Work Text:
One would think there’s nothing Superman can’t do. That’s why he’s Superman. Because he’s always where he’s needed, he does what others can’t. He can do what others wish to be able to do. And, Clark has to admit, if someone can think of it, he’s probably done it before. Saving a kitty inside the tree – done that. Stopping an atomic bomb from exploding – done that as well. Saving the earth from the invasion – yep, done. Having aliens for friends? He’s not of Earth so done with that long before anyone thought about that.
Yes, a lot of the time it feels like Superman can do anything. But, Clark knows better. He knows there are thing the Superman is weak against; things Superman can’t beat and Kryptonite is only one of those. The other thing is currently sitting behind the computer screens on the Watchtower and Clark might’ve or might’ve not stolen a table from Hawk and Dove at the mess hall just to have a good view of him.
“Is this the new plan?” Hal asks as he sits down – uninvited – at his table. “Throwing puppy eyes his way until he gives up and pats your head?”
“Why not? It seems to work for you and Barry.” Clark huffs back and feels a flare of satisfaction when Hal almost chokes on the beer he’s drinking.
“I’ll let you know that was completely different!” He yelps once he gets his coughing fit under control and Clark rolls his eyes.
“What are we talking about?” Barry zips in from nowhere, his arms full of food Clark didn’t even know was around.
“Dating.” Hal quickly says, giving Clark a warning glare. As if Barry didn’t know about the literal months of pining on Hal’s side. “I’m teaching Supes here how to not suck at dating as much as he does.” He smirks, happy and proud.
“You?” Barry asks and Clark can’t help the small chuckle that escapes his lips at the way Hal’s whole face falls.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Hal asks, offended and Barry is too busy eating to wince.
“Well, normal people don’t exactly date like we do.” He points out and Clark decides not to focus on the crumbs falling from his lips. Hal might find that appealing, but Clark does not.
“I don’t think anyone here can be considered normal.” He says instead, joining Hal’s side in the conversation for the moment.
“Hah! Exactly!” Hal yells, hitting Clark’s shoulder. “Who knows how normal people even date.”
“I hear it’s an Earth custom to find out what the other likes and work with the information accordingly.”
Clark doesn’t jump. He’s way too used to J’onn’s unexpected appearances though he wonders if he came from through floor or if Clark was that busy staring at Bruce again.
“Good thing we’re not normal.” Hal huffs. “There is no way Supes would have a chance otherwise. I swear the guy likes nothing at all.”
That’s not only not fair, it’s also wrong and Clark can’t keep his mouth shut.
“That’s not true at all. There is a lot of things he likes.”
“Like what? Hanging people off the building?” Hal scoffs and Clark rolls his eyes. Of course Hal would view Bruce like that. Of course. Well, time to prove him wrong.
“No!” Well… “Okay, maybe sometimes. But he likes bad movies, those little cookies filled with cream or something and good wine and his kids and-“ Clark stops and his eyes fly from the group over to Bruce in fraction of a second. His kids. “I need to go.” The second the words are spoken Clark is gone and Barry looks at Hal, worried.
“… should we tell him?”
“Let Batman do that.” Diana cuts in, staring after Clark. “Thank gods it’s his mess.”
It’s been and uneventful night at the watchtower. Bruce spent it upgrading the system – important but long work. Would be much shorter too if Lantern didn’t decide to come and help which mostly just consisted of crude and annoying comments.
All in all, Bruce’s happy to be home even though he’s unbelievably tired. All he wants to do is get out of his Bat costume, fall into the bed and sleep for at least two hours. Also maybe steal some of Alfred’s cookies somewhere along the line.
What he’s not prepared for, is Dick coming in in all of his Nightwing glory, big wide grin on his lips and wiggling his eyebrows. There are warning bells going off in the back of his mind but Bruce’s mind’s still foggy with the night’s work. Bruce doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask anything, just reaches to his back to pull at the hidden clasp to get to the zipper. His finger are numb, they are slipping off – perhaps he should’ve listened to Alfred when he said that four days without any sleep isn’t a good idea. Dick takes pity on him because he steps forward behind Bruce and makes short work with the suit.
