Superman Batman (Private)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Work went much as it had the day before, only there was no hurdles to jump over in the morning. He collected information about the consequences of the near fight as a follow up to the article that printed that morning, wrote a piece about the local orphanage's plan for Halloween, then went for afternoon tea with Alice again. Secluded in the far corner with no one else in hearing distance, Clark felt safe enough taking candidly. "Bruce invited me to his big Halloween party next week."

"Oh! I've read about that one. It's always got those big fancy costumes I like to look at."

"Which is my problem. I said I'd get my own costume but there's no way I can afford one on that level of quality. I really don't want Bruce spending a s**t tonne on something I'm only going to be wearing for a few hours."

The woman gasped, waving her hands excitedly before she caught herself, froze and blushed hard. Thinking back Clark was certain he'd never once seen Alice blush. It turned her chocolate skin plum and he could almost see why Bruce liked it so much on him. "What?"

"You know how I said I used to play sports when I was younger?"

"Yeah, soccer and baseball, why?"

"Well there was another one that I didn't mention." Alice couldn't meet his eye as she continued. "I used to... used to..."

Clark raised an eyebrow.

"I used to LARP!" She blurted out, startling a waiter. Her head fell into her hands and she groaned. "It's so embarrassing. I hate telling people because they usually laugh."

The alien stared a moment before he did exactly that. "Oh god, I'm so sorry-" He gasped in between fits. "It's just you're never self conscious about anything and then this is what does it." A few more deep breaths and Clark managed to get himself back down to the occasional chuckle. "I tell you, that's a doozy as far as nerd cred goes though I gotta say, the concept sounds like fun even if it's not my thing." A sudden vision of Alice dressed as a hobbit and brandishing a tiny sword sent him back into a fit of giggles. When he settled again he asked: "So how does live action role play help my costume situation?"

Alice seemed to have calmed down some. She frowned though, obviously annoyed at him for laughing, even if it wasn't quite for the usual reasons. "Well I used to make my own costumes for it. Got real good at fake armour."

"What really?"

"I even used to do commissions before being a proper adult got in the way." There was a smirk on her lips now and it made Clark feel uneasy. "Give me complete creative control and supply the materials and I'll make you a costume in a week."

"Well I'm just desperate enough to agree to this so you've got a deal. Just don't dress me up as like battle cupid or something."

"Maybe I will. Teach you for laughing." Alice let him hang for a moment before she smiled. "But I won't. You're going to be the most handsome belle at the ball and it won't even disappear at midnight."

"Gee thanks."

---

Getting home that night, his head was full of reference pictures Alice had shown him. It was a little bit exciting, especially since she'd seemed to excited about the prospect after her initial embarrassment. Sitting down for dinner again, Clark waited until everyone had eaten a little before bringing up something he needed to.

"I'm thinking about going home." He blurted because otherwise he'd chicken out. It felt like he was telling everyone he didn't need them anymore. That was hardly it. The Alien was just getting a little homesick and honestly he figured it might help.


(well as long as it's not burning you out or anything. Woo that ran on too.)

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

The following morning Bruce woke bright and early. For him anyway. Alfred and Martha of course we're up and about and he suffered through a short meal, although he didn't really eat. He stayed merely for the company, and the fact that he knew Alfred wanted him to. Odd that a sweet country bumpkin like Mrs. Kent could bring out the strict proper gentleman in the old man. Still it wasn't a bad meal. They spent it pouring over the morning news, debating the pros and cons of political candidates and sharing interesting tidbits here or there.

Afterwards Bruce excused himself, explaining he was needed in the office to finish cleaning up Cayzer's mess. One major draw back to showing up when that fool had demanded it, everyone now knew he wasn't abroad as Alfred had previously claimed, which inevitably meant he was going to have to return to work regularly now. He left them with strict orders to go out and do something for themselves. With both he and Clark gone for the day there was little reason to stay cooped up in the penthouse. The drive back to Gotham was longer than usual, morning traffic congesting the roads, but he knew the streets well enough to avoid most of it. His secretary didn't look too terribly surprised to see him, but there was a hint of joy in her eyes. She was a hard worker, one of the few who seemed to genuinely enjoy her job and her boss despite the odd requests the billionaire tended to make. He greeted her amiably, Brucie once more screwed back into place even if it was toned down in the Tower, then got to work.

The day was spent catching up on any new developments he may have missed in the last few days, as well as overseeing the investigation, while running a few of his own. It was tedious work but it kept him busy for the most part. Around one the billionaire was interrupted with an impromptu lunch meeting. Apparently the head of the tech department had caught wind of Bruce's return and needed some face time to address a few necessities, and proposals. The main topic was expanding on the fibre optics division, and the possibility of hiring new employees.

