Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Perpetually cloudy skies, crime-ridden streets, and an unknown masked vigilante stirring up panic among its citizens—Gotham was undoubtedly one of the worst places to raise a family. To put it simply, it was a dangerous place. The same could be said about Haly’s Circus, a travelling show featuring some of the most daring performances and stunts imaginable. Countless visitors filled the tent each night eager to experience the thrill of its perilous shows. Its main act boasted famed acrobatics duo, The Flying Graysons, a husband and wife team that dazzled audiences with their athleticism and skill. Mary and John Grayson were the pinnacle of the ideal American family–a pair that not only worked well together on stage, but also off the stage as parents to four-year old Dick Grayson, a confident and headstrong little boy who dreamed he would be as famous as them someday. He often watched their performance from behind the backstage curtain, carefully peeking through so he could be just as dazzled as everyone else.

When Haly’s Circus came to Gotham, Alfred Pennyworth–butler to Gotham's youngest billionaire, Bruce Wayne–suggested the two of them visit for a much needed break. After turning eighteen, Bruce had spent the entire year trying to convince the boards of Wayne Enterprises that he was more than just a spoiled socialite. Having a say in the activities and investments of Wayne Enterprises would allow him to use his fortune for good; Bruce didn’t want the Wayne name tied to the variety of crime syndicates or secret societies that already seemed to control much of Gotham’s elite. Still, he struggled to be seen as anything other than Thomas Wayne’s bratty son, a reputation he gained for his erratic and reckless behavior during his early teen years. Bruce’s psychiatrist, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, would argue that his behavior was rather predictable for someone who witnessed the brutal murder of their parents–that any kid would be just as impulsive and wild in an attempt to gain back a sense of control. Unfortunately, she didn’t know just how far Bruce would go until recently.

Because that masked vigilante haunting the city’s streets at night was none other than nineteen year old Bruce Wayne, donning a dark cape and cowl that struck fear into those who encountered him. He lurked in the shadows and appeared out of the quiet darkness, a nocturnal creature that preyed upon the criminals who seemed to always evade the law. After only a few months of this, word of Gotham’s “Batman” had spread across the tri-state area, dominating the news cycle—even bumping Metropolis’ new hero, Superman, out of first place for headlines. Bruce decided that if couldn’t influence change with Wayne Enterprises, he’d find other ways to do so.

What he didn’t expect was a third opportunity to create change presenting itself to him the night he attended Haly’s Circus. Under the hot stage lights and in front of the adoring crowd, tragedy struck; Bruce bore witness to the murder of The Flying Graysons. A shady assailant had sabotaged their performance, their trapeze ropes snapping and sending the duo to their untimely death. Screams of horror filled the audience, but Bruce sat there quietly, staring at a tiny pair of eyes peeking out from behind the curtain. He recognized the look in those eyes—the terror, the pain, the disbelief—for a moment it felt as though those were his own eyes reflected back at him. Even as police arrived and the audience was escorted outside of the tent, he stayed there and stared at those eyes looking back at him from behind the curtain.

As the Gotham City Police Department began to investigate the scene, Bruce lurked around the sidelines, trying to gather as much information as he could. He listened as Mr. Haly told the police of a threat he’d received on behalf of Tony Zucco, a powerful mobster responsible for much of Gotham’s organized crime. Mr. Haly failed to pay for Zucco’s “protection services”, and as payback, they murdered his top-selling act. Not only this, but Zucco’s actions left four-year-old Dick Grayson orphaned with no known relatives to take him in.

“If you need an additional witness statement, I’m happy to give one,” Bruce interjected as he approached newly appointed Police Commissioner Jim Gordon. He had first met Gordon as a police recruit on the night of his own parents’ murder; Officer Gordon seemed to be the only one with enough empathy to try and comfort him while he waited at the station. Bruce was thrilled to see him finally become Police Commissioner—after all, he believed Gordon may be one of the only members of law enforcement left that hadn’t been completely corrupted or bought off by one of Gotham’s malicious actors.

“Mr. Wayne,” Gordon greeted him solemnly as he stared at the scene before him, “I didn’t know you were in attendance tonight.”

“I saw the whole thing,” Bruce remarked dejectedly, “An unimaginable tragedy, really. Two lives lost so suddenly. And did I hear they had a child?”

Commissioner Gordon nodded. “That’s right,” he confirmed, “A little four-year-old. Name’s Richard, but he goes by ‘Dick’. Poor kid watched the whole thing happen, too; he’s in a car now being taken to the station for processing.”

“What will happen to him?” Bruce asked, trying to appear aloof, but Gordon noted the concern in his voice.

“He’s got no family,” Gordon remarked with a vigilant eye on Bruce, “Right now we’re still trying to determine if he’ll be sent to Gotham Orphanage or if he could be placed in the foster care system.”

Bruce refused to watch another orphan be placed into a broken system. In the years since his father had passed, Gotham Orphanage had become a shell of the home it once was–decrepit facilities and meager resources to care for the children who lived there. It was one of the things he desperately sought to reform after gaining more control over Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation. The foster care system in Gotham had its problems, too; there were too many children and not enough sponsor families, and many children were placed in homes with overcrowded, subpar conditions or with people not fit to look after them. Bruce saw a piece of himself in Dick Grayson, but more than that, he finally saw an opportunity to create change and help someone who desperately needed it.

“What would the process look like if I were to take the boy in?” Bruce asked Gordon, a serious and determined look on his face.

Commissioner Gordon sighed as he looked back at him—he could read him like an open book, and knew this situation brought up a lot of emotions for him. He wanted to believe Bruce was approaching this from a rational, level-headed perspective, but he knew that wasn’t true. “Bruce, I want you to stop and really think about what you’re asking,” Gordon cautioned him, “Taking care of a child is a big responsibility. A traumatized one even moreso–”

“I know what it’s like to be a traumatized child,” Bruce interrupted him with fierce stubbornness.

“Exactly,” Gordon countered, “Don’t you think the kid would be better off with someone a little older—someone with more experience? Someone with…with a more stable upbringing and life than yours.”

Bruce didn’t like what Commissioner Gordon was insinuating. He sounded just like everyone else who wrote him off as a spoiled, irresponsible kid. Something within Bruce knew that he was right about this choice. “With my financial resources, that child will be better off than with anyone else in Gotham,” he argued, “He’ll be given a life incomparable to anything he’d have in an orphanage or a foster home. He’ll have access to the top schools and tutors, the best food and medicine, as many toys and games as he could ever want–”

“What about his emotional needs, Bruce?” Gordon stopped him, a stern look on his face, “The kid needs a stable place to grow up, someone around who can support him.”

Bruce let out a deep sigh, then stared back at Commissioner Gordon with a desperate—yet determined—look in his eyes. “I need this, Jim,” Bruce pleaded, “I know I can do right by him.”

Commissioner Gordon wasn’t sure exactly what Bruce had said that convinced him to agree to letting him take in Dick. Perhaps it was the truth that Bruce could provide a better life for him than anyone else in Gotham, or that he had a unique understanding of the boy’s trauma due to his own experiences. Or maybe, deep down, he knew that Bruce needed to look after someone to finally heal himself. Throughout the next couple of days, he personally helped facilitate the adoption process to officially move Dick into Bruce’s care.

A month had passed since Dick had been relinquished to Wayne Manor. At first, Bruce thought it was going great—he’d refurbished one of the bedrooms into a little boy’s dream room, complete with a racecar bed, bright, colorful walls with shelves full of books and trinkets, and a giant toy chest with all the hottest kids’ toys packed into it. He was eating just fine—mostly chips, but Bruce figured it was fine as long as he ate something. He took him on several outings around town—the park, the beach, the movies—all the things he enjoyed doing with his parents at that age. Yet Bruce quickly realized he was in over his head trying to juggle his pursuit of leadership with Wayne Enterprises, his vigilantism as Batman, and parenting a four-year-old kid, especially when that kid was starting to become unruly.

Bruce thought he was doing a good job, but in reality, Dick was often left alone or in Alfred’s care when Bruce had meetings or work to do, as well as at night when he ventured out as Batman. Everything was brand new to him; the vast, empty halls of Wayne Manor made Dick feel even more alone and scared as he tried to adjust to his new life. Bruce kept remembering back to when he was suddenly orphaned—how quickly he learned independence and how to take care of himself—and failed to understand how different an eight-year-old’s capabilities for independence were from a four-year-old’s. Dick wasn’t even in school yet, and still needed a lot of attention, more attention than Bruce had the capacity to give him.

Alfred suggested the idea of hiring a nanny, but Bruce continuously struggled to find someone he approved of that was willing to put up with Dick’s increasingly rowdy and disobedient behavior, especially for the bratty nineteen-year-old who decided to adopt a kid without knowing the first thing about parenting. Those who applied for the assignment were either too militaristic or permissive, and Bruce worried he’d have to give up his pursuit of vigilante justice and power over Wayne Enterprises to give Dick his undivided attention.

However, he finally had an “in” with one of Wayne Enterprises—-WayneTech, to be exact. The board had caught news of his adoption of Dick and, inspired by this unexpected move towards responsibility and accountability, decided to invite Bruce to join them at a press meeting with The Gotham Gazette . He eagerly accepted their invitation to show them that he was invested in his father’s legacy, and could be taken seriously despite his age and past behavior.

Bruce thought it’d be a good idea to bring Dick along with him to the conference; the board seemed to eat up his new role as an adoptive father, so he figured the press would do just the same. He did not consider how a press interview for a tech company may not be an appropriate place for a child, especially one with so many behavioral issues. Throughout the interview, Bruce was constantly chasing Dick around the room in an attempt to get him to sit still. Once he confined him to a secure spot on his lap, Dick interrupted the interviewer about a hundred times, asking irrelevant questions and sending the WayneTech board into shambles. By the end of the interview, Bruce believed there was no way for the board’s opinion of him to be any lower. That is, until, the next day, when the article from their interview came out and dragged Bruce through the mud for his inability to be a responsible parent. WayneTech intended for the interview to cover their newest releases and reestablish faith in the brand, but the article did the exact opposite, and WayneTech’s stock dropped shortly after its release.

Bruce’s chances at leadership on the board were destroyed, and he wondered how he’d ever get his life together when it seemed that each time he pursued change “the right way”, it backfired on him tenfold. Why was the world such a cruel and confusing place? Worst of all, he began to realize just how much he’d neglected Dick’s needs. He only wanted to do the “fun” things with him, not understanding that being a parent meant being there for the bad times too. That night, he decided to put up the cape and cowl and instead spend some time with him. It was then that he realized how lonely Dick really was—how he was afraid to sleep because his nightmares were so intense, how he still cried every night trying to cope with the loss of his parents and the extreme life changes he’d endured over the past month. Bruce never left his side that night, vowing to work harder to provide the comfort and care that Dick really deserved.

WayneTech’s Board of Directors said that the company was off limits to him until he could prove he was responsible and reliable. Bruce decided the first step to restoring his image would be damage control, and set up a personal interview with the Gazette’s rival newspaper, The Daily Planet, to prove he could handle himself.

Chapter Text

The bustling office space home to Metropolis’ favorite newspaper, The Daily Planet , was full of frenzied reporters and stressed out editors prepping for an unprecedented personal interview with Gotham’s youngest billionaire, Bruce Wayne. As he was known for avoiding press and rarely gave interviews, the staff at The Planet were eager for their unusual opportunity to get up-close and personal with Mr. Wayne—especially after his disaster of an interview with The Gazette. Not only was this a chance to learn more about Bruce Wayne, but it was also a chance to secure a victory against their rival paper. After all, The Gazette being headquartered in Gotham meant easier access to best-selling stories about the famous “Batman”. The Planet had been struggling to keep up with their competitor even with several stories about Metropolis’ own hero, Superman.

This was even more frustrating for nineteen-year-old intern Clark Kent, who secretly donned the bright red cape and took up the mantle of Superman, vowing to be Metropolis’ great protector. His goal was to use his newly discovered powers to help folks in the big city whenever they needed him—assisting the police with capturing criminals, saving citizens from sudden disasters, rescuing cats from trees—Clark believed he was sent to Earth to do good for the world. But Clark also knew he could do just as much good as a private citizen, and dreamed he would one day become a world famous journalist known for providing truth and fact amidst a sea of sensationalism and disinformation. Seeing stories boasting a rumor about a mysterious “Batman” in Gotham annoyed him greatly; to him, that wasn’t news, but speculation. That air time and those headlines could have been dedicated to highlighting some actual news—the mayoral race in Gotham, the allegations of illegal trading directed at Lexcorp—something other than a rumor about some loser scaring off a few petty criminals in the next town over.

But for now, Clark was still just a meagerly paid intern, doing grunt work and shadowing the senior reporters knowing that his dreams of being a world-renowned journalist wouldn’t be realized for years. Fielding phone inquiries, spending hours on monotonous data entry, doing coffee runs for each of the reporters; Clark’s job would be almost unbearable if not for the other two interns, Jimmy and Lois. The three of them suffered through the grunt work together, forming a unique bond that made each of their days a little brighter. Jimmy was a bubbly and energetic guy who was always keeping them up-to-date on the latest social media scandals and trends, a much needed resource for Clark who—being a country boy from a small town in Kansas—was continuously out of the loop on contemporary pop culture. Lois, on the other hand, was the group’s level-headed skeptic, always questioning the motives behind every actor in a story or scandal and applying her naturally analytical lens to each article that was published. Many of the senior reporters praised her for her sharp wit and critical eye; she was certainly their favorite.

The three of them made an odd but well-balanced trio, working together harmoniously at The Planet and enjoying each others’ company outside of work too. After their long days at work, the group would blow off steam going out to eat at cheap diners or binge watching trash TV at Clark and Jimmy’s apartment. Clark was happy to have made such a strong connection with the two of them since moving to Metropolis a year ago—though he kept his secret identity as Superman hidden from them, it was nice to have friends he knew he could rely on.

This was especially true when Bruce Wayne arrived that afternoon at The Planet , Jimmy quickly filling Clark in on Bruce’s lore as the three of them watched the other staff fawn over him from a distance. “You’ve probably seen at least one or two articles about him over the last few years,” Jimmy prattled on, “Going on week long benders in Rome at just sixteen, sneaking into Gotham’s nightclubs with a fake ID, skinny dipping in the big fountain in Metro Square–”

“That was him?” Clark interrupted in disbelief, “And now this guy wants us to write a story about how responsible he is?”

Lois sighed as they watched Bruce schmooze with their editor, Perry. “I’d cut the guy some slack if I were you…” she cautioned the two of them, “...it’s easy to sit here and judge him for his actions, but remember–he’s the same age as the three of us. Wasn’t it just last week that we found you passed out on the bathroom floor after one two many vodka sodas, Jimmy?”

Jimmy gagged. “Ugh, don’t say ‘vodka soda’…”

Clark gazed over to Bruce with deep focus; he seemed so polished and sophisticated, yet Clark saw right past that. When he looked at Bruce, he saw another kid just like him—someone who was still figuring out who they were and trying to find their place in the world. Someone who was trying their best to become a better person and make the world a better place. He couldn’t understand the high expectations people had for Bruce when he still had to ask his boss permission to use the bathroom. Why was it so important for this kid to be seen as a responsible, level-headed adult? Why wasn't he allowed to be a normal teen?

Then Clark watched as a tiny pair of eyes lit up the moment they saw his face. A wave of panic washed over Bruce as Dick Grayson let go of his hand and hurriedly ran up to Clark, excitedly gripping the leg of his pants as Clark stared back down at him in surprise.

“Superman!” Dick shouted excitedly. 

Clark's heart sank in his chest, his face turning bright red as he believed this kid had just blown his cover. Thankfully that moment didn't last long.

“I want to see Superman!” Dick demanded from Clark, tugging at his pant leg in hopes that his plea would be taken seriously.

Bruce quickly pushed through a few reporters and stumbled by as he pulled Dick away from Clark. “You can’t just run up to strangers like that!” he scolded. He looked back up to Clark with a half-defeated expression on his face. “You’ll have to forgive him–ever since I told him we were visiting Metropolis, he’s been hoping we’d run into the famous ‘Superman’ while we’re here.”

“No need to apologize,” Clark quickly assured him, an awkward laugh escaping from him as he did so. Just a moment ago he was examining Bruce from a safe distance; now, one of the most powerful men in the tri state area was standing in front of him and apologizing. He then looked down at the kid who was boldly resisting every attempt Bruce made to wrangle him. This child wasn’t his—was he? It would certainly explain his headstrong and brazen behavior. He smiled and squatted down to make eye contact with Dick. “I’m actually a big Superman fan myself—even interviewed him a couple of times recently.”

Dick’s eyes lit up in amazement. “Really?!” he gasped in shock, a big grin on his face, “You know Superman?!”

“Uh, well—” Clark mumbled, not really sure how to answer that question. It didn’t matter much anyway; Dick continued rambling on and on about Superman and his powers, only about half of what he was saying coming out in any intelligible way. Clark could tell that Dick was eager to finally have someone who would listen to him.

“C’mon, kid,” Bruce interrupted him, gently patting his shoulder to draw his attention back to him, “I’m sure this nice man has a lot of work to do.”

Clark could see the disappointment in Dick's eyes. At last the kid had found someone who listened with open ears, only to be pulled away like he was some kind of burden. He couldn't get mad at Bruce for it, though; one look at the guy and you'd think he'd fall apart. Dark circles under his eyes, a mix of panic and exhaustion on his face, desperately trying to keep Dick out of trouble by controlling his every move—Bruce Wayne was simply doing too much. Again, Clark was stunned by their similarities in age. He felt like he'd only just begun his life, and here was Bruce nearly drowning trying to get his back on track.

“Nonsense!” shouted Perry as he rushed over to the scene. “I'm sure Clark would be more than happy to watch the kid while you do your interview, Mr. Wayne!”

“I would?” Clark asked in confusion, receiving a disapproving glare from Perry and quickly recalibrating his response, “I mean—I would .”

Bruce quickly intervened. “No, that's alright. You don't have to; you seem like a busy man.”

“Clark? Busy?” Perry interjected sarcastically, letting out a small laugh, “He's just an intern. He's got all the time in the world!”

Clark knelt back down and smiled again at Dick. “I don't mind—I’ve actually got some videos of Superman on my phone we could watch.”

Bruce watched as Dick excitedly ran back over to Clark, who began scrolling through the photos and videos on his phone and talking about each one with Dick. He hesitated for a moment; he didn't feel comfortable leaving Dick with a complete stranger. Yet, something about Clark seemed so trustworthy and honest, like he was genuinely happy to be spending his time watching Dick. Not only this, but Dick seemed to have a strong affinity for him, having no trouble sitting still and remaining calm as the two of them discussed their shared interest in Superman. He felt a little bad for interrupting Clark's workday, but supposed it was a nice break from whatever grunt work he normally did. “Alright then…” Bruce replied apprehensively, “...if you're sure. But if something comes up, please—come and get me right away.”

Lois and Jimmy stood off to the side in disbelief as Clark sat on the floor with Dick and watched videos with him on his phone. “Talk about being in the right place at the right time,” Jimmy noted as the two of them returned to their work. They were both a little jealous that Clark not only got to kick back and relax with an easy task, but also gained the attention of the famous Bruce Wayne. Clark was just happy to be doing something actually helpful at his job for once; he could tell that Bruce needed some assistance with keeping Dick out of trouble, and that Dick needed someone who could give him his full attention. As he sat there and looked down at Dick captivated by a video of Superman flying, he felt an unusual sense of fulfilment—it was amazing to know he could have this kind of impact on the lives of others.

Some time went by before Clark heard the doors to the interview room opening, Perry, Bruce, and a few senior reporters exiting with boisterous laughter and confident smiles on their faces. A wave of relief washed over him; the interview was a  success. He gently nudged Dick with his elbow and pointed over to Bruce. “It looks like your boss is back.”

Dick excitedly got up and ran over to Bruce. “Did you know Superman can see through walls?” he asked him with a big grin on his face.

“Oh really?” Bruce asked, glancing over to Clark who was slowly getting up off the floor and dusting himself off, “It sounds like you two had a lot of fun.”

Clark nodded, “Of course, Mr. Wayne,” he acknowledged with a nervous smile, “If you want, I’d be happy to send you a few of the videos I have on my phone for the two of you to watch later—”

“What are you doing for dinner?” Bruce interrupted him with an air of smug authority, “I’d like to repay you for taking the time out of your workday to watch him.”

Clark stood there in silence for a second, a little caught off guard by Bruce’s offer. How did he seem so generous and so entitled at the same time? “Oh, uh—I’m not sure if…” he began to mumble, interrupted by a barrage of texts on his phone from Jimmy and Lois telling him to “SAY YES” and “DO ITTTTT” in all caps. “...Well, I guess I don’t have any plans—”

“Great,” Bruce interjected confidently, “What was your name again? Clark…?”

“ Kent ,” Clark informed him, perplexed by his nonchalant forwardness, “My name is Clark Kent. My shift ends in an hour, but like Perry said, I’m just an intern. I do odd jobs like this all the time—”

“Well, then you should be rewarded for all your hard work,” Bruce replied with a cool smile, “I’ll send a car to come pick you up in an hour.” He waved a simple goodbye and grabbed Dick’s hand, beginning to walk out of The Planet’s offices with him. “Clark is going to eat dinner with us, isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!” Dick shouted back as they walked off.

Once the two of them were out of sight, Lois and Jimmy questioned Clark in a frenzy. “Dude—what was that!” Jimmy prattled on in shock, “I mean, can you believe Bruce Wayne just invited you out to dinner? You. A nobody from Smallville who doesn’t even know what TikTok is.”

“Uh-huh,” Clark responded, still in somewhat of a daze after that interaction with Bruce. How did things escalate to dinner so quickly? Did Bruce really mean it when he said he wanted to repay him, or did he just want to show off? Surely Bruce didn’t pity him, did he?

“It was really sweet what you did for that kid,” Lois complimented him, “Come to think of it, he’s probably alone for so much of the day, and I doubt Mr. Wayne provides much in the way of companionship.” 

“Then why would he decide to have a kid?” Clark asked in confusion, “And surely the kid’s mother is around?”

Jimmy groaned and shook his head, then dropped his face into his hands in frustration. “I can’t believe this guy…”

“That kid isn’t his…” Lois explained, pausing for a moment to adjust her wording, “...Mr. Wayne recently adopted him after the boy’s parents were in an accident. A lot of people are skeptical of his ability to take care of a child considering the type of behavior he’s displayed in the past.”

“I see,” Clark responded, a serious expression looming on his face. No wonder Bruce seemed out of his element; he was probably exhausted from trying to adjust to life with a four-year old. 

Lois smiled and gave him a soft punch on the shoulder, trying to break him out of his suddenly solemn mood. “C’mon Smallville, lighten up,” she beamed, “This is a great opportunity to rub elbows with a powerful person. I’d be thrilled to go to dinner with someone like him.”

“Yeah, well any guy would be lucky to have dinner with you, Lois,” Clark beamed back, that genuine compliment leaving his lips so effortlessly and earnestly. Lois blushed as she turned back to her work.

…

At the end of the workday, the three of them walked out of the building together to find a posh black car idling in the loading zone in front of the building. “Guess that’s my ride,” Clark remarked as he waved goodbye to Lois and Jimmy. They reminded him to send them frequent updates in the group chat and giggled with excitement as he got into the car and rode off. As he looked out the car window from the backseat, he realized how seldom he got the chance to view Metropolis’ streets from the inside of a car, especially one so nice. It was simple luxuries like this that made him reconsider going public with his Superman persona, just for the added income he could generate with it. But he reminded himself that keeping his life as Clark Kent a secret from others provided him and those he cared about with an extra layer of security from any enemies Superman might create, and quickly chased this idea out of his head.

The car arrived in front of an upscale sushi restaurant Clark had passed by a few times while visiting the nicer coffee shop the senior reporters occasionally sent him to for drinks. There was almost always a line forming out the door just to get in, reservations often being made several weeks in advance for a good table. However, Clark noted that it seemed relatively dead for a Friday night, and as he walked up to the door, began wondering if the place was even open. But as he walked inside, he saw Bruce and Dick sitting together at a space off to the side, the table already full with various delicacies, a waiter inconspicuously standing nearby ready for any request or question they may have. It was at this point that Clark realized Bruce had bought out the entire restaurant for the evening. He vigilantly walked over to the table and greeted them.

“So you decided to join us after all,” Bruce remarked as he gestured over to an empty chair, “Please, sit. Order whatever you'd like.”

Something about Bruce's nonchalance made Clark a little uneasy; it was almost intimidating. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne—”

“Call me Bruce,” he insisted, pausing to take a sip of his icewater, “It kind of sounds weird to hear someone my age refer to me so formally.”

Clark nodded. “Sure, Bruce…” he replied stiffly, still a little uncomfortable with Bruce's casualness. In fact, the whole situation made him feel terribly out of place. He scanned the table to see a wide variety of dishes—nigiri, yakisoba, veggie tempura to name a few. Their original, well-balanced presentations were all disturbed in some way, small bite marks taken out of a few pieces and indentations from a pair of chopsticks damaging a few spots. He looked up to see Dick enthusiastically picking up everything with his chopsticks, taking bites of food and putting back anything he didn't immediately want to finish. Clark looked back over to Bruce with an even more puzzled expression.

“My butler taught him how to use chopsticks a week ago,” Bruce explained, “And now he only wants to eat with chopsticks.”

“Oh…” Clark responded as he looked back over to Dick, trying to find the silver lining in it,  “...well, at least he's getting in a variety of foods?”

Bruce dropped his head down onto the table in defeat. “What am I doing ?” he grumbled.

Clark didn't think it was possible, but the situation had somehow become even more uncomfortable. One of the most powerful people in the tri state area was now stuck in a trap of self-loathing as Clark awkwardly joined him for dinner. Despite the absurdity of it all, Clark did truly feel for Bruce; he didn't know that much about him, but he could tell he was going through it. He gave him an encouraging pat on the back. “You're doing your best,” he assured him.

Bruce was caught off guard by Clark's gentleness; it was the first time in a while that someone besides Alfred had shown him such kindness. As he looked back up at him, he realized he didn't really have many friends his age, especially ones who weren't stuck-up socialites. “Yeah…” he quietly agreed as he gathered his bearings, “...sorry about that, by the way. I'm not sure why I said that. I guess you're just easy to talk to—I know the kid feels that way.”

Dick excitedly waved to Clark as he continued to experiment with his food.

“I'm glad I can be of some help,” Clark remarked with a smile, “You seem like you're dealing with a lot.”