“So Superman, huh?” He asks and Bruce can’t do much more than grunt in question. Dick doesn’t seem to understand though. Instead of explaining he smiles, bright and happy. A smile that not even Gotham managed to kill in him. “You know, I like him. He’s a classy guy – asking and all. He may even manage.” Dick chatters as he drags Bruce over to the lift and up to his room. Bruce has no idea what Dick’s talking about. The second he sees his bed, hers his personal siren calling to him, he’s mostly gone. Bruce hopes the boy won’t mind too much that he’s not paying attention. Dick was always good at understanding and forgiving. That’s why he doesn’t want to be the Batman. That’s why he’s going to make a great one one day.
“He might have a problem with Damian though.” Dick ponders out loud. “But don’t worry we’ll figure something out.” His youngest son’s name catches his attention and Bruce wonders if he should ask now. But that’s the moment his head hits the pillow and he can’t do much more than catch Dick’s arm.
“Thanks.” Bruce mutters. Dick always knew how to take care of all of them. Maybe that’s why Damian found it much easier to bond with than with Bruce. Can’t hold that against the kid. His eyes are closing but he can still see Dick shrug and beam.
“I’m just glad. We always worry about you being lonely. It’s good that you won’t be anymore, even if we get busy.”
That is something Bruce should be paying attention to, he knows, but there is nothing he can do before sleep claims him.
Bruce admits he mostly forgets about the conversation with Dick. Mostly, because a week passes by and nothing out of ordinary happens. The league business calms down, Gotham is quiet, but not quiet enough to make Bruce worry just yet, Clark stops by several times talking about Kryptonian language and possible off world missions.
He almost forgets about it completely. But then he comes home from a charity event. He’s about to head off to the cave, walking by the kitchen, already thinking about utilizing the new information he learnt when he stops. He frowns and takes a few steps back, until Jason comes into view again, his feet propped up on the table and munching on Alfred’s cookies. Alfred’s going to kill him. Bruce’s just not sure for which out of those two things.
“Jason.” He says slowly. This is not a Red Hood visit. The helmet is nowhere to be seen and Bruce’s frown deepens. This is Jason’s family visits which makes Bruce more than a little curious. He knows that Jason comes around every now and then for the movie nights the boys have. But Alfred did not say anything, not for tonight.
“B!” Jason nods, lifts a beer up to his lips and doesn’t move his feet. “Just the guy I wanted to see.”
That’s new as well. Jason very rarely if ever admits to looking for Bruce. There are no guns, there are no goons and Jason’s not glaring at him. Bruce blinks and takes a seat opposite the man.
Jason pushes over the other beer – one that they both know Bruce won’t take, not before a patrol, though he still appreciates the gesture. Jason’s quiet for a while, then he looks up and frowns.
“Talked to your guy a few days ago.” He mutters. Bruce lifts an eyebrow. “You could’ve picked worse.” He continues, before frowning. “Though my guns are ready if he ever … does anything.” Jason looks uncomfortable for just a second, before a wide grin spreads on his lips. “He’s the one wearing white I hope.”
Bruce is about to open his mouth and ask when Alfred comes in and notices Jason, his feet on the table and his cookies. Bruce is a smart man – that’s why he survived as the Batman as long as he did – and he knows when to retreat. Judging by the look in Alfred’s eyes - now is just about the right time.
By the time Clark comes to join him at the night patrol, Bruce feels something’s wrong. The boys – all of them – are around more often than not, heads put together and whispering. Bruce should probably be happy they are talking. But he can’t get rid of the feeling that they are plotting something, something that Damian already doesn’t like. Unhappy Damian was not easy to deal with and sadly, Bruce has no idea if the kid took after him or his mother in that one thing.
He doesn’t exactly hear Clark coming and hovering just behind him, but he feels the slight shift in the air.
“Did you talk to the boys?” He asks, not pulling the binoculars away from his eyes.
“Your sons?” Clark sound confused. Proud feeling fills up Bruce’s chests. “I always talk to your sons.” That’s the truth of course. Clark spends way too much time at their house not to talk to his sons. But there is still something that makes Bruce worry. “Why is there something wrong?” Clark asks, and there is worry clear in his voice.