He left earlier than he normally would have that afternoon, slotting in extra travel time for the drive back to Metropolis. Everyone was home when Bruce arrived, even Clark although he suspected the man hadn't been there long. Like clock work Alfred had dinner on the table almost the moment he walked in, leaving neither of them any time to really change into something less casual than suits. Not that it really mattered of course. They would just have to change again in an hour or two anyway. The meal was another vegetarian spread with a side of braised pork chops for the meat eaters. The roasted Brussel sprouts were particularly good. Conversation began lightly, slow and benign; mostly just exchanging daily happenings and what not. Clarks sudden change of topic came as a surprise to everyone, especially with their previously laid plans of lingering at the penthouse another week. That he would change his mind seemingly out of the blue raised a few eyebrows.

Alfred and Martha exchanged looks and he felt one wizened pair of eyes in particular settle upon him at one point. No doubt the Englishman was concerned not only for Clarks well being but Bruce's as well. The desire to leave could be seen as some sort of rejection if looked at from the right, or wrong, angle. The worry of course was misplaced however. The billionaire did not allow himself to feel positively or negatively about the prospect. They all knew the Kent's would leave eventually and they would then to return to Gotham. That Clark was ready so soon was a good sign really, ensuring the man was, if not completely recovered, he was at least close. No doubt the butler was aching to speak his mind and attempt to dissuade the reporter, if nothing else the man would miss him. But Bruce beat him to it.

"That's your decision of course." The billionaire stated, tone perfectly mild. A hand fetched the pitcher of tea, refreshing his glass. The butler frowned ever so slightly, heavy eyes shifting back to the alien a million thoughts hidden in their dark depths. A look from his charge ensured all those comments remained firmly behind his teeth. They couldn't keep playing house forever. Before long the strain would get to the billionaire. Having to constantly dodge the woman and find ways to hide his nightly activity, it was exhausting. Not to mention the constant socialization and having to curb his usual brusque personality. Leaving meant he and Clark may not have much time together, sure, but they knew that was coming too. It wasn't like either of them would willingly leave their city for the other, and even so they were nowhere near that stage of their relationship.

"You're both welcome to stay should you choose to. But it's not required. If you're ready to leave, you may do so." They were all, after all only there for Clark.

"We shall certainly miss your company." Alfred couldn't help adding, reaching to refill their guests' beverages like a good gentleman. It wasn't quite what the man had wanted to say, but true enough. Despite the terrible nature of what had brought them all together, he had enjoyed their presence thus far. Both for his own selfish needs and the affect these past weeks had had on his charge. Bruce had all but ceased to exist in the wake of Batman's unveiling, having him back now was priceless to the Englishman.






(I think it's more the issues with my roommate and family that's taxing than the holidays, even if they are time consuming. And no worries, lot happened and it was great ^^)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

"I'm not saying immediately." Clark was quick to interject. "Just in the next couple days. The penthouse is great, but I'm starting to miss my apartment... even if you lot did replace all my furniture." The latter part was meant to be a joke of sorts, but it fell a little flat.

Ma looked more concerned than sad. "Clark, are you sure you'll be alright? You've got a reasonably comfortable bed there now, did you want me to stay on another few nights there?"

Shrugging the reporter didn't really know how to answer that. "Maybe, I don't know." Guilt jerked at his stomach. In truth Clark had expected a more positive response, at least from Bruce. He wanted to get back to Gotham didn't he? Stop babysitting the alien? With Clark working and the nights coming earlier and earlier they barely saw one another right now anyway. "It's not like I can't visit, Alfred. I'm a five minute flight away. I just want..." My independence back, he finished in his head.


(Well maybe cooking everything means you get to hide in the kitchen for a little while.)

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

A keen eye noted the hint of disquiet in Clark's eyes. He wasn't exactly disappointed, more likely than not the man was second guessing his decision. Neither of their elders were particularly keen on letting the man go just yet and that was certainly displayed in their expressions if not their words. Had he been hoping for some sort of enthusiasm he was quite disappointed. Bruce, however, wasn't quite so quick to form an opinion, there were pros and cons to either scenario. If the alien felt he was recovered enough to return home and stand on his own two feet, then, more likely than not, the man was mended enough to do so. That could only be a good thing. No doubt their parental figures would continue to worry regardless. It would also mean Bruce could really turn to Gotham and patrol properly without the unnecessary travel time and added obstacles. Alfred would likely mope for a while, in his own way of course, prim and proper, but still obviously displeased to someone who knew him so well. It would also impose the test of distance upon this budding relationship, which was perhaps a good thing. If this thing between them could not withstand a little time apart it would be best to end it now, rather than drag it out.

