Everyone thought that Bruce would go black [Comprehensive British and American]

"I'm dizzy," Bruce complained.

Lying on the bed, Ah Fu calmly poured ice cubes into a bag embroidered with the bat logo.

"Master Bruce, even if Gotham is bombed, it's not a reason for you to sit on the ruins in a shirt in the middle of the night and blow the wind."

He stuffed a thermometer into Bruce's mouth.

"Is that so, Mr. Kent?"

Hearing Ah Fu's stern words, Mr. Superman shrank his neck involuntarily, and took the ice pack from Ah Fu's hand for reason.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be blowing with Bruce."

He looked at Bruce on the bed, Bruce's face was pale, and there was an abnormal blush on his cheeks, his lips were a little dry, his beautiful blue eyes were covered with a layer of water, and he looked pitiful.

"You need to rest." Clark squatted down apologetically.

"I've got to take it somewhere else, Bruce. Haven't you thought of giving it a name?"

Clark touched the little golden retriever next to Bruce's pillow, and he put his arms around the little golden retriever's belly, trying to take it away.

"No, just let him stay here, he's very nice, isn't he?"

Bruce pressed Clark's hand, and the little golden retriever opened his eyes and gave Bruce a neutral look.

It seemed a little angry, turned around, and buried its head in its belly.

"Come here." Bruce held out his hand to the little golden retriever.

The little golden retriever raised its fluffy little head, glanced at Bruce, and wanted to stand up, but Bruce's big bed was expensive and soft, and it was very difficult for it to just stand up.

It struggled to support itself, and four shallow dimples were pressed out of the soft mattress.

It hesitated for a while, nodded, stretched out its little feet and walked towards Bruce's hand.

A wicked smile curled up on Bruce's mouth.

He stretched out his finger and poked the little golden retriever's round buttocks. The silk sheets had very little friction, so it was unprepared for a while and rolled around on the wide bed a few times.

Bruce looked at the embarrassed little golden retriever and laughed happily.

The little golden retriever turned over with great effort, and looked at Bruce helplessly. Its eyes seemed to be full of tenderness and love, and it sniffed its nose, looking a little angry.

"You know what? You're just a dog." Bruce stretched out his index finger and tapped the little golden retriever's wet nose.

"Bruce..." Clark stretched out his hand and helped the little golden retriever stand up.

"You really don't give it a name?"

"Why did you give him a name? I gave it a name, and it was domesticated by me."

Bruce smiled sweetly, "I don't want to domesticate it."

The little golden retriever picked up the slippery silk sheets, got into Bruce's quilt quickly, arched his head, and put his little head in the socket of Bruce's neck.

"Do you want to be tamed by me?"

Bruce seemed a little hesitant, he reached out hesitatingly, and held the little golden retriever's front paw with his hand.

The little golden retriever stuck out his tongue and licked Bruce's sexy chin.

Clark smiled happily, his smile, as in the past, could make all the sadness and melancholy disappear.

"Bruce, it is your little fox, and you are its little prince."

He reached out and touched the soft fur of the little golden retriever.

"Give him a name."

"Al." Bruce stared into the little golden retriever's eyes, the same blue eyes he had vaguely remembered.

He supported the pillow with his hands, sat up slowly, the soft silk slid off his body like water, revealing his pale but not thin chest, the little golden retriever stretched out the pad and tried to hang on Bruce's body, but it didn't stick out nails so that he failed.

This time he didn't fall on the bed, Bruce caught him, and he held the little golden retriever carefully like the most precious treasure in the world.

He lowered his head and kissed the little golden retriever's forehead, "Your name is Al."

Clark moved at a loss, he felt uncomfortable all over his body, and his Kryptonian surname was so applied by Bruce, which made him a little awkward.

He remembered the conversations with the little fox and the little prince before, and couldn't help but blushed and looked uneasy.

He tries to think of Bruce the way he treats Bruce Wayne, not Batman, but he still feels panicked.

"Uh...May I take the liberty to ask, why did you name him that?" Clark stammered.

Curiosity killed the cat. At this time, Clark really wanted to know the answer to this question, so he asked it stupidly.

"It's not my little fox, it's my superman." Bruce replied calmly.

He raised his head to look at Clark, and hooked his fingers to Clark.

Clark pushed his glasses. He wasn't quite sure what this Bruce wanted to do. According to his past experience in the Watchtower, Batman never did good things when he did this.

"Superman, look at your battle damage."

