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“Stop.”
The low bass of Batman’s voice cuts through the stale air, reverberating off the sewer walls. Superman stops suddenly, looking up, and his vision just catches the settling of Batman’s cape as he turns around.
“What is it?” He turns his head, trying to focus his senses on whatever threat Batman must have picked up on, but between the lead pipes coursing through the labyrinthine tunnels, and his lingering headache from his recently sustained injuries, the effort is ultimately fruitless.
“You’re hurt.”
At Superman’s confused look, Batman continues stiffly, “We’re far enough away now that we can… stop. For a moment.”
“Oh, no that’s not–I’m fine,” Superman rushes out, relaxing a bit. “We should finish this up, it can wait.”
Batman just huffs at this and then reaches out, wrenching the hero’s hand toward him so that he’s firmly grasping his wrist and Rao, yeah that smarts. His body jerks at the touch, desperately trying to escape the sudden attention on his scraped up palms and the poison radiating up his forearm.
“There’s still Kryptonite in here,” Batman says, the eyes of his cowl squinting, and mouth pulled into a tight frown.
“Not that much,” Superman retorts, rolling his eyes, though the desired effect is definitely diminished by the full body wince that accompanies the motion.
“You’re saying we should wait to remove something actively killing you?” Batman’s voice is dripping in disapproval, and, well maybe he has a point there…
“Okay, okay, geez. I’ll pull out some of the bigger pieces.” Superman starts to raise his arm closer to his face, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears at the sudden proximity of the Kryptonite. He’d been doing a pretty good job of ignoring it and powering through before…
“Stop that,” Batman says, voice tight. “Just–” he pauses, breathing deeply. “Sit down on that ledge, I’ll take care of it.”
~
Walking the tunnels had been oddly calming after the adrenaline of the earlier fight died down. Batman and Superman had managed to take out the unexpected goons reasonably quickly with minor injuries to show for it, and were now steadily progressing toward the facility they were meant to be investigating.
Although, the fact that Superman had any injuries at all was a major point of contention for Bruce. He hadn’t anticipated their enemies having Kryptonite bombs, after all this wasn’t one of Luthor’s plots. Still, he should have seen it coming. He should have been more prepared. Nothing to do for it now but adjust the next plan accordingly.
The sewers are dark and muggy. But that’s okay. The dark is his element. There’s a persistent dripping somewhere, little plops of water, echoing upon landing. Somehow the sound is never far, no matter how much ground Batman and Superman seem to cover.
The odd tranquility was broken though, by the ragged sounds of Superman’s breathing. The hitches of breath and winces he made, as he moved through the sewers, supporting himself occasionally by touching the walls, before remembering the injuries lacing the palms of his hand.
Now Superman was sitting near the tunnel wall, while Bruce crouched, rummaging through the first aid pocket of his utility belt and withdrawing cleansing wipes, tweezers, and a roll of bandages. Setting everything to the side, he moves on to removing his gauntlets. He can feel Kal’s eyes on him as he tugs at the material on each finger, gingerly removes the armor, and lays the pieces out of the way. He pauses.
“Is this area secure?” He asks, voice low and steady. When there’s no immediate answer, Bruce looks up. Superman’s eyes are squinting as he looks around– no, through– the sewer tunnels.
“Yeah,” Kal’s answer comes back soft and a little bit confused when he looks back down at Batman. Bruce nods sharply, before taking a deep breath, turning his head, and pulling down his cowl. He’ll be able to see the small shards of the mineral better without the lenses, he reasons. And it’s not like Batman and Superman haven’t shared their identities yet. But still. Superman doesn’t exactly see much of Bruce Wayne, and Bruce doesn’t see much of Clark Kent. Looking into Superman’s face while taking off his mask seems like it may be more than they’re ready for.
Bruce sets up a small collapsible lamp to shine on Superman’s palms, and then quickly wipes and disinfects his hands before getting to work. He takes his colleague by the wrist, much more carefully this time, and drags a cool wipe across his palm in broad strokes. Then he opens a small, (lead-lined) biohazard bag, before disinfecting his tweezers and reaching for the first Kryptonite shard.