Bruce nodded but said nothing further on the subject. “I suppose you want to eat something that hasn't been ruined by a four-year-old’s chopsticks,” he continued, “Please—order as much as you'd like. I know your boss sort of forced you into it, but I'm still really grateful for your help today.”

“It was no problem at all,” Clark insisted, taking a look at the menu, “I actually had a lot of fun. Made me look cool in front of the other interns, too.”

Bruce watched as the wait staff quickly brought Clark a fresh bowl of udon, Clark excitedly taking a big sip from the bowl as he enjoyed its warmth and flavor. “How did you get so good with kids?” Bruce asked him, a little jealous that keeping Dick’s interest and attention seemed so easy for him.

“I used to do a lot of babysitting back home,” Clark explained, “I grew up in a small town, so there weren't a whole lot of options for summer jobs. Luckily my Ma had an in with most of the other moms in the neighborhood, so once I turned thirteen, I spent a good chunk of my time watching people's kids. At first I just wanted some cash to spend while out with my friends, but I also saved up some of it for school.”

“School?” Bruce asked him, “So do you attend Metro U?”

Clark shook his head. “No, most of the money I saved went into moving to Metropolis and paying my rent,” he admitted, “That's why I'm working at The Planet. The money isn't great, but it's good work experience. Plus, every year they have an employee contest for a journalism scholarship—whoever wins gets money for a year's worth of tuition. I'm hoping to find a good enough story to win this year's contest. Submissions aren't due for another nine months, so I've got plenty of time.”

Just then, Dick began to get restless at the table, looking around to find something to entertain him. Clark quickly noticed this and picked up his chopsticks, sticking them underneath his upper lip and pretending to be a walrus to make Dick laugh. It was wildly successful. As Bruce watched the two of them go back and forth, an idea—fueled by exhaustion, desperation, and a stroke of genius—quickly came into his head. 

“Clark,” he began in an energetic yet serious tone, “Come work for me.”

Clark nearly choked on his drink. “What?”

“You're right—I am dealing with a lot. I’ve been looking for someone to help me with the kid, but I haven't had any luck so far. But you're great with him, and he likes you. So, come work for me in Gotham, and I'll let you write a piece about me for your scholarship contest, an expose on my life that no other journalist has even come close to getting.”

It was one of the most unusual offers Clark had ever received, and completely unexpected. His day started off like any other, and now the famous Bruce Wayne was asking him to watch his kid? “Wow…” Clark sputtered, almost speechless, “... that's, certainly an idea—”

“I know it sounds a little unorthodox,” Bruce continued with fierce determination, “It would just be a six month assignment. Of course, you'll need to move to Gotham, but I'll cover your rent here in Metropolis so you won't break your lease. There's plenty of room for you at Wayne Manor—we can add any furniture that you want, too. Oh, and I'll pay for you to attend Gotham University part-time online so you can get a head start on your classes. Then at the end of those six months, you’ll have a great piece for the contest, some money saved up, and a head start on your education.”

Clark struggled with the idea of leaving Metropolis; after all, he'd just gotten there a little over a year ago after finishing high school. Lois and Jimmy were in Metropolis too—leaving them would be hard. And looking after a four-year-old was a much bigger responsibility than answering phones and proofing the gossip column. Still, it was undeniably a good offer, and Clark longed to do something with a real impact. He looked back over to Dick, now getting sleepy and struggling to keep his eyes open at the table. Clark thought about their time together today; the look on the kid's face while they bonded over Superman was very sweet, and he knew this kid deserved to have someone there for him when Bruce couldn't be. “You make a great point,” Clark conceded, “I'm having a hard time thinking of a reason to say ‘no’.”

“So say 'yes',” Bruce replied with a smooth smile. He knew he was asking a lot of Clark, someone he barely knew, but Bruce’s intuition was sound on this one. Clark just seemed to click with the two of them, and at this point Bruce was willing to do just about anything to improve his situation.

Dick lethargically got up from his seat and walked over to Bruce, gently grasping his blazer as he fell forward into his lap. “B, I'm tired…” he yawned.

Bruce picked him up and held him in his lap, letting Dick rest his head on his shoulder as he began to nod off. Clark was surprised to see this softer side of Bruce; it felt oddly intimate and personal, something that most people never witnessed. It was oddly intriguing, the type of thing that would certainly make a good story. “I guess that's my cue,” Bruce told Clark as he slowly stood up from the table. “You don't have to give me an answer now, but–”

“I'm in,” Clark interrupted him, a self-assured grin on his face, “When should I start?”

Bruce was a little caught off guard by Clark's sudden eagerness, but was hopeful that Clark would help him get his life back on track. “Monday?” he asked him, “I know that doesn’t give you much time, but as you’ve probably noticed, I’m desperate. I can have my team send you the paperwork this evening.”

Clark agreed and walked them out, waving goodbye to a sleepy Dick Grayson as they got in their car and left. Clark decided to skip his own ride home and walk back to his apartment; he had a lot to think about. Discussing the assignment with Perry, explaining everything to Lois and Jimmy, packing up his things and moving out of the city—there was a lot to be done. But Clark smiled knowing he'd soon be making a difference in the lives of two new friends.

Chapter Text

An untouched cup of coffee sitting to the side on a table. A pair of Louboutin heels tapping impatiently on the marble floor. An uncomfortable silence persisting throughout the halls of the Vreeland Estate. Bruce sat there calmly as Veronica stared him down, trying to find the right words to express her feelings towards him.

Veronica Vreeland was another young socialite, the daughter of Army General Vernon Vreeland and granddaughter of the great Stanton Vreeland, powerful and influential men who played significant roles in Gotham's elite social circles. Veronica was a party girl, happily living off of her trust fund and often throwing wild and lavish parties at her family's estate. She and Bruce had been dating off and on since their teen years, an expected outcome considering she was one of the few people in his wealthy social circles that was around his age. Veronica liked Bruce's good looks and charm, always pushing him to let loose and have fun just to see him smile. Bruce just liked that Veronica was there; she was one of the few constants in his life, and her familiarity was a comfort. Dating her seemed like the logical choice to make—she was gorgeous, classy, and fit the lifestyle of Gotham's wealthy elite. Some had suspected that their current fling would become more serious given how they've both reached adulthood, whispers of a potential marriage following their names each time one was mentioned. That was about to change.

“So this is a permanent thing, then…” she inquired, “...you're not just watching the kid temporarily until you find a better home for him?”

“I’m the best home for him,” Bruce maintained, “And I don't understand why you're punishing me for doing the right thing, Ronnie.”

“The right thing for you, Bruce,” she replied, trying to be understanding but reasonably upset with his response. Veronica wanted to enjoy her youth, sleeping in all day and spending the nights dancing out on the town or having wild parties at her estate. The last thing she wanted right now was to be tied down by children, and she thought Bruce wanted the same. Just a month ago, she was happily spending her time picturing their future life together, and now she was breaking things off. Or at least she was trying to. “I’m happy that you made the right choice for yourself, but it's not something I want to be a part of. I'm not ready for that level of responsibility.”

Bruce hadn't considered how adopting Dick would impact her. He didn't think it would change that much in their relationship —it wasn't like they were living together or anything. Still, he was afraid of what would happen if they broke things off permanently, trying to protect himself from another loss even though he knew they weren't right for each other. Bruce stood up from his chair and sauntered over to her, grabbing her hand in his and kissing it adoringly as she tried to not give into his charm. “I'm still the same person I was a month ago,” he said through his smile, “Surely you're not telling me this is the last I'll see of you?”

Veronica turned away from him at first, but she couldn't hide the smile creeping up on her lips as she tried to ignore him. “I'm not saying that…” she conceded, looking back up at him with a playful grin, “...I just think—maybe we should cool things off for a while? Take a step back, or…I don't know—”

“Whatever you say, Ronnie,” Bruce interrupted her, leaning in and planting a kiss on her sweet, rosy lips. He didn't feel any relief when she kissed him back; he knew this solution was only temporary. But keeping her in his life for now was better than facing the inevitable outcome of her leaving him.

…

It was a brisk Monday morning in Metropolis, the sun just poking over the horizon and peeking through a few thin clouds. As a car pulled up to take him off to Gotham, Clark looked over to Lois and Jimmy, the two of them staring back at him wistfully as he grabbed his suitcases. It was a big change for them to cope with, and they didn't have much time to process it. Clark had been an integral part of their trio, and they knew life in Metropolis wouldn't feel the same without him. “Don't look at me with those puppy dog eyes,” Clark told them as his heart began to ache, “I'll only be gone for six months. I'll be back by the start of spring. And I'm only just across the bay; I'll come visit a bunch, even if I have to put up with commuter traffic!”

“You’d better, Clark,” Jimmy told him in a stern voice, “You're lucky Mr. Wayne agreed to pay our rent for the next six months. Otherwise, I'd be pissed.”

Clark looked over to Lois, standing there quietly as she stared down at the ground, looking as if she had something to say but was struggling to do so. Jimmy quickly picked up on this and offered to help Clark load his bags into the car, giving them a moment alone together to say goodbye. It was obvious she had a crush on him—obvious to everyone except Clark, of course, who just figured she was just sad to be losing another friend. “Look on the bright side,” he said, trying to cheer her up, “With me gone, you won't have any competition for favorite intern.”

Lois chuckled at Clark's statement. “Hah! Like you were any kind of competition,” she sarcastically replied as she rolled her eyes, “I'll miss that sense of humor.” 

“Maybe once I'm all settled, we can get dinner sometime?” he asked her, a warm smile on his face. Lois has always been a good friend to him, and since he wouldn't see her for a while, he figured it was worth finding out if they could be anything more. She was pretty, confident, and had a bold attitude; it seemed like a no-brainer to ask her out on a date.

“I'd like that,” Lois replied, blushing as she smiled back at him. 

Clark gave his friends one last hug before getting in the car and heading off. His stomach turned with anxiety and uncertainty; saying goodbye to Lois and Jimmy made him start to regret his choice to take this assignment at Wayne Manor. He knew it would be lonely there, but he also knew he'd have a positive impact on both Bruce and Dick’s lives by doing this. It felt good to be able to help people as Clark Kent, not just as Superman.

Clark thought the driver was joking when he told him they’d arrived at Wayne Manor. Besides his butler and Dick, Bruce Wayne lived alone—and surely no one could spend their life alone in such a big house. The old, prestigious complex almost felt like its own miniature city, private roads wrapping around the estate and the manor itself standing proudly amidst the white cedar trees that surrounded it. He hurried over to the front door and stood under the awning to escape the pouring rain, something he’d have to get used to while living in Gotham. Before he could even think to knock, the front door swung open, an older, refined gentleman quickly guiding Clark inside and helping him bring his things in.

“Please come in Mr. Kent,” Alfred greeted him, grabbing his coat from him as they stood in the foyer, “Apologies for not meeting you at the car; Master Wayne is out at the moment, and I’ve been keeping an eye on Master Dick. I’m very grateful that you’re here.”

Clark glanced around the room—impeccably clean, well-decorated, and high class—except for a variety of toys randomly scattered about. Though he had plenty of space for them in his bedroom, for some reason Dick enjoyed leaving his toys all around the manor like a little maniac. “Well, I hope I can be of some help,” Clark responded, noting the exhaustion in Alfred’s voice. He held his hand out to him with a kind smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Alfred returned his handshake and introduced himself. “I'm sure you're eager to get settled,” he told Clark, gesturing to him to follow him upstairs, “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

As he entered his new bedroom, he stood there dumbfounded as he tried to grasp just how wealthy a person would need to be to have a room like this be the guest’s quarters. It was almost as big as the entire studio apartment he shared with Jimmy, and had twice the amount of furniture. At its entrance stood a small nook to hang his coats and shoes, immediately followed by a small sitting area fitted with a navy velvet loveseat and marble coffee table. Across from that was a sleek flat-screen TV mounted up against the wall alongside a built-in entertainment center, a place he could watch the news each morning to stay up-to-date on the latest stories. Further back was a simple wooden writing desk and chair, sitting just underneath a tall gothic window so he could enjoy the gentle tapping of rain as he did his work. In a separate section off to the right was the bed, framed in dark walnut and covered in an array of expensive blankets and linens to keep him warm in the upcoming winter months. A door near the bed led into the ensuite bathroom, tiled in slate gray stone and featuring a state of the art shower and soaking tub. The vanity featured an array of expensive soaps, scented candles, and plush towels, everything he needed to wind down at the end of a long day.

“I’ll give you a tour of the estate once you’re settled,” Alfred told him as Clark looked around in disbelief, “But for now, you should take a moment to decompress and unpack.”

As soon as Alfred left, Clark immediately pulled out his phone to video call Jimmy and Lois. Each of them answered with concerned faces. It had only been a few hours since they last saw each other—was Clark already that homesick? But as they saw his wide-eyed smile staring back at them, they knew they were in for a treat. “You guys aren’t going to believe this,” Clark excitedly told them, showing them every piece of his new room as they watched in awe.

“This can’t be real,” Lois commented in disbelief.

“I hate you,” Jimmy told him.

Clark laughed as they gave their feedback on each little piece of decor—how they liked the old architecture of the building, how they thought the persian rugs were a little tacky, how each of them would start and end each day if they lived in that bedroom. Even virtually, it was nice to have the two of them there with him to help him process the change.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at his door and quickly ended their call, a little embarrassed to be caught gushing over his new living space. Clark turned around to find Bruce standing in his doorway, leaning up against the wooden doorframe and gazing back at him with a confident smirk. His tall and muscular figure was accentuated by the perfectly tailored charcoal suit he wore, his sharp features and intense hazel eyes creating a uniquely alluring yet intimidating aura around him. His long hair was neatly brushed back, and a hint of expensive cologne lingered on his skin. Despite being well-groomed, he still looked like he wasn’t getting enough sleep. “Sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time,” Bruce began, “I meant to be here when you arrived, but I got caught up in something else. Guess I’m not a very good boss.”

Clark smiled back at him. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Wayne—”

“I thought I asked you to call me Bruce,” he interjected.

“Oh, right,” Clark mumbled, a little flustered by Bruce’s response, “I guess it just feels a little weird to call my boss by their first name. I mean, what would other people think if they heard me refer to you as ‘Bruce’?”

“You make a good point,” Bruce conceded with a sigh, “Then when we’re around others, call me ‘Mr. Wayne’. But when we’re alone, I’d really prefer it if you called me ‘Bruce’.”

Clark noted how Bruce's tone was different with him than others; it was unusually familiar and personal, but it felt almost natural, something he attributed to their similarities in age. “Okay, Bruce,” he replied with a sheepish grin.

Bruce glanced around Clark’s bedroom, a soft smile on his face. “I hope this will be fine for you,” he added, “I made sure to have them put a writing desk in here for you, but I wasn’t sure what else you’d need. Do you have any hobbies? I can find some space for anything else you'd like to have.”

“No, this is perfect,” Clark assured him, “I normally don’t have a lot of free time, to be honest. Most of my time outside of work is spent sleeping or catching up on housework.” It was also spent responding to emergencies as Superman, but Clark conveniently left that out.

“I see,” Bruce nodded, “Well, I wanted to thank you again for taking this assignment, especially on such short notice. I know our arrangement is unusual, but I’m glad you’re here.”

That rush of fulfillment and purpose flooded within Clark again, excited to begin improving the lives of those at Wayne Manor. “So what’s next for me?” Clark eagerly asked, “I mean, I’ll be watching your kid and all—don’t you need me to get fingerprinted or go through a background check or something?”

Bruce took a few steps towards him and pulled out his phone, pulling up a list of documents on Clark. “There’s no need for that,” he informed him, “I’ve already got all your information. Vital records, family trees—even your transcripts from Smallville High.”

“Whoa,” Clark sputtered out in shock, “I guess money really can get you everything.”

“Not everything,” Bruce remarked as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, “Listen, I know Alfred is going to give you a tour of the house in a little bit, but how about I take you to Dick’s room now to get re-acquainted?”

The two of them walked just a door down the hall to Dick’s room, purposefully next door to Clark’s so he’d be there at a moment’s notice. As they walked in, Clark realized his room paled in comparison to Dick’s—was it too late to ask Bruce for his own racecar bed? As he glanced around, he spotted Dick unenthusiastically playing with a few toy cars, hardly engaged with the activity at all and waiting for something more interesting to happen. Clark tried to not blame Bruce for letting his kid sit around bored like this; after all, being a new parent is hard. But Dick obviously needed more attention and structure, and it was a little frustrating to realize that Bruce had been so nonchalant about it until now.

“Hey kid,” Bruce greeted him with a big grin, kneeling onto the floor to sit eye-level with him, “I have some big news for you.”

Dick looked over to Bruce, then up to Clark who was still standing in the doorway. He stared at Clark for a couple of seconds and then turned back to Bruce with a sudden sense of anticipation in his eyes.

“This is Clark,” Bruce said as he gestured over to him, “He’s the nice reporter you watched Superman videos with a couple days ago, remember?”

Dick nodded but continued to remain silent, aware that something big was about to happen and waiting for the explanation from Bruce. A faint smile grew on his face—finally, something interesting was happening.

Bruce was glad to see him smile; it was a reminder that he was making the right decision. “Well, I thought you two got along so well, I asked Clark to come live with us for a little while so you two can spend more time together. What do you think?”

Dick’s smile grew even wider, and he began to giggle a little in excitement. “So like…we can watch Superman videos here?” he eagerly asked Bruce.

Clark couldn’t help but chuckle at Dick’s innocent candor; it was refreshingly endearing. He forgot how children will just say whatever is on their little minds. “We can do that!” he added, walking over to him and joining him on the floor, “And we can also play different games together if you want, too.”

As Bruce watched Clark instantly hop in and start playing with Dick’s racecars, he wondered what his childhood would have been like if someone like Clark had been present for him, especially after he lost his parents. The two of them just seemed to click so well; Clark was so jovial and warmhearted, and gave Dick the focus and attention that he needed. Bruce wondered if he and Dick would ever get along so easily, but tried not to dwell on it. If Clark could be a better guardian to him, then that was that. 

“Sir, you have a call,” Alfred interrupted them as he entered the room, “It’s important.” 

Bruce had hoped to stick around and watch them get re-acquainted, but he could tell by Alfred’s tone that this wasn’t a call he could put off until later. As he got up to return to his busy life as billionaire Bruce Wayne, he felt a small wave of relief; at least this time, Dick wouldn’t be alone when he left.

“Master Dick, would you mind if I took Mr. Kent away from you for a few minutes so I can give him a tour of the house?” Alfred asked him shortly after Bruce left. Immediately, Dick lost his spark—a disappointed look on his face as he reluctantly nodded in acknowledgement. 

Clark refused to let him sit bored and alone in his room again. “That won’t be necessary,” Clark asserted as he began to scan Dick’s room for the perfect excuse. At last, he found an explorer’s hat and pair of toy binoculars, running over to them and grabbing them excitedly. “He’s coming with me. After all, we are adventurers.”

He placed the hat atop Dick’s head and handed him the pair of binoculars, staring down at him with a playful smile. “Oh great Dr. Grayson,” Clark began theatrically, “We have been tasked with a most perilous quest—to explore the gruesome ‘Wayne Manor’ for lost treasure. Only the bravest of adventurers have dared to go on this journey. Will you join me on this quest?”

Dick’s dazzled eyes lit up in amazement, a big smile on his face as he enthusiastically shouted, “Yeah!”

As the two of them “explored” the Manor, Alfred gave Clark a summary of the property’s history as well as a detailed description of each of the rooms. Clark began to swiftly write it all down in his “hero’s journal”, and made small comments to Dick in character as an adventurer. As Alfred explained things like meal times, schedules, and general house rules, Clark acted as if they were crucial pieces to their quest, encouraging Dick to also take note of this important information. At the end of their tour, Clark pulled out some candy he had taken earlier from the kitchen, and excitedly claimed they had found their treasure. Dick eagerly played along, entranced in the simple game of pretend Clark had designed around something he needed to get done. He realized how well Dick responded to this gamification of everyday tasks, and realized he could use this to his advantage.

Later that night, Clark created a “game” where he and Dick had to race to see who could get their pajamas on faster—a way to trick him into getting ready for bed. Of course, Clark being Superman secured him an easy win, which was good as it gave Dick something to aspire to. At bedtime, Dick was still riled up, jumping up and down on his bed as if he’d never go to sleep again. Clark made a mental note to never give him candy that late in the day again. Then, he scanned the bookshelves for a bedtime story, pulling a copy of Goodnight Moon from a shelf and staring down at it with a surprised and thrilled expression. “Oh wow!” Clark loudly remarked with a grin, “ Goodnight Moon ? I love this book! I think I’m going to read it.”

“You are?” Dick asked, Clark’s excitement about it catching his attention, “Wait—I want to read it too.”

“Oh really?” Clark responded as he turned back around to him, “It would be so much fun to read it together! But this book has to be read from bed, so you’ll have to climb in and get really cozy before I can read it to you.”

Clark was surprised at how well this tactic seemed to work, Dick immediately ceasing his jumping and climbing into bed in hopes Clark would read him the book. Again, he wondered how Bruce was having such a hard time with him when all the basic tricks seemed to work just fine. He turned down the lights in the room and sat next to Dick on the edge of his bed, slowly reading through the book with him and taking his time admiring all the details in the illustrations on each page with him.

As they were nearly done with the book, Bruce came by to find Dick slowly drifting off as Clark continued to read from the pages. He had originally intended to stop in and help Clark get Dick ready for bed considering he’d had problems getting him to wind down at night; he was stunned to see the situation was already taken care of. He watched from the hallway as Clark tucked him in and turned out the lights, quietly sneaking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

“You really have a knack for this, you know,” Bruce remarked as Clark joined him outside the room, “You should consider doing this professionally.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing here?” Clark smirked, slowly walking back to his own room as Bruce followed.

“You know what I mean,” Bruce sighed, unamused by Clark’s little quip, “I was going to ask if he was good for you today, but I think I already know the answer to that.”

Clark nodded, looking back to Bruce who seemed a little off. He could tell there was something else on his mind that was keeping him distracted; he also noted how he was still in his suit, without any indication that he would be getting ready for bed soon. Was he getting ready to go out? On a Monday ? “Today was good,” Clark reassured him, “Hopefully your day wasn’t too hectic. I’ve been in your house all day, and I’ve probably seen you for a total of twenty minutes.”

“I’m a busy person,” Bruce pointed out, “Though I guess I should try to be around more.”

Clark looked back at him sympathetically. “All you can do is try your best,” he reassured him, “If there’s anything I can do to help more, let me know. Maybe later this week I can show you a few tricks I use to get Dick to listen to me?”

“Sure—I’d like that,” Bruce admitted with a smile. He wasn’t sure if there really were any tricks; Clark was such a sweet guy, it was probably just his empathetic nature that allowed him to get along with Dick so well. Still, there was something intriguing about that offer, and Bruce began to look forward to spending more time with Clark. “Well, I’ll let you go for the night,” he told him as he began to walk off.

“Goodnight, Bruce,” Clark uttered quietly as he went into his room for the night. He walked over to his bed and sat there for a moment, pausing to replay the day in his head and think about all the new experiences he’d had so far. It was a lot to take in, and it felt even stranger doing so in an unfamiliar bed. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and began to scroll through a long list of unread text messages he’d received from Lois and Jimmy—a couple of serious check-in texts sprinkled through an array of sarcastic quips, jokes, and memes. He tried not to miss them, but it was hard knowing he wouldn’t be working with the two of them for a while. He spent his time looking through each message and quietly admiring them, savoring whatever interaction with them he could have now that he was in Gotham. 

His opportunities for making new friends in this job were limited—Alfred was nice, but seemed kind of reserved, and he couldn’t quite see himself finding the same type of friendship with a four-year-old. He wondered if he and Bruce would ever become good friends. Clark felt like they had good chemistry together, and would probably get along well if Bruce was home more. With a sudden burst of curiosity hitting him, he perked up out of bed, using his x-ray vision to scan each of the rooms at Wayne Manor. He felt bad for eavesdropping, as this was undoubtedly an invasion of everyone’s privacy, but he was an impulsive and curious teen. He was surprised that he couldn’t find Bruce anywhere in the house, like he had simply vanished from it without notice. Shouldn’t he be in bed too? Clark tried not to dwell on it, brushing it off and trying to catch some sleep in his new home.

Chapter Text

After a couple of weeks in Gotham, Clark felt like he had finally settled into his new routine. In the mornings, he’d eat breakfast with Dick and Alfred downstairs, at first wondering why Bruce wouldn’t join them but eventually learning he kept late hours. He’d spend a few hours around lunchtime studying and working on classwork for an online journalism course he’d enrolled in at Gotham University, then spend the rest of the day with Dick as Bruce focused on whatever business he needed to deal with that day. Clark’s days would usually end with a chat with Lois or Jimmy, at times hearing from his parents instead, who were cautiously optimistic about this assignment he was on.

Occasionally, after putting Dick to bed, Clark would run into Bruce as he jumped from one task to the next. The two of them would stop to chat for a few minutes; it was a rare treat for Clark to talk face-to-face with someone his own age. Not only that, but each time they spoke, Clark became more enthralled with Bruce. He was a difficult person to read, consistently breaking his expectations and surprising him in the most peculiar of ways. For example, Bruce had told him about his plans for the Wayne Foundation once he gained more control over it—sharing his desire to help the most underserved people in Gotham with targeted plans to influence change. It was hard to believe someone with so much passion for social justice had been framed by the media as a reckless trust fund brat. Clark began to look forward to every opportunity he had to interact with Bruce, eager to learn more about him and hopefully become friends with him.

Since Clark’s arrival, both Bruce and Alfred noted a significant improvement in Dick’s mood and behavior. Nightmares and tantrums had been replaced with full nights of rest and laughter as Dick thrived under Clark’s supervision. There were, of course, a few obstacles that the two of them worked through together. For example, there was the time Clark carefully peeled and sliced a fresh apple as a snack for Dick, only for him to take a bite and immediately spit it out. He cried and complained that apples were “too cold” for him to eat. Sympathetic to his feelings, Clark asked Dick if there was something else he could get him, only for Dick to reply with “ice cream.” Once Clark explained that ice cream was also cold, Dick began sobbing uncontrollably into his plate. It took a while for Clark to figure out how to deal with each of Dick’s quirks, but he worked hard to be there for him. The unique bond they shared was special to him, and he already started to worry about what it’d be like to leave him at the end of his assignment.

