#me; quietly: batman/superman wild west au

[chartedrights]

i hope i'm not too late to the "made-up fic title" ask game (if i am, my apologies), but i am quite curious; "The Strangest Standoff In A Graveyard We've Had Yet"

You’re not! As long as people keep sending them in I’ll keep taking them! It’s a really good exercise tbh.

So we’re going to go back to the Wild West AU because a very particular image came to mind and it’s this: Bruce Wayne, a man dressed all in black, standing opposite Clark Kent, a stubborn, reedy preacher. In a graveyard.

Bruce is a sheriff- his family was wealthy, before they were murdered, and he had to work his way back up to literally just “a livable wage.” He’s bitter about it, and he’s a harsh man with a harsh temper, but he does what he can to protect his city.

Clark went to seminary school because he thought he could help people. Clark also went to the general store and bought a rifle because he knew that would help people. He’s a kind man, but he’s practical. And very alone.

Just two guys, sitting in a church pew, five feet apart because they’re hella gay.

The graveyard is where all the duels go down, because more often than not you can just toss a dead duelist into a fresh grave and have done with it. Sure, Bruce finds them all eventually, but in the meantime the other duelist gets away.

Sweet Tooth, on this particular day, is holding Clark hostage in the graveyard. Bruce is deeply upset by this, but he’s also emotionally crippled, so he’s not sure why. He’s also not certain why Sweet Tooth chose Clark over say, his deputy, Dick, or his uncle, Alfred. Clark is barely even his friend. Right? Hardly even his friend. They don’t even get along.

Sweet Tooth gets knocked out quickly, but Bruce is shot twice, and Clark is a combination of angry and worried that would scream “he’s in love with you” to anyone with two working brain cells. Bruce has one and its working overtime.

“Bruce! Stop trying to throw yourself into the first open grave you can find and understand that there are people who care about you here!”

Bruce blinks. “Alfred?”

“No- well, yes, but- no! I- ugh- fuck it. And fuck you.” Clark storms back to the church. Bruce takes another three minutes to inwardly work through the idea that Clark cares about him and his single working brain cell finally makes the connection.

“Oh,” he says to himself.

Then he goes up to the church, cold stone and soft light, so very much like Clark- and he pins Clark to the wall and they make out in the confessional. It’s very brooding and emotional.

Bruce almost dies of blood loss, but like. It’s worth it.