Work Text:
"I got it," Clark says, a tad too quickly. Bruce doesn't have time to ponder though, he's in the middle of a call so he just grunts his approval. Not that Clark needs his approval to pick up a pen, even if it wasn't him who dropped it.
"I told you 'no', Nightwing,” Bruce says for the hundredth time. How come none of his kids ever listen the first time around? He’s this close to breaking out the full legal name thing on Dick at this point. “There's no need-" Bruce feels like his tongue swells to twice its size and he chokes on it. He tries to cover it up with a cough but he's not quite sure he succeeds.
That is most definitely not the pen he dropped.
"You all right, B?" Dick asks through the screen and Bruce has a slow realization that he's on camera. With his son. While his- While Clark is very, very close to crossing a boundary they haven't even gotten around to discuss yet.
“’m fine," he grinds out and very discreetly moves his cape around over his shoulder to lay more in his lap. He knows logically that Dick can't see more than his face and shoulders but there's no reason to tempt fate.
He also crosses his legs, knocking his knee into Clark's face with the movement, hoping it’ll be enough of a signal to get up off the floor, but of course not. It doesn't deter Clark at all. He just grabs Bruce’s ankle, letting his hand slide up his leg, up his calf and around his knee to run over his thigh.
Good thing that Bruce doesn’t have to just sit through this. It’s his cave, he can just move. He stands up, making sure to push away from the table as he does. He spares a single glance down to see Clark’s eyeing him hungrily from the floor. Bruce doesn’t lick his lips to provoke him, he really doesn’t. They’re just... dry, that’s all.
Bruce stands up, now visible from the waist up on the screen. He crosses his arms over his chest and exhales through his nose. Dick will know this is his ‘let me tell you why you’re wrong and why you should listen to me’ face. For good measure he lets his cape flutter around more than he usually would. Dick always has more respect for Batman than he does for Bruce when they’re arguing about patrols.
There’s a split second where Bruce could’ve avoided whatever happens next. He knows Clark, he knows himself. He could’ve simply said something, made a certain move of his hand or neck and he knows Clark wouldn’t have moved. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t move at all.
Not even when Clark slides up underneath his cape from behind. It lifts from Bruce’s back, accommodating Clark’s size. Large hands find his hips and Bruce has a single moment of panic where he checks to see if Clark is visible on the camera. He isn’t.
Dick has gone into his own speech, telling Bruce how unreasonable and untrusting he is - it’s the usual monologue he uses when they argue. Bruce knows where to butt in, when to comment and what to say, but he’s currently pressing his lips together to keep from letting any noise fall from his lips.
He uncrosses his arms and grabs the sides of the cape, pulling it forward a bit. If he wanted, he could just close the thing around himself and Dick wouldn’t be the wiser. Except his oldest isn’t an idiot and there’s no reason for Bruce to close his cape like that right now.
The movement shouldn’t do anything to Clark’s position; the cape is big enough that he can comfortably stay under there even if Bruce chooses to fiddle with it, but of course that’s not what Clark wants to do. He lets the movement of the cape pull him closer to Bruce’s back and Bruce tries his best not to take a step forward when he feels Clark’s forehead knock gently into his spine. Clark’s strong hands slide down his hips and around his thighs. His breath is warm on the small of Bruce’s back. Bruce swallows with difficulty. This won’t end well. He should- he has to-
“You know what, fine,” he says, interrupting Dick’s speech. “Fine, Dick, do whatever you see fit.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence and then Dick is grinning from ear to ear.
“Tell Clark I said thank you,” he says.
“What?” Bruce squeaks, half because how the hell does Dick know Clark is here and half because Clark is rubbing his cheek against Bruce’s ass now. His hands are very persistent on his thighs, but they haven’t moved closer to his crotch. Yet.
“There’s no one else who can convince you to see reason this fast, so I figured he’s there somewhere,” Dick says with a laugh. He then raises his voice a little and looks around as if he can see across the cave. “Hi uncle Clark!”
Now the hands grab at the meatiest part of Bruce’s thighs, pulling him back against Clark’s face. Bruce tries his best to make the movement of his hips look like he’s merely shifting from foot to foot.
He has to fake-cough again when Clark nips at his ass cheek. Hurry up, the bites says. Bruce presses back against Clark for a moment before he gathers enough of his brain off the floor to speak again.
“He says hi back,” he says, voice a little too breathy. “I have to go, I-” Another bite has him flinch. “We have business to take care of.”
“Alright,” Dick says.
“Be safe,” Bruce gets out right before he turns off the call. He instantly falls forward, barely holding himself up with his hands on the desk. He lifts one arm to glare at Clark, who pokes his head out from underneath the cape with a stupid grin on his face.
“Have I ever told you how much I enjoy your cape?”