“No.” Bruce shakes his head as he puts the binoculars away and stands up, readying his grappling hook. “Are you coming tonight?”
“Yeah.” Clark nods, smiling. “I’m supposed to be the referee for Tim and Damian when they play the Mario Kart and Alfred promised me to show me how to make those cookies you like.”
“Good. You’re staying over tonight.” Clark beams and Bruce turns away, firing his hook. “Also. I don’t like cookies.” He said, letting the line pull him over. The car with the croons is moving under him, fast. Though luck. No one loses the Batman.
“I’m Batman. I don’t eat cookies. I’m the darkness. I’m the night.” He hears Clark mutter to himself and he smirks.
“I can still her you, Superman.” He says, loud enough for Clark to pick up and the comm comes to life again.
“What? You put a bug on me again?! Bruce!”
Bruce just smirks.
Bruce’s mind is groggy when he wakes up, his head in Clark’s lap. He sighs and lifts his hand, brushing at his eyes. It’s still soon, he can feel it in his bones, in the way his muscles are tired and aching and refusing to listen to him.
“The boys?” He grumbles. The last he remembers they were all sitting here, Bruce and Clark on the couch while Tim and Damian playing games with Dick teasing them and telling Damian over and over again that it’s training and leaving will not be excused. Bruce’s not sure if the demolition of the game later that night was a dream or not. He must’ve fallen asleep somewhere between the tenth and twentieth threat of Damian’s, though, because he doesn’t remember them leaving. Or getting the blanket that’s lying over him. It’s not the first time Bruce fell asleep like this, and he doubts it’s the last one either, because as Alfred likes to point out, his mind must consider that safe, being around Clark and his family.
“Alfred kicked them to bed like half an hour ago. I was surprised how well Damian listens to him.” Clark chuckles. “Almost more than he listens to you.” Bruce can hear the teasing smile in his voice.
“They all do.” Bruce points out yawning. “It’s because he feeds them.”
Clark chuckles again and Bruce can feel the warm, strong fingers in his hair. It’s fascinating, how much power is hiding behind that soft touch.
“Don’t you want to go to sleep to the bed?” Clark ask. Bruce glances up at him before he turns and throws an arm over his eyes.
“You’re the Superman. I’m sure you can deal with a little morning back pain.” Bruce muttered, already falling back asleep with the help of Clark’s warm fingers in his hair.
He doesn’t expect Tim. He’s not surprised when the boy comes to him though, serious expression on his face as he sits in the chair next to Bruce, Red Robin suit mostly on. The mask is still off his face and he’s biting his bottom lip.
“You know, I didn’t think he’d win Damian over.” He says after a moment. Bruce frowns. “But he’s really trying. And funny thing is, it might actually work.” Tim shrugs and smiles. “But hey, if anyone can do it, it’s Superman, right?”
Bruce is missing something. He knows that. He’s missing something and maybe Tim will be able to provide him with more information. He watches Tim stretch his fingers and look at the screen. He doesn’t ask – not yet, because it’s more than obvious that the boy is not finished yet and Bruce learnt long time ago it’s better to let his boys talk when they need it instead of asking questions. He learns more that way.
“But… we’re not really going to be brothers with Kon, right? Because that might be-“
Bruce doesn’t get to hear what that might be (even though he might have an idea. He does keep an eye on his children, after all) because the alarm starts flashing and they both hurry off to stop Joker and his newest plan of poisoning the water supply.
Again.
“Father.” Damian announces himself and waits until Bruce looks away from the computers, turns to him and freezes the moment he sees the S on Damian’s chest. He was not aware Damian owned anything with Superman insignia. He wonders if it’s another joke of Dick’s, because the last time Bruce checked, Damian was pretty unhappy with Bruce spending as much time with Clark as he did.
Damian waits until his father meets his eyes, before nodding.
“The alien is a satisfactory spouse.”
“… what?”
“His previous life experiences taught him how to respect and care for the Batcow. He’s allowed in the family.” Damian nods as if that explained anything and turns, walking out of the cave, leaving Bruce behind baffled.
