serendipity. [superbat]

observation.

Sunday, 3:23 AM

Bruce is well-versed in not panicking. He didn't even have it in him to start frantically and desperately searching high and low for answers, but if he did, he'd start with what he already had on Kryptonian biology and go from there. He'd done extensive research since he'd first seen Superman pop up in Metropolis. He was too powerful of a being not to be wary of. Bruce needed as much information as he could if someone managed to put a dent in the man's patience and resolve. If the alien got even a little out of control, it could cost hundreds of lives. 

Though, seeing as he can barely keep his eyes open and his last shot of adrenaline is waning, he finds himself heading up the winding stairs that lead to the main house. Where he would normally crash in some arbitrary place downstairs, he finds himself wanting to collapse on a surface that wouldn't leave his back aching for the next few days. He settles on the expensive sheets that Alfred had carefully picked out to stretch across the king size bed and is out before he can even begin to worry over the situation, he's gotten himself in.

When he finally comes to, he's up before he can think better of it and stumbling back down those stairs. He needed to know what exactly he was dealing with and what effect it was having on his body. He hadn't gotten far enough into his research to determine if the regeneration only happened if the organ was damaged or dying or even already dead. He wasn't sure what effect it would have on a perfectly healthy body. 

Alfred's curious. Bruce can tell by the way his stare lingers as he watches Bruce work through lunch to create a machine that looked eerily like your modern-day ultrasound machine. Though, he doesn't say anything as he glides around the man and places a plate of meat loaf and mashed potatoes in front of him and his new fixation.

He's almost startled when Bruce moves the contraption to the side to tug over the plate and start eating as if he's starving. He shovels the food into his mouth, barely giving each morsel a bite before he's got the fork back up to his lips. It shouldn't be strange to see a man ravenous after missing lunch by a solid three hours, but Alfred had been around since he was a kid. He always brought Bruce food out of sheer concern that if he didn't present the reminder, he'd simply starve to death because he'd forgotten. Alfred's seen Bruce go several days without food, completely engrossed in whatever new gadget he thought would save Gotham. So, he's thrown by the intermission of Bruce hurriedly putting food away when the man barely nibbled off of a sandwich if he was too preoccupied. 

Alfred wants to comment on it, but he's just glad he's eating. He takes the plate once it's clean and heads for the staircase without a word. He's almost to the top when he hears a pause in Bruce's wrench. 

"Uh, do you mind bringing down seconds?" He hears Bruce call up to him and Alfted freezes in the doorway, mind trying to comprehend the foreign phrase.

If Bruce notices the pause, he doesn't acknowledge it.

"Of course."

By dinner, Bruce is rubbing gel onto the lower area of his abdomen, where the needle had pricked him, and placing the wand up against his skin. At first, there's nothing, just complete darkness on the screen. For a moment, he thinks he's in the clear, that is until he catches sight of a clump of cells that'd settled themselves quite low. The cells hadn't spread and started doing whatever they wished like with the previous tests. It was a minor problem compared to the one he'd prepared himself for and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. 

"Master Wayne?" He hears from behind him and has enough sense to move the wand, but not enough energy to try to lie about his previous activities. 

He peers over his shoulder to see Alfred standing behind him with a plate of chicken and alfredo pasta, fixing him with that stare he always had when he knew he should be worried. Bruce drops the wand and reaches out to turn off the machine before grabbing for a tissue. 

"It's nothing, Alfred." He mumbles, gingerly wiping away the gel before his eyes land on the plate.

He reaches for it only to have Alfred move it away ever so slightly, clearly trying to get Bruce's attention.

"My type of nothing or yours, sir?" Despite the formality, he's got that tone that he takes on when he's transitioned from being the dutiful helping hand to the father figure and Bruce doesn't have it in him to deal with explaining himself. 

As much as Clark tried to make himself seem timid and human-like, he wasn't. He could hurt anyone at any time and Bruce had already come to terms with that, with potentially having to take the man out if necessary. He didn't feel like having to try to explain that to Alfred along with trying to draw the line to him accidentally stabbing himself with a needle full of Clark's cells.

Luckily, he doesn't have to answer for the time being because the monitor spanning half of the cave's wall flashes red with a warning that there was someone approaching. He stands, tossing the tissue away, as he makes his way over to switch the monitor to the cameras. As soon as the feed pops up, he's met with the sight of Clark standing on the porch staring up into the cameras with that little knowing smile on his lips.

 He glances over his shoulder to see that Alfred's already left to let their guest in. 

Bruce isn't expecting much from the visit, maybe an extension of the gala. A little friendly, meaningless banter before Clark makes his way back to Metropolis. Though, as soon as Clark descends the stairs, he knows it's not going to be that simple. The man's in his best farm boy outfit from the plaid button-up rolled up to his elbows to the khakis he's sporting, but his hair still has that curl. He saunters over like he's walking into someone's kitchen as they're making supper on a calm Sunday afternoon and not as if he's in a cave, visiting a man covered in oil, sweat, and gel.

"So, you going to Luthor's little faux-fundraiser?" Bruce isn't expecting the question.

He's not sure what he expected the man to lead with, but that definitely wasn't it. Bruce hadn't even heard anything about it. 

"Didn't plan on it," he mumbles, placing down the random gadget he'd found while finding a place to put the ultrasound machine. 

Clark pauses for a moment, mind clearly not having prepared itself for that answer.

"I have intel that it's an excuse to get a bunch of powerful, wealthy people into one room. Make a statement," He says, before letting out a sigh, "Perry wants me there to get a quote." 

His voice has gotten all low, like they're sharing some kind of secret that he can't bear to get out, despite them being alone. 

Bruce nods slowly. So, this isn't a casual visit. He needs something, something that he refuses to spit out as he eyes Bruce up and down, waiting for some kind of verbal response. 

"What do you need, Clark?" He hums, going back to fiddling with the gadget, that he's realized is a glorified parachute that he'd put together a year ago. 

"I need a plus one." 

At first Bruce thinks he's heard wrong. In his defense, his head was somewhere else, trying to figure out a problem that seemed a lot more dire than a sneaking suspicion that Lex Luthor was up to no good. Though, once he looks up, scowl unintentionally in place, he sees the blush blooming on Clark's face as he bites at his bottom lip.

"Lois not available?" He grunts out, trying not to seem too perturbed by the decision. 

Bruce has been busy lately, but he's sure that he hadn't gotten word that the two were on bad terms. Even with his clear, unwavering disdain for relationship gossip, Diana would still blab if Clark and Lois ever stopped being "Clark and Lois". She couldn't seem to help herself. So, he couldn't see why Clark was here asking him to go to join him at some fundraiser. If anything, a fellow journalist would be less disconcerting than Bruce Wayne popping up out of nowhere.

"If I'm right, I don't want her there." He admits, and he has this look in his eye that Bruce knows all too well.

He'd seen it on Robin when Starfire was hurt and had seen it on Barry's face when Iris was in danger...

but he'd never seen it on Clark's.

Oh.