Clark opened his eyes slowly. Morning light spilled through the window, but Clark was alone in the bed. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up to see Bruce stripping off his pajamas near the bathroom door. Bruce had the top off and he eased the bottoms down slowly.

Clark gave a short burst of laughter without meaning to.

Yanking the bottoms up, Bruce whirled to face him. "What?"

"Your rear is still red," Clark chuckled. "Like the red I painted my parents' barn last summer."

Bruce looked like he was about to rush over and choke the life out of Clark, but instead he muttered, "Whatever. I hope you're happy. It still hurts."

"Good, don't lie to me again," Clark flopped back down on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

"You didn't wake me up last night," Bruce accused, moving slowly back towards the bed. "What happened?"

"Not much to patrol," Clark eased his hands under his head, relaxing with ease. "Stopped a few robberies and a mugging. But everything was pretty quiet so I came back here around one. You were sound asleep and I joined you in bed, but you didn't wake up."

"Well, you let me sleep to seven o'clock," Bruce tried to look put out, but failed. ""And I'm hungry now."

"I'll go get us something," Clark sat up.

"No, I'll cook. Let me get a shower first," Bruce moved towards the bathroom.

Clark made a face – Bruce was not a good cook no matter how hard he tried. Half the time he left the kitchen in such a mess that Clark had to rush around at super-speed to clean up before Alfred came back and had a heart-attack at seeing his kitchen in such shambles.

But Bruce, who thought he was the best at everything, would not admit that he had trouble cooking. Usually they ate whatever Bruce cooked in the morning and by evening Clark would insist they go out for supper. And no matter how hard Clark argued, Bruce insisted on paying every time.

"You may be ten times stronger than me," Bruce would say, "but in this town, money is the power."

"I make money," Clark would object.

"Yeah, and they pay you in nickels," Bruce would sneer as he took out his credit card.

What to do with such an arrogant boyfriend? Clark shook his head as he leaned back on the pillow and listened to Bruce start the shower.

Despite his claims otherwise, Bruce was not a morning person. And on Saturday morning with Clark, he was less inclined to hurry so it was nearly nine o'clock before breakfast was ready.

"Here you go," Bruce set a plate of four burnt pancakes in front of Clark.

"Uh, thanks," Clark smiled politely.

Bruce put down another plate of pancakes in front of his own seat and sat down. He winced the moment he sat and then glared at Clark.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Clark smirked.

"I should have put Kryptonite in your food," Bruce muttered as he shifted uneasily and reached for the bottle of syrup. He did not feel too grouchy though –twelve hours of sleep had helped take the edge of his mood and he was rather looking forward to spending all weekend with Clark.

"No Kryptonite in my food, please," Clark laughed.

Bruce poured syrup over his pancakes and then reached over to pour syrup over Clark's.

"I'm designing new Batarangs today – wanna help?" Bruce began eating.

"For a while, but I can't stay in the dark cave all day," Clark hesitantly cut in his stack of pancakes. "I'll go blind down in that place."

"Then put on your glasses," Bruce retorted.

"Fine, cave in the morning, and we go to my fortress this afternoon before supper."

Bruce frowned at the thought of the cold ice fortress, but nodded along. "Deal."

Clark took a bite of the pancakes. It wasn't that bad with syrup, but Clark could not resist teasing,

"I think there're bits of egg shell in this."

"There is not," Bruce gave him the look usually reserved for Tim when the kid would complain. "I know how to crack eggs."

"Then what am I crunching on?"

"The edges! The edges are all crunchy and –"

"Burnt?"

"Shut up," Bruce told him. "You know, for a farm boy, you sure are picky."

"The fine tastes of my boyfriend are rubbing off on me," Clark replied. "I've come to expect five-star dining here."

Bruce tried to look annoyed, but a smile broke across his face without warning.

That smile was the most beautiful thing Clark had ever seen.

"Here," Clark reached into pocket. He drew out the small lead box and put it on the table.

"You giving this back to me?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"I trust you," Clark replied.

Bruce took the box and slowly opened it. The green rock was still inside.

At once, Clark turned pale, looking very sick. He leaned away from the box, holding onto the edge of the table for support. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his face as he started breathe heavily.

"Sorry," Bruce snapped the box shut. But rather than pocket it, he put it back on the table and stared at it.

Clark immediately looked better, but he kept his eyes on Bruce's face. "Bruce?"

"Oh, jeez," Bruce covered his face, "I still can't believe you did that in front of Selina. I thought we were supposed to be the good guys, you sick alien."

Clark laughed. "Are you ever going to cheat on me with her?"

"No," Bruce groaned.

"Mission accomplished then," Clark replied. "Part of Selina's attraction to you is the fact that she sees this big, bad, dominate streak in you and she wants to control that. But I see good in you and I knew that humiliating you would remove part of that attraction for her."

"So my feelings don't matter," Bruce chewed on his food, disgruntled. "How is Batman ever going to face her again? I'm going to spend my nights avoiding her because you know she'll hold this over my head forever."

"Good, keep away from her. You belong to me now. And don't you worry about Selina. I'll care of her. Well, done with breakfast."

"You took two bites," Bruce's eyes narrowed at Clark's plate. "We're not going anywhere until you eat all of it."

"Man, in this how you talk to Tim?" Clark reluctantly picked up his fork.

"No, Tim would have been grounded by now for complaining."

"You run a tight ship, Batman."

"Shut up and eat, Superman."

------

One week later

Catwoman leapt to the top of the building, placing her hands on the edge and peering down thirty stories below. A shadow flicked behind and she smiled.

