has attached itself to Bruce’s chest.

Keep reading

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