Bruce was especially grateful for Clark’s help. Amidst the sea of problems he was trying to deal with, a new one had presented itself to him a couple weeks before. He’d been receiving calls from the Gotham branch of the Department of Social Services, which was eager to conduct a home visit after the disaster of an article The Gotham Gazette had published on him. Despite the good media coverage from The Daily Planet , enough concern had spread through the masses to call upon DSS to do some sort of wellness check on the household. Bruce had been dismissing their concerns each time he spoke to them, insisting the article misrepresented him and dodging any request they had for a home visit. In the eyes of the law, there wasn’t much they could do—Dick was legally his child, and it would take a lot for the state to find cause to remove him from the nicest home in Gotham.

Still, it was a problem that lingered on Bruce’s mind as he crawled out of bed this morning. As he put on his sport coat and combed his hair for the day, he wondered how long he could keep this a secret from Clark. He admired Clark's natural ability to care for Dick, and moreso, his naturally empathetic demeanor and kindness. There was something about him that was so earnest that it inspired Bruce to be the same. With his other peers, Bruce always felt he needed to put on airs and mask his true self; Clark made him feel safe enough to show a more authentic side of his personality. It was a relief to not have to hide behind so many layers when talking with him. That's why telling Clark about the calls from DSS concerned him—he worried Clark would lose that faith in him.

As Bruce entered the downstairs den, he was a bit surprised to find Clark’s face buried in a textbook as Dick watched TV. Usually, Clark didn’t study until later in the morning, but today he seemed unusually focused on his work. Dick didn’t seem to mind, content with watching cartoons as he seldom had the chance to do so with all the games and activities Clark usually planned for him. After taking a few steps into the room, Bruce watched as Clark snapped out of his focused state, turning his attention towards Bruce with an equally surprised demeanor. 

“Oh—hey there, Bruce,” Clark began with an attentive expression, “Is there something I can do for you? Am I in your way?”

Bruce shook his head as he leaned up against the chair opposite of Clark. “No, not at all,” he reassured him, “I just caught you down here and figured I would check in. How’s your class going?”

“It’s good,” Clark replied, a little bit of hesitation in his voice, “There’s just a lot of work to do this week. I’m a little behind on my reading, so I figured I’d catch up while Dick and I watch some cartoons.”

Clark was trying to play it off casually, but in reality, he was drowning in his schoolwork. He thought an accelerated eight-week course would help him achieve his goals faster, but that meant twice the amount of work each week compared to a normal sixteen-week course. It didn’t help that every few days, Jimmy or Lois would text him with some kind of crisis or emergency occurring in Metropolis, sneaking away to respond to it as Superman and save the day. Between his hero work, looking after Dick, and adjusting to his new life, he hardly had time to focus on his class. He was grateful to Bruce for giving him the opportunity to enroll at Gotham University, but he began to wonder if he’d overcommitted. Bruce could sense that Clark was stressed.

“Well, I was going to visit a friend today, but she cancelled this morning,” Bruce told him, “So most of my morning and afternoon is free; why don’t you head upstairs and spend a few extra hours today studying? I can keep an eye on Dick—after all, it has been a while since we’ve had one on one time together.”

Again, Clark was a bit caught off guard by how considerate Bruce was. He was paying him to watch Dick, yet offered to do his own job for him like it was no big deal. It seemed that Bruce was always trying to find ways to help others, even when the stakes weren’t very high. “Honestly, that would be great,” Clark responded with a smile, “If it’s not too much trouble, that is. I just need a few extra hours. Then I can take over for you later this afternoon.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce remarked as Clark stood up from his seat, “Dick’s become so attached to you; now it’s time for me to score some points with the kid.”

Clark thanked him again as he ran out of the room and up the stairs, hopeful he would pull himself out of the academic rut he was in. Bruce took Clark’s seat, watching Dick become entranced with the bright and colorful cartoons on the television set. Dick didn’t seem to care all that much that Bruce was taking Clark’s place for the day, at least not now. Bruce tried asking him a couple of questions, but was only given one word answers as Dick’s attention was set on whatever was happening on the TV. Now he understood why Clark had him watching it; if he had known it’d be this easy to keep the kid distracted, he wouldn’t have hired a nanny.

Finally Dick’s silence was broken when a toy commercial flashed on the screen. It was for a bright red RC car, loud rock music playing in the background as they showed the car speeding down a fake track. Dick quickly turned around to Bruce, his dazzled eyes looking up at him in excitement. “B!” Dick shouted, “That looks so cool! Can you please get me that?”

Bruce knew that Dick was being impulsive, persuaded by the perfect advertising of a kid’s toy commercial, but he desperately wanted Dick to think he was cool. He wanted Dick to be just as happy spending time with him as he was when he spent time with Clark; moreso, he wanted Dick to know he was supportive of his interests. “Alright then,” Bruce told him, trying to emulate Clark’s parenting style and incentivize him to behave, “If you promise to behave and stay right by my side, I’ll take you to the toy store and we can see if they have that toy there. How does that sound?”

“I promise!” Dick quickly nodded, then immediately ran over to the foyer to put on his shoes. Bruce couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm—it finally felt like he was doing something right.

As they walked around the toy store together, Dick tried his best to obey Bruce's rules, staying at his side and keeping his voice at a normal volume as they passed aisles of fun and unique toys. It was easy for him to become distracted, but he was determined to get that car. Unfortunately when they arrived in the right aisle, that specific model had already sold out. It hurt Bruce just as much as it did Dick to realize they would be leaving empty handed, especially as Dick had behaved so well while they were out together. He watched as a few tears welled in Dick's eyes, trying to hold back his tears and put on a brave face.

“Sorry it's not here, kid,” Bruce said as he patted his head, “You must be pretty disappointed.”

Dick remained silent and he processed this great loss, so Bruce started looking for an alternative. As he skimmed the shelves, he found a nearly identical RC car—a pink version, made for Barbie dolls to be exact. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it could truly replace the original toy Dick had wanted, but figured it couldn't hurt to ask. He picked up the box and handed it to Dick. “What about this one?” he asked him, “It's got all the same features—plus, we can put dolls in it, I guess.”

Dick’s eyes lit up again. “Really?” he asked Bruce, “Can we pick the dolls, too?”

Finally, Bruce had some kind of success. “Sure, kid,” he said with a relieved smile as he walked over to the Barbie aisle, “Pick whichever ones you want.”

Bruce waited patiently as Dick looked over each of the dolls, scrutinizing their hair, outfits, and overall aesthetic as if he were making a life changing decision. He finally picked out three distinct dolls—one for him, Clark, and Bruce each to play with. Bruce thought it was sweet that even in this moment, Dick was thinking of others. He wasn't sure if this compassionate character trait was something innate or something Clark instilled in him, but regardless, it made him proud to have a kid with such a kind heart.

As they made their way to the check stand, Bruce noted a few judgemental stares coming from the other shoppers and their kids. “Isn't that the Wayne kid?” one of them whispered. “Why's he buying his boy a bunch of dolls ?” another sharply criticized. It was a reminder that even when he tried to do his best as a father, other people would always try to find ways to bring him down. It was a stark contrast to the kindness and compassion Dick had modeled moments before, and it frustrated Bruce to think that such judgemental and hateful thoughts could be directed towards an innocent child. He wanted to say something, to call out others’ gossip and criticism for what it was. But one look at Dick's pleased face and he brushed them off—he knew he was doing the right thing for his kid.

When they arrived back at Wayne Manor, Dick impatiently pleaded with Bruce to open each box so he could play with his new toys. It was then that Bruce learned how intricately packed Barbie toys were, slowly but surely snipping through each zip tie and wire that bound the doll to the thick pink cardboard. Alfred set up the RC car with some batteries as Bruce did so, testing each of the controls before handing the remote over to Dick.

“Whoa, what's going on over here?” Clark asked as he came out of his room and walked over to Dick's. He stopped as he saw the car, then looked up to Bruce in exasperation. “You bought him the car?”

“What's so wrong about that?” Bruce questioned him, a little confused by Clark's tone, “What—do you have a problem with it being pink?”

“It's not that,” Clark sighed as he pulled Bruce out of the room and into the hall, “It’s about teaching him delayed gratification. You can't just give him what he wants as soon as he asks for it. And he has been asking about that car for weeks; I just thought it’d be nice to get it for him as a reward for doing something right later down the line.”

Before Bruce could reply, Dick came running out of his room. “This is for you!” Dick grinned as he handed Clark his doll, which sported long black hair and a stylish denim jacket.

“Really?” Clark responded, touched by the fact that Dick had picked out a doll just for him. Then he watched as Alfred maneuvered the car out of Dick's room and through the hallway. “Well…I guess that car is pretty cool…”

Bruce looked back at him with a smug grin. “He picked a doll out for me , too,” he added, “And mine’s prettier than yours.”

The two of them joined Dick in his room as they each respectively played with their dolls, Clark starting off their story with the most thrilling narrative he could conjure up after studying for several hours. “Well my doll’s name is Ashley,” Clark began, “Ashley Katchadorian. That was the name of the most popular girl at my school.”

“The only girl name I know is Veronica,” Bruce mumbled, noticing how the doll's auburn hair was eerily similar to his girlfriend’s.

“Okay, well my doll's name will be Bluey,” Dick concluded, putting his doll in the driver's seat of the car, “Where are we off to?”

Clark let out a deep sigh. “To Veronica's house!” his doll said, then shifted the doll’s arm to point towards Bruce's, “Because I caught my boyfriend cheating with her!”

Bruce did not realize how scandalous playing Barbie dolls could be; Clark spared no time in developing a dramatic scene. He looked over to Dick who had an amused smile, eagerly anticipating a response from Bruce's doll. He was determined to not let Clark upstage him. “How did you find out?” his doll dramatically replied, “How did you discover we were cheating? We were so careful...”

“The teacher told us!” Dick’s doll exclaimed as she jumped out of the car, “You know you're not supposed to cheat on your math test!”

Clark and Bruce locked eyes, the two of them struggling not to burst into laughter at Dick's innocent response. “Yeah!” Clark’s doll shouted as he tried to suppress his giggles, “Academic dishonesty is the worst !”

The three were suddenly interrupted by an unusually frazzled Alfred. “Sir, I need you downstairs right away,” he told Bruce in a serious tone, “It seems a representative from DSS has decided to give us a surprise visit.”

“Stay here,” Bruce told Clark and Dick, his voice strong and firm as his demeanor shifted from playful to serious in a matter of seconds. Clark was stunned; it was the first time he’d heard social services mentioned since the time he'd got here. Based on the way Bruce reacted, he didn't think this was a normal thing. Even Dick seemed somewhat concerned, pausing for a moment before fidgeting with his doll in anticipation. Clark tried to keep him distracted from the sudden mood shift that had occurred in the house.

After a few minutes, Bruce accompanied a social worker upstairs and to Dick’s room, Bruce staring daggers into the back of her head as she greeted Dick with a soft smile. “Well hello there, Dick,” the woman said as she leaned in towards him, “My name is Miss Montoya. Is it okay if you and I play alone together for a little bit?”

Clark placed his hand around Dick's shoulder, cautious of the stranger who was suddenly asking to be alone with him. But as he looked over to Bruce for guidance and watched him give him a permissive nod, he reluctantly stepped back to give them some space. “It sounds like you get to show off your new car to Miss Montoya!” Clark encouraged Dick, trying to hide his concerns behind a smile as he began to leave the room, “If you need anything at all, I’ll be right outside!”

As Clark joined Bruce back in the hall, Bruce averted his gaze for a moment, a little embarrassed he had let things escalate to this point. “Don't worry,” he assured Clark, “This is just a simple wellness check. I'm sure we’ve got nothing to be concerned about.”

“But why are they here in the first place?” Clark asked him, confused, “It's not like this is a foster care situation—Dick is legally yours, right? Why would social services be checking in on a normal family?”

Bruce sighed as he took a few more slow steps down the hall, then leaned against one of the walls as he stared down at the ground. “Because we aren't a normal family,” Bruce mumbled in defeat. He remained quiet for a moment, trying not to feel like the failure he thought he was. Then he perked himself up and straightened out his suit, finally making eye contact with Clark as an aura of authority surrounded him. “After my interview with The Gazette , DSS has been on my case about whether or not Dick is safe and sound in this home. They've been asking to schedule a visit for a while now, but I've been putting it off. So it seems they’ve decided to stop by today.”

“I see,” Clark remarked, a little shocked by how well Bruce had hidden this from him, “Well, I guess it's none of my business—but why didn't you say something about this to me? I would have helped you work it out, you know.”

Bruce didn't respond to Clark’s question, but instead averted his gaze again, staring back down at the floor in front of him. Clark realized Bruce was a little ashamed of this reality, and wondered if Bruce thought Clark would judge him for it. After a moment, Clark continued. “It's not really that big of a deal,” he tried reassuring him, “Dick seems much more happy and stable these days. Everyone can see that you're doing the right thing.”

“I hope you're right,” Bruce replied, waiting in silence for the remainder of the time the social worker spent with Dick.

After a few minutes, Miss Montoya returned to the hallway and approached Bruce, a serious expression on her face that Clark found quite intimidating. “There's no denying that the kid is happy here…” she began, “...but I'm still skeptical of a teenager’s ability to take care of a child. And now it seems there's two of you.”

Clark realized she was talking about him. “Oh, well uh…” he faltered, trying to find the right words to instill her confidence in him, “...I wouldn't be concerned if I were you. I have lots of child rearing experience; that’s why Br—or, uh, Mr. Wayne , hired me. And between the two of us, Dick is very loved and cared for. I’m not sure why you’ve been called out here, but I can assure you there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

She looked him up and down judgementally, looking to poke holes in his statement and find some proof that he wasn’t credible. The strength of his argument didn’t matter; Bruce and Clark were facing her bias against teen parents. She did note that Alfred was also there, and decided to let it go—for now, anyway. “Very well,” she sighed as she began to head towards the door, “Just be careful. If I hear about this case again from The Gazette , I’ll have no choice but to open a more formal investigation.”

A wave of relief washed over Bruce and Clark as they watched her leave, grateful to have avoided another crisis. “Well I’m glad that’s over,” Clark stated as he turned back to Bruce with a grin, “Should we pick up where we left off? We technically haven’t even driven that car yet.”

“You go ahead,” Bruce told him as he began to walk off to his study, “I’ve got some work to catch up on.”

Clark was a little surprised by Bruce’s demeanor—did DSS really shake him that much? He tried not to dwell on it, returning upstairs to continue playing with Dick and help him pilot his new RC car.

Later that night, a cold October storm made its way through Gotham, bringing some decent rainfall and blustery winds to Wayne Manor.  Dick was not happy as each gust of wind and creak in the old house kept him awake and alert as he tried falling asleep. Before he could even think of climbing out of bed and finding somewhere else to hide, Clark came into his room to check on him. “Hey Dick, you awake?” Clark whispered as he walked over to his bed, “This storm sure is loud, am I right?”

Dick nodded, pushing back his bed blankets and sitting up. “Yeah…” he quietly replied, “...I can’t sleep.”

Clark understood Dick’s perspective; it was the first real storm they’d had since he’d moved to Gotham, and even he was a little unsettled by each eerie noise that accompanied it. He picked up Dick and grabbed his blanket, carrying him to the downstairs den which was situated in the middle of the house and away from any windows. He switched on the TV, flipping through the late night channels trying to find something simple for the two of them to watch, landing on some re-runs of Jonny Quest playing back to back. As he settled down onto the couch, Dick rested his head on Clark’s lap, quietly watching the TV before he eventually relaxed and fell asleep.

Even Clark noted how heavy his eyes were getting, about to give in and doze off until he heard the sound of footsteps echo across the floor. He looked up to find Bruce now standing beside him and staring at the TV, still dressed in his street clothes and just as awake as if it were the middle of day. “Sorry…” Clark uttered quietly, worried the TV was disrupting Bruce's work, “...I wasn’t sure if you were still up. We can go back upstairs, if you want.”

Bruce finally looked over to Clark, the blue light from the TV illuminating his weary face in the darkness of the night. He had been meaning to head down to the Batcave for some work, but was surprised to find Dick and Clark in the den this late, watching Jonny Quest of all things. It reminded him of the times he’d sneak down to watch the show with his own father when he wasn’t feeling well or was kept awake by a similar type of storm. “No, that’s alright,” he responded, “I was actually wondering if I could join you for a few minutes.”

Clark nodded, moving over on the couch as carefully as he could without waking up Dick. Bruce sat beside the two of them, leaning back into the plush cushions as the they watched an episode together in silence. Occasionally Clark glanced over to Bruce, eager for another chance to see a quieter, calmer side of him that others rarely witnessed. Late night TV binges were a regular part of Clark’s life with his friends, but he got the sense it wasn’t the same for Bruce. 

“So, are you happy you got to spend some extra time with Dick today?” Clark asked him at the beginning of a commercial break.

“Yeah,” Bruce quietly responded, looking down at Dick sleeping comfortably in Clark’s lap and carefully adjusting his blanket, “But even so, he still seems so attached to you. I know I hired you for all of this, but I can’t help but feel as if I’m missing out.”

Clark’s heart ached for Bruce; he was too hard on himself, always criticizing himself for not being around and feeling as if he were missing out on the fun parts of his life. “I’ll have to look for new ways to include you, then,” Clark decided, giving Bruce a soft smile and then leaning back into the couch to doze off.

Bruce thought it was oddly sweet how Clark seemed to drift off in the middle of their conversation. People were always so high strung around him; it felt nice to see Clark be so relaxed and comfortable next to him like this. He wasn't like the others Bruce surrounded himself with, and he enjoyed the unique closeness they shared. The faintest urge to cuddle up next to him and Dick creeped into Bruce's heart, intrigued by the comfort he seemed to find in the two of them. He quickly shook this feeling off.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Bruce remarked listlessly, looking him over one last time before getting up and heading downstairs into the Batcave. Despite trying to focus on his work as Batman, his thoughts lingered on the two of them on the couch. Dick made him want to become a better father; Clark made him want to become a better person. He knew his work as Batman was necessary to make the world a better place, but what kind of work could he do to make himself a better man? He eventually chased away those thoughts and continued his work as Clark and Dick fell asleep upstairs, oblivious to this secret life of his.

Chapter Text

In the quiet stillness of the night, Clark took extra care in ensuring his steps were silent as he sneaked down to the kitchen for a midnight snack. In the spirit of the season, he decided to watch a horror movie earlier that Jimmy had recommended to him; unfortunately, Clark was relatively easy to scare, and despite the plot holes and cheap special effects, it left him a little unnerved. After lying in bed for hours too terrified to sleep, he figured a little treat would give him the mental break he needed to relax. But as soon as he made it downstairs and into the kitchen, he was startled by the sudden presence of a shadowy figure joining him in the room.

“Hey,” Bruce casually greeted Clark as he flipped on the pantry light. He noted that Clark looked a little paler than usual, but said nothing.

“Oh—hey Bruce!” Clark replied a little too loudly, taking a deep breath and regaining his composure before walking over to the kitchen island and leaning against it, “You also here for a little late night snack?”

Bruce nodded, pulling a couple of applesauce pouches from the pantry and bringing one over to Clark. “I don't think I ate this much applesauce before adopting Dick,” he stated as he stood at the opposite end of the kitchen island, content and quiet but not as sleepy or weary as Clark seemed to be.

“Yeah, he's certainly changed my life a lot, too,” Clark noted as he twisted the cap off, “Like, I didn't used to be this into Halloween, but Dick’s interest in it has me excited for it, too. His favorite game right now is playing ‘trick-or-treat’, but it's basically just me spending ten minutes listing all the different types of candy I’d give him.”

“Has he decided on a costume yet?” Bruce asked him before taking a sip of his applesauce.

Clark sighed. “Well, he wanted to be Superman, so I made him a Superman costume…” he began, a somewhat frustrated expression making its way onto his face, “...but now he also wants to be a zombie, so I guess he'll be going as zombie Superman? I’ll have to practice the makeup before then, but at least he's excited.”

A soft smile grew on Bruce's face, the look in his eyes suggesting his mind was somewhere far away from the present. “I remember liking Halloween a lot when I was his age,” he quietly remarked.

Clark smiled back at him. “Yeah? What was your favorite costume?”

“Zorro,” Bruce replied, the smile on his face growing wider for a moment, “My mother made the entire ensemble for me—had the mask and everything. Made me feel like a hero.” 

Clark watched as Bruce’s smile slowly faded, his attention suddenly returning to the present as the two of them sat together in the calm darkness of the kitchen. It was another one of those moments in which he witnessed a more personal side of Bruce, a relatively common experience for him now as the two had become much closer over the last month. “That sounds like a really cool costume,” Clark acknowledged, “I can't say that I really loved any of my costumes as a kid; Ma always made me wear a coat over them to trick-or-treat since it got so chilly at night. My favorite part of Halloween as a kid was always the candy.”

“I didn't know you had such a sweet tooth,” Bruce commented as he took Clark's empty applesauce container from him and tossed it into the trash.

Clark chuckled a little. “During Halloween season, they'd always release these orange Kit-Kat bars,” he explained, “They were my favorite , but they stopped making them a few years back. Of course, they were just the white chocolate ones with orange dye, but something about them just tasted different. I'm still mad they were discontinued.”

Seeing that they were both finished with their snacks, Bruce flipped off the pantry light, the kitchen now only illuminated by a couple of night lights plugged into the wall outlets. Clark took this as a sign that their conversation was over, but then watched Bruce pull a bar stool over to the kitchen island, taking a seat next to where Clark was leaning into it. Bruce was a busy man—was he really choosing to spend his time chatting away with Clark in the middle of the night?

“Speaking of Halloween…” Bruce began, failing to hide the dread in his voice, “...it seems I got roped into hosting a costume party that night.”

“Oh, really?” Clark asked in surprise. Despite the image the media had pushed about him, Bruce didn't exactly seem like a party person. “Here at the house?”

Bruce placed his arm up on the island and rested his head in his palm, a somewhat disgruntled expression on his face. “Sort of; I was pretty clear about wanting to keep the house quiet and safe for Dick,” he sighed, “So it'll be outside in the garden. I'll have a big tent put up, there’ll be music, food—you know, things like that. I just wanted to warn you in advance so you could prepare, it’ll probably get a little rowdy.”

“I see,” Clark responded, “I guess it's no big deal, I can get some earplugs or something and hunker down in my room.”

Bruce's sharp hazel eyes locked onto Clark's. “I think you misunderstood me,” Bruce quickly stopped him, “I was hoping you’d come to the party.”

“Me?” Clark asked him in disbelief, “Oh—uh, I don't know if I'd fit in with your friends—”

“Well, you're more than welcome to invite your friends if you want,” Bruce interjected, a persuasive smile on his face, “Most of the guests coming to the party aren't people I know very well, just friends of a friend. That’s why I want you there.”

Clark paused for a moment, trying to decode the indirect way in which Bruce often spoke to figure out his true intentions. A silly smile grew on his face once he did. “Aw, Bruce—is that your way of saying I'm your friend?” Clark smirked as he shoved Bruce playfully, “Admit it: you like me. We’re friends!”

Bruce quickly stood up from his chair, “I have work to do and you're distracting me,” he replied coldly as he began to walk out of the room, trying to hide his smile, “You should go back to bed.” 

“Goodnight bestie !” Clark jokingly barked at him as he watched Bruce leave the kitchen, “I'll miss you!”

He could hear Bruce snickering as he walked away, knowing his taunts had amused him like he'd intended. Clark made his way back to his own room, climbing back into bed with a smile, successfully distracting himself from the horror movie that scared him earlier and quickly drifting off to sleep.

…

As the sun began to set on Halloween evening, Clark anxiously looked down at his phone every few seconds, anticipating a text from Lois or Jimmy that the two of them were on their way. He was glad to be able to share the perks of his new job with them and get them into an exclusive party at Wayne Manor. Despite the rather normal state of the house from inside, its exterior was brimming with activity. Event planners, caterers, entertainers and more shuffled around the estate and to the back where a large party tent set the stage for the night's activities. A few guests began to trickle in too as the party was set to start at dusk, and Clark was eager to see his friends after over a month away from them. 

“When do we get to go trick-or-treating?” Dick groaned, pulling on Clark's pants in anticipation, “I'm bored.”

“You're not bored…” Clark excitedly beamed as he picked up Dick and held him over his head, “...you're Superman! Up, up and away!”

Dick laughed as Clark ran around the foyer with him raised up in the air. “Yeah! Zombie Superman to the rescue!”

Dick's laugh never failed to put a smile on Clark's face. It was a nice distraction from the rest of the evening’s festivities. As he began to set him back down on the ground, he caught a glimpse of Bruce standing off to the side and watching the two of them with an amused grin.

“You must be really strong to be able to hold him over your head like that,” Bruce told Clark as he approached the two of them, then turned his attention towards Dick, “Are you ready to go trick-or-treating? The sun's almost down.”

Dick nearly bounced off the walls in excitement. “Yeah! Let's go!”

“Hold on,” Clark stopped them, looking Bruce up and down judgmentally, “Where's your costume?”

Bruce shrugged. “Costumes aren't really my thing,” he replied, “I'll just wear this.” He was dressed in an all-black suit, perfectly tailored to his body, and a matching black shirt and tie underneath. His hair was nearly combed back and away from his face, and the faint scent of expensive cologne lingered on his skin. Bruce thought the all-black ensemble was festive enough for the occasion, but Clark was disappointed to learn Bruce wouldn't be wearing a costume to his own costume party.

“Seriously?” Clark commented, a playful smile on his face, “I have to show up to your party in rags and zombie makeup, and you get to look like that ?”

“Guess I was too smart to fall victim to the zombie apocalypse,” Bruce snarkily replied.

“Not for long…” Clark began, placing a hand on Dick's shoulder and pointing towards Bruce, “...get him, Zombie Superman!”

Dick happily chased Bruce around the room, trying to “bite” him and turn him into a zombie like him and Clark. Bruce narrowly evaded each of his attempts, carefully maneuvering around the furniture to prevent Dick from capturing him. Clark was glad he could bring the two of them together like this; Bruce was pretty busy, and he was happy to see Dick spending more quality time with him.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjected, a bit disappointed to be interrupting their moment, “I'm sorry to stop you, but they're all asking for you outside. If you don't go out there now, I'm afraid they'll all start flooding in here to find you, and then it’ll be impossible to get everyone back outside.”

Clark could see the energy and glee in Bruce's face fade in an instant, the dread of his obligations as the host creeping back in. Even worse, he knew Dick would be disappointed Bruce couldn't join them for trick-or-treating. 

