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Bruce leaned back in the passenger seat of the Batmobile, grunting as Dick turned the corner a little too sharply. His right hand was gripping the handle on the inside of the door, while his left remained firmly pressed against the stab wound on the front of his right shoulder. If his eldest son hadn’t been wearing gloves, Bruce was sure he’d be able to see white knuckles clenching desperately around the steering wheel of Bruce’s very expensive car.
“Breathe, Dick. You’re doing fine. We’re almost to the cave anyway.”
“You breathe, Dad. You’re the one with the stab wound,” Dick muttered, shaking his head but keeping his eyes on the road. “And the one holding on for dear life. Won’t your death grip on the handle exacerbate the bleeding?”
Bruce sighed, relaxing his arm. Dick had a point.
The final corner on the turn into the back entrance to the cave was taken much more smoothly, and Bruce watched the tension melt from Dick’s shoulders as he pulled the car to a stop. His eldest pushed up his own door and vaulted out, landing smoothly on the concrete floor.
“Alfred?” He called out, striding around to the other side of the car and opening Bruce’s door too. He reached in, grabbing his father’s good arm and hauling him out too. “Pa? We need help here!”
Bruce only managed to open his mouth, about to say that he could stitch himself up, when there was a gush of wind and his very concerned husband appeared at his arm.
“Dickie? Bruce? What happened? Are you hurt?”
Dick shook his head, then tipped it toward Bruce’s chest. His hand was still pressed firmly against the suit, keeping the bleeding as much at bay as possible.
“Oh no, B,” Clark said, stepping closer to him and putting a hand over his. “Okay, let’s get you to the med bay. Alfred is already there.”
Bruce sighed and just nodded, allowing his husband to wrap a gentle arm around his waist and help him walk across the cave.
“I’ll pack up!” Dick called after them. “Make sure Alfred is thorough! It wasn’t exactly a sharp knife. Or a clean one, for that matter.”
Clark grimaced at Bruce, who shrugged with his good shoulder. “He got between the padding, Clark. I tried to avoid it. No major arteries though. Pretty shallow, considering.”
Alfred had already begun to gather tools before they’d even arrived in the med bay, tut-tutting to himself as Clark helped Bruce up onto the sterile bench. With great care and concern in his eyes, Clark pulled Bruce’s hand away from the knife wound and tugged gently at the torn fabric of the suit. Once the material was away from his skin, Clark gave a good yank and revealed the laceration in its entirety.
“It isn’t overly deep, but it’s wider than usual,” Bruce said to Alfred, pulling off his bloodstained gloves and pushing the cowl down off of his head. “Dick’s right. It was an old and dull blade; one of the displays at the gallery.”
Alfred nodded, approaching Bruce with a syringe of antiseptic solution and a clean cloth. Clark stepped out of the way.
“Mind the sting, Master Bruce,” Alfred muttered, dispensing the solution over and in the wound on Bruce’s shoulder. When he’d wiped the majority of the old blood off of the surrounding skin, Alfred stitched and bandaged Bruce’s shoulder. Then he moved on to checking his vitals.
“This isn’t necessary, Alfred,” Bruce grumbled as his mentor stuck the cold metal end of a thermometer in his mouth. Clark shot him a look as he assisted the butler, clamping a heart rate monitor to the tip of Bruce’s finger and reaching for the blood pressure cuff. “It’s not like it hit anything major. It wasn’t serious.”
Clark scowled audibly, pressing a button on the machine so that it began inflating the cuff he had secured around his husband’s arm. “Every stab wound is serious, Bruce. Sit still and let us finish our job.”
“Your pulse and blood pressure are slower and lower than is desirable,” Alfred said, examining the readings on the machine. “Pulse is near the range that I’d expect, but your blood pressure is abnormally low. Feeling faint or dizzy at all, Master Bruce?”
“No, Alfred, not really. Not more than what I’ve been feeling the last few weeks, at least. But I mean…is it really surprising, given the amount of blood I lost on the way home?”
Alfred hummed to himself, and started the cuff inflating again. “Perhaps an erroneous reading,” he suggested. “Best try again just to be sure.”
Much to Bruce’s chagrin, however, the numbers didn’t change and apparently concerned Alfred enough that more testing was necessary. His guardian prepped a needle with a very small vial, and began to draw blood from Bruce’s good arm.
“Dick’s improving on the road,” Bruce said, watching Alfred work. “He’s still sharp around corners and could ease up on the steering wheel a bit, but I think he’s getting more confident.”
Clark nodded. “Good. It’s been a few months now. I was thinking of taking him out for some more practice again on the weekend. It won’t be in the Batmobile, but the more he drives a normal car at a normal speed, the easier he’ll find it when he inevitably has to take over the wheel for you. You know, if you get stabbed again.”
Bruce nodded, gritting his teeth slightly at the sharp pinch in his arm. While his butler was very adept at most medical procedures, he had never been great at finding a vein. Bruce especially tried to avoid needing blood taken or infused for that reason.
“All done, sir,” Alfred said, pulling the vial away and releasing the band he’d tied around Bruce’s arm. “If you’d be so kind as to wait patiently only a few minutes more, then you’ll be free to go.”
Bruce grunted, flexing his injured hand to test its capacity for movement. Clark left the room, and returned a minute later with a glass of water.
“Dickie’s upstairs now,” he said, handing the drink to Bruce. “It looks like, by some miracle, he’s actually working on his homework. Jason’s playing something on the PS5. It sounds like basketball.”