Skewering a caramelized Brussel sprout, Bruce shot the reporter one of his rare encouraging smiles.

"Don't worry, Alfred's just upset because he won't have any reason to constantly pollute the house with sugar and three course meals morning noon and night." The billionaire replied, playful and light in the delivery. But honest as well. He wasn't upset the man wanted to leave. "We're both very pleased you're feeling better Clark. And if you're ready to return home soon that can only be a good thing." The latter was a touch more serious, but still airy and delivered with a small smile.

"Of course Master Bruce. I'll be sure to send you home with a nice selection when you do go Mr. Kent. Lord knows Martha and I have comprised quite a collection. You will have to come visit soon however so I can satisfy my baking lust once again." Alfred echoed, having likewise caught the hint of unhappiness. It was, after all, selfish to expect the reporter to stay much longer, no matter his reasons for doing so. Clark had his own life to get back to. They all did really. Besides he would likely be seeing the man again come Halloween if he was indeed attending Bruce's gala. So there would not be much time to miss the man.

"He's a strong lad, he'll be just fine." The Englishman reassured Clark's mother, giving her his own British smile, and not so subtly slid a dish of vegetables towards the reporter in question. The man's selection was getting a little low.







(nah. If they show up early they want to help but the kitchens so small and I get so frazzled it doesn't really work out that way. Nice of them though it is lol.)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

"I'm not here for much more than dinner right now anyway." Clark continued to try and persuade. He dished himself up some more vegetables, suddenly remembering that he hadn't actually slept the night before. No wonder he'd felt a little off today.

"Well if you think things will be okay?" It was more a question than anything. Martha frowned still, concerned about this quick turnaround. Her son needed people there if he relapsed.

Clark thought for a moment before speaking. "Maybe one more night here? Then Ma if you wanted to stay one or two nights when I move back to my place? I can come for breakfast to the manor after patrol the morning after Ma goes home, Alfred." Hopefully he could also catch Bruce coming back from his own patrol but even if he didn't it would make the Englishman happy. Alfred was his friend too, after all. Clark looked to Bruce for reassurance that this was a reasonable plan.


(Ah, well intentioned meddling.)

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

The plan, although different from their original one, wasn't a terrible one. He had a feeling Martha would insist on staying a few days longer if nothing else, but the billionaire could understand the reporters desire to return to independence and the patterns he was well familiar with. Bruce had similar feelings himself. For people like them, self sufficient crime fighters, giving up so much control to someone else was difficult. Just having to rely on others wasn't in their nature. He could see that look in the reporters eyes and his own clearly reassured the man without having to say a word. It was okay to want to reclaim his space and find that last bit of stability on his own. If that's what Clark really wanted to do and there was no danger in it, he had no objections.

"You're always welcome at the manor." Bruce confirmed, the words tasting a little strange on his tongue. It was such an out of character thing to say, more so to actually mean it. But the truth of the matter was there was very little now to keep the reporter away. With his vigilantism revealed, proof that the Kryptonian could traverse the distance without being noticed and the relationship between them, it would be illogical to harbor further objections. Provided Superman didn't suddenly decide to start negating all of Batman's orders or encroaching on his space. If the man was caught just once meddling in Gotham affairs that might just change.

Alfred actually stared for one long moment, subtly of course, but Bruce could feel those eyes burning into his skin regardless, no doubt shocked. The Englishman gathered himself quickly however and nodded, agreeing to disguise the significance of the offer.

"That's certainly true. We could likely stay on another day as well before returning to Gotham. And if anything happens we are only a call away after all." The trip from one city to the other was practically insignificant when they traveled by personal jet, ensuring they could be here almost as soon as they were called. Given the aliens current state however and extended support system he doubted anything too critical would occur anytime soon provided no big bads decided to through a wrench in the machine. Spying Martha's continued disquiet he gave her a serene expression, resting a hand on her arm for just a moment. "We will keep an eye on him my dear. If he pushes himself in your absence, forgets to take care of himself or works too hard I will be certain to nail his arse to the floor."

He couldn't help it. The moment that quintessentially British curse passed the butlers lips Bruce smirked, an amused snort accompanying it. It was so rare for Alfred to be anything but perfectly poised. He was both attempting to put Martha at ease here and make a point. If Clark managed to do even one stupid thing the old Englishman had no qualms hunting him down and making the man regret every microsecond of it. Alfred excelled at that.







(Pretty much yeah XD)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Clark had no doubt the threat was very real, but he also couldn't help bursting out laughing. It helped that Ma also did so, covering her mouth with her hand as she was mid chew and didn't want to spray the table with half masticated vegetables.

"I'll try not to, really." The alien said once he'd calmed down. Slowly the smile disappeared, leaving behind an almost melancholy, subdued expression on his face. "I don't want to disappoint everyone."