"Superman, I need you to stay here tonight."

"Superman, don't be distracted."

He moved his body forward cautiously, pushed his glasses, and said warily, "Bruce? Do you need me to take something?"

Bruce gave a wicked smile.

He grabbed Clark's neckline and pulled it hard, stretched out his feet and moved flexibly.

The scene was very embarrassing.

According to the normal situation, after Gotham Baby's set of operations is over, the men and women on the opposite side are already lying in his arms in a daze.

But this is not normal.

The Kryptonian's bug physique is the biggest variable here.

Clark was rock-solid, motionless, and Bruce felt a slight pain in his toe, but he tried to control his facial expression, trying to act like nothing happened.

Mr. Superman leaned over in a ignorant manner, tucking Bruce back under the covers with mild but irresistible force.

He even helped Bruce tuck the quilt, wrapping Bruce into a silkworm baby.

There was a hint of a smile in the little golden retriever's eyes, and that dog's face was...gloating?

Clark looked very honest, but he could tell from Clark's eyes that he actually wanted to laugh, but he knew that as long as he did laugh, this narrow-minded bat probably wouldn't give him a good life.

Bruce raised his eyebrows, feeling challenged.

"You're not as honest as you look." Bruce thought, and he smiled a jerk, and with difficulty stretched his arms out of Clark's tightly stuffed quilt.

Oops, alarm bells were ringing in Clark's heart, he seemed to have overplayed his hand.

He whispered badly in his heart, but his blue eyes betrayed the fact that he was in a good mood, such a lively Bruce, he had only heard about Dick but never seen it, when he and Bruce met, he Having lost his second-generation Robin, Batman is already a violent and injured image.

He was like a homeless stray cat soaked by heavy rain. When he saw Batman on a rainy night, this terrible metaphor flashed through his mind. Although it was strange, Batman was sipping Lips, like a hill standing in front of a bat light, no one but Superman would describe him like that.

But then he has "business" to do, so he pops up in front of Bruce like a cannonball, staring at him menacingly.

Then Superman threatened him fiercely, and Batman used kryptonite to make himself suffer a lot. He was pressed to the ground, and his hard fist hit his cheekbones one after another, and the Man of Steel trembled in pain. , Such a ridiculous metaphor was naturally forgotten by him.

Later...they reconciled, but Bruce Wayne never exposed the Gotham baby in front of him. He was always a reliable comrade in arms and a solid backing in front of him.

But Diana had described the jerk side of Bruce that wanted her to punch him in the face.

Clark felt a little sorry. Their bad first meeting made Bruce keep a certain vigilance in front of him all the time. He also used some methods to make Bruce treat himself like Diana. He asked Diana for help. Diana thought about it , showing a mysterious smile.

She told Clark, "You treat him like a friend. Bruce is the softest."

He dubiously invited Bruce to visit his farm, saying that Martha would like to meet him and express his gratitude.

At that time, Batman was as stiff as a rock, and he said with difficulty: "I didn't do anything."

Clark shook his head. "We both know it's not our fault, Bruce."

He looked firmly at Batman, Batman in full armor crumbling under those blue eyes.

Batman pinched his fingers anxiously, and Clark's super vision could see the pointed claws curl up and stretch out.

That metaphor came to Clark's mind again.

Bruce really is like a grumpy cat.

On the day Bruce arrived in Kansas, the weather in Kansas was as good as ever, the sky was as clear as blue, without a trace of cloud. Clark stood in front of the golden field and waved to Bruce. Instead of an expensive, uncomfortable suit, he wore a plain plaid shirt and baggy jeans and walked toward Clark across the golden cornfields.

He hugged Bruce warmly, and he could see Bruce was uncomfortable, but he did what Diana suggested, treating Bruce like a normal friend, without the blood and fire of superhero life, and without them Those bad mutual suspicion experiences, and there is no Superman and Batman.

In front of the cottage on the farm, there were only two people, Clark and Bruce.

Martha wiped her hands on her apron, beckoned Bruce in, and brought out her signature treat—the world's best apple pie.

Bruce carefully cut off a piece with a knife, put it in his mouth and chewed it twice.

Rao... He has never seen such a soft Bruce. At that time, he didn't have any hazy temperament unique to Gotham people, nor did he have the coldness of the dark knight in the night. He sat on the floral sofa, like a wanderer The cat found a home.

At that time, Clark secretly made a wish to Rao in his heart, and he hoped that Bruce would live a better life.