Batman walked into that room, and even if Batman hadn't been sagging his shoulders and pouting like there was no tomorrow, Superman would have been able to tell that Batman wasn't pleased. He stopped right behind Superman and growled, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Superman didn't answer. He didn't have to. Batman waited patiently like he was supposed to, and Superman got the time to finish up his report and tidy up before moving. Even then, it wasn't to address Batman. It was to walk to his private office where he and Bruce could talk, masks off. Or, masks off for Bruce, anyway. Batman followed him, silent as always, and no matter how many years pass, Superman still had to look behind him to make sure Batman was really there. He knew Batman enjoyed that, and Superman let him have that little pleasure. After all, Batman did need some positive reinforcement.

He walked into the office, the biggest one in the Watchtower, of course, and closed the door after Bruce entered. It was all mahogany wood and knickknacks, but it had the best view of earth. Bruce immediately shoved off his mask, something Superman was glad Batman did as an automatic response now, and snarled. "What were you thinking?"

Superman raised an eyebrow. "That isn't a very polite way to talk, Bruce."

"Does it matter?" Bruce lashed. "You put my son and that son of a bitch in the same room together! You know Nightwing! You know Deathstroke! Are you trying to get him killed? Are you trying to get him to kill himself?!"

"I'm going to wait for you to calm down, Bruce," Superman crossed his arms across his chest and relaxed his own muscles. He'd have to be patient. He knew this.

"Don't talk to me like a child, Superman," Bruce hissed. Clark could see the glisten of a Batarang in Bruce's hand, but he let it be for now. Worse comes to worse, it would join the others in the wall on the opposite side of the room. It was an improvement. Batman use to throw them at him. Sooner or later Superman would have to make sure that Batman didn't trow them at all, but that wasn't the important part right now.

Superman sighed. "I told you not to call me that," He said. "Not while it's just the two of us. And from what I heard, Nightwing is fairly familiar with Deathstroke. I found him the most suitable choice. Deathstroke is more likely to spill to Nightwing if he were to spill at all, and Nightwing might be able to catch things that we would miss. It is logical, is it not?"

Batman didn't answer. Not that Superman was expecting one. Superman just walked up to him and laughed, saying, "Unless that wasn't your concern?" Clark gave him a cheeky smile and patted Bruce's cheek twice. Bruce growled, but stayed silent. "Your sons are loyal to me, Bruce. Deathstroke shouldn't be a problem."

Batman huffed, but he knew better than to say something like, He might convince Nightwing, or, I'm not so sure about that, Because that would be like openly admitting Nightwing as a rebel. Superman was surprised that Batman had come up to him in the first place.

He passed Batman and sat down at his desk, pulling up the previous paperwork. "Is there anything else you need?"

Again, no answer, but Superman could hear a swish of his cape and the sound of the Batarang flinging through the air. And... That Batarang came too close to Superman's head for his liking. It passed him and joined the others on the wall. Superman acted quickly and within seconds he had Bruce pinned up against the wall, holding him by his neck. Batman's feet weren't touching the ground, but his hands grabbed at Superman's wrists and held himself up, holding his breath so he wouldn't gasp for air in Superman's tight grip. If Batman had just thrown it, Superman might have let it go. But that was too close to have just been a way to let out his anger. It was a sign of defiance, a way to say he didn't agree. Bruce's frown didn't come off.

"I told you to behave," Superman whispered, his voice low in a warning. "You'll get rid of that nasty throwing habit of yours by the end of the week. And I want an apology by the end of the day. Unless you're hiding something, there's no reason you should be so mad. Is that understood?"

Batman couldn't answer this time. Superman's fingers were pressing too hard to let him talk. But that didn't matter, Superman didn't need words to see Batman's subtle submission. The slight relaxation of his shoulders, the way his eyes barely flickered to the floor. Superman found it odd, how easily he could read Batman now, and yet sometimes not know what he was thinking at all.

"That's my boy," superman murmured, and slowly let Batman go. Batman growled. "Go along. You have paper work to finish."

Batman turned and left, an air of absolute haughtiness following him. Superman could only roll his eyes. He knew Batman would act like this the whole day. Act like he was... well, Batman. He also knew, sooner or later, more than likely at night, he would hear a soft voice from cities away. A soft voice that'd say, "I'm sorry," or something similar to that. Superman knew there was a sense of security, for Batman to say it when he couldn't see Superman, and Superman only found it amusing.

He continued his paper work. Despite the irony, one day Superman will be the only security that Batman will have.