Bruce knelt down, gently holding Dick’s hands in his. “Listen kid, it's going to be just you and Clark for trick-or-treat, okay?” he softly told him, “I have to stay here and take care of something.”

Dick solemnly nodded, looking down at the ground in defeat and saying nothing.

“I’m sorry I can't come with you,” Bruce continued as he stood up and patted him on the head, “I can't wait for you to show me all the candy you collected tomorrow morning.”

With that, Bruce turned away and swiftly left towards the party, hoping to satisfy his guests’ wishes for his presence and keep the party contained outside. The last thing he wanted was inconsiderate guests snooping through the manor while Dick was trying to sleep.

Before he could ruminate on Bruce’s abrupt exit, Clark was quickly distracted by the buzz of his phone, looking down to see a text from his friends informing him they'd arrived. He eagerly looked down to Dick, a hopeful expression in his eyes, “I know Bruce can't come with us, but do you want to meet my best friends? They’ll come trick-or-treating with us if you want!”

Dick nodded, the excitement for Halloween that had been crushed moments before slowly returning to him as he and Clark headed outside.

“Oh my god—he wasn't lying,” Jimmy gasped as Clark greeted him and Lois in the front yard, “There's really a party happening here tonight, and Clark's here to get us in. I can't believe we're actually at Bruce Wayne's party!”

Lois gave Jimmy a playful shove. “Get over yourself,” she jested, “You haven't seen your best friend in over a month and all you can focus on is the party?”

“It's nice to see you guys, too,” Clark chuckled, a warm smile on his face as each of his friends hugged him. He blushed a little when Lois made eye contact; she was oddly alluring in her witch costume, a long black dress falling gracefully over her tall, slender frame and soft brunette locks of hair peeking out underneath her tall witch’s hat. Thankfully Jimmy's costume had snapped him out of it pretty quickly; his hair was teased up to look like the bad boy in every teen vampire show, complete with some smoky black eyeliner peeking out from his waterline. “Interesting how we all ended up dressing like classic Halloween monsters,” Clark noted.

“Except me!” Dick shouted, still holding onto Clark's hand but becoming increasingly impatient, “Superman's not a monster.”

Clark quickly knelt down and looked back at him with a smile. “You make a great point, kid,” he told him, then gestured over to his friends, “This is Lois and Jimmy. They're two of my closest friends, and I promise they're really nice. Is it alright if they join us for trick-or-treat?”

“Oh my gosh, trick-or-treating?! That sounds like so much fun!” Jimmy quickly added, shooting a confident smile over to Dick.

“We’d love to come with you!” Lois excitedly told him.

Dick was thrilled that Clark's friends were so interested in spending time with him, and their excitement was contagious. He happily agreed to let them join, his confidence returning to him as the four of them set off around the neighborhood, Lois and Jimmy making jokes and keeping him entertained all along the way. Bristol Township—the wealthy suburb that Wayne Manor was situated in—was filled with homes eager to give away candy to each spirited little child. With all he’d heard about crime rates in Gotham, Clark was grateful that Bruce’s neighborhood was relatively safe and inviting. It made for an unforgettable Halloween night for Dick, whose bag was so full of treats that it was almost too heavy to carry by the end.

When they arrived back at Wayne Manor, Clark encouraged Lois and Jimmy to head over to the party out back while he helped Dick with his bedtime routine. As much as he wanted to cut loose with his friends, he also wanted Dick to be safe and secure in his bed after all the excitement from the day. Even as Alfred came in to take over for the evening, Clark felt a little bad that Dick’s holiday had been overshadowed by the obnoxious party outside. He wondered if parties like this would be a common occurrence in Dick’s life, or if Bruce would soon realize how incompatible they were with his desire to be a better father.

Clark quickly forgot those worries as he walked into the party, dazzled by the lights, music, and overall ambience of the scene. In the center of the tented space was a dancefloor, where guests boisterously danced the night away to the beat of a talented DJ. Along one wall of the tent was the snack table filled with all sorts of decadent Halloween-themed treats designed by Gotham’s top caterers and chefs, complete with a punch bowl that had definitely been spiked. The rest of the tent was filled with seating space for the guests, several of Gotham’s elite ostentatiously chatting each other up just to hear the sound of their own voices. Clark found it hard to believe that he was in the backyard of Wayne Manor and not an exclusive club in downtown Metropolis.

As he searched the crowd for Jimmy and Lois, Clark stumbled upon a large group forming a circle around a couple and hanging on to each word that was said. When he pushed through, his eyes widened as he saw Bruce standing there with an arrogant smile, his arm wrapped around Veronica’s waist as she paraded him around to her friends. After a few seconds Clark realized she was his girlfriend, and was speechless. Why had Bruce never mentioned her before?

“Oh my God,” Veronica suddenly stopped, looking Clark directly in the eyes and becoming captivated by him, “Who is this diva? I’m literally so in love with your costume!”

Clark quickly shook off his surprise. “Haha—me? Thanks!” he awkwardly chuckled, “Believe it or not, I’m actually the nanny—”

“Stop! ” Veronica gasped in disbelief, quickly looking over to Bruce and playfully tugging on his arm, “Brucie! Why didn’t you tell me your nanny was so hot?”

As Bruce glanced over to him, Clark noticed there was something off about him. The quiet and serious Bruce Wayne he knew was replaced with someone sloppier and sillier. His tie was undone, a few buttons on his shirt loosened, and his hair now a little tussled as he stood there with a smirk. “What do you mean, Ronnie?” he laughed, turning back towards her with a flirtatious smile, “I swear that’s all I ever talk about—that and you!”

Lies. Both of those things were lies—Clark had never heard Bruce talk about Veronica even once, and he’d certainly never heard him brag to anyone else about his looks, either. Even the sound of Bruce’s voice was completely different; Clark even wondered if he’d been replaced by some kind of imposter. “Right…” Clark mumbled, a little unsettled by the whole thing, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m looking for someone.”

He quickly turned around and shoved his way back through the crowd to the back wall, leaning against a table and taking a breather as he tried to piece together what he’d just witnessed. Why was Bruce acting like a completely different person? Was—as Veronica called him, “Brucie”—just a front for his friends? Or was the person Bruce was when he was with Clark just a front all along? Clark took a few steps towards the punch bowl, pouring himself a cup and taking a large gulp. “Vodka,” Clark whispered as he glanced down at the cup, “I wish it actually did something to me.”

Clark then wondered why he was so desperate to numb his feelings. He felt like Bruce had betrayed him. Even after he’d calmed down and accepted that Bruce was likely putting on a performance for his friends, it still wasn’t enough to settle his nerves. He thought about Veronica’s reaction, Bruce’s snarky remark back to her as her hands were all over him. True, Bruce never explicitly stated his relationship status—but why did finding out he was with Veronica feel so devastating? “Is this jealousy?” Clark asked himself, wondering if he was worried Veronica would get in the way of their growing friendship. Clark did really want to be friends with Bruce—to get close to him, to learn everything there was to know about him. He knew he’d have less time to do so if Veronica was in the way. And was Bruce's failure to tell him about her proof that he and Bruce weren't as close as he thought they were?

“There you are, Clark!” Lois beamed as she approached him, “Of course you’re standing back here like a wallflower.”

Clark looked down to Lois; it was a relief seeing her face. She was a reminder that there was still a life outside of Wayne Manor, away from any of the woes Bruce put him through. “Yeah, well you know me…” Clark replied with a shy smile, “...are you having fun?”

“This is a great party,” Lois remarked, taking another look over the room as she spoke, “Jimmy’s been chatting up all these rich girls—apparently they’re charmed by anyone with even an ounce of substance.” She paused for a moment, then looked up to him with an anxious smile. “You know, you still owe me a date. This doesn’t count.”

Clark sighed, setting his drink down on the table and gently grabbing her hand. “Well, I hope an invite to this party makes up for how I’ve dropped the ball,” he began, a sympathetic expression on his face, “I’ve just been really busy, but I promise I’ll take you out on a real date soon.”

Suddenly the lights shifted a bit lower, the DJ shifting the music to a slower rhythm. With Clark’s hand still holding hers, she pulled him to the dancefloor with a smile. “How about a dance in the meantime?”

As the two of them swayed to the music together, Bruce looked around the room for Clark, hoping to get a word in with him after he abruptly left their last encounter. When he finally caught a glimpse of him in Lois’ arms, something in his demeanor shifted. His piercing gaze was locked on the two of them, and for a moment he broke out of his playboy persona, standing there in silence as he realized Clark had already forgotten about him. 

Even Veronica noticed the sudden shift in his attitude. “You okay?” she said as she tugged at his sleeve, oblivious to what he was staring at and why it had affected him in such a way. He quickly snapped out of it.

A little after midnight, the party had thinned out, and Clark walked Jimmy and Lois back towards the tent’s entrance as the festivities began to wind down. Despite the fun they’d had, they were desperate for a little rest before returning to Metropolis the next day, and were eager to get back to their hotel room. “Maybe we could all meet up for coffee tomorrow morning before you head back? I can probably get you guys a ride to the train station, too,” Clark offered.

“That sounds good to me,” Jimmy wearily replied. He’d had a little too much punch. Lois nodded in agreement and helped him walk back to their ride, Clark waving goodbye to the both of them as they quietly left. It was nice to know he’d be seeing them again so soon.

As he watched them leave, Clark realized Lois had come in with a jacket but was leaving without it. It was a cold night, and she’d probably want it for the next morning, too. He turned around and swiftly retraced their steps, scanning each corner of the room in hopes he could return it to her before she and Jimmy left the estate altogether. As he did so, he suddenly spotted Bruce, and immediately afterwards, Veronica. They were pressed up against each other in a dark corner, their hands running down each other’s bodies as they locked lips. Something about that sight made Clark’s stomach twist. He felt shocked, disgusted, and disappointed all at once. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care enough to stand there and figure out why. He quickly averted his gaze, trying to force that image out of his head and remember what he was doing in the first place. Eventually he gave up, leaving the party and returning to the main house to get ready for bed.

After turning on the shower, Clark quickly took his costume off and tossed it in the clothes basket, looking over his zombie makeup in the lighted mirror above his sink. Veronica’s words echoed in his mind—the sound of her calling him “hot” as he stared at the layers of grease paint on his face. “Was she making fun of me?” he wondered, taking a wet cloth and wiping it off, “Was that what Bruce was doing, too?” He turned back towards the shower and hopped in, letting the sound of the rushing water and the hot steam around him drown out any thoughts of Bruce and Veronica.

Finally he’d decompressed from it all, taking a deep breath and pulling the blankets back on his bed to get in. He hesitated there, something within his gut telling him to check on Dick one last time before getting some sleep himself. He thought about the fun he’d had with Dick, Lois, and Jimmy while out trick-or-treating—it was a shame Bruce had to miss that. He set his phone down and slowly walked over to Dick’s room, careful to not wake him as it was now quite late.

But when he entered, he was surprised to see Bruce already sitting there at Dick’s bedside in the darkness, carefully watching him as he slept peacefully under the covers. Clark remained in the doorway for a second, then closed it and walked over to Bruce, taking a seat next to him. “So you came to check on him too?” he asked in a low voice.

“I can’t believe I missed out on this tonight…” Bruce solemnly responded, “...I should have been there for trick-or-treat. I would’ve been if not for the party.”

Clark wholeheartedly agreed with him. “Maybe you need new friends.”

Bruce was a little taken aback by Clark’s response. It was the first time Clark didn’t just stand by and validate him, but instead said something critical. He’d feel a little hurt if it weren’t so true. Unfortunately for Bruce, one of the consequences of having Clark as a friend now meant that he’d hold him accountable for his mistakes. He didn’t acknowledge Clark’s suggestion, but nevertheless still considered it. The two of them ensured Dick was properly tucked in, then quietly left his room, resuming their conversation out in the hall.

“Speaking of friends…” Bruce said as he changed the subject, “...who was that girl you invited tonight? I don’t think I caught her name.”

“Oh, that’s Lois,” Clark replied, astonished Bruce had even noticed her when he hardly seemed to pay any attention to Clark at the party, “She works with me at The Planet . She’s one of my friends.”

“Just your friend?” Bruce inquired, walking over to the closet at the end of the hall.

“Well—uh…” Clark faltered, a little caught off guard by Bruce’s question, “...she wants me to take her out on a date, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet, I guess.”

“I’ll give you some time to do so, then,” Bruce replied matter of factly, pulling Lois’ jacket from the closet and handing it to Clark, “And make sure you give this back to her when you do. Seems she accidentally left her jacket here.”

As he took the jacket from Bruce, Clark wondered how Bruce had even noticed it was missing and retrieved it when he seemed so out of sorts at the party. Before he could say anything, Bruce was already reaching back into the closet for more.

“One other thing,” he began, pulling a bag of candy out and handing it to Clark, “The manufacturer works with Wayne Industries, so I called in a few favors and got you these.”

Clark was stunned as he looked down at the bag. It was full of the limited edition orange Kit-Kat bars that had been discontinued years before, but the date on the bag was new. Bruce really did get a batch made just for him. He looked back up to Bruce, a conflicting mix of feelings swirling within him. “You know, you’re very thoughtful…” Clark began, “...and you continue to surprise me every day. I wish other people got to see this side of you. I think if they did, your reputation wouldn’t be what it is.”

Bruce took a step towards him, locked on his crystal blue eyes staring back at him in uncertainty. “Who I am when I’m with you…” he maintained, his voice soft yet serious as Clark confronted him in the darkness, “...is unlike anything I’ve ever been before. Maybe one day, I’ll learn to be this way without you, too.”

His words caused Clark to become even more unsure of his feelings. The hope that he’d one day become close friends with Bruce returned to him tenfold, along with the jealousy he felt when thinking of Veronica. It was all too new and confusing to make sense of, and nearly overwhelmed him. But at the very least, Clark knew that Bruce didn’t look down on him the way he’d worried about before. “I see,” he responded, pausing for a moment before taking a deep breath and settling his thoughts for good, “Thank you for the party, Bruce. And for the candy. I should probably be getting off to bed.”

“Goodnight, then,” Bruce solemnly replied, watching as Clark walked back over to his room and shut the door.

Chapter Text

An unusually mild November day created the perfect opportunity for Clark and Dick to visit the park together. As Dick ran around the playground and climbed on just about everything he could, Clark sat on a nearby bench, occasionally looking up from his book to keep an eye on him. He figured studying outdoors under the changing red leaves and brisk autumn breeze would be a nice change of scenery from the desk in his room, and it gave Dick a chance to get outside. Midterms had just passed, and Clark skirted by them, keeping himself afloat but hoping to improve his grades a little more before final exams. Seeing Dick run around the park carefree and happy was a bittersweet reminder that Clark wouldn't be watching over him like this forever; eventually, they’ll part ways, and Clark will go back to growing his career as a journalist. He tried memorizing every part of the moment—the sound of Dick's laughter and his feet running across the wood chips, the smile on his face as he climbed his way up to the slide, his innocent blue eyes looking over to him for reassurance just before he slid down. It was hard to believe how much he'd bonded with him over the past couple of months; Dick was beginning to feel like family.

Noticing that he was beginning to run out of steam, Clark called Dick over to the bench to offer him a snack. He thought appeasing him with a juice box and a PB&J sandwich would help soften the blow when Clark told him it was time to head home. As the two of them sat together and ate their snacks, a woman pushing a stroller walked by, and Clark noted Dick’s sudden curiosity about what was inside. “Clark,” Dick began, setting down his sandwich, “Where do babies come from?”

Immediately Clark froze, holding his breath and staring back at Dick, not quite sure what to say. Why hadn’t he planned for this question yet? “Uhh—well,” Clark awkwardly stuttered, “They come from…mommies? I guess?”

“But how?” Dick asked him again, Clark’s answer doing nothing to satisfy his curiosity. Clark realized this question was above his pay grade.

“Good question, kid,” Clark replied as he stood up from the bench, “Let’s go home and ask Bruce.” At least this way, Dick wouldn’t throw a tantrum after Clark told him it was time to leave.

As Bruce reviewed a few contracts at his desk, his focus was suddenly broken by the sound of loud footsteps quickly approaching his door. He was a little surprised to see Clark and Dick standing in the doorway after swinging it open, but even more surprised to see the panicked look on Clark’s face as he struggled to sputter out what he wanted to say, especially when Dick seemed indifferent to it all. “Bruce,” Clark loudly blurted out, “Dick wants to know where babies come from.”

Bruce sat there dumbfounded that Clark seemed to be so worked up about something so mundane. He paused for a moment, then looked over to Dick with an unbothered air of calm about him. “That’s a pretty easy question,” he calmly stated, “You mean human babies, right? Because the process can actually vary between species.”

Dick nodded. Clark remained speechless in anticipation.

Bruce stood up from his chair and took a few steps around the desk. “Well, every human being essentially starts out as a zygote, which is the combination of two different types of reproductive cells—”

“What is a ‘cell’?” Dick asked, already lost in the scientific language Bruce was using. Clark sighed in defeat, thinking Bruce was diving into something far more advanced than a four year old could grasp, but Bruce had faith that Dick could learn this if he went through it slowly enough.

“Good question. A cell is basically a building block of living things,” Bruce clarified, “Think of it like your Legos—in the same way you can build structures by sticking your Legos together, cells come together to build plants, animals, and people.”

That answer seemed to work for Dick, who nodded in acknowledgement and waited for Bruce to continue.

“So, to build a person, you need two different types of cells—an ova cell, and a sperm cell. Once those combine, those cells divide into more cells, slowly building out a baby. In that time, the baby grows inside a person where it can be safe while it's finished being built. And then the baby is born and in the world.”

Dick stood there in silence for a minute, processing Bruce's explanation and trying to make sense of it. Clark instinctively pulled out a notepad and began taking notes as if he were in biology class.

“It grows inside a person? So could that happen to me?” Dick innocently asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“No, it can’t happen to you,” Bruce responded, walking over to him and kneeling down, “The baby needs to live inside someone with a uterus, but you don’t have one, and even if you did, you’re too young to grow one. So you don't have to worry about it right now. We can have another conversation about it when you get older.”

Suddenly Dick looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. “Well golly, that’s a relief!” he exclaimed with a sigh, “I can’t imagine having to be a dad.” He then proceeded to walk out of Bruce’s office and into his own room to play with his toys.

Clark was still speechless, trying to grasp what he’d just witnessed. Bruce sighed and looked over to him with a concerned expression. “He’s four and he’s already stressed about parenthood,” Bruce remarked, “And he’s clearly picked up your Midwestern slang. I know I’ve never said the word ‘golly’ before.”

“How in the world did you come up with that explanation?” Clark asked him, a bit surprised that Bruce seemed so unphased by Dick’s question, one that surely turned every adult he knew into a frazzled mess.

“What do you mean?” Bruce responded, a bit confused by Clark's reaction, “It's just basic science. Didn't you have to take a biology class in high school?”

Clark let out an awkward chuckle. “Well yeah, I guess…” he answered, “...it's just that, my parents said nothing about this to me until I was thirteen, and then they gave me a very confusing explanation using farm animals. So I wasn't quite sure how to respond when Dick asked me.”

Bruce sauntered back over to his desk, shuffling through a few papers and straightening them out as Clark remained in the doorway. “Everyone’s different, I guess,” he commented as he began to file away some paperwork, “I'm sure your parents will be excited to see you next week. You're still visiting for Thanksgiving, right?”

Clark took a few steps inside and sat at the chair across from Bruce's side of the desk. “Yeah, I haven't seen them in a while, and I really want to spend the holiday with them. That's still okay with you, right?”

“Of course,” Bruce replied as he closed his cabinet and sat back down in his chair, “It's not like we're planning on doing much here anyway.”

“What?” Clark mumbled in confusion, “What do you mean you're not ‘planning on doing much’? You’re not doing anything special for the holiday? You realize you have Dick now, right?”

Bruce shrugged; he hadn't considered doing much aside from having Alfred cook a turkey that day. After his parents’ death, the holiday didn't mean that much to him, and he thought of it as just another day. “It's just the two of us and Alfred. It's not like there'd be much to do.”

Clark quickly jumped out of his seat, slamming his hands on the desk in fervent determination. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, “You and Dick should come to Smallville with me!”

A puzzled expression appeared on Bruce's face, immediately followed by an annoyed one. “Why?”

Clark whirled around to the other side of the desk, sitting on top of it as Bruce remained in his chair. “Think about all the fun Dick would have,” Clark explained with an endearing smile, “He could meet all my parents’ animals, run around and get dirty, and pass the football around in the field with us. Then we can all sit down for dinner together after a long day of fun. And my folks love kids, so it'll make them happy, too!”

This was the type of offer Bruce would typically dread receiving, but something about Clark's stupid smile made him consider it. He’d certainly be more comfortable spending the day at home and sticking to his usual routine, but Clark made a good point; new experiences were good for Dick, and he wanted to give Dick a life and upbringing that was better than his own. 

Clark could tell Bruce was teetering on the fence, and tried making one more plea to win him over. “Plus it’d make me happy if you joined me,” he argued, “I was worried I'd miss the two of you while I was back home, but if you come with me, I won't have to!”

“Alright,” Bruce reluctantly agreed, already feeling a hint of regret hit him as the words left his mouth, “You make a convincing point—it’ll be good for Dick to get some exposure to a different place.”

Clark jumped up from the desk with a big smile. “Yes!” he shouted in victory, “I'm so excited. I'll go tell Dick the good news now!”

With that, Clark ran out of Bruce's office, leaving Bruce alone to wonder if he'd made the right decision. It was too late to change his mind now; Clark was already dead set on spending the day with him and Dick.

…

As the three of them rode along the old county roads that led up to the Kent's farm, Dick stared out the window wide-eyed in awe. There was so much empty land compared to Gotham and Metropolis, and the few structures and homes they passed by were so unassuming and simple. It was a stark contrast to the skyscrapers and heavy traffic that filled up much of his usual day. He’d seen a few places like this while traveling around with the circus, but never got much of a chance to take it all in. 

As the truck switched from the paved asphalt to rough dirt, Bruce instinctively whipped his head around from the passenger seat, checking on Dick who was unphased by the sudden bumpy terrain they were rolling on. He then looked over to Clark, who had an eager smile on his face, as if the uneven dirt road awakened every memory of his time here in Smallville. Bruce wondered why he let Clark convince him to rent an old truck from the airport instead of calling a private ride; he knew Clark wanted to keep a low profile while he was in town, but did he really need to pick such a rugged vehicle? He sighed and looked back out the window, gazing at the wheat fields that surrounded them.

At last, they pulled up to the farmhouse in the late morning, Clark's parents rushing out to greet him and his guests. Just as soon as he left the car, he was met by a hug from each of his folks, the two of them asking him a whirlwind of questions and never letting him get a word out to answer. Bruce lingered in the car for a moment, watching the way Clark's parents fussed over him and already regretting his choice to be there. Affection like theirs was so foreign to him, and it made him deeply uncomfortable; he worried they'd come on just as strong to him. He glanced over to the backseat again to Dick, who was staring at Clark's parents with guarded curiosity. “At least I won't have to do this alone,” Bruce thought to himself as he opened the door and helped Dick out of his car seat.

Holding his hand, Bruce walked Dick over to Clark and stood beside him, holding his breath as Clark’s parents took note of them. Seeing that they were now out of the truck, Clark eagerly began to introduce the two of them with a big smile. “Ma, Pa, this is Bruce. He’s my—”

“Friend,” Bruce interjected, stopping Clark from revealing that he was actually the billionaire who employed him. He gave them a convincing smile and held out his hand for a handshake. “It's nice to meet you both.”

As each of Clark's parents smiled and shook his hand, their eyes landed on the little boy standing close beside him. “It's great to meet you, Bruce,” Martha replied, “Who's this you got with you?”

Bruce looked down at Dick, who was a little quieter than normal, staring back at them in silence. “This is Dick…” he said with an awkward smile, “...normally he's not this shy, but he's doing a lot of new things today.”

Clark immediately picked up Dick and pulled him in for a hug. “This little guy's the best!” he added, then looked back at Dick and pointed over to his parents, “This is my mom and dad. Pretty cool, right?”

Clark's enthusiasm seemed to get him out of his shell. “Whoa, really?” Dick replied in awe, “But you're old, Clark. You don't need a mom and a dad anymore.”

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle a little at Dick's comment, Clark staring back at him in bewilderment as Clark's parents laughed along. “Well, maybe I don't need them to survive…” Clark argued, “...but I do still need them in other ways. Like—I enjoy spending time with them, having fun together, things like that. Also, I'm not that old—”

“Oh, relax now, Clark,” Jonathan insisted as Dick’s attention quickly turned to the cattle grazing in the nearby field. He knelt down towards Dick and pointed towards them. “Say kid—you wanna go meet the cows?”

Dick turned to Bruce, his hopeful little eyes staring up at him as he asked, “Can I, B?”

Bruce nodded. “Go for it. I'll be here in case you need me.”

Jonathan followed Dick as he ran off towards the cows, kicking up the dirt each time his little feet took a step. Clark watched him go, then looked over to Bruce, noting a genuine smile on his face as he watched him too. He admired how much Bruce cared for Dick, how he went out of his way and out of his comfort zone to make the day more special for him. 

“Pardon me if it's not my place…” Martha began, staring at Bruce in confusion, “…but why does he call you ‘B’? Is he your little brother?’

Bruce shook his head, following her and Clark over to the front porch as they got ready to head inside, “We’re not blood related. I adopted Dick a few months ago after his parents suddenly passed away.”

Martha turned around in shock. “You adopted him?” she gasped, “Well, that is a real tragedy he lost his folks, but you're practically still a child yourself. What compelled you to take him in?”

Clark twiddled his thumbs as his Ma questioned Bruce. She'd hardly known him for more than a minute, and now she was hitting him with invasive questions. Bruce hardly spoke about his personal life, especially with strangers. Clark wondered if now would be a good time to mention that he was technically his boss, but he got the sense that Bruce wanted to leave that part out for now. 

“Well, I'm an orphan myself,” Bruce remarked wistfully, staring down at the old wooden planks that comprised the front porch as he paused for a moment, then gazed out into the distance where he watched Jonathan help Dick pet a cow, “I was there when his parents were killed. When I heard about the kid, I couldn't just let him go. I wanted to be there for him just as much as I wanted someone there for me.”

Clark's heart sank into his chest. Why had he never heard this story before? Lois and Jimmy had told him that Dick was adopted after his parents’ death, but Clark had no idea that Bruce had witnessed it. He saw the dedication Bruce had towards Dick even when he couldn't always be around, but he never quite considered Bruce's own experiences as an orphan and how they impacted him. Everyone saw him as a spoiled trust fund kid, and Clark knew that was an exaggeration, but he never considered just how lonely Bruce really was. 

