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It had been raining and raining. A torrential downpour that alternated between driving sheets of blinding rain and a chilling drizzle that drummed incessantly against Gotham’s streets and rooftops.
For four days, the weather had been like this, at times with lightning flashing and thunder roaring across the murky skies. And for that same four days, Batman had gone out every night, never shirking his duty. Today was the fifth day. The weather was still as dreadful and temperatures were close to freezing but Batman was still going on his patrolling.
In the Batcave, Clark was leaning against a steel table, lips pursed and brows furrowed. His husband was already suited up and in the midst of checking his belt, cowl and gauntlets yet to be worn.
“Stop squawking.” Bruce looked at his husband as he slid the belt round his waist, strapping it on.
“But I didn’t say anything!”
“Not with your mouth, silly, but in here...” Bruce leaned over and tapped Clark’s forehead, “I can hear you squawking like a mother hen, frantic about her baby braving yet another stormy night.”
“Me...a mother hen!” Clark sputtered indignantly, “If I’m really one, I’ll have stuffed you under me and see how much egg white I can squeeze outta you.”
Bruce snorted at his husband’s nonsensical reply. He then wrapped his arms round Clark’s neck and kissed him.
“I’ll be fine. You know that I’m always careful and well-prepared.”
Clark hugged Bruce tight, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Despite the worries weighing heavily on his heart, he would not say anything to dissuade Batman. He knew Bruce would do the same too if Superman had to put his life on the line. Both of them understood that their responsibilities would always take precedence over their love for each other. So no matter how deep their affection was or how concerned they were, neither would stand in the way of the commitment their other half had made.
Sighing softly, Bruce ran his fingers through his husband’s hair, soothing and gentle. He knew very well why Clark was being so clingy lately. It had to do with his upcoming 50th birthday.
Whenever the tens place in Bruce’s age went up by a notch, Clark would get all moody and edgy. It was not the 43 or 48 that affected his husband. It was when his age went from the 30s to the 40s and now going into the 50s that hit him hard, reminding him of an inevitability – that his time to be with Bruce had shortened further (discounting death by unnatural causes) and that eventually he would lose him forever (Bruce had strictly forbidden using the Lazarus pit to resurrect him).
“Can I tag along just for tonight?” Clark suddenly pulled back, eyes beseechingly, “I swear I won’t interfere. You can kick and punch and throw all the batarangs you want and I’ll just hover in the background.”
If Clark had said these a decade ago, Bruce would have immediately exploded, blasting off his ten thousand reasons why Clark should bugger off and leave Batman alone.
But over the years, through the ups and downs of his relationship with his kids and through loving and living with his husband – Bruce had learnt not to push away the care others had for him. Clark wanted this not because he doubted his capabilities. He was just worried and he needed to do something to ease his fears. So by compromising a little on his part, Bruce was actually making Clark feel better. Isn’t that what love is about – making your other half happy?
“Fine,” Bruce pressed another kiss on Clark’s lips, “Just make sure you hover far enough so that I don’t smell your body odour.”
“Hey, that’s my manly scent okay and...” Clark sniffed his armpit, “It sure smells good.”
Bruce immediately made gagging noises, causing Clark to protest loudly.
“That’s mean! Passing judgement when you haven’t even taken a whiff yet.”
Clark pushed his armpit to Bruce’s nose and his husband jerked away, lips twitching in amusement.
“My god! How many years have you not bathe, Clark?”
“Still not convinced huh...maybe I should try rubbing my scent all over you.”
Grabbing him, Clark heaved Bruce onto the table, nuzzling and groping his husband. Bruce laughed, twisting and trying to break free when a boyish tenor interrupted their playful tussle.
“Ewww....that’s gross!”
The startled couple glanced at the stairway, catching sight of a 14-year-old making faces at them. Besides him was an older teen who was moaning dramatically, fingers splayed over his blue eyes.
“It’s stuck, it’s stuck and I can’t get it out of my head! Oh why can’t you two do your hanky-panky elsewhere rather than traumatising your child like this.”
“What in the world...” Bruce’s gaze darted between his two sons who were supposed to be out of town – Damian on a school camp and Tim visiting his eldest in Bludhaven. But here they were all suited up and ready for patrol.
Before Bruce could voice his queries, a man in black with a wide blue V slashed across his chest, stepped into view.
“Hi, having a good time?”
