Xenophobia

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/53938390.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandoms: Superman - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types
Relationship: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne
Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Requited Unrequited Love, Lack of
Communication, Communication Failure, Bruce Wayne is Bad at
Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Clark Kent Needs a
Hug, Clark Kent Loves Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne Loves Clark Kent,
Hurt Clark Kent, Xenophobia, technically, Verbal Abuse, Mutual Pining,
Possibly OOC, Author Has Never Once Understood DC Timelines and
Will Not Start Now, no beta we die like jason todd, Rating May Change
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-02-20 Words: 1,917 Chapters: 1/3
 Xenophobia
by nitrogen_and_crisis

Summary

Clark has always known that being an alien means that some people will always hate him.
And he knows it's part of his duty as Superman to accept their hatred. He just wishes he didn't
have to count Batman among their number.

Bruce has always done his best to keep people at a distance. Batman works alone, he doesn't
need anyone else. It would be a lot easier if Superman wasn't so hard to push away.

Notes

If you haven't read the fic this is based off of you should definitely go do that because it is so
good. I loved the whole thing, but the bit that specifically inspired this fic was how chill
Clark was about being on the receiving end of Xenophobia, and Bruce commenting on that.
So here's my take on that idea.

See the end of the work for more notes

Inspired by Padam Padam by frozenpotions

Clark knows that some people will inevitably hate him for his alien origins. It’s been the most
basic fact of his existence for as long as he’s known about his powers. Some people are just
always going to hate him, and he has to be ok with that. Is ok with that.

Was ok with that.

Because ever since joining the Justice League, ever since he started working with Bruce, he’s
been struggling with his one fundamental duty. It’s his job to accept that Bruce hates him. It
still hurts.

Clark would never let Bruce know that, of course. He understands that it’s not really
personal, Bruce doesn’t really like any metas, and Clark is definitely the worst offender on
that list. In a way, he’s surprised that Bruce even agreed to join the Justice League. He
doesn’t really seem to get along with a single other member, although it’s definitely worse
with Clark than it is with the others.

But Clark can be ok with that. Will be ok with that, just as soon as he manages to squish his
tiny, selfish crush on Bruce. Which he will. He will squash his stupid crush and his stupid
hurt feelings and Bruce will never have to know about any of it. It’s a great plan, in theory.

In practice, Clark stands in the Batcave on a chilly Thursday evening, being yelled at by
Bruce, feeling small and entirely useless. Bruce is trying to retrofit some medical something
to work with kryptonian biology, and from what Clark can gather it really isn’t working all
that well. Clark is trying to help, he really is, but he doesn’t actually know enough about the
tech Bruce is working with, or tech in general, to be of much use here.

He’s pretty sure he’s only making things worse, actually, like he usually does around Bruce.
Almost as though to prove him right, Bruce slams the tool he’s been working with down on
the workbench and rounds on him.

“If you’re not going to be helpful then get your hands off of the workbench Kent.” It’s all but
snarled, and Clark removes his hands from the vicinity of the workbench as fast as possible
with a mumbled sorry, trying his absolute best to make sure that his expression stays as
steady as he can keep it. He won’t add to Bruce’s reasons to dislike him by showing him how
stupidly emotional he really is. Superman is a hero. Superman always smiles.

He apparently succeeds, because Bruce turns back to his workbench without another word,
leaving Clark to hover awkwardly behind him.

It’s been like this since they first met, although Clark was really hoping that would have
changed by now. Their very first meeting had been punctuated by Batman snapping at him to
“stay out of Gotham” and grappling away just as soon as he’d come. Of course, at the time,
Clark had hoped he’d be able to get Batman to come around.

Batman never did come around though, no matter how much effort Clark put in. Even after
the founding of the League, where Batman had to brush shoulders with metas constantly, his
attitude towards them never seemed to improve. Even after the identity reveal, which Clark
had been hopeful would help Bruce see beyond Superman and through to Clark, he’d
remained just as hostile. Clark had long since accepted he’d never get Bruce to come around
on his hatred of him.

Which really wasn’t ideal, because Clark had definitely come around on Bruce. He hadn’t
been sure about the Batman at first, wasn’t sure if the ways they did their work would clash
too heavily. Shockingly, they’d actually made a good team, despite Bruce’s continued
hostility. When Bruce wasn’t snapping at Clark, or interacting with Clark in general, Clark
got to see some of Bruce’s true personality shine through. He was selfless, quick to sacrifice
himself for others, kind to children, a paragon of justice. And he was funny. A deadly
combination for Clark’s heart.

Which is stupid, Clark reminds himself as he listens for an emergency big enough to warrant
excusing himself from the Batcave. Bruce has made no secret of how he feels about metas,
and that very much encompasses Clark. And he’s going to be ok with that.

————

The last mission with the League had been a disaster, to put it mildly. The day had been
saved, just barely, but every member that had shown up to the fight had left with foul-
smelling brown ooze lodged in their uniform and any exposed hair. Clark, for one, can’t wait
to go home, strip off his uniform, and shower until the hot water runs out.

The only thing between him and that shower is Batman, barring his way out of the
conference room. The post-mission debrief had to be cut short due to the ooze, and everyone
else had hurried away as fast as they could, probably to take a shower like the one Clark so
desperately wants right now. He and Bruce are now the only people left in the room.