Reaching over the table, Martha patted her son on the arm. "Clark, when it comes to things that matter, you've never once disappointed me." Turning back to Alfred she smiled again, snickering for a moment. "Thank you for looking out for him. Goodness knows Jonathan and I wish we could do more."


(It's probably fine but my brain is a little mushy right now after work so sorry if this is kinda lackluster.)

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

"It is a pleasure Martha. Strong willed, special young men like that certainly need a little watching over lest they loose themselves on their chosen path." Alfred reassured, pleased the humor had lightened the mood, even if only for a moment. The Englishman leaned towards the woman slightly, voice lowered to something almost conspiratorial but still easily overheard. "I've dealt with my fair share of good people trying to save the world. Although I admit Clark is unique in his attempts. I understand the drive and know the signs that someone has gone too far. We will keep him safe however we can." There was good-humor in the comment, even if it was true. Mrs. Kent was familiar with his time served in the military and the long line of Wayne's that he had known and cared for, all of which had attempted to change the world in varying ways. They had shared certain aspects of their pasts in the months that they had known one another. He was rather certain she would merely take the comment as pertaining to those references rather than see something Bat related. Still, he could feel Bruce's scrutiny, veiled but as sharp as always. No doubt he caught the hidden meaning as well, the subtle chastising. Batman had, for a while there, been one of those men lost in the mission.

The billionaire did not allow it to linger long however, knowing to do such a thing would only draw more attention to the comment. Instead he returned his attention to the reporter laying a hand on the man's warm thigh for just a moment. The melancholy was easy enough to detect. The opinion of those he cared about meant a great deal to the alien. That was something else the vigilante didn't quite understand, although, if he was honest with himself he had thought similar things once or twice in regards to his own parents. Perhaps it was just a child's need to do right by the family that raised him then. Either way he was certain Clark couldn't disappoint the Kent's. Between their love and his determination, it seemed unlikely.

"You'll do fine." Bruce insisted softly, giving that muscular flesh a squeeze before reclaiming the appendage. The hand instead nudged a second dish towards his companion, urging him to eat more. Clark needed to keep up his strength, especially if he was leaving soon. A glance at the elder folk assured they were, for the moment, occupied and lowered his voice just a little. This wasn't a taboo topic, but Clark had requested they keep it a secret.

"By the the way, did you ever fire your gardener? You certainly won't need him now." Bruce asked slipping into French, remembering the reporters dissatisfaction with the man's work. And now that he was going home there would be even less cause to put up with the lackluster care.






(It was great. No worries ^^)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

"Things kept coming up." Clark responded. His lacklustre gardener hadn't really been high on the priority list between being manipulated by something he trusted and discovering the new aspects of his relationship with Bruce. "Perhaps you can show me how to get into the security footage before you leave?"

Having eaten more than enough for now, Clark gathered up his dishes so he could take them to the sink. With a burst of speed he did the same for everyone else before the elder members of their group could protest. Everything in neat piles waiting to be washed or put away, the alien returned to his lover's side. "You do have the time for it right?" He asked, bringing their conversation back to English.

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

Predictably Alfred attempted to make a fuss when the dishes began disappearing, and was on his feet in moments. The man wore his age well, not at all hampered by the years. Almost before Clark returned he was up, and, trying not to grumble, he made his way towards the kitchen shooting the alien a chastising look. It was amusing to say the least, but there was no real heat. The Englishman left the younger members to their own devices and set to work packing away any left overs before starting on the dishes themselves.

An eyebrow arched as he glanced up at the reporter.

That wasn't surprising. Despite the man's unhappiness with the gardeners work it hadn't been incredibly detrimental and with all that had happened recently it was easy to get swept aside for something a little more important. To be honest he had expected as much, bringing up the topic now more as a reminder than a true question. Now that Clark would be returning home soon it was something he would need to take care of. A discreet glance out the window ensured there was still light outside yet, more than enough time to uphold a promise made days ago. If the alien intended to view the footage he was certainly going to get an eyeful, given the recent lip locks shared on that roof getaway. Likely that would be a little awkward, but shouldn't interfer with the task at hand.

"Certainly." Bruce replied, dabbing his mouth with his napkin politely, the only thing Clark hadn't whisked away, and set it stop the table. He cast a glance towards their remaining guest, not quite a smile, but a suggestion of one flirted with his mouth. "If you'll excuse us Mrs. Kent." He stated politely, and stood. He had no doubt she would likely join Alfred or busy herself with a book. He'd caught her reading now and again during her stay. Considering they hadn't shared dessert the two would probably spend this time baking.

