Chapter Text
Gotham City, 1960
The old ash trees swayed slowly, a cold fall wind whistling between the leafless branches. A thin skin of frost coated the damp wood, the fruits of a recent cold front that had washed over Gotham like a shore wave. The sky was a deep purple, hints of the morning sun beginning to tease its later arrival through the darkness.
The gentle rumble of an engine disturbed the early morning quiet, followed by the shifting of gravel under dark and heavy wheels. A sleek shape cut through the mist over the woodland path, pushing forward until it reached the end, stopping in front of a sheer rock face. The bat head that served as a hood ornament stared ahead, the headlights that poured from its eyes boring into the wet gray stone.
Inside the car, a young boy shivered in his seat, the gaudy colors of his costume clashing with the chilly darkness. His mentor looked over at him, peering down through his deep blue cowl. “Are you alright, son?” The highlighted eyebrows on his mask curved downwards in concern. It made it easier for the boy to understand him. For all of Gotham’s children to understand him.
The boy nodded, trying to downplay how cold he felt. “Yeah, B-Batman, I’m fine. Can w-we go inside now?”
Batman nodded. “Of course, Robin.” He reached over, pressing a button on the car’s central console. Almost immediately, the rock face parted, sliding away in two halves to reveal a further metal path into the darkness. The car rolled forward, the noise under the wheels disappearing as it crossed from cold gravel to warm steel. The blue-tinged moonlight that had lit the way so far was gone, replaced by a series of harsh fluorescent bulbs, which made it seem like the car was passing under a seemingly endless barrage of spotlights.
Eventually, the car came to a stop, and the engine shut off with the press of a small, almost hidden button underneath the steering wheel. Robin was quick to hop out, almost leaping from his seat and onto the much warmer floor of the Batcave. “ Brrr! You really need to stick some heaters in there, dad!”
Batman stepped out quietly, his boot making barely any noise as it touched the ground. He let out a quiet sigh, the only clear sign of tiredness that he ever gave off while wearing the cowl. “I’ll put it on the list.” He promised his sidekick. “Well, as soon as I figure out how to do it safely. Until then, I had Alfred make some cocoa for you. Make sure you brush your teeth before bed.”
The boy’s face lit up. He started doing that thing he did when he got excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his hands. He let out a string of jumbled words that Bruce supposed was him saying ‘thank you’ a bunch of times, before turning and running up the stairs into the manor above.
The child psychiatrist had called it a ‘hyperkinetic reaction of childhood’, before giving him a long and droning lecture about how much of a burden the boy would become, citing a short attention span and a supposed lack of impulse control. Bruce could barely suppress his scowl when he’d been subjected to her little tirade. Not that long ago, he’d been labeled as a problem child as well, as he’d be damned if he was going to let anyone disparage his son in the same way.
He turned, sitting at the table in front of the cave’s spectrographic analyzer. He readied himself to begin going over evidence from another case, but stopped, now noticing a newspaper that lay nearby, probably left by Alfred. It was today’s edition of the Gotham Gazette, with the main headline purporting the arrival of ‘The Justice League of America’.
A small smile crept onto his face. He’d met the five of them, fresh off the heels of their victory against the alien menace called Starro. Diana was, as she always was, happy to see him, lifting him off his feet in a comfortably crushing bear hug. Barry and Hal were cordial as always, and J’onn seemed much better at human social etiquette than the last time they’d talked. The only one that had slightly irked him was Arthur, the new visitor from Atlantis. While he wasn’t one to turn away a potential ally, he always kept a healthy dose of skepticism. Even for those he considered friends.
“Thinking of me again?” A small rush of wind brushed his cape, and the air in the cave seemed to warm considerably. Bruce rose from his seat, turning to face the new arrival.
Clark’s face was twisted into its usual kind smirk, the look he usually had when he visited the manor. “Judging from how fast your heart’s going, I’d say you probably were.” He stepped towards the other man, his bright red boots thudding against the floor.
“Hnn… I still need to figure out how to stop you doing that.” Bruce grumbled. The smile didn’t shrink, though.
Clark tilted his head, his loose curl shifting slightly. “Now why would you wanna do that?” He asked, playfully rhetorical. “I thought you enjoyed the fact that I knew the sound of your heartbeat.”
Bruce hummed. “Those weren’t my exact words.”
“Yeah, but I know how to read between the lines with you. It’s why you love me, right?” Clark slowly reached a hand up to caress his cheek, keeping it gentle so as to not startle his lover. A thumb teased the edge of his cowl, a silent ask for permission. Clark wouldn’t pry it from his face without asking. It was one thing among many that Bruce loved about him. He leaned into the touch, letting the digit slip under the dark blue cloth.
Slowly and carefully, the mask was lifted off his head, exposing the cuts and bruises hidden from the ever concerned eyes of Dick. His hair, however, remained almost perfect, with only a few hairs out of place. Clark chuckled when he saw it. “How do you manage that?”
“Practice, mostly. But also a little caution, too.” He cupped Clark’s jaw, the endless warmth seeping through the reinforced glove. “I do have to keep up appearances, after all.”
They locked lips, a tangle of tongue and teeth, the most intimate act they could perform together while still keeping their costumes on. While Bruce had the edge experience-wise, Clark’s passion was more than enough to surprise him every time they joined. Every ministration teemed with barely-restrained force, which only served to make them all the more intoxicating. They kept their union for a few minutes, but the dreaded hand of human biology soon fell upon him, and Bruce was forced to draw back, sucking in a fresh breath.
Clark tilted his ear up, smiling again. “Dick’s going crazy over that cocoa Alfred made him.”
“Well, it is Alfred’s cocoa.” Bruce reasoned.
“Fair enough.” Another easy smile, radiant like the sun. “Is there any for me?”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Cocoa’s only for people who’re staying the night, Clark.”
“Promise?”
Bruce let himself smile fully this time. They still felt strange to do, but thanks to Clark, he was learning. “Promise.”