Martha was touched by Bruce's selflessness. “Well that's quite an honorable thing you did,” she told him, picking up on the strain in his voice and sensing she was getting a little too close to something he didn't like to think about. He seemed so quiet and reserved for a nineteen year old, and wanted to make him feel like he belonged with them. “You know, Clark was adopted, too.”

“Ma!” Clark groaned in embarrassment. It was technically a secret; he didn't want Bruce asking questions about his birth parents. How was he going to explain it without revealing he was Superman? 

Bruce suddenly turned towards Clark in surprise. “You’ve…never told me that before,” he uttered softly, staring at Clark in disbelief.

Clark sighed, digging his hands deep down into his pockets. “Well, there’s not much to say…” he explained, “...my birth parents passed soon after I was born, and Ma and Pa adopted me as a baby, so I don’t really think about it all too much.” While it was true that Clark was an alien, he never really felt like much of an outsider. In comparison to Bruce’s life, Clark’s life was full of the love and support of his family—it felt odd to call himself an “orphan” given his circumstances.

Bruce knew there were more layers to it—Clark had to wonder more about what his life would have been like if his birth parents were still alive. Still, he could tell Clark didn’t want to talk about it, and didn’t pry any further. “Thank you for telling me that,” he quietly replied.

As Martha brought the two of them inside and chatted with Clark, Bruce glanced around the house, taking in each little detail of their family home. Handmade blankets were draped over the furniture, fresh cut wood was sitting by the crackling fireplace, and photographs of Clark and his family were proudly displayed throughout the home. Its quaint and simple ambience was quite different from the ostentatiousness and rigidity of Wayne Manor. Dick would probably enjoy its warmth and coziness, but Bruce felt out of place.

“Clark, why don’t you show Bruce your room?” Martha suggested as she began to work on on dinner, peeking out the window to get a glimpse of the farm, “Seems like Jonathan’s taking the little one on a tour of the whole property.”

“Uh, that’s alright, Ma…” Clark mumbled, a nervous expression on his face, “...I’m sure Bruce would rather sit out here and wait for Dick.”

“I’d love to see your room,” Bruce replied with a smirk. He couldn’t have cared less about it until Clark seemed to get flustered about that idea; whatever he was embarrassed about in there, Bruce wanted to know about it.

Clark reluctantly obliged his request, dragging his feet as he slowly made his way over to his old bedroom and opened the door. Clark’s room was relatively ordinary—the bed was covered up by a neatly folded plaid comforter, the dresser displayed a few trophies and pictures from high school, and a few knick knacks sat on the shelves up on the walls. Bruce took note of the unique items in Clark’s room. Across one wall were a variety of Fall Out Boy and MCR posters, some of which were cut out of magazines, held up by scotch tape. Atop the dresser sat a red MP3 player next to a jumbled mess of skullcandy earbuds. The trophies and awards displayed were for academic decathlons and debate club, and several comic books and science fiction novels sat collecting dust on the shelves. Bruce couldn’t help but laugh a little through his amused grin—this guy is such a nerd.

“Ugh, I know—don’t judge me,” Clark insisted, cringing a little at his own nerdiness, “Remember, I haven’t lived here for a minute.”

“I’m not judging,” Bruce said as he slowly walked around the room, “It’s just that this room is very you.”

Clark waited a moment for Bruce to take it all in, glancing around the room himself and trying to imagine Bruce’s thoughts about it all. “By the way,” Clark began, hoping to change the subject, “Why haven’t you told my parents that you’re—you know—my boss?”

Bruce thought about it for a moment, taking a seat on the edge of Clark’s bed to pause. “Once people realize who I am, their behavior around me instantly changes,” Bruce told him, a hint of frustration peeking through his solemn expression, “I just want to feel normal for once.” He looked around Clark’s room once more. “Maybe that’s why I like your room so much—it makes me feel like a normal teenager.”

Clark understood the desire to be normal; at some point, everyone feels misunderstood, like they're different from others, or like they're missing out on the things their peers are doing. “Sometimes I think the most normal thing is to feel like you don't fit in,” Clark remarked as he thought about his life. Even with his powers, there were times where Clark felt helpless. It was nice to know that Bruce Wayne of all people had those same struggles. Even money and popularity can't wash that feeling away.

Suddenly, the two were interrupted by the sound of Dick excitedly calling out to them and running into the room. “B! Clark! Did you know rabbits don't eat the carrot part of the carrot, but the green part at the top instead?” Dick asked them with a wild expression on his face, like he'd just discovered something life-changing.

“That's news to me,” Bruce said with a smile, kneeling over to Dick and brushing the dust off of him, “It looks like you had a lot of fun outside.”

“He's covered in dirt,” Clark noted with an amused grin, “And a little manure, from what it smells like. I can't wait to sit down at the same table with him to eat.”

Bruce took him over to the bathroom and cleaned him up as best he could with a damp cloth and some soap. He felt a little bad doing so—Dick seldom got the chance to run around in the outdoors so freely—but they were going to sit down for dinner soon, and he didn't want him running around someone else's home tracking mud everywhere.

Clark’s mother knocked on the door, holding an old cardboard box. “I have some of Clark's old clothes here from when he was about this age,” she told Bruce, “I'm sure there's something in here that will fit him.”

Dick was more than happy to wear Clark's hand-me-downs; they were unlike any of the other clothes he had in his closet. Once he had them on, Clark's mother quickly began going through all of his old things in storage, pulling out different sets of clothing and shoes she'd kept away for years. “Kids just grow out of these things so fast,” she commented, setting aside some things for Bruce to take home.

In fact, throughout their day, Bruce watched as Clark’s parents discreetly tried to help him. They asked him more than once if he was getting enough sleep, taking note of his pale complexion and dark circles and handing him a box of tea to drink before bed. Without saying anything, they’d instinctively add more food to his plate every time he took a bite, hoping he was eating enough. They entertained Dick the same way they’d entertain Clark when he was that age, hoping to give Bruce a bit of a break from looking after him, not realizing that was their son’s job this whole time. It was a foreign feeling to watch people take such care of him when they hardly knew anything about him. He knew this is what it was like for Clark as a kid—he hoped he could make it this way for Dick, too.

Their dinner consisted of a traditional Thanksgiving meal, complete with turkey, mashed potatoes, and a big bowl of gravy. Though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what was different about the flavor, Bruce noted that the home cooked quality gave it something special. Clark and Dick fought over the wishbone, Clark's parents cheering for Dick when he won and made his wish. After dinner—which was served at two o’clock in the afternoon—Bruce and Clark taught Dick how to properly throw a football, standing out in the field and playing catch under the autumn sun. In the late afternoon they had dessert, and Dick learned that pumpkin pie was not as good as cartoons made it out to be, opting for a warm slice of apple to satisfy his sweet tooth. The evening concluded with Clark's parents telling Bruce stories about their past Thanksgivings, sparing no embarrassing detail much to Clark's chagrin.

Eventually the three of them packed up to leave, saying a million goodbyes to Clark's parents on the front porch as the chilly night time winds began to pick up. “It was so nice to meet you, Bruce,” Martha said as she gave him a parting handshake, “Hopefully we see you and Dick again soon.”

“Don't be a stranger,” Jonathan added as he loaded the box of hand-me-downs into their truck. 

“I'll miss you,” Clark told his parents as he gave them one last hug, bracing himself to leave home all over again and return to Gotham with Bruce, “I promise I'll call when I get back.”

Clark's parents each hugged Dick goodbye, telling him to be good for Bruce and to try to stay out of trouble. “Now you can get into a little trouble,” Jonathan whispered to Dick with a playful wink, “And if you do, you can call us. We’ll come bail you out—honest.”

Dick laughed at this mischievousness, then sneaked back into the truck and got into his seat. Clark's parents remained on the porch waving goodbye until the car was out of sight. It was a quite ride back to the airport, the three of them decompressing from their long day and taking it all in. It wasn't until they were back on their private jet to Gotham that someone finally broke the silence.

“I hope that was at least bearable,” Clark told Bruce as they flew through the night sky, “I know my parents can be a little much. Sorry about all the hand-me-downs, too—if you don't want them, I'm sure I can find someplace to donate them.”

“Are you joking?” Bruce asked him with a smirk, “I’m never getting rid of them. Not only were they once yours, but now they're Dick’s. That's twice the sentimental value. They're basically priceless.”

“Hah, if you say so,” Clark chuckled, a satisfied grin on his face. It was good to know he did something right for both Bruce and Dick that night. Moreso, he was happy to be able to spend the holiday with both of his families—his Ma and Pa, and the new family he'd created with Bruce and Dick. It certainly wasn’t a conventional one, but it seemed to create a supportive place for Dick to thrive. He glanced over to him sleeping in a seat beside them on the plane, and a twinge of fear crept into him again. “How in the world am I going to be able to leave him after six months?” Clark pondered, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that he still had a few months to figure out a solution, and finally relaxed, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes after a long day.

Chapter Text

A loud crash of thunder rumbled through the manor some time after Clark had put Dick to bed. Though he was exhausted, he didn’t wait for a cry or scream to come from Dick’s room before heading in to check on him. Sure enough, Dick was already out of bed and making his way over to Clark, blanket in hand. With the amount of rain Gotham saw during the fall, Clark thought that Dick would be used to the thunderstorms by now; there’d been one or two he’d already slept through.

“That was a loud one, huh?” Clark wearily asked him, rubbing his tired eyes as he tried to stay awake to comfort Dick. Most of the last week was filled with the stress of final exams and cramming late at night—even with the breaks Bruce had given him, Clark was spent. “Want me to sleep in here with you?”

That offer normally appeased Dick whenever he was too afraid to sleep, but for some reason it didn’t have the same effect tonight. “You think B is okay?” Dick responded, a hint of worry in his voice.

It was uncommon that Dick asked for Bruce at bedtime given that Clark was always nearby, but he made a good point. Bruce often stayed out late, and his fears about him getting caught in a storm were not unrealistic. Clark took a few steps out into the hall and peered around the house, and just so happened to spot Bruce just before he left to head downstairs. “Hold on just a minute,” Clark stopped Bruce, taking a few more steps towards him, “Dick is asking for you.”

“Me?” Bruce mumbled in surprise, quickly changing his course of action and following Clark back into Dick’s bedroom. Clark was too tired to mediate between the two, leaning up against the door frame as he closed his eyes and listened to their conversation. After Dick expressed his concerns about the storm, Bruce tried everything he could think of to calm him down—teaching him how to count the number of seconds between the flash of lightning and sound of thunder to track the storm, tucking him back in with an eye mask and pair of headphones to drown out the noise and light, even offering to let him stay up late to watch cartoons to try to distract him from it all. Nothing seemed to work. Clark began to wonder if Dick was truly concerned about the storm, or if there was something else bothering him.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Clark blurted out, his sleep-deprived brain somehow coming up with a suggestion, “What if the three of us camped out in the downstairs den together? Would that work?”

Dick seemed to like that idea and quietly agreed. Bruce, on the other hand, was a little taken aback by that suggestion. “Well, I had some plans tonight…” he mumbled to Clark, hoping to make some progress on a case he’d been neglecting in the Batcave.

Clark pulled Bruce aside, trying to be mindful of Dick’s presence. “I think, with you and I being so busy lately, the kid’s feeling a little left out. He probably just wants a little extra attention tonight—you think you can work with me on this?”

Bruce knew Clark was right. He’d been using the saliency of the holiday season to spend more time working with the Wayne Foundation, trying to gain the trust of its board in hopes that he’d be given more control over the charity soon. Unfortunately, this meant that he was around a lot less, and with Clark spending the last couple of weeks studying, Dick had hardly spent any quality time with either of them in a while. He took a deep breath and nodded. “I can do that,” he concluded, turning to head out of the room, “I guess I’ll go change. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes.”

A quiet smile grew on Clark’s face as he relished this small victory. He took a few blankets off of Dick’s bed, handed him his pillow, and the two of them made their way downstairs. Despite his desire to hurry up and get some sleep, Clark spared no effort in rearranging some of the furniture, cushions, and throw pillows in the room to build a fort for the three of them to sleep under. Dick eagerly watched as Clark transformed the den into a cool, cozy space for them—it was exactly this type of thing he missed doing when Clark was busy with his coursework. Just as he was about finished, Bruce came downstairs, staring at the conglomerate of blankets, pillows, and cushions in apprehension. “What’s all this?”

Clark looked up to Bruce, but froze before responding. It was the first time he’d seen him dressed so casually; he walked over in a simple pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, his hair no longer neatly combed back but instead resting across his forehead and the sides of his face. The sleek and polished aesthetic Bruce normally boasted had been replaced by something more cozy and undone, and again Clark wondered how many people besides him got to see this side of him.

“Clark made us a fort!” Dick shouted in excitement, completely over the storm at this point and now re-energized by the attention he was getting from the two of them.

After setting their pillows and blankets down on the floor, Clark gently pulled Dick over to him, convincing him to lie down beside him and try to go back to sleep. He could tell Dick was wide awake again, so—despite struggling to keep his eyes open—he asked Dick to tell him about all the different things he wants for Christmas, mumbling out a few “mhms” in acknowledgement as Dick quietly rambled on. As Bruce lied down on the opposite side of Dick, he noted Clark’s immense willpower and strength in staying awake to listen to Dick despite everything in his body telling him to fall asleep.

Finally, as Dick’s rambling began to slow, Bruce reached over to Clark’s face, gently gripping the frame of his glasses as Clark closed his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep in these,” Bruce added as he tried to take them off, “You might break them.”

Clark suddenly jolted awake, pulling away from Bruce’s grip before he could take them off. “Oh! Uh, well, they should be fine,” Clark quickly explained, a little nervous Bruce might recognize him as Superman without them on, “They’re actually pretty sturdy—in fact, I’ve fallen asleep in them before. Don’t worry about it.”

Bruce thought Clark’s reaction was definitely unusual, but decided not to push it—whatever Clark’s reason was for wanting to keep his glasses on was none of his business. He nodded, took a deep breath, and then quickly dozed off. After a few minutes of silence, Dick followed suit.

Before falling asleep, Clark opened his eyes again to ensure Dick was fast asleep, staring at his sweet little face in front of him and relieved that this arrangement seemed to solve whatever anxieties he was having earlier. He then peeked over to Bruce sleeping soundly just on the other side of Dick, and thought about how physically close the two of them suddenly were to one another. True, they often sat with each other here and there when they chatted, but this was the first time he’d lied this close to him in the darkness of the night. Why did that realization suddenly make him so nervous? 

He quickly turned his attention back to Dick, thinking about how grateful he was to be in this with Bruce, knowing that they both cared a lot about the kid. He took another deep sigh and reached his arm out to cuddle with Dick; however, as he did so, he accidentally brushed up against Bruce’s arm, not realizing that Bruce was already holding him. He could feel his heart racing through his chest, his cheeks suddenly warm and tingly as he quickly pulled his hand away. He focused on Bruce’s heartbeat and breathing, listening to hear if he’d accidentally woken him up and was going to have to deal with an awkward confrontation. Thankfully, Bruce was fast asleep, and Clark let out a breath of relief as he rested his hand on Dick’s shoulder. Eventually he fell asleep too, the both of them keeping one hand on their kid as they slept through the night.

…

The next morning, Clark was up and moving as soon as daybreak came. He’d finished all his classes for the semester and had a full night’s rest, and now he could finally put all his attention towards what he really wanted to do: prepare for the Christmas holiday. Clark was extra thrilled for Christmas this year—he’d decided to spend it in Gotham with Alfred, Bruce, and Dick, and was happy to have the chance to hype up the holiday to a four-year-old. Christmas just felt more magical as a kid, and he knew he could help Dick experience that feeling. Throughout the morning, Clark taught him how to string popcorn, had him pick out the paper for each of the gifts they wrapped, and made handmade Christmas cards with him. They were things that he looked back on fondly when he recalled his own childhood, and it felt rewarding to be able to pass down the tradition and share those memories with Dick.

Bruce spent most of his morning in his study, catching up on some last minute work with the Wayne Foundation and completely oblivious to the holiday festivities happening in his own home. Despite Dick’s interest, it wasn’t something he could easily lean into; he hadn’t celebrated Christmas since he’d lost his parents, and this time of year always brought up difficult memories. To do anything other than ignore it all and drown himself in his work would mean facing that pain, and he’d been successful in putting that off for the last decade. It felt awful knowing that he was holding himself back from celebrating with Dick, but this is what he hired Clark for—to be there for Dick in the times when he couldn’t, and to Bruce, this was one of those times. 

It wasn’t until that afternoon, when he heard a commotion and a loud thump towards the front door, that he decided to check-in with Clark. As he entered the living room, he was surprised to see a fresh-cut noble fir standing proudly in the corner, Clark filling up the container of water underneath it as Dick stared up at it in awe.

“I’ve found the box of ornaments!” Alfred grinned as he quickly brought them over to Clark and Dick, “It’s been such a long time—I wasn’t sure if we still had them.”

Suddenly the three of them spotted Bruce and stopped dead in their tracks. Alfred looked especially horrified as he caught Bruce’s gaze fixed on the box of ornaments in his hands, a set he hadn’t seen since he was eight years old. They were a remnant of another life, something he looked back on with a mixture of fondness and heartbreak. He’d been so careful in avoiding any thoughts about his parents, and in an instant all that hard work had been erased. 

As his eyes glanced up to Dick’s innocent little face, he began to wonder what it’d be like for his parents to meet him. His mother making Christmas cookies with him, letting him lick the batter off of the spoon as she put each batch into the oven. His father reading A Christmas Carol to him by the fireplace to get him to fall asleep. The two of them waking up in the middle of the night to fill up his stocking and wheel out a new bicycle by the tree. The two of them helping Dick decorate the Christmas tree with the ornaments in that box. The two of them watching him get older every year and being there for every new milestone of his life; something that Bruce didn’t even get to have, but this was different—Dick was special, and they’d never know.

Clark could see the sudden shift in Bruce’s eyes as he stood there in silence and realized something was wrong. Alfred knew right away what had happened. Even Dick could sense that things were off. None of them stopped Bruce as he quickly stormed out of the house and off to the garage, waiting there in the uncomfortable stillness of the room as they heard the engine to the Escalade leave the estate. Dick looked up to Clark in confusion, then Clark looked over to Alfred. “Please forgive him for that—in the excitement of it all, it seems I’ve forgotten how hard the holiday is on him,” Alfred sighed, opening the box and handing it to Clark to continue decorating the tree, “He hasn’t celebrated in over ten years. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.”

Dick sat there quietly on the living room chair as he looked over to the door. “Clark,” Dick began, a little uneasy, “Is B mad at us?”

Clark rushed over to Dick and pulled him in for a hug. “No, Bruce isn’t mad at us,” he reassured him, desperate to ensure the kid didn’t start to blame himself for Bruce’s behavior, “He’s just sad. Seeing the Christmas stuff is hard for him because it makes him miss his mom and dad.”

Dick’s eyes welled with tears as Clark held him. “I miss my mom and dad too, Clark,” he whimpered before bursting into a full-blown sob. 

“I know, kid,” Clark consoled him as he held him tighter, gently petting his hair as he cried into him, “I’m here for you.”

…

His shoes now caked in a thick layer of mud, Bruce had finally made his way through Gotham Cemetery and over to his parents’ gravesite, standing there in the cold, unrelenting rain as he stared down at their tombstone. For a while he stood there in silence, holding back what little he could as the rain dripped down his face. He hadn’t visited in years, and yet it was clear that someone was still coming out here regularly to clean their grave and set down fresh flowers. That made him feel worse.

“How could you?” he muttered out, a wave of grief flooding his body as the first words he’d said to them in years finally left his mouth. Through the sound of the pouring rain echoed a scream so chilling, it sent the crows flying in the opposite direction. 

“How could you leave me like this?” Bruce pleaded, the pain he felt manifesting itself in rage and hopelessness. He began to hyperventilate, his face feeling numb and his head spinning as he stood there finally feeling everything he’d been holding back. “And now you leave him like this, too?”

Finally he broke, dropping to his knees in defeat and sobbing into the mud as he gripped the blades of grass between his fingers. “For so long, I’ve had nothing in my life as Bruce Wayne to strive for. I’ve devoted my life to avenging your death as a vigilante,” he wept softly, the crows still maintaining their distance as he did so. “Except now it's different. I–I just want to be a good father…” he gasped through his tears, “...and now you’re not even here to show me how.”

He stayed there sobbing for much longer than he should have. It took him a while to let go of all that he’d been holding in. It was an awful feeling—draining, debilitating, soul-crushing—but at the end of it all, he felt a small sense of relief. It was enough to get him back home to the manor and let him face the holiday with Dick. He was angry that his parents couldn’t show him how to be there for him, but he knew Clark would help him the best he could.

Bruce returned home, completely soaked, covered in mud, and nearly hypothermic after spending so much time in the brisk Gotham rain. As soon as he heard the car return to the garage, Clark rushed over to the front door, relieved that Bruce had come back and desperate to help him through whatever was hurting him. Dick had Clark to help him through the times he felt alone, but that was the one luxury Bruce never grew up with. As his eyes landed on Bruce’s miserable state, Clark nearly burst into tears.

“I’ve run you a hot bath, Master Bruce,” Alfred told him as he brushed past Clark and wrapped Bruce in a dry towel, “Try your best not to drip on the carpet—it’ll be difficult to schedule a cleaner to come out around this time of year.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce quietly remarked as he headed upstairs, Clark vigilantly watching him go. He then looked over to Alfred, who had a hint of concern on his face but hid it well under his usually stoic demeanor.

“I’ll make us all some tea,” Alfred decided, walking off to the kitchen after he was certain Bruce had made it upstairs safely.

After his bath, Bruce slipped on a comfortable pair of slacks and a thick cable-knit sweater, still a little cold from his impromptu outing. He took a deep breath before leaving his bedroom again, dreading the uncomfortable conversation he’d probably have with Clark and Dick after his abrupt exit earlier. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t get much time to prepare; Clark was waiting outside of his bedroom for him with a cup of tea.

“I brought you this,” Clark nervously blurted out as he stopped Bruce, “It’s tea. Alfred made some.”

“Thanks,” Bruce remarked as he took the tea cup from Clark, staring down at it blankly and saying nothing more. Even though it’d been a while since he returned, Clark could tell Bruce had been crying; there was still some swelling around his eyes, and his voice seemed a little more raspy than normal.

“Dick’s taking a nap right now, but I’m planning on waking him up soon,” Clark continued, trying not to pry into Bruce’s sudden disappearance but still desperate for him feel better, “I think once he does, we’re going to sit down and watch a movie, if you want to join us. You don’t have to though. I know you’re busy—”

Suddenly Clark was stopped by the feeling of Bruce’s head falling onto his shoulder, collapsing into Clark’s arms as a few tears made their way back to his eyes. He remained silent, letting Clark support him as he stood there feeling lost. Clark took the tea cup out of Bruce’s hand and set it down on the end table beside them, then wrapped his arms around Bruce, patting him on the back a few times as he consoled him. “Don’t worry, Bruce,” Clark reassured him, “I’m here for you.”

They stood there like that for a minute or two, Clark continuing to support Bruce as he felt the weight of the day crashing down on him all over again. Finally Bruce pulled away, wiping a few remaining tears from his eyes as he regained his composure. “Sorry about that,” Bruce told him as he straightened himself out, “It’s been a hard day.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Clark insisted, a soft smile on his face, “We’re friends, remember? That's what I'm here for.”

Bruce sighed, picking up the tea cup and taking a sip from it. “It’s just that the holidays bring up a lot of feelings about the past…memories I’ve tucked away for a while. I haven’t had to confront any of it until now.”

“I see,” Clark replied, “Well, I'm not sure if this would help, but maybe revisiting those memories with Dick might be worth a try?”

“You think?” Bruce asked with skepticism.

Clark nodded. “It might be easy to forget sometimes, but Dick lost his parents the same as you,” he continued, “You should show him you're willing to confront those memories. Don't teach him to run away from them.”

“It's not easy to forget what he lost,” Bruce insisted, his voice strong and firm, “But you're right. I need to set a good example.”

The two of them made their way over to Dick's room and woke him up from his nap, Bruce apologizing for leaving abruptly and assuring him he'd spend the rest of the evening with him. Then, the three of them went downstairs together, Bruce wiping the dust off of some old family photo albums and bringing them over to show to Dick. Clark sat beside the two of them on the couch, secretly eager to see all of Bruce's baby pictures and childhood memories that were kept away in those albums. Bruce explained the story behind every photo, Dick listening attentively as he talked about his parents and his early childhood. 

He thought recalling these memories would choke him up, but Bruce was surprised when he felt genuine joy from remembering the good times with his parents, the heartache lingering in the background but the laughter and happiness overpowering it. If not for Clark, he would've never had the courage to revisit this part of his life, nor would Dick ever learn about his family. As Bruce flipped to the last page on his album, Clark took out an old Polaroid camera he'd brought down with him and snapped a photo of Bruce showing the albums to Dick.

“What was that for?” Bruce asked in confusion, a little surprised that Clark was interrupting an emotional moment by taking a picture.

“Well, you've reached the end of all your past memories…” Clark said as he handed him the photo, “...now it's time for you to make new ones.”

Bruce looked down at the photo Clark took of them, a candid shot of Bruce and Dick as they stared at the album together, the undecorated Christmas tree in the background. It seemed to fit right in with the other photos in his family's album. It was these little gestures that showed how much Clark cared for and respected Bruce. “Thank you, Clark,” Bruce uttered softly as he looked back up at him, touched by his optimistic sweetness. 

It was at this moment that Alfred, who just so happened to be refilling their tea, realized there might be something more than friendship brewing between the two of them, though they were each completely oblivious to those feelings.

“So then,” Bruce huffed as he shut the album and set it on the table, “How about we decorate that tree?”

“Yeah!” Dick shouted in excitement, running over to the box of ornaments and carefully inspecting each one. Bruce joined him, picking through each of the pieces and describing which ones were his favorite as a kid as he handed them to Dick. After a moment, Clark walked over there too, lifting Dick up to the high points of the tree so he could hang them there as well.

Alfred remained in the distance in hopes that more alone time between Bruce and Clark would help kindle the spark that had begun between the two; he admired the effect Clark had on both Bruce and Dick, and—hopeful that a relationship would maintain this benefit—quietly began a plot to get them together.