Dick waved cheerily while his other hand sneaked past Tim to ruffle Damian’s hair. Annoyed, the youngest leapt over the banister, landing nimbly before sticking his tongue out at his eldest brother. He then stalked to the couple, pushed Clark aside and parked himself in front of his father like a bodyguard. Bruce shook his head at Damian’s behaviour while Clark wisely retreated. After all these years, some things never change and Damian still harboured a possessiveness towards him irregardless of his married status.
By then, Tim and Dick had gotten off the stairs, standing at its foot to usher in Stephanie and Cassandra also prepped for the night.
“Seemed like the cavalry has finally arrived,” Clark remarked, watching in amusement as first, his husband’s eyelid twitched, then his mouth pulled downwards before Bruce yelled in a burst of frustration.
“I’m old but NOT THAT OLD and it’s only water from the skies!”
Clark laughed out loud while Tim and Dick snickered. Damian simply patted Bruce’s leg, eyes fierce as he declared that his father was still the best despite his age. As for Stephanie and Cassandra, they simply tiptoed, each pecking a kiss onto Bruce’s cheeks – Stephanie on the left and Cassandra the right.
“Don’t you know,” Cassandra smiled, “the consequence of having kids?”
“Yup,” Stephanie nodded after greeting Clark in the same manner, “We children tend to be very meddlesome and there’s not much you can do about it”
Bruce glared, expression murderous but it was of no use. Tim had already slipped into Bruce’s chair, fingers flying over the keyboard with familiar ease. Besides him was Dick, beckoning to the rest to join him. Pointing to the map of Gotham that Tim had pulled up on the screen, Dick began dividing the city into sectors, assigning all but one (that was Batman’s) to his siblings. Damian immediately vetoed Dick’s decision, upset that he was paired with him instead of going solo. Meanwhile, Stephanie and Cassandra lounged against the table, chatting with Tim as he collated the data needed for tonight.
Bruce watched the lot of them, mixed emotions tugging at his heart. There was a fierce pride at the sight of his kids able to handle matters on their own. However, their unwarranted interference chafed at his ego and even though he understood they meant well, he could not help feeling resentful. At least his husband had the decency to ask for his permission first but his kids! They just turn up as and when they felt that Batman should take a break. And they were so stubborn too, ignoring his attempts to dissuade them. No wonder parents were always lamenting about the rebelliousness of their children once they were all grown-up.
An arm slipped round his waist and Bruce was enveloped in a familiar warmth.
“What fine kids you have, my love.”
“Fine?! They don’t even listen to me. Treating me like I’m some old geezer too fragile for the streets and Ja...”
Bruce bit his lip as sharp pain pierced his heart and Clark pulled him closer, trying to comfort him.
Jason...
Bruce grimaced, eyes dark with regret.
Jason avoided him like he had the plague and it was all his fault. He didn’t know a single thing about parenting when he first adopted Dick and then, Jason. At least he and Dick had time to work out their relationship issues but he didn’t have that luxury with Jason. Death took him away too fast and afterwards there were only guilt, blame and anger.
As if knowing what was on his mind, Dick looked at his adoptive father.
“Hey, got a message for you. Jason says that Crime Alley’s his tonight and he told me to tell you to keep your nose out of there.”
Bruce went still, eyes wide with disbelief. Jason, involved in this as well? His Jason whom he had not seen after their last heated argument, willing to work with everyone to do this?! Bruce was rendered speechless, heart skipping a beat as hope flickered to life. Maybe, just maybe they could...
Then suspicion crawled its way in and Bruce narrowed his eyes.
“What have the lot of you done?” He stared pointedly at each of his kids before turning his glare on his husband, intuition telling him that he had a hand in this as well.
Clark immediately spilled the beans. (He had decided long ago, not to withhold the truth when Bruce asked him directly about it.)
“It was actually Damian’s idea. I only helped him rally the rest who, coincidentally, were having the same thought. In fact, Dick and Tim were the ones who planned it all.”
“We didn’t do all the planning!” Dick quickly jumped to their defence.
“Yah! Me and Dick only handled the ambushing. The rest were all their doing.”
Tim jerked a thumb at the rest of his siblings, Clark included.
“I just held him still. They were the ones who did the coercing.”
Clark gestured in the general direction where Damian, Stephanie and Cassandra stood.
“Coerce!” Stephanie huffed in protest, “That’s an outrageous exaggeration. We merely had a talk with him, all gentle and nice. He’s the one who forced him to sign the agreement.”
Stephanie pointed a finger at Damian who in turn pointed a finger at Cassandra.
“I was only helping her. She’s the one who said that Jason must sign the agreement.”
All eyes turned to Cassandra who simply shrugged.