Quietly Bruce guided his companion downstairs. Once there he instructed the Kryptonian to fetch his laptop, provided it was still working, and retrieved his own. It would only take a moment to get Clark set up, then the alien could choose his passcode and interact with the program all he liked. Now would be a good time to also transfer those test results to the reporters device as well. It wasn't connected to the Bat-computer network, but he could use his own as a jumping off point, ensuring the connection remained secure at all times and brief. When the alien returned, they got to work setting up the necessary software. It was a relatively simple program despite the depth of its abilities, a necessity for something essentially designed by the Batman. He instructed the man on how to input his chosen password, and gave him a quick run through on how to navigate the program and retrieve the video footage. There were months of it now, everything from the gardens installation to present day had been recorded. Of course the gardener in question hadn't been present throughout all that time but it was a substantial amount to screen.

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Thanking Bruce, the alien kissed his lover goodbye and set to work sorting through the security footage. The gardener had come twice and both times he’d barely done anything. The man had actually watered, which was something Clark had told him didn’t need to be done thanks to the state of the art automatic system Bruce had felt needed to be added. He might have been annoyed about it if the system hadn’t kept his plants alive for the last two months. A little bit of sleuthing and Clark had discovered the man’s address; he would pay him a visit once he had time.

The next few days were only stressful when he was trying to convince his mother and Alfred that, yes, he was okay to go back to living on his own. The promise of many a visit was needed before they’d finally concede the point but otherwise his new schedule of returning home went off without a hitch. He went home, Ma stayed one more night, then he was alone for one evening before going to visit Alfred in the morning. Unfortunately he had to leave for work before Bruce got back in, so Clark didn’t get to see the man. It was a little disconcerting that he could miss someone so damn much after only three days but that didn’t make the feelings any less real.

Sunday night Alice came over and they got to work on his costume. Clark was impressed to the point of intimidation at her skills in the matter. There was a businesslike air to the woman as she cut and moulded cardboard - as a base she said - which he hadn’t seen in her before. He still had no idea what he was supposed to be by the time they called it quits, but it was certainly looking impressive from what he’d seen so far.

Tuesday afternoon Clark visited Bruce. They got each other off, did some Wing Chun (which Clark had remembered to practice this time and was thus able to learn something new) then the alien was called away by an earthquake in Missouri that kept him for the rest of the night.

Thus early Friday night Clark flew himself to Gotham, snuck into Wayne Manor, greeted Alfred and Bruce, then locked himself in a bathroom to follow Alice’s instructions. The night before she had come over and done him all up, showing him how everything buckled and the best way to apply the makeup. The country boy in him balked at the idea of wearing makeup, but the city reporter pushed that thought aside and took in every detail. He didn’t really want to be recognised (as Clark or Superman) and would be taking every precaution to avoid it.

It took an hour (never going to tease a woman for taking so long getting ready again) and Clark couldn’t help but be proud of the result. True to form Alice had delivered a professional product and then some. The alien had been dressed as an Elf in full armour detailed to the last. His ‘mask’ was a helm that covered the top half of his face and trailed in elegant patterns backwards and away from his head. The breastplate, pauldrons and arm guards matched the designs on the helm - leaves and vines twirling into aesthetically pleasing shapes.

A cape fell from his shoulders, dark green to offset the tarnished silver (how on earth had she made it look aged!?) of his armour and the brown of his underclothing. Pouches hung from his belt, along with a fake sword. His ears were elongated by rather realistic looking prosthetics, makeup sharpening his features. The long, dark brown wig was braided with beads and feathers. Half this stuff she had already had laying about in storage, waiting for another chance to be used. Hopefully nothing untoward happened at this particular party so he could return it all in good condition.

“Apparently my name is Abeninth Silverleaf and I’m an elven hunter with high ‘int’ but low ‘wisdom’ I have a tragic back-story as well, but you don’t want to hear that; there were a lot of dead family members and revenge plots involved.” The reporter shuffled his feet a little, waiting for a response. Even with how impressed he was at Alice’s work, there was a worrying little niggle in the back of his mind that this wouldn’t be good enough.


(hoping this is okay. figured if we didn't go right to here we'd end up with more repetitive day to day stuff and the next thing I want to happen can't happen until after this.)

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

Time passed as he had expected it to. Clark continued to work the few days he remained at the penthouse, fervently pleading his case in between with their worried elders. For his part, Bruce mostly stood back, allowing the man to fight for his freedom alone; merely observing. Independence couldn't be won with the help of another after all. His presence seemed to keep Alfred more or less in line though, his concerns mellowed by the facade of a dutiful gentleman. Still the alien finally got them to agree and a few days later he and Martha headed out. At Pennyworth's behest they helped the family back to the Kryptonian's flat, transporting luggage and more baked goods than Clark would know what to do with.