Chapter Text

Christmas morning was just as eventful as Clark expected it to be. At the break of dawn he was woken up by Dick bursting into his room and beginning to jump up and down on his bed as he excitedly shouted, “Clark, get up! Santa came!” He hardly had a moment to pull a sweater over his pajamas and slip on a pair of slippers before Dick anxiously pulled him out of the room and downstairs. Clark knew that opening presents was the only thing on his mind, but didn't want Bruce to miss out on the moment, and opted to stall Dick by insisting he couldn't open his gifts until Clark was seated in the living room with his breakfast.

It didn't take long for the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon to waft into Bruce's bedroom, waking him up from a short night's rest. Alfred didn't normally cook this type of food so early; he always insisted that the morning should begin with a light snack and a hot cup of tea. No one would start their day off with a big meal like this except for a farm boy. He realized pretty quickly that Dick was probably up and eager to celebrate the holiday with Clark cooking downstairs to keep him distracted. He pulled himself up from his bed, trying to ignore each ache and pain in his tired body as he slipped on his robe and combed his hair, then took a deep breath before heading downstairs.

As he entered the kitchen, still groggy from the night before, his eyes landed on the comforting sight of Clark placing a few pancakes on Dick's plate as he sat at the kitchen island. Bruce admired Clark's ability to create a sense of warmth and safety in every room he was in. It was something the manor lacked before he came here. Finally Clark spotted Bruce, a soft smile on his face as he grabbed another plate. “Merry Christmas!” he beamed, “I wanted to wait for you to wake up before opening presents with Dick, so I made breakfast. Want me to fix you a plate?”

Bruce shook his head, reaching over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. “No thanks,” he replied lethargically, “I’ll just have coffee.”

“That's really bad for your metabolism,” Clark corrected him, putting a couple of eggs and a strip of bacon on the plate anyways and handing it to Bruce, "Not to mention how it's a surefire way to get an ulcer. You're going to wreck your body if you keep that up.”

Bruce didn't want to take the plate, but Clark was very insistent, and he eventually gave in. “I can take care of myself just fine, you know,” he argued.

“I know,” Clark replied matter of factly, “But it's also okay to let others take care of you, too. It's no trouble for me—I’m happy to do it.”

Dick took a few bites of his pancakes, then pushed his plate aside. “Okay, we had breakfast!” he declared, jumping down from his seat and motioning over towards the living room, “Can we open presents now?”

Clark sighed in defeat, nodded, and picked up his plate to head off to the living room. Bruce followed suit.

When they arrived, they were a little surprised to see Alfred already tidying up the space so they could enjoy the morning together. Bruce reminded him that he didn't have to work today, but he didn't seem to mind; Alfred just wanted things to go well today. It was Dick's first Christmas with them, and he wanted everything to be perfect. Clark and Bruce sat opposite each other in the living room chairs, setting their meals down on the coffee table in front of them so they could enjoy their breakfast as Dick opened his gifts. Alfred handed him his first gift, wrapped elegantly in a simple forest green box and tied shut by a satin red ribbon. Inside was a quality set of children's winter gloves and a matching hat, rather dignified for a four year old but of impeccable quality. “I don't want you to get cold, Master Dick,” Alfred told him as he opened it.

“Wow, these are for me?” Dick responded in awe. Clark thought it was strange that a kid his age was genuinely excited about getting clothes for Christmas, but he remembered how difficult much of the year had been for him. True that Bruce often bought him anything he asked for, but Alfred identified something he’d enjoy but never actually think of asking for. The distinguished quality of the hat and gloves, coupled with the meaning behind them, gave them a special feeling, and a big smile grew on Dick's face as he tried them on.

Bruce got up and handed a few boxes to Dick. “Mine are next,” he said as he handed them to him. He watched as Dick jumped up and down with joy as he unboxed each of the presents, most of which were new toy releases that he'd been begging for weeks to get. The last box, however, wasn’t filled with toys, but instead a new pair of pajamas. Dick's eyes widened as he realized the pattern on them was the same insignia Superman wore on his suit. “Superman pajamas?!” Dick shouted in disbelief, “I love them!”

Clark examined the pajamas, completely stunned. He'd hardly been out serving Metropolis as Superman for more than a year. Were there already people out there capitalizing on his likeness? “Where in the world did you get those?” Clark asked Bruce.

“I had them custom made,” Bruce explained, a smug grin on his face as he answered, “I buy him toys all the time, so I wanted to make sure I got him something special for today.”

“I see,” Clark nodded as he reached under the tree and picked up the gift he got for Dick, “What a sweet idea. It's almost as impressive as my gift.”

Bruce's brow furrowed in concern as Clark handed Dick the gift. Dick began screaming unintelligibly as he saw what was inside, nearly crying from happiness as he looked down at his gift. Bruce quickly rushed over and glanced inside. “You got him a signed portrait of Superman?!”

“I called in a few favors at The Planet,” Clark nonchalantly replied with a self-satisfied expression. Of course, getting the picture was a lot simpler than that, taking him all but fifteen minutes and costing him next to nothing. Bruce wanted to be mad at Clark for upstaging him, but Dick's excitement about it all made him forget the whole thing. 

As Dick sat and admired all his gifts, Clark handed another small box to Bruce, his face a little flushed with nerves as he did so. “This is my gift for you,” he began, “It's definitely not as impressive as Dick’s, but in my defense, it's hard to buy gifts for someone who has everything.”

A restrained chuckle slipped from Bruce as he took the box. He always felt as if he were lacking something; Clark's comment reminded him that to others, he was much better off than he felt. As he opened Clark's gift, he was surprised to see a simple Christmas card sitting inside. Just by looking at it, he could tell Clark was the type of person to spend hours in a gift shop going through every single option and doing a deep analysis to find the perfect card. It was a simple, unassuming holiday card, something that he could display on his desk that wasn't too over the top. 

“There's more inside,” Clark explained, motioning for Bruce to flip open the card.

As he did so, Bruce held his breath as he saw the photograph Clark had placed inside. At some point while the three of them were on the couch going over Bruce's old albums, Alfred had taken a picture of them enjoying the moment together. The expressions on each of their faces were priceless—a mixture of joy, laughter, and contentment. It was the exact type of scene that silenced every doubt he had about being an inadequate father figure for Dick, a reminder that he had friends and family who admired and cherished him despite his faults. “I love it,” Bruce said with a growing smile, his confident gaze returning back to Clark's, “Thank you.”

He then walked back over towards the tree, pulling a few boxes out from behind it and bringing them over to Clark. “I know I technically gave you a bonus, but I didn't want you to miss out on the feeling of opening a physical gift, so I picked these out for you,” Bruce continued nonchalantly as he set out a few large boxes in front of him. He watched as Clark, speechless in disbelief, opened each of the boxes to reveal a few brand new suits, complete with some button-ups and ties to wear underneath. The stitching and construction was impeccable, each garment worth more than Clark's entire wardrobe.

“I, uhh…wow,” Clark sputtered out, flustered as he looked back up at Bruce, “This is too much. I don’t know if I can—”

“Don't worry about it,” Bruce insisted, trying to quell Clark's nerves about receiving such an expensive gift, “I see it as an investment in your career as a journalist. You'll need a good suit or two to be taken seriously, but I have faith in your work. I'll see my ROI once you get famous.”

Clark couldn't help but beam at Bruce's words. This gesture was a display of Bruce's faith in his dream to become a great journalist, and it was rewarding to know someone believed in his success. “That means a lot to me,” he sheepishly replied.

“Plus, I was hoping you'd come with me to the Wayne Foundation's charity gala next week. We normally host a fundraiser on New Year’s Eve to raise money for a few different causes,” Bruce continued, “I didn't want you looking out of place if you decided to come.”

“Charity gala?” Clark blurted out, hit with yet another surprise, “Well, that's…certainly an idea. But even with a nice suit, I don't know how well I'll fit in with your friends.”

Bruce let out a deep sigh, leaning forward in his chair in hopes to convince Clark to join him. “I'm starting to wonder how well I fit in with my friends, too,” he explained, “That's why I'm hoping you’ll come. I'll feel better with you there. And haven't you been promising that girl of yours a proper date? You’d definitely win her over with a New Year's Gala.”

Bruce was right. With his responsibilities at the manor and with school, Clark had been neglecting his friendship with Lois and Jimmy. Months later, he still hadn’t fulfilled his promise to take Lois out on a date. He’d seen her a few weeks ago while she was helping one of the reporters with an assignment in Gotham, but even then they only met for a quick cup of coffee, and Clark knew he owed Lois something more. Clark was ashamed to admit that he’d forgotten about it all until Bruce brought it up. “I guess you make a good point,” Clark conceded, “With everything going on, I still haven’t had the time or energy to take Lois out on a real date.”

“Great!” Bruce responded with a victorious smile, “You can have her meet you here. I’ll even let you borrow a car for the night. Or you can ride with me and Ronnie, if you prefer.”

Clark froze for a moment, completely thrown for a loop upon hearing Veronica’s name. He’d spent so much of the past few months growing closer with Bruce, yet completely forgot about the girl he was dating. In his defense, Bruce made it easy to forget her; she never came by the house except for on Halloween, and he hardly mentioned her at all when Clark spent time with him. In fact, with how little he’d seen her, Clark had written her off as a fling, assuming Bruce had moved on and was no longer interested in her. For some reason, hearing Bruce bring her up made Clark’s heart sink into his stomach.

Before Clark could respond, the two of them were interrupted by the sound of Bruce’s phone buzzing. Clark couldn’t help but glance over and see that Veronica was calling him at that moment. “Speak of the devil,” Bruce sighed as he stood up and walked out of the room to take the call. 

Despite being in another room, Clark could still hear their conversation, which he desperately wanted to ignore. Why did the attention he gave her make him feel so unseen? He looked back over to Dick who was losing interest in his toys, then glanced over to Alfred who seemed less than pleased that Bruce had interrupted the moment by taking Veronica's phone call. “I think I’m going to head upstairs and get dressed,” Clark told Alfred as he stood up from his seat, “Can you do me a favor and make sure Dick finishes his breakfast?”

By the time Alfred nodded in response, Clark was already out of the room and rushing up the stairs towards his bedroom. He quietly shut the door and took a quick glance around the dark room before climbing back into his bed. A long, deep breath left his mouth as he gripped a pillow with his hands. He wanted an answer as to why he was suddenly feeling so hopeless. Not just hopeless, but defeated—like nothing mattered anymore. Something about Veronica’s presence in Bruce’s life made him feel this way, but what was it?

“Why does it bother me so much?” Clark wondered, a few tears welling in his eyes as he clenched his pillow tighter, “Why do I feel abandoned?”

Besides Dick, Bruce was the most important person in Clark’s life right now. Not just because he signed his paychecks and fueled his career, but because he was a true friend. He’d seen him every day for the past three months. They lived under the same roof, ate the same meals, and cared for the same kid together. They’d spent hours each day discussing their lives and hopes and dreams together, confiding in each other like they were old friends. Clark had introduced him to his friends and family, and even skipped a visit to his parents’ this Christmas just to spend the holiday here at Wayne Manor. He’d never gotten this close to someone in such a short amount of time, but it felt so natural and innate—as if they were always meant to be best friends. “He knows everything about me…” Clark sighed, conveniently forgetting about the fact that he kept his life as Superman a secret from Bruce, “...and yet I don’t know everything about him.”

To Clark, Veronica threatened the closeness that they shared. He couldn’t gauge how much she really meant to him, but she had to mean something to him given how long she’s been around. For all he knew, Bruce could be spending as much time with Veronica as he was with Clark; after all, he did tend to disappear at night. Bruce was important to Clark, but Clark wondered if he was really all that important to Bruce. Did he overestimate how deep their friendship really was? “In the end, she probably means more to him than I do,” Clark decided, “Eventually he’ll forget about me altogether, and then I’ll be alone.”

This, of course, wasn’t true. Clark’s parents were around, and Lois and Jimmy hadn’t given up on him yet. But Clark put so much time and effort into building his friendship with Bruce, and felt as though Bruce understood him better than anyone. To lose that connection was one of his greatest fears, a fear that grew exponentially every time Veronica was mentioned. He had no reason to believe Bruce would abandon him or that she would get in the way of their friendship, and yet something about her triggered these fears in him. He lied there for a few minutes and let the tears flow down his face as he confronted these feelings.

Eventually, Clark got up and ready for the day, putting on a brave face to spend the holiday with Dick. That kid had a knack for pulling him out of whatever slump he was in. Just before heading back downstairs, Clark saw a text message come in from Lois. She’d sent Clark a picture of her family’s dog wearing a Santa hat and wished him a “Merry Christmas.” It made him laugh a little, and that small gesture gave him something new to look forward towards. He stopped for a moment and decided to give her a call. “Hey Lois,” he began with a hopeful smile, “Got any plans yet for New Year’s?”

Chapter Text

Almost a week later, Clark was in his bedroom getting ready for his date with Lois. He’d never been to a gala before, but Alfred was kind enough to help him pick out the right thing to wear and lend him a few accessories for the evening. As he looked himself over in the mirror, he meticulously adjusted every aspect of his appearance in an effort to calm his nerves. He wanted the night to go well, and this was perhaps the one thing he had full control over. Still, he was unsatisfied with how his hair didn’t quite swoop over his forehead the way he envisioned, how his shirt had one wrinkle that appeared when he twisted his body in a specific way, and how his shoes let out a little squeak each time he took a step. If he was going as Bruce’s guest, he knew he had to look perfect, and these arbitrary flaws only added to his anxiety about the evening. First dates always gave people butterflies, but Clark felt like the stakes were too high tonight. Not only did he have to win over Lois, but he knew he’d also see Veronica tonight, and confronting the way she made him feel was the last thing he needed to distract him.

Clark suddenly jumped at the sound of someone knocking at his door. “Hey there,” Bruce began with a cool smile as he let himself in, “Just wanted to make sure you’re almost ready.”

He took a pause to admire Clark’s outfit, a perfectly fitted navy blue suit and a muted red button up underneath. It was an odd color combination, but it was strangely flattering on him. Bruce would have been swept off his feet if Clark did not look like he was about to break into a million pieces. “So,” Bruce continued, taking a few steps towards Clark and adjusting his collar for him, “You seem tense.”

It was a little comforting to have Bruce fussing over him like this. “Sorry,” Clark sighed, his hands shaking a little as he slipped them into his pockets, “I’m just a little nervous. I haven’t been on a date date with Lois yet and I really don’t want to screw things up.”

Bruce thought it was sweet how Clark was so nervous about something so mundane. “I take it you don’t go on very many dates?” he asked him with an inquisitive grin.

“Well, actually no,” Clark explained, the words leaving his mouth faster than he could process them, “I was always so busy growing up, and—well, you’ve seen my old bedroom—I was not the coolest kid around. So Lois is kind of the first girl who’s ever been interested.”

Bruce tried not to laugh. He seriously doubted Lois was the only one who’d been interested in him, but then again, Clark was pretty oblivious to these types of things. “So does that mean you’ve never been on a date before?”

Clark sighed, turning away from Bruce and adjusting his hair in the mirror again. “I’m already nervous…” Clark began, a little worried Bruce was judging him for his lack of experience, “...so if you’re here to make fun of me, you should just leave.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it—I guess it’s just hard for me to imagine that someone like you hasn’t been on a date,” Bruce quickly corrected himself, trying to be sensitive to Clark’s feelings. On paper, Clark was the perfect boyfriend—tall and good-looking, kind and compassionate, ambitious and motivated—and it was hard for him to understand why someone like Clark didn’t have a lot of dating experience when Bruce always had a girl around. “Don’t be nervous. Just be yourself and she’ll like you. It’s cliche advice, but you’re one of the few cases where it actually rings true.”

Clark wanted to believe that Bruce was right. He knew him better than anyone else, and trusted that Bruce wouldn’t steer him in the wrong direction. Once again, the words left his mouth before he could stop himself. “It’s more, just—I’ve never kissed anyone before…” Clark blurted out, “...and you know the whole New Year’s kiss at midnight thing…I don’t know. I’m just nervous.”

Bruce thought it was cute how worried Clark was about his first kiss. He took a few slow steps towards Clark, his body only inches away from him as he gently lifted Clark’s chin with his finger and stared into his crystal blue eyes. “Well if you want some practice…” Bruce mischievously smirked, “...I can kiss you right now.”

Clark’s face turned bright red, and for a couple of seconds he stood there speechless as Bruce looked back at him seductively. Then, all at once, the two of them burst into laughter, barely able to breathe through it all. That joke was the exact thing Clark needed to loosen him up. “Oh, you think you’re so funny,” he snickered in response.

Alfred soon appeared in the doorway, unsure of what had caused the two of them to be giggling with each other like this, but decided to not ask questions. “Excuse me, you two,” Alfred calmly stated, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I thought you might like to know that your dates have arrived.”

“Thanks Alfred,” Bruce replied as he quelled his laughter and straightened himself out in Clark’s mirror, “We’ll follow you down.”

As the two of them walked down the main staircase and into the foyer, Clark was surprised to see Lois chatting away with Veronica, an amused smile plastered on her face as they laughed together. Even Lois seemed to get along with her well, and Clark felt even worse for resenting Veronica the way he did. Finally their eyes landed on Bruce and Clark, and they quickly dropped their conversation to greet them. 

“It’s about time,” Veronica sarcastically scolded Bruce as she walked over and gave him an adoring kiss. Clark tried not to notice.

“Where’s your little buddy?” Lois asked Clark as she glanced around the manor for Dick. 

For the first time in a while, Dick had completely left Clark’s mind; he was so enthralled by the sparkling, form-hugging red dress Lois was wearing that he was blind to everything else. He quickly snapped himself out of it and refreshed his memory. “He’s upstairs in bed,” Clark explained, “Sorry to disappoint. Next time, you’ll have to get here a little earlier while he’s still up.”

A playful smile appeared on Lois’ face as her eyes finally met his. “Oh, so you think there’ll be a next time?” she asked him, “The date hasn’t even technically started yet. That’s pretty bold.”

Veronica overheard her comment and quickly interjected. “Then let’s get going!” she said as she hooked her arm around Lois’, then leaned in to whisper to her, “And if it doesn’t work out, I can introduce you to one of my other friends.”

As Lois chuckled and walked out with Veronica, Clark’s disdain for Bruce’s girlfriend only grew. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer to borrow a car,” Clark told Bruce as they walked over to the garage.

The four of them arrived at the event hall in town around the same time. Outside stood some reporters from The Gotham Gazette held back behind security ropes, and a beefy security guard guarding the entrance. Clark thought it was a little strange how the guard covered much of his face with his scarf, but soon dismissed it due to the cold weather. Bruce simply waved to security as they let the group in, the guard politely greeting him with a “Nice to see you, Mr. Wayne.” With all the time they spent together at the manor, Clark forgot how much of a celebrity Bruce was.

As they entered the main hall, Lois and Clark were stunned by the grandiosity of it all. The room was decorated in a variety of decorations to help celebrate the new year—streamers, balloons, flower arrangements, and a large countdown clock in the center of the room created the perfect atmosphere for the party. A DJ at the center and a charismatic emcee kept the crowd lively and entertained. Clark thought a charity gala would be a calm event featuring speeches from donors and a call to action, not an excuse for a bunch of trust fund kids to throw a party.

Before he could complain about it, Lois hooked her arm around Clark’s and pulled him over to the dance floor. “C’mon, Smallville! Let’s dance!”

For a while, the two of them danced together in the crowd without a care in the world. For Clark, it was freeing to give in to the moment and move along to the music with Lois. He could hardly remember any of the worries he carried with him to the event. That is, until he heard a commotion form towards the stage, and caught a glimpse of Bruce dancing on top of one of the speakers, the crowd cheering him on. Soon the DJ changed the music to a song with a slow bass, and the crowd went wild as Bruce began to unbutton his suit jacket and slowly slip it off in sync with the song, his torso rolling and hips thrusting to the beat.

Clark wanted to crawl into a hole and hide away in there forever. Why was Bruce acting like a frivolous idiot? He stormed off to the tables surrounding the dance floor, Lois soon following him in confusion.

“Are you okay?” Lois asked him with concern, taking note of his unusual reaction to Bruce’s behavior.

Clark crossed his arms and leaned up against a nearby wall, pouting a little in discontent. “I just don’t understand why he acts like that,” he replied.

Lois glanced back over to Bruce, who seemed just as carefree and wild as everyone else at the party. “Who? Bruce?” Lois continued, “C’mon, Clark. These kids all behave the same—can you blame him for having fun?”

“It’s not that,” Clark blurted out in frustration, “I live with him, I spend time with him every day. This isn’t who he is. He’s not some superficial spoiled brat. He’s intelligent, considerate, and thoughtful. I don’t understand why he acts this way in public, he’s even mentioned to me how much he doesn’t fit in with these types.”

Before Lois could respond, a sudden commotion spurred through the event hall as a couple of masked thugs infiltrated the event hall and fired a few warning shots. “You’re coming with us, Wayne,” one of the thugs snapped as they pointed their guns towards him. Bruce’s smile faded in an instant, his face now dark and cold as he quietly obliged their requests. As they cornered him onto the balcony outside, Clark swiftly sprung into action, dashing around a corner to change into his Superman suit.

“Sorry ‘bout this Mr. Wayne,” one of the thugs scoffed at him as he got ready to fire, “Just doin’ my job.”

Before he could fire, Superman appeared on the scene, standing beside Bruce as the armed thugs surrounded him. His presence here in Gotham was unexpected; he’d only ever been seen before in Metropolis, and some began to wonder if his reach had been far greater this entire time. Those left in the event hall who had not yet evacuated looked on with awe and curiosity, wondering if their golden child would perish or be saved by the caped hero before them. Lois quickly took out her phone and began filming.

“Put down your weapons…” Superman demanded, trying to deescalate the situation and avoid any casualties, “...and nobody has to get hurt.”

Bruce analyzed Superman as he stood before him, taking note of the contrast between his authoritative presence and calls for nonviolence. Something about him felt familiar, but before he could think about it further, he felt the force of a few hands suddenly shoving him over the balcony’s edge.

The thugs knew better than to stand their ground against Superman; even with him outnumbered, they knew it was a fight they wouldn’t win. Retreat was the best option for now, and to keep the hero distracted, they pushed Bruce off the edge of the building, leaving Superman no choice but to rescue him from the thirty-story fall while they made their escape. Without thinking, Superman raced after Bruce, catching him mid-fall and carrying him safely over to a balcony on one of the lower floors.

After they landed, Superman fussed over Bruce immediately, holding him gently as he stood there and looking him over for major injuries. “Good golly, that was scary,” Superman huffed, looking around to ensure no one had followed them, “Are you alright B—uh, Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce stared at Superman in silence, giving him a subtle nod as he analyzed every detail in the hero before him. “It can’t be,” Bruce thought to himself, wondering why Clark was standing before him as Superman. True, he looked a little different, but everything about him felt like Clark, and Bruce slowly pieced together the hints that he’d ignored. Not only did both Clark and Superman hail from Metropolis, but their relative shape and size was the same, their vernacular was identical, Clark’s strength at home was oddly impressive, and he’d never quite seen him without the glasses. This evidence combined with the slip he almost made by calling him “Bruce” just now seemed to support the theory that Clark Kent and Superman were one in the same.

“Why in the world were those folks after you?” Superman asked Bruce, hoping to understand tonight’s sudden attack. Bruce’s heartbeat had accelerated since landing on the balcony, but it was strangely calm when being held at gunpoint; it was as if violence was a common occurrence for him. The last three months with Bruce had been peaceful, and there was nothing to suggest that Bruce regularly dealt with these types of incidents.

“I’m a powerful person, I suppose,” Bruce shrugged in response, but something in his eyes suggested he knew more.

Suddenly, Bruce’s watch beeped with an alarm for midnight, and an array of fireworks lit up much of Gotham’s night sky. “Oh no,” Superman gasped as he realized the time, then let out a frustrated sigh, “I had somewhere I was supposed to be.”

As he was processing this feeling of defeat, Superman felt Bruce’s hands gently press into his shoulders, his warm body brushed up against him as he planted a firm kiss on Superman’s lips. He stood there stunned, frozen as he felt Bruce’s lips leave his, staring back into Bruce’s seductive hazel eyes in disbelief. Bruce saw Clark’s crystal blue eyes looking back at him, and there was no doubt in his mind now that the man before him was his friend. For a second they gazed into each other’s eyes in silence, until—without even thinking about it—Superman leaned in and kissed him again. It was entirely instinctive, something within him telling him to embrace Bruce without it registering as a thought in his mind, as if his body had made this decision for him. As their lips locked and parted, Superman took in every detail; the soft feeling of Bruce’s kiss, his hot breath hitting his face each time he pulled away, the sound of Bruce’s heartbeat racing each time they touched. It was intoxicating, and when they finally stopped, Superman looked back at Bruce in a complete daze.

“Uhh, I uh—ummm, that—well, I—” Superman spluttered out, suddenly very flustered by this situation, “That was—sorry about that, I think? I mean, I liked it but—.”

“Happy New Year, Superman,” Bruce replied with a cheeky smirk, chuckling a little at his reaction, “I didn’t mean to come on so strong. You just remind me of my friend Clark—he’s super hot.”

Superman stood there frozen again, his face bright red as Bruce once again sent him for a loop. Did Bruce have him figured out already? And did he just call him ‘hot’?

“Mr. Wayne! Are you alright out there?!” the police shouted from inside as they quickly raced out to the balcony and over to the two of them. Lois, being the savvy aspiring reporter she was, also followed them out, holding up her phone camera towards the two of them. “Superman! Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she began, “Do you have any comment on your appearance in Gotham tonight? Is this a case you’re following from Metropolis?”

With Superman still stunned, Bruce quickly took control of the narrative. “Superman here just saved my life!” he exclaimed with a proud smile, “I’m so grateful that Metropolis’ great hero just happened to be passing through town right as I was in danger. What a great start to the new year!”

Lois snapped a photo of the two of them together, then Clark flew off, returning back to the main hall and changing back into his street clothes as the police took over the scene. He was in a haze as he walked back out to look for Lois, so much had just happened. Who is after Bruce? Are reporters going to buy the story that he was passing by, or will he have to find another way to explain why he’s in Gotham? Why did Bruce kiss him, and what made him kiss Bruce back? And did Bruce just admit that he was into him?