“Alfred bought him the new NBA game the other night when he took him out. And Dick’s only doing his homework because we let him go on patrol first . He has less to anticipate and therefore less to distract him.” Bruce said. “Jason will likely be the same way once we start taking him out, even though he actually likes to go to school and do homework.”
“Yeah. Where did he get that from?” Clark laughed. Bruce smiled and shook his head.
“Not me, that’s for sure,” Bruce said. “You are a journalist, Clark. You must have a certain level of inherent academic prowess that Jason obviously inherited.”
Clark snorted. Bruce could see Alfred frowning in his peripheral vision as they continued to chat about their boys’ performance in school. They had moved on to the subject of Clark’s latest story when Alfred returned with another empty vial.
“Apologies, Master Bruce,” Alfred began. “But I must draw another sample. I’ve found some interesting abnormalities and would like to verify their accuracy before we proceed.”
Bruce grunted, and Clark playfully smacked him upside the head. “ Thank you Alfred ,” he said emphatically, shaking his head at his husband.
They sat in silence while Alfred drew the second vial. Bruce could see the slight concern furrowing Clark’s brow, and set a hand on his arm reassuringly. He spoke softly. “I’m sure I’m fine, love.”
Clark nodded with a slight smile, glancing over to where Alfred was conducting his second tests. Bruce began to rub his thumb across Clark’s arm in a soothing motion, sighing to himself as the wound in his chest began to throb. His adrenaline was wearing off, and he suddenly felt as exhausted as he surely looked.
They passed several minutes in silence, before Alfred spoke.
“My word,” he said, softly. Clark’s back straightened as he looked inquisitively at Alfred.
The butler said nothing else, leaving them both in suspense for much too long. Clark stood up, walking around the bench and to where Alfred stood with the test results. Bruce watched as Alfred pointed something out to Clark, and his husband nearly choked.
“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Bruce said, as Clark shook his head in disbelief. “They are my results, afterall.”
Clark made eye contact with Bruce, and for a second it looked like his eyes were shining. There was little other determinable expression on Clark’s face, and Bruce felt a spike of concern surge through his chest. Alfred muttered to himself again.
“Seriously?” Bruce scoffed. “Someone just tell me what’s going on!”
Alfred cleared his throat, and finally met his eye.
“Excuse the informality, Master Bruce, but it appears that you are up the duff .”
Bruce stared blankly at his guardian, too tired and wrought with hypotension to even begin to decipher Alfred’s British colloquialism.
Before he could ask Alfred to clarify, though, he felt Clark’s strong and gentle arms embracing him as he was pulled into his husband’s lap. Clark’s grip was light enough that it didn’t hurt Bruce’s already injured shoulder, but was tight enough to communicate the depth of his emotion.
Of his excitement.
Bruce’s mind was racing. Normally medical tests inspire concern or at the very least relief. Not excitement.
What in the hell could have been in my blood that would make Clark so-
His eyes widened. Oh.
Oh.
“You’re kidding,” he said, letting Clark continue to hold him while looking up at Alfred. “Again?”
Alfred chuckled.
‘The first two didn’t teach you?”
Clark pulled back enough to press his nose into Bruce’s cheek. “Apparently not.”
Bruce brought his good hand up to rest it on Clark’s arm, and leaned into his nuzzle. He continued to stare at Alfred in disbelief.
“I guess that explains the extra drop in blood pressure, and why the hell I’ve been so tired lately.” He turned to Clark. “Are you okay with this? You’re happy?”
“Of course I’m happy, B,” Clark said, kissing him. “I’m thrilled. Ecstatic! This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”
He wrapped his husband in a hug again, still mindful of the stab wound. Clark was ever vigilant in his care for Bruce.
“Since young Master Jason was born?” Alfred asked, laughing lightly.
Clark nodded with a shrug.
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, is there really any better news than finding out you’re going to be a father? Again?”
“Not that I know of,” Bruce said. His eyes were glazed over, almost as if he was in a completely different headspace, or place, even. “Number three.”
Wordlessly, Alfred pressed a few buttons and then left the room, allowing Bruce and Clark to share in and discuss their news together.
Clark kissed Bruce again, gently caressing his chin and directing him to turn and face him. It took Bruce a few seconds to make eye contact with him, but eventually they came into focus. Bruce’s eyes were wide.
“Hey,” Clark said, frowning slightly. “Hey, you okay?” He put his hand against Bruce’s cheek.
Bruce leaned into the contact again, and took a deep breath.
“Yeah, I’m good. Great. Just…surprised, is all.”
“Me too,” Clark said, smiling gently, his face full of understanding and compassion. “It’s big news for me, it must be even bigger for you. You’re pregnant again.”
Bruce nodded, and Clark pulled him into another hug.
“Three,” Clark repeated. “I really thought we were done at two. It’s been so long since Jay, I just figured we weren’t meant to have anymore.”
“The universe had other plans,” Bruce said. “I guess this means we should probably call Leslie?”
Clark nodded. “We don’t know much about how far along you are or whether or not you and the baby are healthy. Especially because Rao, Bruce, you just got stabbed. ”
Bruce shook his head.
“I got stabbed when I was pregnant with Jason, too, remember? I always joke that that’s why he’s more rough and tough than Dick. I hope I’m wrong about that. I’m not sure I can handle two children with violent tendencies.”
Clark laughed and kissed Bruce again, marveling at their news.
Three.
Three.