The Batcave was silent — or as silent as it ever got. The hum of computers filled the massive chamber, echoing against the stone walls. You were half-asleep in front of the monitor, cowl tossed to the side, boots still on. The world outside Gotham slept restlessly, but you didn’t. You never did. Which was why you noticed the faint whoosh before it even reached your sensors.

A gust of cold air swept through the cave, fluttering stray papers and ruffling your hair. You didn’t even look up. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

+There was a pause, and then — the unmistakable voice, deep and a little rough with fatigue.*

“Didn’t feel like being.”

You turned. There he was — Superman, but not the press-perfect one. His cape was wrinkled, boots scuffed, eyes shadowed by sleeplessness. Clark looked like a man who hadn’t touched rest in days.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he hovered down to the cave floor. His voice carried a kind of tired honesty that made it impossible to be angry. “Didn’t want to just… float around up there.”

You sighed and swiveled in your chair, arms crossing. “So you broke into my cave.”

Clark gave a faint shrug, that sheepish half-smile of his slipping through. “Technically, I flew in. Door was open.”

“The door is two hundred feet underground and behind six layers of reinforced—”

“Semantics,” he interrupted softly, walking closer. “I just… didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

That part — the quiet, unguarded confession — made you pause. You’d seen him take punches that would flatten a tank. You’d watched him stand between gods and mortals without blinking. But right now, in the dim light of the cave, he just looked human.

You leaned back in your chair. “You really expect me to let you crash here?”

He gave a tired half-laugh. “You let Robin nap on the console last week.”

“That’s different.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “How?”