Eventually his eyes landed on Lois, regrouping with her as the commotion died down. He seemed clueless about the situation, insisting he was off in the bathroom as the whole thing went down. She seemed too thrilled about the story she’d captured to notice how silly that excuse was. “Long story short, Bruce was held at gunpoint by a group of assailants, but Superman saved him,” Lois explained, a determined expression on her face, “And I caught the whole story on camera.”

“That’s amazing!” Clark complimented, “I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the newsroom for the rest of January.”

The two of them looked around the room and realized the party was definitively over; too many people were shaken up by the chaos, and those who remained in the hall soon flooded out. “I guess we should head out then, too,” Clark decided.

“What?” Lois turned back to him in confusion, “Your friend almost died. You don’t want to go check in with him?”

Clark’s face turned bright red again. Confronting Bruce was the last thing he wanted to do right now, there’s no way he’d be able to keep himself together after their encounter just minutes before. “Uhh, no, it’s fine!” Clark insisted as he rushed himself and Lois out the hall, “I can talk to him when I get home. I’d rather focus on getting you back to Metropolis in one piece so you can write your story.”

The drive across the bay back to Metropolis, which was a speedy hour and fifteen minutes given the lack of traffic at one o’clock in the morning, was mostly filled with Lois describing the events of the evening over and over to Clark and detailing how she planned to cover the story and submit it to Perry. Clark remained silent for most of the ride, trying to make sense of his feelings for Bruce as he replayed their kiss over and over again in his mind. The fear he felt watching Bruce plummet towards his death and the relief he felt when catching him in his arms made sense to him, but why did it feel so insanely satisfying to feel Bruce’s lips meet his?

Finally they’d parked in front of Lois’ apartment, Clark idling by the curb as they said goodnight. “Sorry that the night got ruined,” Clark sheepishly admitted as he averted her gaze, “I really did want to take you on a proper date. It seems I just can’t get this stuff right, can I?”

“Are you kidding?” Lois beamed back, “Tonight was amazing. Not only did we get to dress up in our finest clothes and rub elbows with the high society types, but I also got an amazing story to shove in all those arrogant reporters’ faces!”

Clark was glad that, even though he wasn’t there to kiss her at midnight, she still had a good time. It was a relief to know he hadn’t let her down. Before opening her door, Lois leaned over the seat and kissed Clark. As he returned her kiss, Clark noted how it felt more forced and mechanical with her compared to his kiss with Bruce. It was pleasant, and he was grateful for her affection, but why did he not feel the same level of gratification when he locked lips with her?

Finally she pulled away, looking back at him with a flushed smile. “Thanks for a real date,” she told him as she stepped out of the car, “I can’t wait for the next one.” Clark made sure she’d gotten into her building safely, even waiting to see the light turn on in her apartment before driving off and heading back to Gotham.

It had been a long night. By the time he finally pulled back into the driveway at Wayne Manor, Clark had no energy left to think of his relationship with Lois or ponder his feelings for Bruce. It was the first day of the new year, and in one night, his life had become exponentially more complicated. As he walked inside, he could already tell that Bruce was waiting for him by the stairs.

“There you are,” Bruce calmly stated as Clark shuffled over, “I was beginning to get worried.”

Clark sighed as he tried to brush him off. “I don’t have the energy for this right now, Bruce,” Clark grumbled as he tried to get back up the stairs.

“I almost died tonight, you know,” Bruce countered, walking up the stairs with Clark as he poked fun at him, “I’m not sure where you went when it happened, but it was kind of a big deal. I was even thrown off a balcony. Dick’s going to lose his mind tomorrow morning when I tell him I was saved by Superman.”

Clark chuckled a bit at that last part, a faint smile on his face as he approached his bedroom. “I can’t wait to see his face when that happens,” he uttered quietly, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’ll let you get some sleep, then,” Bruce smiled at him before walking off, “Goodnight, Clark.”

“Goodnight, Bruce,” Clark wearily responded, then headed into his room and collapsed onto his bed in exhaustion.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Clark stumbled out of bed and lethargically dressed himself before heading downstairs for breakfast. He couldn’t grasp how Bruce kept late hours every night and still functioned the way he did; Clark was Superman, and yet even he felt constrained by his own exhaustion. He slumped into his seat at the table, watching in silence as Alfred graciously placed an omelet and a couple pieces of toast onto his plate, mustering up a quiet “thank you” as he reached for his fork. He glanced over to Dick, sitting across from him and poking at his eggs looking just as worn out as he was. It must have been a hard night for him without Clark home.

“Well good morning there,” Clark beamed at him with a sleepy smile, trying to lighten the mood in the room, “Golly—I haven’t seen you since last year!”

A concerned look appeared on Dick’s face. “What?” he uttered in confusion, “But I saw you yesterday.”

Clark doubled down. “Well today’s New Year’s Day,” he insisted with a nod, “So yesterday was last year, and today is the new year. So technically, I haven’t seen you since yesterday—which was last year!”

After a few seconds, Dick seemed to get it. “Ohhh,” he remarked in understanding, then looked just behind Clark with a playful smile, “Hey, B! I haven’t seen you since last year!”

As Clark turned around, his heart dropped as he saw Bruce standing just behind him, looking back at Dick with an amused grin. Instantly, he remembered the night before—their kiss on the balcony, Bruce's comments about Clark—and he turned bright red in embarrassment. He’d hardly thought about it since climbing into bed the night before, too tired to decipher what exactly he felt for Bruce to put words to it. All he knew was that Bruce standing behind him so nonchalantly made him squirm in discomfort.

“Very funny, kid…” Bruce smirked, then reached down and pat Clark on the shoulder, “...I wonder who taught you that.”

Clark jumped out of his seat the moment Bruce’s hand made contact, staring back at him with pink cheeks and a flustered expression. Bruce feigned surprise. 

“Geez, you're jumpy this morning,” he commented to Clark as he sauntered over to the coffee pot on the table and poured himself a cup.

“Oh—uh, yeah,” Clark sputtered out, trying to save face and find some kind of excuse for his frazzled response, “Sorry, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I'm just a little on edge, I guess.”

Bruce took a seat at the table next to Dick, pulling out his phone and showing it to him with a smug expression. “You’ll never guess who I met last night.”

Dick’s eyes widened in disbelief, then amazement. “B—no way!” he exclaimed, grasping the phone in his hands as he looked at the picture on The Daily Planet’s homepage, “Is that really Superman?!”

As Bruce nodded in confirmation, Dick nearly lost his mind, bouncing up and down in his seat as he asked him a million questions all at once. Clark watched as Bruce patiently listened to each of his questions and tried to give sound responses. It was the first time since last night that he'd finally had a clear enough head to really think about what he felt for Bruce. 

So much of his life had been spent getting through high school and keeping his powers and hero work under the radar; admittedly, he never had time for romance. When all his peers were out at school dances or having bonfires in the woods, Clark was either at the farm with Ma and Pa working on a school project or babysitting the neighbors’ kids in hopes to earn some college money. Even when opportunities for dates arose, Clark was still figuring out how to control his powers, and worried he'd slip and hurt someone. It wasn't until Lois asked him out a few months before that he considered taking a chance on it.

His thoughts flashed back to Lois for a moment. Remembering her eagerness to post the story that Bruce and Dick were gushing over at this very moment. Remembering their long drive back to Metropolis and her sharing her thoughts so openly and passionately with him the whole way there. Remembering her kiss in the car and the adoring smile she had as she waved goodbye. It made Clark's heart ache. Why did it cause him to feel so much regret—like it was a heartbreak waiting to happen? She liked him, that was clear. And she had it all. Lois was smart, talented, confident, and alluringly beautiful. On paper, they were the perfect couple. So why did Clark still feel like he was missing something?

He watched Bruce’s lips gently wrap around the edge of his coffee cup, softly sipping at the hot, dark liquid before gently pulling away and setting it back down on the table. Ugh, those lips. Clark wanted nothing more than to lean across the table and feel them pressed against his, to feel the rush of Bruce's touch again and again and listen to his heartbeat race in excitement. Bruce had always been just a friend, but their encounter last night awakened a desire to be something more. And, Bruce did say that he found Clark hot. It wasn't just a silly fantasy; it could be that he actually had a chance at getting even closer with Bruce. Things were still new with Lois—maybe he could call it off so he and Bruce could have a real chance.

Then he remembered Veronica. Ronnie, as Bruce called her. He hated that nickname. He hated that woman. Perhaps hate was a strong word, but Clark did not care for her relationship with Bruce in the slightest. The person he was when she was with him was superficial and arrogant; who Bruce was with Clark was much better. He knew that his judgement was clouded by jealousy, yet he felt absolutely sound in the knowledge that Bruce was happier and more authentic when he was with him. But he also knew that Bruce still made the choice to date her, and made the choice to encourage Clark to date Lois. If Bruce really wanted them to be together, things wouldn't have ended up this way.

There were other reasons for Clark to let go of this idea, too. Bruce was still his boss, and Clark was still the nanny—at the end of the day, the power imbalance would make any relationship questionable at best. And Clark still wanted to move back to Metropolis and become a great journalist. He couldn't let his feelings for Bruce keep him tied down in Gotham.

Eventually Dick quieted down a bit, his conversation with Bruce coming to a natural pause as Bruce turned back to Clark, his sultry hazel eyes and debonair smile pulling Clark into an enthralled trance. Every rational feeling Clark had was immediately tossed out the window—how could he not want this man?

“Well, this morning I have a meeting with Commissioner Gordon to discuss all that happened last night…” Bruce began, resting his head in his palm and giving Clark no relief from his gaze, “...but I was thinking we could all go out to dinner later to celebrate the New Year. What do you think?”

Clark desperately tried to hide his eager smile behind a long sip of his coffee. Bruce was asking him to dinner. Well, him and the kid they looked after together, and probably Alfred too. But it was definitely a start. “Sounds like a plan,” Clark nervously mumbled, finally breaking free from Bruce's stare as he glanced back down at the plate in front of him and took another bite of his omelet.

“You look hot,” Bruce said matter of factly.

Clark spit out his food. He looked back up to Bruce in disbelief, then realized Bruce was talking to Dick, who had returned to looking a little worse for the wear after the excitement from his Superman conversation subsided. He watched as Bruce held the back of his hand up to Dick’s cheeks, a concerned expression on his face as he did so. 

“Seems like the kid’s running a bit of a fever,” Bruce said as he turned back to Clark, “I’m supposed to be at the police station in twenty minutes—I trust you can handle this until I get back?”

Clark nodded, then got up and picked Dick up. “You’re not feeling that great, are you buddy?”

He waved goodbye to Bruce and carried Dick off upstairs. Having a sick kid to fuss over was just the distraction Clark needed to pull him back to reality. He sat Dick down on the bathroom counter, holding the thermometer up to his head though he didn’t really need to. When it beeped back with an expected 102°F, Clark sighed and pulled a bottle of medicine out from the cabinet. “Alright kid,” he began, “Looks like you’re sick. You know what that means.”

Dick watched in peril as Clark poured the thick, goopy medicine into its cup, the smell alone causing him to gag. “I’m not sick!” he desperately insisted.

“The thermometer says otherwise,” Clark maintained, handing Dick the cup of medicine and looking at him with a stern expression, “I know you don’t like this stuff, but you have to take it, or else you’ll get worse.”

As he looked back down at the cup of medicine, Dick tried his hardest to be brave. He held it up to his mouth and attempted to swallow it down; unfortunately, as soon as the liquid hit his tongue, he involuntarily spit it out, gagging at its awful bitter flavor and disgusting artificial grape flavoring that failed to hide the revolting taste of the other ingredients. “I can’t take it,” Dick insisted again.

Clark looked back at him in defeat. He didn’t have the energy to fight the kid on this one, at least, not at this moment. He sighed as he turned on the faucet to the bath, letting the cold water run and fill up the tub as he turned back to Dick. “Fine,” he relented, “We’ll try something else. But if it doesn’t work, you’ll have to try again.”

Dick endured the cold bath Clark had prepared for him and reluctantly agreed to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed with nothing to do but lie there and feel miserable. He was too uncomfortable to nap; his head ached and chills constantly ran through his body. Of course, in the meantime Clark tried everything—pointing a few fans on Dick to get him to cool down, handing him a few pedialyte popsicles which became sticky messes as Dick seemed uninterested in eating them. He even asked Alfred to assist by mixing a dose of medicine into a cup of chocolate pudding, unfortunately to no avail. Dick could taste the altered, bitter flavor of the pudding and immediately pushed it away, refusing to eat it.

By the time Bruce returned home in the afternoon, Dick’s fever had yet to break, and Alfred and Clark were exhausted and out of options. The two of them stood there in the foyer looking desperate for a solution. “We’ve tried everything,” Clark explained, his brow furrowed in discontent, “But he just won’t take his medicine.”

Bruce calmly nodded, then walked into the kitchen pantry and pulled a bag from up on the top shelf. Alfred and Clark followed him in silence and awe as he made his way over to Dick’s room with the medicine and bag in hand. Dick stared back at him in anticipation.

“So I hear you won’t take your medicine…” Bruce started in a relaxed tone, then pulled an unopened container of gummy bears out from the bag, “...so what about these?”

Dick held his breath. Gummy bears were his favorite. Bruce poured the medicine into the cup once more, handed it to Dick, then held out a few gummy bears in his hand. “This is what’s called a ‘chaser’,” Bruce explained, “You swallow the medicine as fast as you can, then immediately eat the gummy bears so that the bad taste is replaced with a good one.”

At this point, Dick was feeling miserable, and he knew from the countless times Clark told him that the medicine would make him feel better. He trusted Bruce, too—if he was getting involved, it must be important. He took both the medicine and gummy worms in his hands, and courageously followed Bruce’s instructions. It barely worked; he almost spit up the medicine, but was sated just enough by the gummy bears to keep it down. The rest of the room collectively took a sigh of relief.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Bruce told Dick as he patted him on the head and pulled the covers back around him, “Try and get some rest.”

Clark was amazed by how well Bruce had taken control of the situation. It seemed that he was always having to step in and show Bruce the ropes, but this time it was different. Bruce didn’t need his help.

As Bruce and Clark stepped out of the room and into the hall, Alfred took a deep sigh of relief and returned back downstairs to tackle the laundry he’d let pile up after spending all day helping Clark with Dick. Bruce lingered near Clark, the distance they normally kept between them cut short by just a couple of inches, but it was enough for Clark to notice. Was he doing it on purpose just to tease him? And if he was, did that mean he knew that Clark was Superman?

Bruce could tell that Clark was starting to pick up on the subtle ways he provoked him, and decided to lead him off his trail with an excuse. “I’m glad the kid’s okay,” he began, his voice soft and reflective, “Ever since the attempt on my life last night, I can’t stop thinking about what would become of him if I were to be taken from him, too. He’s lost so much already.”

Clark felt bad for thinking Bruce’s behavior had anything to do with him. Of course Bruce’s behavior was off; he was feeling vulnerable after almost losing his life. “Did the police give you any insight as to who might be after you?”

Bruce shook his head. “Unfortunately not. They made a few arrests, but the motive remains unclear. I’m a powerful person, after all. In this city, sometimes that’s all it takes.”

Lies. Bruce was lying about it again. Which part exactly wasn’t clear, but Clark could tell by the small change in his heart rate and blood pressure that Bruce was covering something up. He had no reason to call him out on it, though. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” he continued, “Sorry for ditching you last night, by the way. I had actually slipped away to the bathroom while everything was happening, and by the time it was over, I was so focused on getting Lois home safe that I’d forgotten to check in with you first.”

Now Clark was the one lying. Bruce thought it was a silly excuse, but decided to play along. “It’s not a big deal. There were dozens of other people fussing around me after it all anyway,” he replied, “How did things go by the way? With Lois?”

“Uh, pretty good I think,” Clark mumbled out, blushing a little in embarrassment as he recalled his date, “She seemed to have a good time.”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce smirked, then playfully shoved Clark’s shoulder, “Did you have a good time? Did you get your kiss?”

Clark’s heart began to pound through his chest again. Bruce’s hand gently pushing him while talking to him about kissing drove him crazy. “Yeah,” Clark blurted out, desperate for this moment to end, “In the car on the way back.”

Bruce’s playful demeanor quickly changed into something more serious and stoic. Clark was taken aback by this sudden shift—especially when Bruce took a few steps back from him. Was he disappointed by Clark’s answer? “I see,” he remarked with a forced smile, “I bet you’re glad I let you borrow a ride.”

Clark nodded and said nothing, hoping that this awkward part of their conversation would end. Bruce turned back and peeked into Dick’s room, a bit relieved to see him fast asleep and hopefully on the road to recovery from his illness. “Well, I suppose dinner’s off the table,” he remarked with a disappointed sigh.

“I can make us something, if you want?” Clark suggested, hoping to lift Bruce’s mood and bring them both back to the closeness they shared just moments before. He watched Bruce give him a subtle nod. It wasn’t the type of thing he’d normally agree to, but deep down, he just wanted to spend more time with Clark.

As Clark prepared a big pot of chili, Bruce sat at the kitchen island and quietly listened to him rattle on about how his parents used to make this exact recipe when he was feeling under the weather. Suddenly, Clark’s apprehension in telling Bruce he was adopted back on Thanksgiving made more sense. Was that story about being adopted even true? Sure, it would explain his nervous reaction when his Ma let it slip, but if Clark could keep his life as Superman a secret from Bruce, what else was he hiding?

Just as the dish was ready, Dick came downstairs and peeked his head into the kitchen. Clark gave him a warm smile, picked him up and sat him down at the island next to Bruce, then served him a small bowl of chili, all without saying a word. Bruce realized that, no matter what else he may be hiding from him, Clark was a good person. He loved those around him with his whole heart. He dedicated himself to protecting the people he cared for, and thrived when those around him were happy. That was enough to quell any lingering worries Bruce had about Clark; however, it only fueled the growing feelings of desire Bruce began to feel towards him. He reached for his spoon and ate his dinner, unsure of where things with Clark would go from here, but cautiously hopeful that everything would work out between them.

Chapter Text

After a long afternoon conducting a site tour of Wayne Industries’ latest shipping facility, Bruce reluctantly looked down at his phone to read the barrage of text messages Veronica had sent him. The last thing he wanted to think about after finally getting home was putting on another performance for her and her friends. He couldn't put it off for much longer, though; Valentine's Day was less than a week away, and she was throwing yet another party in celebration. She was always looking for an excuse to host a crowd, invigorated and energized each time she surrounded herself with others. Bruce was the opposite, a true introvert whose social battery was already limited by the various stakeholders and acquaintances he had to schmooze with each day, not to mention the criminals he encountered at night when donning his cape and cowl. In this exhaustion, he dreaded nothing more than attending another one of her parties.

But it was more than that keeping him from sending her a response. Since his encounter with Superman on New Year's Eve, Bruce was beginning to realize how shallow his feelings for Veronica truly were. He cared about her, considered her his friend—but he didn't really love her. Dating her felt more like something he had to do instead of something he wanted to do. He didn't want to be alone, but stringing her along was wrong. He knew it wasn't right to keep seeing her, especially when he knew he had feelings for Clark. Despite their differences, he still respected her; she deserved to be loved and cherished, not to be used as a placeholder.

And if he wanted to be anything more than just friends with Clark, he knew he had to end things with Veronica. He wasn't completely sure if Clark was even interested in him, but he wouldn't find out if he always had a girl around his arm. Still, taking that plunge and letting her go meant being alone on Valentine's Day, and Bruce hadn't done that in years. He shoved his phone into his pocket and continued to ignore her for now, then walked up to Clark's room in hopes to get some advice. He always had a unique perspective to share, and Clark was one of the few people who didn't just tell him what he wanted to hear in hopes of getting in the good graces of a billionaire. Clark was a genuine friend. Bruce knew that, if anyone could help him make sense of his feelings, it’d be him.

Clark looked up from the textbook on his desk the moment he walked in, a lighthearted smile on his face as Bruce leisurely made his way over to the extra chair near his desk and sat down. “Hey Bruce,” Clark began, “How did the tour go?”

“Fine,” Bruce replied with a shrug, completely uninterested in talking about his day, “How were things here while I was gone?”

Clark looked back to his textbook, taking a few notes as they continued their conversation. “Mostly good. Dick and I got into a disagreement about eating his broccoli, so he’s in his room sulking about it,” he responded, “But I think he’s just testing his boundaries. Normally he doesn’t mind broccoli this much.”

“I see,” Bruce quietly nodded, then returned to silence. Clark could tell there was something on his mind. Normally Bruce had no issue cutting to the chase and telling him exactly what he wanted to, but today was different. Clark could sense the hesitation in Bruce’s demeanor, as if something was holding him back from talking to him.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Clark asked him after an awkward lull in their conversation, “If not, that’s okay too. I don’t mind you sitting in here with me while I work on this.”

Bruce considered saying nothing just to continue sitting there with Clark, listening to the sound of the pencil scratch the surface of his notebook paper each time he noted something of importance and the occasional crisp sound of turning a page in his textbook, feeling Clark’s calming presence envelop everything in the room including himself. “It’s not that important…” Bruce began, snapping himself out of it, “...but I was wondering if you were still planning on taking Lois out on Valentine’s Day? It’s coming up, and I haven’t heard you mention anything about it yet.”

Clark stopped for a moment, his heart racing again as he considered every implication of Bruce’s question. Between classes starting and Bruce’s increasing involvement with Wayne Enterprises, the two of them hadn’t spent much time together since New Year’s. Was Bruce finally going to ask him out? Could it be that the two of them would be spending the most romantic day of the year together in each other’s arms?

Then he processed more of what Bruce had said. He asked if Clark was taking out Lois, the same girl he encouraged him to date. Just bringing her up was enough of a sign that his hopes of a romantic evening with Bruce were nothing more than a silly fantasy. Bruce was still his boss. He was probably asking about Clark’s plans to get an idea of his schedule and find coverage for Dick, if necessary. Of course that’s what it was—he felt almost ashamed for hoping it could be anything more. “She wants to go out to a movie, I think,” Clark quietly explained, “We haven’t actually settled on a solid plan, though.”

Bruce could hear the disappointment in Clark’s voice. A girl was interested in him, and somehow he found a way to be unhappy about it. “Oh yeah? Any reason why?” he prompted him, curious as to what was bringing him down.

Clark sighed, tapping his pencil on his paper in thought, then gently setting it down. “Lois is a really great girl. I mean, you know—she’s smart, confident, beautiful. And we have the same career goals and aspirations. It’s like we were meant for each other. On paper, we’re the perfect couple,” he confided, picking up his pencil again and gently fidgeting with it, “But part of me just feels like something is missing. I should feel fulfilled by our relationship, but I don’t know if I actually am.”

“That’s how I feel about Ronnie,” Bruce added, a solemn look on his face. 

Clark froze. That comment triggered the exact revelation that he was hoping to avoid. Clark knew that Veronica was wrong for Bruce—did that mean Lois was just as wrong for him? He quickly tried to chase that thought out of his head, convincing himself that Bruce’s situation was completely different from his. “So then, what about you?” Clark asked, trying to ignore his own feelings, “What are your plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Ronnie’s having one of her parties again,” Bruce groaned, pulling out his phone and looking over her messages, “It’s not exactly the one on one kind of celebration most couples have, but I suppose it beats being alone.”

Bruce’s voice sounded just as disappointed as Clark's was. Despite everything that told him it would never work between the two of them, Clark wanted nothing more than to tell Bruce how much he cared for him. How much he admired his strength and resilience in spite of a world that was constantly against him. How much he was deserving of real love and shouldn't have to settle for someone he couldn't be himself with. How he would never end up alone because Clark would never leave his side. 

And Bruce, knowing Clark wasn't fulfilled by his relationship with Lois, was desperate to know if Clark felt the same spark he did every time their eyes met. Despite keeping a big part of his life from him, Clark was one of the most open and honest people he'd met. He accepted all of Bruce's flaws and quirks without hesitation, and celebrated the parts of him that others would question. In a world of people who doubted him, Clark had genuine faith in Bruce, and his kindness and earnestness inspired him to be a better person. In their sudden lull, Bruce readied himself to confess his feelings to Clark.

“I'm running away!” Dick shouted at the both of them from the doorway, interrupting their awkward silence with a dramatic scene.

Clark and Bruce shot each other an inquisitive look, then turned back to Dick as he huffed and carried his overstuffed backpack over to the stairs. The two of them said nothing, but followed him as he angrily charged down the stairs and over to the front door, turning around a few times to make sure they were behind him.

“What’s making you feel like you want to run away?” Clark asked him as Dick stood there at the front door with his arms crossed.

“Because of all the rules,” Dick explained with resentment, “You make me eat broccoli and take naps when I don’t want to! Well, I’m sick of it!”

Clark reached behind him and unlocked the door for him. “Okay, well good luck out there,” he said nonchalantly, giving Dick an encouraging smile, “Door’s unlocked for ya.”

“We’ll miss you a lot…” Bruce added, mimicking Clark’s indifferent tone, “...feel free to come back any time.”

Clark handed him his umbrella. “Oh, looks like you’ll need this,” he said after catching a glimpse of the pouring rain outside.

Dick stood there in hesitation. “I’ll come back right now if you don’t make me eat broccoli anymore…” he argued.

Clark and Bruce stood their ground. “Well, you know we love you and would be very happy to have you here with us…” Clark began matter of factly, “...but you do have to follow the rules. And one of those rules is to listen to us when we tell you to do something, like eat your vegetables or take a nap.”

Dick stood there frozen for a while. Then, he threw his backpack down, letting the array of toys he packed into it spill out onto the floor, and stormed off up the stairs in defeat. Bruce let out a long, frustrated sigh, then knelt down and began cleaning up Dick’s mess. “Wow, he really is testing his boundaries today,” he commented.

“Wait until he’s a teenager,” Clark quipped, then helped Bruce carry the toys back upstairs.

…

In the early afternoon on Valentine's Day, Clark rushed down the stairs to check in with Alfred before heading out to Metropolis. With both he and Bruce busy for the day, he wanted to ensure Dick would be entertained despite their absences. It was rare that one of them wasn't around to keep an eye on him, but Clark believed it was good for Dick to get a break in his routine every now and then. And Alfred didn't mind watching him, either; it brought back fond memories of Bruce's early years.

As he inched through afternoon traffic on the Gotham-Metropolis bridge, Clark began to get anxious about the day. Preparing for his date with Lois felt impossible when all he could think about was what Bruce could be up to right now at the Vreeland estate. Clark was surprised he decided to go after admitting how he really felt about Veronica, especially since he seemed so bothered by the whole ordeal. He hoped that Bruce would've called it off with her by now. Clark would have even stayed home today to cheer him up if that were the case.