“Well...we must have something to hold him to his promise that he’ll make up with you.”
Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, suddenly wishing that he was single again so that he wouldn’t have to deal with all this.
“You’re turning 50,” a voice blurted out and Bruce looked at his youngest, “And I...we...just wanted to do something special but it’s so hard with you.”
Me? Hard?
Bruce frowned, confused. He had never demanded nor expected his family to treat him special. In fact, he would rather they leave him be than to have them go out of the way just for his sake.
“Come on, Bruce,” Dick sighed at the sight of his father’s befuddlement, “You may think turning 50 is no big deal but to us, it’s really huge. And just like Damian said, it’s hard to come up with anything special with the sort of people around you.”
“What’s wrong with the people around me?” Bruce cast his eyes over the room, trying to figure out his son’s meaning.
“Look,” Tim pointed at Clark, “You have a husband who can whizz you anywhere and pull off extraordinary stunts just to love you.”
There were nods and muttered agreements, and Clark grinned, “That’s very true. I’m always going to great lengths just to satisfy him.”
The children sniggered while Bruce elbowed Clark, more out of habit rather than real annoyance.
“And don’t forget he’s got Alfred too,” Stephanie added and everyone, with the exception of Bruce, went, “Ahh...”, nodding their heads sagely.
“Alfred’s just Alfred. What has he got to do with this?”
“That is because I have spoilt you rotten, Master Bruce, with the impeccable service I have provided.”
Alfred stepped out of the elevator, still as refined as ever despite having to walk with a cane. Floating along behind him was an A.I. (created by Bruce with the help of kryptonian technology), carrying a tray laden with cookies and mugs of steaming tea.
There was an immediate chorus of “Hurray!” , “That’s my man!” , “You’re the best, Alfred!” – and the five youngsters crowded round him, hugging and greeting him before delving into the refreshments. Clark joined them as well, giving up his spot to Alfred,
“I’m not a spoilt brat,” Bruce grumbled when Alfred halted besides him.
“If you say so, Master Bruce. But it still does not change the fact that I have taken very good care of you all this while.”
Bruce opened his mouth, wanting to protest further and realised he could not. For it was indeed true. Alfred had given his utmost to look after him and without him, Bruce would not have been able to do so much.
“Master Bruce...” Alfred’s smile was soft and fond as he looked at his charge, “I have never begrudged the fact that I have to look after you. My only concern is...what will become of you should I not be able to serve you any longer?”
Alfred glanced at the rest, smiling in satisfaction as his home-made cookies were wolfed down with relish.
“So I am really glad, Master Bruce, that you have found others willing to do the same too. And if you can, please do show them the appreciation they deserve, even though you may not like their intrusive actions.”
Lips pursed, Bruce's gaze drifted over each of his family members.
Appreciation... As you wish, Alfred.
Bruce suddenly slammed his palm on the table, roaring in fury.
“I had enough, ENOUGH!”
Everyone nearly jumped out of their skin and all stared at Bruce in trepidation. Is this the backlash for their unasked for meddling? They knew that Bruce had wanted to resolve the matter on his own, taking the brunt of Jason’s animosity to atone for his sin. But after years of watching the two getting hurt unnecessarily – Jason, clumsy at expressing his change of heart and Bruce, without Jason’s forgiveness, afraid to push too hard – they just got tired of waiting for the two to make up.
With heavy hearts and a disapproving frown from Alfred, they watched Bruce stalk to the Batcomputer. Smacking the screen where the map of Gotham was still on display, he glared at the lot them.
“This is unacceptable and until I’ve fixed it, no one’s going anywhere!”
Bruce proceeded to undo Dick’s plan, unperturbed by the various disappointed and disgruntled stares – everyone assuming that Bruce’s going to bar them from patrolling tonight.
However, to everyone’s surprise, it turned out otherwise. Mouths dropped open and disbelieving glances were exchanged among them. By the time Bruce was almost done re-dividing the sectors, the earlier sour mood had vanished, replaced by smiles and grins and several high-fives. Alfred looked extremely pleased while Clark let out a huge sigh of relief.
Careful to keep his mirth from showing, Bruce scowled at the lot of them.
“Now, unless you...”
There was a mad dash to leave lest their father changed his mind. Dick skidded across Batmobile’s hood to get to the driver’s side while Damian threw himself onto the passenger seat. Stephanie was already on Ricochet, revving her engines impatiently, and both Tim and Cassandra were strapping themselves into Redbird. With a deafening roar that had the bats fluttering in agitation, the vehicles sped out of the Batcave, each taking the designated route Batman had designed for them.