That evening and the following day Bruce and his old friend remained in Metropolis as well, although Bruce returned to Gotham for several hours in the morning and nightly patrol to work.

After the Cayzer fiasco the billionaire couldn't really afford to disappear again. The city knew he was in town so to speak, thus he was required to get back down to business or raise even more eyebrows. There were too many questions and rumors floating around already about the cause for the long disappearance. After so lengthy an absence it was wise to work normal hours again, even if he hadn't ever actually taken his eyes off the company, in the last few weeks at least. He had been diligent in his care of Wayne Enterprises as well as the newest addition, formerly Luthor Corp. Prior to taking down Baron Sunday however he had been so wrapped up in the plan to distance himself from anything and everything but the Mission that the company had slipped from his immediate watch. Nothing untoward had happened for the most part, at least nothing he had been made aware of. But the incident with Cayzer was a sharp reminder of just how easily something could go wrong if his almost neurotic attention slipped for just a moment. For now he split his attention, most days spent in the Gotham branch tower, overseeing a multitude of projects as well as the remainder of the investigation, then an occasional afternoon in the Metropolis branch. He even stopped in to have another chat with Perry and address any possible concerns that may have arisen in the last few months since the transition. Fortunately everything seemed to be running smoothly and Clark had been out investigating a tip at the time, ensuring they need not deal with the inevitable awkwardness of how to handle a secret relationship in the work place. Interspersed throughout the week were a handful of board meetings, lunch dates, and project proposals eating up any remaining free time during work hours.

In the evenings the billionaire busied himself with any open investigations, the main currently being the disappearances and impersonations, as well as training and attempting an almost nightly foray into the Kryptonian martial arts. He had also began putting together first schematics and then rough prototypes, of components mostly, for the isolated console Clark had requested to house Jor-El in. Difficult with such a limited knowledge of the alien technology, but not impossible. Another week or two and he would probably have a good base that could be easily adapted to whatever parameters the Kryptonian desired as well as incorporate any tech components from the fortress itself. Learning the martial arts without any instruction but the vague records was of course trying, made all the more so by the fact that he was alone and left with no choice but to trust his interpretation of the alien language. But he was nothing if not self sufficient, and a quick study picking up the physical aspect remarkably quickly. It was the mental art that was much more trying and there was never any guarantee that it would actually work let alone be possible for a human. Still there as no harm in trying, and that's exactly what he did.

Monday brought with it an unpleasant encounter with one Alaxander Garrett and his obnoxious persistence. By now Bruce had long since evolved passed amused and into something a little harder and blunt than his idiot persona was known for. But it was effective, for the most part. If nothing else after the vehemence of his rejection he doubted he would hear from the man for a while. A long, hard night of patrol followed by a visit from Clark the following day soothed any remaining sting on his end. Having the alien over was surprisingly pleasant, spent both with a little exploring and a little training. Each of which were satisfying in their own way. He was glad to see the man had been practicing, making the teaching process marginally easier. And the intimacy of the encounter was, once again, incredibly enjoyable. They were both learning, exploring new techniques as well as finding and memorizing each other's preferences. It was a rather relaxing way to spend the day, but was inevitably interrupted by duty. He didn't so much as frown as the alien whisked off to help those in need, knowing that the capes came first. Instead he cleaned up the gym and any messes they had made and prepared for his own patrol.

The nights were never uneventful. There was always something to keep the Bat busy, be it petty crime and low level thugs or fiendish plots that ramped up the danger of each situation significantly. Despite this, the vigilante was actually healing, earning in all that time only the occasional bruise and one small run in with one of Scarecrows toxins. Which was dealt with swiftly and left no lasting effects.

Before long Friday rolled around. The last plans for the party were run through and everything was double checked well before nightfall. Alfred acquired his costume, a sixteenth century English gentleman's wear complete with powdered wig. All the serving staff was dressing in similar styles, although the butler wouldn't actually be serving. The man tended to stick mostly to management and of overseeing in these sort of functions. Given that Clark actually needed his super suits Bruce had held off borrowing his own until the man himself arrived that night. It didn't matter that the alien had more than one now. It was important he be prepare besides it would be suspicious to arrive in one of the ones he had made himself should Superman ever actually be seen in Gotham wearing one after the fact. Thus he borrowed one of the traditionally colored uniforms and only dressed once Clark disappeared into the bathroom to down his own.