But as the traffic let up a little and Clark saw the sunlight peek out from the clouds he left behind in Gotham, he was glad he wasn’t spending the day with Bruce. At least, that's what he told himself. He’d be lying if he said he didn't want to kiss Bruce again, to feel the rush of his embrace once more. Clark knew that was a senseless desire. To be anything more than friends with Bruce would make his life far more complicated than it already was. Lois was a nice girl; his relationship with her just made more sense.

Finally he met up with Lois just outside the theater, and for a moment he felt as if he'd been transported back to the life he had before he met Bruce. It was uncanny how, just a few months before, it didn't feel so foreign. The lack of rain, the friendly faces on each passerby—everything seemed out of place to him. He tried to brush it off at the sight of Lois’ excited smile. She was like a beacon of optimism and hope, a reminder to Clark that there was more to his life than just Bruce and his experience at Wayne Manor. 

In fact, Clark was so lost in that feeling that the movie seemed to fly right by him. He couldn't even recall the plot; it was some kind of horror film, because he did remember Lois sitting there and pointing out each of the fallacies and plot holes while every other couple in the theater was wrapped up in each other's arms. He liked that she was different. Her sharp wit and confidence always pushed him to work harder at The Planet, putting in twice the effort just to remain competitive alongside her. 

And Clark's shy innocence was well-balanced by Lois’ bold personality. He thought nothing of it when she invited him up to her apartment after the movie; as friends, he’d been up there a few times before to hang out. He was completely caught off guard when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him onto the couch with her. The entire time they were together, he'd forgotten they were on a date. 

She straddled him as she kissed him again and again, slowly running her hands down his shoulders and across his chest. Clark tried his best to fall into it, leaning into each kiss and embrace she gave him hoping to enjoy the sensation of her touch. It wasn't unpleasant, but he wondered why he didn’t feel the same spark with her that he felt when Bruce kissed him on New Year's. Clark really wanted his relationship with Lois to work out; he just couldn’t let Bruce’s words be true, that she was wrong for him in the same way Veronica was wrong for Bruce. But his gorgeous, adoring friend was on top of him with her tongue in his mouth, and he still wasn't enjoying it.

Finally he felt her hands unfastening his belt, and he knew he needed to stop her before things went too far. “Uh, sorry,” he interrupted her as he pulled away for a moment, “I think you're great, but this is just a little too fast for me.”

Lois could tell something was off with Clark, but figured he was just a little uncomfortable. Though they'd been friends for a while, it was only their second date, and she respected the boundaries he set for himself. “That’s alright,” she told him, “It's getting kind of late anyway. Maybe it's best if we both call it a night?”

Clark felt bad for cutting his Valentine's Day date with Lois short, but knew leaving now was better than staying and leading her on when he had feelings for someone else. He gave her a quick peck goodbye and walked back to his car, the early night time streets still crowded with Metropolis’ residents. It was hard to believe he'd be coming back to all this in just a little over a month. He longed to be back in Gotham with Bruce and Dick, but as he drove back, realized his time there would be over sooner than he wanted it to be. It was hardly comforting to pull into the driveway of the manor and head inside knowing he'd eventually leave it all behind.

It was just about midnight when Clark headed inside and up to his room, planning on sleeping away his troubles and dealing with them the next morning. However, just as he had set his things down and taken off his coat, he was startled by the sudden sound of Bruce stumbling through the front door. He rushed downstairs to find Alfred just as alarmed, a very drunk Bruce leaning against the wall with a smirk as he ignored Alfred’s pleas and questions. Clark thought it was strange how he was so intoxicated he couldn’t walk straight, yet hardly smelled of alcohol. Bruce didn’t seem like the type to be a lightweight, even if he was only nineteen.

“Alfred, can you do me a favor and make some coffee?” Clark told him as he walked over and slung Bruce’s arm around his shoulder, “And a cup of water, while you’re at it. I’ll get him upstairs.”

It wasn’t the first time Clark had to handle a drunk friend; Jimmy often went overboard when the three of them would party together back in Metropolis. It was, however, the first time he’d had to handle a drunk friend who was aggressively flirting with him. “Ooohh, Clark—bringing me up to bed like this,” Bruce teased as he nearly tripped and fell heading up the stairs, “I like where this is going.”

Clark was too distracted by Bruce’s state to pay any mind to his comments. What prompted him to get absolutely hammered tonight? And why wasn’t he still at Veroncia's—isn’t she the one who should be taking care of him right now? He helped Bruce over to his bed, carefully taking off his shoes and suit jacket and propping up several pillows behind his head. Then he placed his hands on Bruce’s shoulders in an attempt to gently move him from his back onto his side; however, Bruce had other ideas. He grabbed Clark’s arms and pulled himself up to him, trying to plant a sloppy kiss on Clark’s lips with a devious smile.

Clark quickly pushed him off. “Don’t do that,” he told him with a frustrated pout.

“Why not?” Bruce snickered, a few giggles escaping his mouth as he reached for one of Clark’s arms again to pull him back in.

“A lot of reasons,” Clark maintained with a stern tone, ignoring Bruce’s advances and stepping away to hang his coat in the closet and place his shoes on the rack, “For one thing, I’m not going to do anything with you while you’re drunk—that’d be unethical.”

“Maybe I’m not as drunk as you think,” Bruce replied with a smirk, his voice smooth and clear for the first time all night. Clark thought that might be true considering the lack of alcohol on his breath, but he was definitely under the influence of something. It was more likely that Bruce was good at pretending to be sober than he was at pretending to be drunk.

Clark turned back to Bruce, who was now sitting up in his bed and staring at Clark with a seductive grin. “Well, you’re still my boss, and that creates a power imbalance,” Clark continued, walking over to him to try and help him lie back down, “So it’d still be unethical.”

“I’ll fire you for the evening,” Bruce countered as Clark approached him.

Clark shook his head. “We’re both dating other people,” he argued, leaning in and placing his hand on Bruce’s shoulder again in hopes that he’d listen to him this time, “Will you please just let me help you? I’m trying to get you onto your side—”

“Well I’m trying to get you onto your back,” Bruce interjected as he wrapped his arms around Clark’s torso and pulled him in once more.

At this point, Clark was at his limit. Bruce was being purposefully difficult, and Clark wondered if he was flirting with him just to piss him off even more. “Alright, that’s it!” he huffed as he got up and began to storm out of the room, “I’m trying to help you, and you’re just being a jerk!”

He headed out into the hallway completely fed up with Bruce’s behavior. Jimmy was a thousand times easier to handle than him—even while drunk, Bruce was stubborn. A few moments after he’d left, Clark ran into Alfred in the hallway, holding a tray with coffee, water, and an array of different over the counter medications. He looked a little worse for the wear. “Is everything alright with Master Bruce?” he asked with a worried expression and concerned tone, “He’s attended a lot of parties, but he’s never come home this discomposed.”

Clark felt bad for Alfred. He spent the whole day watching over Dick, and now had to spend his evening taking care of Bruce. And even Alfred noted how strange it was for Bruce to be this out of sorts. “He’ll be fine,” Clark reassured him, taking the tray from him with a soft smile, “Thanks for bringing this up. I've got it covered from here”

He took a deep breath and returned to Bruce’s bedroom, ready to handle his overly-flirtatious and difficult attitude. Instead, he found Bruce sitting in the same spot and quietly sobbing, quickly wiping away the tears as he noticed Clark had returned. Instantly, he regretted leaving—he'd told Bruce before that he'd be there for him, and instead he stormed out. And he hadn't considered until now that Bruce's advances might have been based in real desire rather than just a plot to mess with Clark. He placed the tray on the nightstand and took a seat on the bed next to Bruce, knowing he shouldn't have left him alone when there was clearly something wrong with him. “Listen, Bruce…” Clark began, his voice soft and quiet as he rested his hand on Bruce’s knee, “...I really like you. And if you weren't drunk, and my boss, and if we weren't both dating other people, well—”

Immediately Clark was stopped by a horrible retching sound, then the appearance of vomit in his lap. Bruce looked mortified upon the realization that he’d thrown up all over Clark. “That’s not good,” Clark stated in a slightly panicked voice, then helped Bruce over to the bathroom. He sat with him for a few minutes and rubbed his back as he puked into the toilet, wondering if the night might have to end in a hospital visit for alcohol poisoning. 

Fortunately for the both of them, Bruce pushed through after a while, and Clark helped him get cleaned up before helping him back into bed again. Bruce didn’t fight Clark on any of it this time around, completely defeated and exhausted by the horrible night he’d had. Clark lingered around for a while, making sure Bruce was able to sleep before heading back to his own room for the night. Even after a long shower, it was hard for him to fall asleep. Why did he come home from Veronica’s? Why was Bruce such a mess? And why couldn’t Clark smell alcohol on him? There were so many unanswered questions about Bruce’s behavior that kept him up, yet he’d have to wait until morning to find any relief from his thoughts.

Breakfast the next morning was deeply uncomfortable. Clark was too worried about Bruce to focus on eating, and Dick was desperate for his attention after a day without him. Clark decided another morning of cartoons was the best solution for this problem, sitting with Dick in the den and glancing over to the stairs every few seconds in hopes to see Bruce up and moving.

Finally Clark heard Bruce’s footsteps creep down the stairs, and immediately got up from the couch and rushed over to him. “You’re awake!” he said with a mix of relief and worry, “Are you feeling alright?”

Bruce could hardly look Clark in the eye. Though his memory was a little hazy, he knew he’d overstepped Clark’s boundaries more than once last night. He definitely remembered throwing up all over him. Bruce expected Clark to avoid him all day, so to find him at his side like this was completely unexpected. “I’ve had worse,” he reassured Clark.

“I’m still trying to piece together what happened to you last night,” Clark continued, “You don’t seem like the type to drink too much.”

Bruce took a few more steps down the stairs as he recounted the night before. “Our conversation the other day…” Bruce began, “...it made me realize that I shouldn’t be with Ronnie. I broke up with her at the party, and came home early.”

Clark’s heart skipped a beat. “You broke up with her?” he asked him, trying not to sound a little excited about that, “On Valentine’s Day?”

Bruce let out a small chuckle. “I know, not my best move,” he conceded, “I don’t know why I waited so long. We weren’t right for each other. I just got so used to her being around, and I didn't want to be alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” Clark reminded him, “You have Dick and Alfred. And me, the person who carried you upstairs last night and sat with you when you got sick, even with your...well, difficult behavior .”

Bruce averted his gaze at that last part, still quite embarrassed by how he acted. Clark made a good point though; despite everything, he remained by Bruce’s side and took care of him. “I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he admitted, “I appreciate you sticking by me despite me being a ‘jerk’.”

Clark watched as Bruce paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion and deep thought. After a moment, Bruce continued. “There’s something bothering me, though—I hardly had anything to drink last night, yet I came home completely trashed.”

“You think someone spiked your drink?” Clark asked him, almost certain at this point that’s what had happened, “And only a month after the incident on New Year’s? It almost seems like someone’s after you.”

“It was a big party,” Bruce shrugged, trying to downplay the situation to prevent Clark from getting involved, “And I made it home just fine. The culprit was likely going after someone else and accidentally got me. Oh well—at least I saved some poor soul from that fate.”

Chapter Text

In the early hours of the morning, Bruce sat alone in the Batcave staring blankly at an open case file on the Bat Computer’s screen. As much as he wanted to distract himself, he couldn’t focus on his work. The last few days had been full of challenges for him—ending things with Veronica, embarrassing himself in front of Clark, and now he was facing another birthday. Turning twenty today meant he was no longer a teenager. Twenty seemed so old to him as a child, an age where he’d be a real adult. And Bruce didn’t feel like a child anymore, but he didn’t feel like an adult either. He was still trying to figure himself out and get a handle on his life, and it was disheartening to realize he wasn’t as far in life as he thought he’d be by now. 

The morning went on like any other. Bruce never liked celebrating his birthday; for other people, birthdays were the one day they could feel special, but Bruce had been getting special attention his whole life. Even his childhood birthdays were unusual compared to others—expensive cakes by the finest bakers, elaborate parties with celebrity guests, and hundreds of neatly wrapped gifts were the standard. Not only was it exhausting to get through, but it was another reminder of how different he was from others. He was more than content with skipping the festivities and moving throughout the day as he usually did.

He kept up with his usual routine until the early afternoon, when—during a break in the rain—Clark barged into his office with a ridiculously optimistic smile. By this point in his assignment, Clark let himself in whenever he pleased, no longer concerned that he was overstepping Bruce’s boundaries or interrupting his work, and Bruce was no longer surprised when he did so. Still, Clark often brought him a challenge each time he came in, and Bruce looked up at him begrudgingly as he waited for Clark’s plea.

“The sun’s peeking out from behind the clouds,” Clark beamed, failing to keep his excitement subdued, “I’ve got a surprise for you in the driveway, if you’ve got a few minutes.”

Bruce sat there in silence for a moment as dread creeped in and weighed him down into his chair. A surprise? Did Clark figure out that today was a special occasion? He’d managed to keep the day as normal as possible, and now Clark had changed that in an instant. Every time he tried to avoid something, Clark made him face it, and it seemed like his birthday was no different. Bruce rose from his chair and nodded, saying nothing as he prepared himself to put on an appreciative performance to appease him.

However, as soon as he made it outside, he was faced with something completely unexpected. Dick was standing there with some safety pads, a bike helmet, and the biggest smile on his face as Clark showed Bruce the bicycle he’d got. “I know it’s a month early, but I saw it on sale and couldn’t resist,” Clark explained, “And I figured he’d get a lot of gifts on his birthday, so what’s the use in waiting until then?”

Bruce stood there with a somber expression, nodding along to Clark’s words without really reacting to them. The surprise was a birthday gift for Dick, not for him. And that was fine, or so he told himself. He hated celebrating his birthday, and spent all day avoiding the subject—so why was he disappointed that Clark hadn’t prepared something special for him?

Clark gave Bruce an encouraging nudge towards Dick. “I practiced with him a little already, but why don’t you show him the rest?”

Dick looked over to Bruce and Clark, a little bit of frustration on his face as he unsuccessfully tried to push off by himself. “I need a head start!” he beckoned over to them. Balance was no problem for him, but generating enough power to get the wheels turning by himself was tricky.

Bruce brought himself out of his gloomy rut and quickly went over to Dick, giving him a few pushes that resulted in some failed starts. Finally Bruce pulled him over to the end of the driveway, then with all his strength, ran alongside Dick and pushed him off into the driveway in front of them, watching him ride around the pavement with ease. As Dick wobbled and turned around, Bruce could see a big smile on his face, a genuine sense of joy that he had achieved a new skill as Bruce waved at him from afar. For the first time since adopting him, Bruce finally felt like a real father. It was so simple, yet teaching Dick how to ride a bike made him feel more connected to him. He realized how much of an impact he had on Dick’s growth and development, the pride he felt incomparable to anything he’d ever experienced.

And then Dick’s face turned to panic. He didn’t know how to stop. Bruce could see him struggle to maintain speed, encouraging him to pull the brakes and let his feet down, but it was too late. He started to rush over, ready to catch him as he fell off the bike.

“Dad!” Dick called out to Clark in fear. Bruce suddenly stopped in his tracks. It was like he’d been punched hard in the gut, all the wind knocked out of him. He swallowed down his devastation long enough to catch Dick when he fell, gently guiding him down to the ground as the bike fell on the other side of them. Then he held onto Dick in silence as Clark ran over.

“Whoa, you alright there?” Clark asked Dick as he pulled him up from Bruce’s arms, Bruce still sitting on the damp asphalt in defeat, “It’s a good thing Bruce was here to catch you. He saved you!”

Bruce could tell Clark was trying to turn Dick’s attention back to him, but it didn’t matter. When faced with fear, Dick turned to Clark for help, not him. And just as he was feeling like a real father, Dick called Clark “Dad”, not him. Bruce was just an afterthought. And with the week he’d been having, it was the last thing he needed.

Clark walked over to him, knowing that he was heartbroken by what had happened, and held out his hand to him. “Bruce,” he said gently as he offered to help him up, “Everything alright?”

Bruce pushed his hand away and picked himself up off of the ground, then stormed off into the manor and locked himself inside his office without saying a word to anyone. Clark tensed up as he brought Dick back inside and stared at the closed doors, too afraid to look beyond it with his x-ray vision because he knew Bruce was a wreck. He’d already had such a difficult week, and he knew this had hurt him. Clark just wanted to do something special for Bruce’s birthday without putting him on the spot; he thought an opportunity for him to bond with Dick was a perfect gift. He never expected it to end so terribly.

Clark noted the rain pick up again, and looked down to Dick, who seemed a little confused by Bruce’s abrupt exit. “We’ll have to wait for clear weather before we can try riding again,” Clark told him, “How about we head to the kitchen? I have an idea on how we can warm up the house.”

Clark thought giving Bruce an hour or so to himself would give him enough time to cool off, but after knocking on his door and sending a few text messages, he realized Bruce was ignoring him. It was infuriating. Despite doing everything to earn Bruce's trust and build a solid friendship with him, Bruce was shutting him out again. Clark had always been reliable, had always been there to help him through his issues when things got tough—why was Bruce still convinced that he had to go through everything alone?

In this emotional state, Clark rushed up to his room, ready to risk it all to ensure Bruce didn't isolate himself again. As he took off his glasses and shed his street clothes, he heard a faint knock at his open door. 

“Mr. Kent?” Alfred asked in confusion as Clark turned around and faced him, now completely in his Superman suit with no chance of talking his way out of it. He waited for Alfred to badger him with a million questions, to announce to the world that Clark Kent was really Superman. But instead, Alfred simply took a deep breath and relaxed, looking back at him with an unbothered expression. “It's almost time to take the cake out of the oven…” he told him, “...but I can see you're busy, so I'll take care of it.”

Clark held his breath in disbelief as Alfred left the room, surprised by this nonchalant reaction to his biggest secret. He decided not to dwell on it. “One problem at a time,” he told himself as he slipped outside his bedroom window and flew over to Bruce's balcony.

Bruce was a little surprised to hear a light tapping at the glass doors that led out to the balcony from his office. He was more surprised to see Superman on the other side of the glass, staring back at him with a timid smile. Whatever reason Clark had for putting his secret identity at risk and standing there on the other side of the door must be good. He walked over to the door and let himself out, staring at Superman in a restrained silence as he waited for Clark to make his case.

“Hi, Mr. Wayne,” Superman awkwardly began, “A friend of mine at The Planet told me it was your birthday, so I decided to stop by.”

“Really?” Bruce asked him with skepticism. It was nice to know that Clark didn't forget his birthday, but he wasn't in the mood for whatever gift this was supposed to be.

“Well, he told me that what he had planned for your birthday didn't exactly work out,” Superman explained, nervous that Bruce wasn't buying it, “So he called me in to cheer you up.”

Bruce didn't have the energy left to play along with Clark's story or toy with him further. All at once he burst into tears, cupping his face in his hands and crying into them in shame. “I can't do anything right,” he whined as the tears fell, “I'm just a failure.”

Clark knew Bruce was going through it. He pulled him in tight for a hug, gently rocking him back and forth as he consoled him. It didn't occur to him until Bruce was already in his arms that it might seem strange for Superman to comfort him like this, but Clark's emotions were faster than his logic. And if he had to give up his secret just to ease Bruce’s pain, then so be it.

After a few minutes of sobbing into Superman's shoulder, Bruce took a step back, wiping the tears from his eyes as he pulled himself together. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled as he straightened himself out, “I’m going through some stuff right now. And unfortunately, I'm taking it out on everyone around me.”

“I'm sure they understand,” Superman insisted, trying to ease Bruce's fears about being an inadequate father and friend, “Last time I met you, you said you had a nanny? Maybe you could talk to him about it?”

Bruce tried his best not to laugh at Clark's ridiculous attempt to get him to talk to him. “Yeah, maybe,” he said with a slight smile, running his hands slowly and firmly across Superman's chest to his shoulders, “Though I'm glad he sent you here as a birthday present.” He leaned in and gave Superman a soft, sweet kiss on the cheek.

Again, Clark's emotions were faster than his logic, and as Bruce pulled away, Superman's lips followed his. He didn't know when he’d get another chance to be with Bruce like this, and he needed to feel his touch just one more time, the satisfaction and euphoria he felt back on New Year's returning to him again as they kissed. Superman pulled him in tighter, his passion and intensity increasing exponentially each time he felt Bruce's lips against his. Running his hands down Bruce’s torso and to his hips, Clark wanted more—to become even closer to Bruce, to feel every part of him. But with all of his willpower, he pulled himself back.

“I, uhh…” Superman muttered, trying to snap out of the daze Bruce had him in and come back to reality, “...I might have gotten a little carried away there. Sorry about that.”

Bruce seemed upset. Not because Clark has kissed him so fervently, but because he had stopped. “I like it when you get carried away,” he replied with a smirk.

Clark was very conflicted. When he was Superman, he could be with Bruce with no constraints, and give into every romantic feeling he had for him without issue. But Clark Kent was one who'd spent so much time earning his trust and building a friendship, and it was him that he wanted Bruce to fall in love with, not Superman. “Sorry if this is overstepping, but didn't you say you found your nanny hot?” Superman added, trying to steer Bruce in the right direction, “I mean, he seems like a great guy to me. I don't know if I want to get in the way of that.”

“You won't,” Bruce sharply responded with crossed arms, knowing full well Clark was trying to figure out his feelings for him behind his back, “He has a girlfriend. And I can't wait around for him forever.”

Clark wanted to die. Not die, but he wanted to curl up in a ball and hide away somewhere he could be impervious to his embarrassing and complicated existence. He finally remembered that Lois was, technically, still in the picture. After the commotion that night with Bruce, he'd forgotten all about his date with her and how uncomfortable it was for him. “Oh…” Superman awkwardly replied, “...well, I heard they're going to break up.”

Again, Bruce used all his strength to hold back a laugh. “Oh really?” he asked mischievously, “And where did you hear that from?”

“Oh, you know…” Superman huffed, kicking the ground with his feet as he glanced around, …I got a lot of friends at The Planet, so, you know.”

Bruce couldn't help but smile a bit. Clark was terrible at hiding his true identity from Bruce, but it was a little endearing. At least it gave them both the space to acknowledge their feelings for one another with a degree of separation. “Alright, then,” Bruce shrugged, “Maybe I will give him a chance.”

A big smile appeared on Superman's face as he readied to take off from the balcony. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Wayne,” he said before flying away into the distance. Bruce took a deep breath, then went back inside and unlocked the door.

He lingered there in his office for a moment, trying to process the feelings he had for Clark and their interaction on the balcony just now. It was clear from Superman's actions that Clark wanted him physically, if not more. Was Superman the defense Clark hid behind to indulge his desires without suffering any of the consequences of actually dating Bruce? Was Clark embarrassed or ashamed to be seen with him? 

Then again, Superman wouldn't have encouraged Bruce to date Clark if that was the case, and Bruce knew that Clark had an ethical objection to dating his boss. Of course, Bruce didn't see it that way, he thought of Clark as a friend who just happens to be on his payroll. But there were legitimate reasons for Clark to put off a confession to Bruce, and it was more likely than not that Clark at least wanted something more between the two of them.

His rumination was interrupted by a knock at his office door. He opened it to find Clark standing there like an idiot holding a plate with a homemade piece of cake. “I made you this,” he said as he handed Bruce the slice, “My original gift for you didn't go as planned, so this is my backup.”

Bruce stared down at the simple piece of vanilla cake in his hand. No fancy recipes or decorations, it was just a plain piece of birthday cake, chocolate icing spread thick across the top with a spoon. It was a reminder of why he adored Clark; he gave him things he never knew he wanted until he had them, and made him feel so normal and like he belonged. He motioned for Clark to follow him into the office as he set the slice down on his desk.

“I wanted things to go differently today,” Clark continued as he followed him in, “I thought I could give you a good memory with Dick for your birthday.”

Bruce turned back to Clark, hesitation in his eyes. “Clark…” Bruce began quietly, his voice shaky, “...do you think I'm a bad parent?”

Clark walked over to Bruce and gave him a few pats on the shoulder. “I think you're an amazing parent,” Clark insisted, “You saw a child whose life was ruined in an instant, and when everyone else looked away, you selflessly took him in to give him a better life. When things got rough, you didn't give up, but did the honorable thing and asked for my help. And during my time here, you’ve pushed past so many of your hardships to be more present for Dick. None of us are perfect, having flaws is what makes us human. But you're pretty darn close.”

He knew exactly what to say to silence Bruce's doubts, and yet Bruce knew Clark was genuine. He was never the type to just tell him what he wants to hear. Besides one huge secret, Clark never really lied to him. He was the first person Bruce could truly call a friend, the only person who's been in it for him, not for money or status or bragging rights. “When this is over…” Bruce continued, “...and you go back to Metropolis, you and I will still be friends, right?”

Clark gave him his usual warm smile. “Of course we will,” he reassured him, “We’re besties, remember? You're stuck with me for life now.”

Bruce grabbed Clark's hand in his, gently holding it and softly caressing it with his thumb. His heart was racing, his cheeks flushed as he nervously averted Clark’s gaze. “Clark…” he uttered, his voice anxious and breathy as he held his hand closer.

Clark held his breath. Was Bruce going to confess to him?

“B!” Dick shouted from the hall, finding his way into Bruce's office and running in with chocolate frosting on his face, “Is today really your birthday?”

Bruce let go of Clark's hand and turned towards Dick, slowly nodding in confirmation of his question.

Dick looked up to him in concern. “Does that mean you're older now?”

Bruce knelt down and gave him another nod. “That's right,” he said calmly, “I'm another year older.”

Panic swept across Dick's face again. “You are?!” Dick cried, tears in his eyes, “Does that mean you're going to get old and die soon?”

Bruce pulled in Dick for a hug, holding him close despite still feeling a little alienated from him. “No, I'm not going to die for a long time,” he reassured him, “You won't have to worry about that until you're old.”

Dick's tears slowed a bit, but he continued to cling onto Bruce as he held him. “Okay,” he mumbled, “I love you, B. I don't want you to die yet.”

Bruce smiled in this small victory. Maybe he wasn't “Dad” yet, but Dick loved him, and that was enough. “I love you too, kid,” Bruce whispered back, then picked him up and looked over to Clark with a playful smirk, “But remind me to dock Clark's pay for giving you cake this close to bedtime.”

Clark watched as Bruce carried Dick off to his room, glad that the day’s issues had been resolved, but curious as to what Bruce would have said to him if the kid hadn’t interrupted.