He tries to sidestep Bruce, not ready to hear whatever lecture Bruce has prepared for him. He
knows he messed up in the fight, made a split-second decision incorrectly, and he knows
Bruce knows it too. Bruce doesn’t seem inclined to take pity on him though, his hand closing
around Clark’s forearm, anchoring him to the floor.

It’s… not often that Bruce touches him. It’s almost never friendly, a finger jabbed in his
chest, a hand swatting one of Clark’s own away, a subtle kick to the ankles warning Clark to
shut up, but some stupid part of him treasures it every time. It means that Bruce at least
doesn’t hate him enough that he won’t touch him.

“What the hell were you thinking Clark? I wear body armor for a reason. We’ve never seen
anything like that before, you couldn’t possible have known that your invulnerability would
extend to random alien goo.”

“Bruce—”

“Do not. Interrupt me. We’ve already established you have at least one weakness, it stands to
reason there could be more. I could’ve taken that hit myself. Focus more on your fight next
time and less on mine. This whole disaster could’ve easily been avoided if you hadn’t lost
focus.”
He’s right. Clark knows he’s right. But it still hurts to hear.

He hadn’t been thinking when he’d seen that blow headed straight for Bruce, he’d acted on
instinct and dropped everything to take a hit for someone who didn’t need or want him to do
that. It’s just another reason for Bruce to hate the big, powerful alien that seems so incapable
of thinking with it’s head.

He shakes Bruce’s hand off, mumbling apologies as his eyes start to sting alarmingly. He
won’t cry in front of Bruce, he can’t.

Clark stumbles out of the room and flees from the Batman, willing the tears not to fall. He
manages until the moment his apartment door closes behind him, the last of his willpower
crumbling away. God, he’s so pathetic, curled up against his door, sobbing his heart out over
a lecture he deserved from man who rightly doesn’t want anything to do with him. He fucked
up the mission, not Bruce. He’s the alien threat, the overly emotional weapon of mass
destruction, the danger to Earth. His tears over what amounts to a slightly trampled heart are
stupid. Superman should not be crying right now.

The knowledge doesn’t make the tears stop flowing, doesn’t make breathing any easier. It just
makes him feel stupider.

————

He’s been trying to stay away from Bruce, trying not to force his presence on him, not to
bother him, he really has. But Perry will kill him if he doesn’t at least try to get a quote from
Bruce at his own charity gala, even if they both know the odds of getting anything useable
out of Brucie Wayne isn’t high. So here he is, surrounded by Gotham’s social hottest and
richest, notebook clutched to his chest, seeking out Bruce like an idiot.

He knows for sure that he’s being an idiot the moment he starts talking to Bruce, because
Bruce has turned his full Brucie charm on him, which he is very much not immune to. He
knows it’s fake, knows that the man in front of him despises him for his alien status, but it’s
almost easy to forget with Brucie practically plastered to his side, giggling in his ear.

Clark’s heart stutters painfully.

“So Mr … Kent?— Hmm, I’ve heard your name before, haven’t I?” Bruce pauses, like he’s
actually pondering the question. “I know!” he exclaims, snapping loudly with the hand that
isn’t draped over Clark’s shoulders. “You write about Superman, don’t you?”

Clark’s stomach does a sudden, nauseating roll.

“I, do write about him from time to time, Mr. Wayne. He’s hardly the bulk of what I write
about though.” He forces a laugh, hopes Bruce will accept his misdirection.

“You know, I never really got the whole ‘Super-hype.’ At best he’s just some guy who flies
around in long underwear, doing ‘good deeds,’ and at worst he’s a total WMD waiting to go
off. But we don’t see much of him here in Gotham. You must see him all the time over in
Metropolis though, Mr. Kent. What’s you’re take on him?” Bruce makes exaggerated air
quotes at the words “Super-hype” and “good deeds,” grinning lazily at Clark.

“I—”

What does Bruce want him to say? Does he want Clark to admit that he is, in fact, a very
dangerous weapon just waiting to fall into the wrong hands? Does he want Clark to refute
him, try for some sort of witty banter to match the Brucie persona?

Does Bruce not think what he does as Superman counts as “good?”

“I don’t really have a take on him. I really only do those articles because my boss wants me
to. They generate a lot of interest in the paper, you know how it is.” Clark manages a weak
smile.

“I swear, you reporters always have the most boring answers to my questions,” Brucie
complains, all but pouting at Clark.

It’s very rapidly becoming to much for Clark to handle. The contrast between the flirtatious
contact and the subtle insults is overwhelming. It feels a little like being strangled, and a lot
like Bruce is putting his heart through an industrial shredder. If he keeps standing here,
talking with Bruce, he’ll be reduced to little Clark-shaped ribbons by the end of the night.
He’s not sure it hasn’t happened already.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a, deadline,” Clark chokes out. It’s a lie, and a
bad one at that, but he needs to get out of here.

He doesn’t wait to hear what Bruce has to say, he just turns and flees, pushing through party
guests as fast as he can get away with. The choking feeling only gets more intense, the
shredded pieces of his heart all but suffocating him.

He doesn’t even make it home this time, just lands in a random empty park and chokes on his
own tears. Which means his feelings are getting totally out of control and he didn’t get the
quote for Perry. He’s got to get this back under control. Bruce is allowed to hate him for his
alien qualities. It’s Clark’s job to make sure it doesn’t affect him.
End Notes

Please tell me if you spot any errors. Ao3 always steals my formating lol

You can find me on tumblr at nitrogen_and_crisis (for writing updates mostly) or n2-crisis
(for everything else)

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