Being relatively skilled in disguise, it was easy for the billionaire to alter his appearance to something more befitting of the superhero. Skin was darkened from the pale milky white to something a little more sun kissed. Thanks to the coverage of the uniform such a change was only necessary on a fraction of the body. Contacts were donned to alter the piercing ice of his eyes to something a little more aquamarine. The change was a bit startling and he was sure it would take a little getting used to for Alfred and Clark but not really unpleasant. Hair was also dyed with temporary products to take on the almost blue tint the aliens thick black locks sported and then styled into the traditional waved style; slicked back with a perfect spit curl on the brow. Last his features with painted with professional quality contouring makeup to flesh out the angles, softening some and sharpening others to change his features to look more like his companions. Of course he had to find a balance, making certain not to go too far and actually apply prosthetics or change his looks too much to be mistaken for the man or cause Clark any discomfort. Just enough to subtly obscure his own identity a bit while giving the impression of the hero. His face was still there, beneath it all, recognizable to a familiar eye, but with an air that wasn't his own. Task done he then dressed, boots cape and all and topped it all off with the elegant mask he had selected for the night. Due to the structural integrity of the alien fabric, it's design and their relatively similar builds the suit actually fit almost perfectly. The cloth was made to hug the body, likely worn with just a hint of stretch to ensure it stayed put in flight and battles. That played to his advantage ensuring it looked made for the billionaire rather than borrowed.

He emerged, dressed and ready long before Clark. Whether than had to do with his familiarity with this sort of thing or the nature of the reporters costume he couldn't say. The man had been careful to keep it hidden from prying eyes upon arrival. Alfred also appeared, dressed and ready a handful of minutes before the reporter joined them downstairs. The first glimpse of the man and he had to say he was a bit surprised. That certainly hadn't been anywhere near what he had expected the man to wear. Obviously Clark had done his best to get as high quality a costume as possible on such limited a budget with so little time. He knew it wasn't store bought. Something with such a nice appearance would have been far too expensive for the man to purchase outright and there were certain little things here or there that denoted a home made origin to his trained eye, albeit a pretty good one. And he had to wonder just who he had gotten to make it. More surprising than the quality was the subject. With his features and build Bruce had expected something a little more classic Greek or roman perhaps, a warrior with visible muscle and skin. Although elves were, in fact, seen as a highly attractive very statuesque race. That Clark had in spades. So he couldn't really fault the decision, and the armor certainly maintained his modesty giving him a strong but still pleasing appearance. The explanation probably wouldn't go over well in high society though and he would have to be certain to school the man into merely answering 'elvish hunter' should anyone ask who he was supposed to be.

A careful examination of the man, a tap on armor here or there, weapon checked, pointed ear traced, makeup scrutinized all within just a handful of seconds and he was ready to pass judgement.

"Not bad." He replied, tone calm but there was a hint of approval to it. The man would pass in the crowd of rich snobs and wouldn't stand out as being under privileged. And the helm hid enough of his features that his natural beauty would not attract too much attention nor would his identity be compromised. Alfred seemed likewise impressed, although Bruce was certain he'd caught the man shooting unhappy looks at the fake weapon only to disappear moments later. "Handsome." He added for the aliens benefit, catching the telltale signs of nervousness, rather than merely reply with his usual clipped, dispassionate response. No doubt the reporter had to be feeling more than a little anxiety. These parties were not something the man was used to, especially without the crutch of reporting to fall back on. But the relative anonymity of the masked gala would likely help him relax in time. Something he was very keen on maintaining.

"Although I would advise you to be brief and to the point if anyone asks whom you are dressed as. These types of people don't exactly look kindly upon gaming in any form unless it involves gross amounts of money." Bruce instructed, certain the idea had come from some sort of gaming character be it dungeons and dragons, world of Warcraft or some other magic game equivalent rather than a fictional character in a book or movie. Only those types categorized skills and personality traits in such a way. He remembered that from his younger years in school.

Alfred returned then, an elegant but economical long sword complete with a hand woven leather scabbard with silver detailing in hand. He moved to the reporter, offering the weapon with a kind look.

"A proper warrior should wield a proper weapon." The Englishman instructed, everything in his appearance asking the younger man to accept. Bruce had to agree the man had a valid point in wanting to replace the reporters sword. That, if nothing else, should be a genuine article. Most of the aristocracy would likely look down on a replica, metal or otherwise. Especially in a city that seemed so shrouded in violence. Weapon collecting was a rather popular pastime for the rich and bored. The sword in question that Pennyworth had chosen however was a bit of surprise and he recognized the significance of the offering even if he was certain Clark wouldn't. It was, in fact, one of the old man's favorites, both elegant enough to match the flowing earthen look of the mythical design but also practical and sturdy enough to be seen as a proper weapon for a strong warrior. And while he obviously wanted the reporter to accept, this was probably one instance where he wouldn't twist his arm to get his way, hoping the silent significance would do the necessary convincing.