Bruce finally caved in, laughing and slapping his thigh in glee.
“God...the expressions you all had when you thought I was going to be an unreasonable bastard!”
And found himself smothered in a bear hug.
“Naughty, naughty, naughty!” Clark plopped a kiss on his face, “You had me forgetting how to breathe for a moment there.”
“As if that will kill you. Now hands off and don’t disturb my patrolling.”
Bruce wriggled out of Clark’s embrace, looking as smug as a cat that got his cream.
Alfred eyed him before shaking his head, “My, my, to think that aging can generate such childishness. I think I had better brew some coffee to counteract its detrimental effects.”
With an elegant nod of his head, Alfred headed towards the elevator, a smile on his lips. The A.I followed meekly behind, its tray now stacked with empty plates and used mugs.
Bruce slipped into the chair Tim had vacated and several typed commands later, the map of Gotham was replaced by ‘live‘ feeds from five tactical cameras, one for each of his kids’ suits. Switching on the communicator, Bruce was treated to a stream of conversation – the five cracking jokes while updating their status, joined by an occasional sixth.
Jason.
Bruce’s expression softened at the sound of his son, calm and nonchalant, and not at all cold or curt like when he spoke to his father. He hoped that one day soon, Jason would speak to him in this manner too.
Sensing someone drawing close, Bruce teased, “I can smell your body odour.”
“You don’t expect me to hover up there with the bats, do you?” Clark, having pulled a chair next to Bruce, sat in it.
“Hmmm....” Bruce darted a quick glance at Clark and decided not to tease him further.
“You don’t have to stay you know, now that I’m ‘patrolling’ in here.”
“But I want to and you gave me your permission so...” Clark settled even more into his chair. a determined jut to his chin.
Smiling, Bruce pressed a kiss to Clark’s lips before returning his attention to his kids patrolling out there in his stead. Despite knowing how trained they were, he was still besieged by an urge to dash over whenever a fight grew dangerous, wincing at each blow that landed on them.
God! How did Alfred do this, night in and night out.
Guilt and gratitude stung Bruce’s heart.
And having to do it all alone in this dark gloomy cave.
Bruce flashed Clark a grateful smile when he felt a hand gripping his clenched fist. He knew that Clark was keeping a lookout as well, using his hearing to detect anything they might have missed. If it was Batman out there and Superman did this, Bruce would have been quite upset. But when it came to his kids, he would gladly welcome any help. That was very double standard of him but so long as his kids survived, he was not going to give a damn.
The hours passed and just before dawn slipped past the horizon, Bruce ordered everyone home, calling it a night. Pulling off the communicator, he slumped against Clark, smiling in relief. His kids had done well and except for some scraps, cuts and bruises, none were the worse for wear.
Resting his chin on Bruce’s head, Clark let go of his own tension as well. He had been prepped all night, ready to zoom off at any moment to offer his aid.
In companionable silence, the two of them enjoyed the feel of being together until Clark finally asked what had been on his mind.
“Why the sudden change? You could have been out patrolling the docks if you had stuck to Dick’s plan.”
“....cause I want to try it out.”
Clark arched an eyebrow and waited, knowing that there was more to come as Bruce paused again to gather his thoughts.
“What do you think if there’s a team...no, an organisation, a big one maybe even global to fight crime?”
“Don’t you already have the League?”
“The League’s not the same,” Bruce shook his head, shifting until he could meet Clark’s gaze, “It does more, having to protect Earth and so on. What I want is to concentrate on crime – stopping, preventing, continuing Batman’s legacy. For I...”
Voice trailing off, Bruce smiled bitterly. Despite all his rigorous training and all the high-tech gadgets in his possession, he was still human after all. And eventually, age would limit what Batman could do.
Clark kept quiet, knuckles gently caressing Bruce’s cheek. Nothing he could say would console Bruce’s frustration at his ‘humanness’ and Clark’s heartache at Bruce’s ‘ humanness’ which limits his lifespan. These were irrevocable facts that they had to live with, and despite it all, they still managed to fall head over heels for one another.
“So I need more people, Clark, like-minded ones. But first, I have to know if Batman can let others take the lead while he took a step back.”
“And Batman can really do that?”
Bruce looked at the screens showing his kids on his way home. He then looked at the mug of coffee, still hot and fresh, replenished by Alfred not too long ago. Finally, he looked at Clark, his husband and the love of his life.
“I think, maybe he can this time.”
And Clark smiled so bright that it brought tears to his own eyes.