Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Please tell me we've been here long enough to justify leaving," Clark Kent muttered to his co-worker, Lois Lane. His fellow Daily Planet reporter grinned, though Clark didn't miss the way she shifted her weight uncomfortably in her heels. They'd been at the grand-opening event for billionaire Bruce Wayne's latest charitable foundation for hours. This one, named again for his late mother, was geared toward young children and their families. For that reason, the christening of the new building was held in the middle of the afternoon, and the parking lot was filled with portable carnival rides.

It was now starting to get dark, and considering that it was summer, the sun set late even in Gotham City. A quick check of his watch confirmed what Clark already suspected. It was nearly eight o'clock at night, well past Conner's bedtime. Most of the children still running around were within a few years of his cousin's age of seven. He'd regretted initially not being able to bring the little boy that he and Lois were fostering, but now he was glad to not have to drive all of the way back to Metropolis with a grouchy, sleep-deprived half-Kryptonian.

"You still haven't gotten your sound-byte from Bruce Wayne," Lois reminded him. That's why Clark was even here, despite this sort of fluff piece not being in his typical journalistic repertoire. His fellow writers, and especially the chief editor, had caught on that Clark was the most likely to convince the busy and elusive playboy businessman to actually stop and speak with him. He liked to think that it was his mild manners and respect for the man's privacy that had won him the honor of being the reporter tolerated the most by Bruce Wayne, but he honestly had no idea why Wayne tolerated him.

"Is he even still here?" Clark asked, scanning the crowd passively. The man was likely bolstering his playboy image and had left with his girl of the week a long time ago.

Lois buttoned up her jacket as the setting sun took its warmth with it. A breeze was picking up as well and in the far distance, Clark could smell a summer thunderstorm brewing over the Atlantic. They still had a few hours until it reached the dark city. "Let's see who we have to bribe to get out of our pen." Like most events hosted by the super-elite, the press was relegated to a corner of the parking lot from which they'd had a decent view of the stage during the ribbon-cutting ceremony, but little access to the revelers after the structured part of the event had finished. At least they were near the exit, and a few of the Gotham reporters had managed to grab the attention of prominent citizens as they waited for the valet service.

Reporters from Metropolis, Central City, and other news organizations weren't as lucky. Lois, as pushy as she could be, hadn't even landed one brief interview. It was never easy in Gotham City. At least in Metropolis, the upperclass would acknowledge that the "media sharks" were people too, trying to earn their livings in a cutthroat industry.

Some well-dressed gentleman and his wife, decked out in enough jewelry that it was blatantly obvious that they considered themselves important, passed by the media pen then, and the frustrated journalists all pressed forward for a chance to have something worth reporting back to their organizations. Clark let Lois have that fun, instead waiting near the back of the group and checking his watch once again. He was ready to leave, Bruce Wayne quote or no. As long as no other news outlet got one, either, Perry couldn't be too angry.

If it weren't for his supersenses, Clark probably wouldn't have felt the short tug on the hem of his sports coat. He turned slowly, looking down curiously as he did so. A child, smaller than even Conner, looked up at him from under a tousled fringe of black-brown hair. His tiny outfit looked like it possibly cost more than Clark's whole getup, but it was the child's ice blue eyes that drew the reporter in.

Lois returned to his side a few seconds later, grumbling about stuck-up Gothamites. Her rant died quickly when she noticed the little person studying Clark intently. Clark would never admit that the intensity of the stare was a little unsettling, even in someone barely as tall as his hip. "Oh my," she said. Clark could hear her excitement ramp up a bit toward the end of her whispered exclamation. "Clark, that's--"

Clark admitted that he was bad with names. He simply couldn't find the enthusiasm for studying pictures of the rich and famous just so he could recognize one at a moment's notice. He was pretty sure he'd never seen this boy before (though he reminded Clark of someone), but apparently his peers weren't as lax when it came to doing their homework. The excited whispering grew to sound like bees buzzing around him.

The child seemed to realize he was suddenly the center of attention in a group of adult strangers. He looked about himself, his intense expression morphing into one of childlike unease. His blue eyes snapped back to Clark and a then he was holding up his arms in a universal sign that Clark recognized very well. Stunned, Clark just stared back at the unknown boy. The buzzing grew in volume.

Seemingly concerned that Clark didn't understand his silent demand, the little boy pressed in close enough to grasp Clark's coat again, tugging beseechingly with one hand while still reaching up for the towering reporter with the other. His confusion at maximum levels, Clark obliged, lifting the child off the ground. The little boy immediately wrapped one arm around Clark's neck and the other around his upper arm, like he wasn't planning on being put down anytime soon. When camera flashes and shouted questions started firing around them, Clark's new friend buried his face in the reporter's wide shoulder.