(That was great. No worries. Can't wait to see how it goes. Feel free to have them move to the party. I almost did but thought it best to let Clark reply.)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Clark let out an audible sigh of relief when Bruce accepted his costume, then allowed himself to inspect the man in return. It was a little disconcerting seeing his lover look like the alien's alter ego. Even his face had been sculpted to more resemble his own features. It was clear to him that should he have wanted, Bruce could have made the resemblance much more striking, but that was probably counterproductive... not to mention weird if they ended up having a romantic interlude at some point.

Snorting at the advice, Clark came in closer to his lover, simply to be closer. There was still a lingering ache to touch him, be with him. That was the one thing he regretted about moving back into his own apartment. The separation had been a little jarring. "As if I would. Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to handle high society types if I need to."

They were interrupted by Alfred's return. Clark had been so wrapped up in Bruce that he'd hardly noticed the Englishman go in the first place. He started at the offer, like a cornered deer. There was an obvious hesitancy to taking the weapon. The alien looked it over and noted the design and quality. "I was gonna ask if it's okay to bring a fake weapon and you're going to give me a real one?" There was a pause while his warred with himself internally before he reached out, hand hovering over the offered weapon. Alfred seemed so insistent here, for whatever reason, and Clark gave in. "Okay..." Carefully the reporter took it, but it was obvious he was uncomfortable handling the real sword. Gingerly he removed the wooden and fibreglass one before replacing it with Alfred's, handing Alice's off to the butler for safe keeping.


(ah yes, that was much better. A reply hasn't flowed quite so easily for me in a while.)

[Ruche Evermehr]

_____________

"No doubt." Bruce replied simply, neither moving closer nor pulling away as attention shifted to the Englishman and his offering. Clark was clearly hesitant, and with good reason he was certain. But the billionaire had no doubt the artifact would be perfectly safe in the man's care and whether the alien was aware of it or not, the real sword was far more appropriate. Of course the fact that he was Clark, not to mention far more deadly without the thing than he was with it, was the only reason Bruce would allow the weapon in the first place. No other attendee was permitted anything even half as dangerous. The rules were very clear on such matters. Anyone familiar with Wayne parties was used to such restrictions.

A pleased look passed behind the butlers eyes as the man at last accepted, handing over the weapon with all the care and familiarity of a man who truly respected the blade. He watched, diligently, as Clark removed the replica, accepting it just as reverently and ensured the man attached the steel sword properly. Once done he nodded his satisfaction, not quite smiling but close.

"Thank you Mister Kent." Alfred said kindly, and straightened. "I'll just see that this is put somewhere safe and we can be on our way." Without waiting for a reply the older man disappeared once more, returning to the game room which housed one of the larger blade collections. The replica was placed amongst the plethora of genuine artifacts lining the walls with as much care as a sixteenth century one of kind rapier. Bruce remained with the reporter, privately amused, and only gave the man a single approving glance at the newest addition. Clark really did look the part, his other worldly nature blending perfectly with the mythical character.

In no time at all Alfred returned, gathered his coat and lead the group on their way.

After the fiasco at the last Wayne gala Bruce had attended the man had made certain to select a different location this time around. Not that he truly expected anything unfortunate to occur that evening. But the memories were likely unpleasant for those present and he'd much rather not deal with such things tonight, or ever for that matter. Already the streets were alive with costumed characters and painted faces even if the sun had yet to truly set. To anyone else it must seem odd that a city so tortured by colorful and outlandishly dressed characters could so whole heartedly celebrate such a holiday. But Gothamites were nothing if not resilient. The wait staff was already hard at work when they arrived, preparing drinks and starting on the offered meals. Music was playing, a soft distant accompaniment as the band warmed up. Before long the guests would come streaming in and the party would be underway. Bruce fetched two nonalcoholic drinks as Alfred whisked off to get to work, offering one to his companion. Tonight was certainly going to be interesting, he had no doubt about it.






(Glad to hear it ^^ that always makes it so much more enjoyable. Sorry for the slow replies, my schedule is a mess. Also hope it's ok I had them head out. I can change it if you want.)

[siany-chan]

CLARK KENT
SUPERMAN

Getting out of the car, Clark was all prepared to slouch, continuing his usual facade... but then he realised tonight he could be whatever he wanted to be. There were only three people who knew who he was right now and one was not here to see. He stretched to his full height, but didn't puff up like he did as Superman. There was a novel grace to his step born of so many years practicing martial arts.

"Should I be your French friend tonight?" The alien asked in the language, breath ghosting over the shell of his lover's ear; too soft to be heard by anyone but them. "A little payback for the other day?" It could be fun pretending so thoroughly. Not to mention make it that much more difficult for anyone to tie them together. Clark thought Bruce might appreciate the duplicity and the fun they could have with it.