Bruce works carefully, but efficiently. The diligent but repetitive work takes on a rhythm, allowing him to focus just on Superman’s hand in his own. When he’s satisfied that both of Kal’s hands are free of the radioactive mineral, he takes a bit of antibiotic ointment, swiping it up with two fingers, and traces it gently across Superman’s palms. Bruce can’t help but notice that his hands are broad and soft, skin giving just a little as the medicine is applied. There are much fewer winces coming from the man now that the Kryptonite is out. When Bruce reaches for the bandages though, Kal speaks up again.
“Is that necessary? I mean, the cuts will heal in the sun.”
“Yeah,” Bruce says dryly, “but we’re not in the sun right now, are we?” At that, Kal rolls his eyes, but he also lets out a little huff of laughter. Bruce notices that the rasp in his breathing that had been there while they were walking is practically all but gone.
“True, but I mean when we’re all done here.” He gestures toward the direction they were traveling. “We’re almost at the main facility now and from there we shouldn’t be long.” The mention of the facility briefly takes Bruce back to the earlier fight, the men that weren’t stationed to be in the tunnels and the Kryptonite bombs they shouldn’t have had access to in the first place. Bruce shakes his head.
“Those guys already caught us off guard once.” He takes the bandages and begins wrapping them around Kal’s hand, pulling tight. “Nothing’s a guarantee right now…” He doesn’t get a reply. Bruce looks up to see Superman staring down at him. He looks like he’s skeptical of Bruce’s assessment but the League tends to think some of his tactical calls are overkill anyway. It doesn’t matter, as long as it keeps them safe. Keeps Kal safe, a small part of him whispers as those deep blue eyes bore into Bruce’s face.
Bruce clears his throat and looks down, going to bandage the other hand. “The suit took most of the damage. You’re lucky those bombs you charged after released so few pieces.”
Superman huffs above him. “Yeah, I know,” he says, sounding exasperated suddenly. “But I didn’t know they had Kryptonite, and with the information we had, going to block them wasn’t that reckles–”
“That,” Bruce starts, cutting him off. “That wasn’t a criticism,” Bruce says, looking him in the eye yet again. “It’s just…” He fishes for the right words, but ultimately comes up short. “It’s good you’re okay,” he finishes lamely.
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Right.”
They lapse into silence as Bruce finishes tying the bandage. It’s… not comfortable. But it’s not too awkward either. Just quiet.
Once the bandage is in place, Bruce hesitates a moment, before decidedly reaching up to Superman’s face.
The other hero jerks back before the touch can land.
“Sorry,” Bruce says, the movement stuttering. “There’s just a few on your face.”
“Oh.” Kal winces. “Of course. I didn’t notice.”
Superman relaxes slightly, and at the quiet permission Bruce continues reaching out. This time his palms land on the soft, yet defined planes of Kal’s face. He tilts him gently, assessing the damage before wiping his face softly with a cleansing wipe. He can feel Clark looking into his eyes, his body warming at the sensation of being watched so intimately, but he doesn’t look back. He stays focused on each small shard, plucking them swiftly with as much tenderness he can muster.
Once he’s done, he takes Kal’s chin in hand and turns his face back and forth once more, making sure the poison is all gone. Satisfied, he begins adding the ointment, and speaks again. “These are small enough to not need bandages.”
“Right,” Kal replies, a bit distantly.
Bruce looks up and for a moment the eye contact is scorching. He’s intimately aware of his hands still on Ka- Clark’s face. They’re inches from one another. Cornflower blue staring back at him like he’d accidentally left his soul out on display. Superman did have x-ray vision. If the soul was within the human body, maybe he could see it.
Bruce tears himself from the gaze, as he drops his hands and pulls the cowl back on. He stands, puts the med kit away with his usual efficiency, and soon the gauntlets are back in place as well. He is Batman, and this is a mission.
“It shouldn’t be much further,” he says firmly, looking into the distance ahead of them. “Hopefully we can move faster with the deadly radiation out of you.”
In the blink of an eye, Superman is standing in front of him, sporting a boyish grin. “Yeah, better already Doc.”
Batman rolls his eyes and pushes his fellow hero out of the way. “Let’s go, boyscout.”
“You’re the one who was just doing triage,” Kal says with a smirk.
“Hmn,” is all he has to say to that, as he continues leading their trek through the tunnels.
“How far did you get, Eagle?”
“This is a stealth mission, Superman.”
“Right, okay.” It’s Kal’s turn to roll his eyes. “Shutting up, Batman.”