"Superman," she purred, "stalking me now?"

"Catwoman," Superman stepped onto the rooftop, his red cape billowing behind him, "I thought we had deal."

"We did and we do," she rose up on her feet. "I said I wouldn't steal for three weeks. I never said I would stop being Catwoman."

"Can you be Catwoman and not steal things?" Superman raised an eyebrow.

"That remains to be seen," she sauntered towards him, swinging her hips freely and lettings her looped whip bump against her thigh. "I haven't seen him in a while. I miss our run-ins."

Superman said nothing.

"Aren't you going to tell me to stay away? Well, I won't. I'm not the one who embarrassed him, humiliated him, hurt him. That was you, boy scout."

"I'm protective of things I care about," Superman stated.

She looked like she would make a biting comment, but she shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I've seen Batman in humiliating positions before. Living in this town teaches you humility, feeds it to you in choking lumps. And it wasn't the first time I had ever seen Bruce mortified. For all his alpha male stature, he has a deep masochistic streak. Sooner or later, he goes out of his way and does things he knows will only bring him pain and punishment."

"You know him very well."

Another careless shrug. "We loved each other. But I wouldn't give up stealing and he wouldn't give up Batman. Bruce has been with many women and Batman has been attracted to female villains, but me – he loved me as both." She stared off into the night with bitterness. "He loved Selina Kyle and he loved Catwoman."

Superman moved and suddenly he was right beside her. "I want to break your neck," he whispered, his voice tight. "I want to hurt you for what you did, urging him to cheat on me."

"Jealous, huh?" she leaned back towards him, her eyes green and catlike in the night, daring him to try to hurt her. "You're too good. You can never go to the dark places that Batman and I go, those black corners of the soul where nightmares come true and we embrace the evil that resides there. Not you, not the wonderful Superman."

"I know that," he replied. "I can't fight against it either, no matter how hard I try. So I have a proposition for you."

"Oohh, I like the sound of that."

"I can't be here all the time," Superman looked stern. "So I want you to help me with him. You stalk him, I know. I was following him last week here and you were always one step behind him, but not long enough for him to notice. I know you're not going to stop stalking him, so you're going to take note of what he does and report to me."

"Spy on him?" Catwoman's eyes lit up with delight.

"Think of it as your probation. I want to know what he's doing – I can't keep him from going to the dark at times, but I'm not letting him stay there. When he goes to that darkness, when he starts to self-destruct and punish himself, I want to know about it. You don't have to follow him every night, but I need to know what's going on in this city if I can ever step in and save him."

"You're going to save Batman?" Catwoman looked scornful.

"He's going to try to kill himself someday," Superman replied. "No, not deliberately, but it will happen. Over work, too much stress, taking on too much alone, he'll go out one night and not pay attention, and then that will be the end."

Catwoman looked down on the city, refusing to let him see the fear in her eyes. The thought of Batman dying, of Bruce dying – it tore her up inside.

"Fine, I'll watch him. But what do I get in return?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm Catwoman," she turned back to face him. "I don't do anything for free."

"Let me put it this way," Superman crossed his arms over his chest. "You're going to do this, or I'm going to allow those not-nice feeling I had for you a week ago to take control of me. You're never seen me on red kryptonite – well, he is my red kryptonite, and I can't stop myself where he's involved."

"You wouldn't touch me," she declared.

"You watched me discipline the most powerful man in Gotham. Do you really think I'm afraid to teach you a lesson, young lady?"

Catwoman felt her cheeks flush red. "I'll tell him," she threatened.

"No, you won't. Now, agree to help me and I'll let you go," Superman remained firm.

"Oh, you men," Catwoman leapt to the edge of the building on all four. "It's all power and manipulation and testosterone with you. He's your chunk of Kryptonite, and now you're becoming his. Oh, fine, I'll follow him and report back, but I'm cutting off my three weeks of no stealing by a week. One week from now, Catwoman is back in full swing. And just in time, too, because a new jewelry shop in moved in downtown and I want first picks of the goods."

"I don't condone stealing."

"But you can't stop me," Catwoman smirked. "So go back to your boyfriend and be good and leave the badness to me."

"All right," Superman turned, but then paused. "How was Riddler?"

"Whiny," Catwoman pursed her lips. "He kept begging for me to slow down and not rush him. Such a baby – you'd think he'd never had a dominatrix play with him for three hours straight. And in the morning, he wouldn't stop moaning about how much his ass hurt."

Superman shook his head.

"Don't feel sorry for Edward," Catwoman insisted. "He doesn't deserve me. I'm going back to him tonight, this time with handcuffs and a gag. Can you believe it – he tried to lock the door on me last night, actually put the chain up and turned the deadbolt. I had to enter through the window. He got extra for that bit of naughtiness."

"What is wrong with city?" Superman shook his head. "My parents would be horrified by such behavior."

"Welcome to Gotham," Catwoman smirked. She winked at him and then she leapt off the building.

Concerned, Superman leaned over the edge. He saw her swinging onto a lower ledge and then disappearing around the corner of the building.

The sky had grown overcast, and when Superman looked up, he saw the Bat Signal high in the sky against the clouds. A familiar rumble filled the air, and down below on the dirty streets, the black Batmobile sped along, heading towards the signal.

The End

AN: Hope you all enjoyed this short story. I am considering writing more in this universe with this same pairing and characters, but keeping the stories no more than five or six chapters each so I can write more often. Any thoughts, suggestions, criticisms, or ideas?