"Back off," Lois snapped at the other reporters.

"You back off, bitch," a redhead with a Gotham Gazette press badge replied. She was a good few inches taller than Lois, but his spitfire coworker wasn't intimidated by anyone. She stepped right up to the other reporter.

"Ladies," Clark admonished as he adjusted his hold on the child. "What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?!" the redhead snapped.

Lois looked at him incredulously, until realization dawned in her expression and she rolled her eyes. "Smallville…"

"You're the problem, Kent," the redhead continued. Considering that she knew who he was, Clark figured he should finally sneak a peek at her press badge with his enhanced vision to discern her name. He groaned internally when he caught "cki Val". Everyone, himself included, knew who the sassy, pushy Vicki Vale was. "This is Gotham City. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Listen, tramp," said Lois, getting into the catfight eagerly. "The kid went for Clark. So you can just back the hell off."

Despite his size and height advantage, Clark was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic as the rest of the reporters pressed closer to him all while steering clear of the brewing fight next to him. "Mr. Kent," called one young man with a heavy splash of freckles across his pale face. "Are you a family friend of the Waynes?"

"I… not particularly." Bruce Wayne tolerated him on occasion, but he'd never actively sought Clark out. "Excuse me." He tried to move away from the others, but they followed him diligently. He shifted the boy to one arm so he could lift one of the cordons delineating the extents of the press pen and let himself out.

He bemoaned yet another increase in excitement a moment later, wishing that his counterparts weren't quite so bloodthirsty for a story that they'd pester a scared little boy, and prepared to give them a piece of his mind. He stopped, however, when he recognized the man striding quickly in his direction, flanked by two older boys.

Everything snapped into place pretty quickly then, and Clark berated himself for being so slow on the uptake when his burden's head shot up hopefully. Clark nearly dropped him when the child reached for the newcomer.

"Hi, baby," Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist, greeted as he lifted the child out of Clark's arms. The boy, oh so obviously Timothy Wayne, clutched his father just as tightly as he'd held onto Clark earlier. Camera flashes were nearly blinding as the different media outlets tried to snap the best picture of the elite family. Jason Wayne, Bruce's second son, inched behind his father's large frame while his older brother, Richard, smiled widely and waved at the penned reporters.

"I lost you," Timothy whispered into his father's ear, but Clark had no trouble picking up the soft words with his superhearing. He discretely shifted to the side, putting his own wide body between the family and the media. Bruce's sharp eyes snapped to him at the movement, reminding Clark of a lot of his sometimes Gotham City ally. Then the billionaire dipped his chin minutely in thanks before refocusing on his youngest.

"Next time you won't sneak away from Alfred, will you?" Bruce asked in an equally low voice.

"I wanted cotton candy," Timothy explained unhappily. "But I couldn't find the vendor. And then I couldn't find you. But it was okay, 'cause I found Superman instead."

Clark's jaw literally dropped, giving away the fact that he'd been eavesdropping on the whispered conversation. Even Lois, the woman he loved more than anything, didn't know his true identity. Even his allies in the Justice League only knew him as Superman, and hadn't made the connection between Clark Kent and the Man of Steel. It was pointless to try to recover himself as Bruce eyed him again, but Clark tried anyway.

Bruce kissed the boy's cheek just in front of his tiny ear. "I suppose there are worse people you could have stumbled upon."

"Uh, excuse me," Clark said, taking a step closer to the billionaire. "I'm not actually… you know…"

Bruce looked past him. "Dick, come here." Much to the thrilled photographers' disappointment, the pre-teen obeyed quickly. Bruce situated Timothy in one arm so he could reach down to take Jason's hand. "Let's go find Alfred and Cassie."

"Can we ride the Scrambler again, Dad?" Richard, or Dick it seemed, asked, literally bouncing up and down in front of his father.

"It's late. We're going home," Bruce denied. "Mr. Kent, thank you for watching Timmy," he said over Dick's unhappy sounds. He had to pass the reporter in order to exit the temporary fairgrounds. In a deep, well-known voice, he said, "We'll discuss this later." At least this time, Clark managed to keep his expression mostly neutral.

Lois reached his side as the Wayne family bypassed the media pen. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Smallville," she said. "And you better have gotten an amazing quote."

"Uh huh." Clark's mind was miles away though, stuck on the thought that Batman has kids.