… He needs to talk to Clark. Really talk, this time.
“Why do my kids think you want to marry me?” Bruce asks the second he sees him enjoying the way Clark jumps. Superhearing or not, Bruce can still sneak up onto the other man if he wants to.
“Bruce.” Clark breaths out before frowning. “I don’t want to marry you.” He says. Bruce lifts an eyebrow and Clark’s eyes widen. “Not that I wouldn’t want to marry you. You’re really great and-“
“Clark.” There’s a warning in Bruce’s voice. Clark obviously notices because he shuts up in a second and winces.
“I did not ask them for… ugh… for your hand in marriage.” For some reason the ground at Clark’s feet must be really interesting because he refuses to meet Bruce’s eyes.
“But?”
“But I asked them for their approval.” Clark’s voice’s small, as if he’s expecting Bruce to pull out the Kryptonite any second now. Bruce can’t say he’s not tempted with how long it takes Clark to get the words out.
“Approval.”
“For dating you.” Bruce blinks, his mouth opening and closing. This is the time Clark decides to talk as fast as the Flash. “Because I know you consider them really important. You consider what they think really important, and you’d never be with someone they wouldn’t like and-“
Bruce lifts his hand to stop the barrage of words coming from Clark.
“You do realize you are spending every other night over at our place, right?” He asks slowly, waiting for Clark to catch on. “You sleep over, you have more than half of your clothes over there too. Your toothbrush is in my bathroom right next to mine. You bake with Alfred and you watch movies with the boys. You play scrabble and pretend the things Dick comes up with are actual words even though no one else does. You come to our Sunday walks together and you managed to come and survive several charity galas with us. You spend all of your free time with me.”
Clark blinks, once, twice and Bruce sighs. For the possibly fastest man alive, Clark could be so slow.
“We’re already there. We already crossed that line.”
Clark’s eyes widen with realization and he opens his mouth.
“You… I… we’re dating already?! But why didn’t you say anything?!”
Bruce scoffs. Say anything?!
“I didn’t know I had to spell it out for you.” Kryptonian IQ being higher than human’s. Sure.
“But… Isn’t there supposed to be a bit more…” Clark swallows. “ Intimacy?.”
Bruce thinks they shared some of that too but he knows what kind of intimacy Clark means. In the few weeks, months (?) they didn’t kiss, their hands didn’t stray south, they didn’t attempt to make his kids horrified of their actions even a little. Thinking about it now, that might’ve been Bruce’s fault as well.
… maybe not just Kryptonian IQ then.
“I thought you wanted to keep it slow after Lois. You were supposed to be the love story of the universe.” Bruce admits, before rolling his eyes. “Now I know you’re slow. Just in a different way than I believed.”
Clark is gaping, his mouth perfect imitation of a fish. That is until he moves, quicker than Bruce can see and he’s pressing his warm, hot mout against Bruce’s, his hands caging Bruce’s head as he kisses Bruce likes his life depended on it.
Bruce thinks maybe his own does. Not that he would ever admit that.
Clark doesn’t let him go. Not until he’s satisfied, not until they are both breathing hard and at least Bruce’s lungs are burning. Only then does he pull away, presses his forehead against Bruce’s and closes his eyes.
“I’m an idiot.” He grins, wide and happy.
“Yes, you are.” Bruce agrees, but his own lips are stretched in a smile.
“Your idiot though.” Clark whispers, claiming Bruce’s lips. Over and over.
“So…” Clark starts later, “should we get married then?”
Bruce freezes, before he turns his head to face Clark, ignoring Clark’s hand running up and down his naked stomach.
“An hour ago you didn’t even know we were dating.” He points out. Clark smiles the stupid cute bashful boy smile and shrugs.
“Yeah, but you know… your boys knew. And if they thought I was asking for their blessings to marry you instead of dating you, that means I already have them.” The guy manages to look proud of himself. “That means I only need to ask Alfred for your hand and the guy actually likes me. He has to like me to give me your family’s recipes, so that’s not going to be a hardship and –“
Bruce doesn’t listen anymore. Instead he decides that he likes Clark much more when he’s too busy to think and leans over to kiss the man again.