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Chapter Text

It all began on one unassuming mission. Some supervillain from outer space was targeting Gotham and all the Bats immediately dove into action, despite Clark’s protests. He had learned very early into his relationship with Bruce that every single person in the Wayne household was stubborn as a mule and once they’d put their mind to something, not even an invincible alien could stop them. 

“What a fight!” Clark breathed as he settled his feet back onto the ground where the bats were supposedly dealing with the aftermath of the fight, though it looked more like Tim and Damian were arguing about who took down more goons, Cass and Stephanie were discussing what kind of post-battle treat they should sucker out of Bruce’s wallet, and Jason was sitting on a pile of rubble cleaning his gun while Dick did flips over him. At least Duke was trying to pick through the smaller debris. 

Clark sighed in fondness. The kids had really grown on him in the several months he and Bruce had been dating. They were wary of him at first, but he liked to think that his farm boy charm eventually won them over. 

“I don’t know where I would be if you all hadn’t swooped in,” Clark chuckled. “I really appreciate your help with this fight. You all did a great job. I’m proud of you.”

All at once, eight pairs of eyes snapped toward him, all conveying varying degrees of shock. Clark’s eyes darted around in confusion, trying to figure out what had brought upon the sudden scrutiny. 

“What? Did I say something wrong?” 

He didn’t think he’d ever seen them all so still outside of a recon mission. 

“What’s the matter?” Clark asked again, feeling more self-conscious by the second. “Believe it or not, mind-reading isn’t included in my powers.” 

“You just…” Steph started, but she couldn’t quite seem to find the words. “You said…”

Clark’s brain moved at superhuman speeds and he still couldn’t compute what was happening. This sudden timidness was very out of character for all of them. A few more seconds passed with very little articulation of the issue before Bruce finally spoke up. 

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that we don’t really…” he coughed, though Clark could tell he was just stalling. “I mean, we aren’t accustomed to hearing… those words.” 

Clark’s brow furrowed in confusion before he was struck with revelation.

“Those words being ‘I’m proud of you’?” he said and this time he didn’t miss the minuscule way their shoulders tightened with a hitch in their breath. Clark smiled, a touch of sadness behind it at the implication of their behavior. “You don’t hear that a lot, huh?” 

The heavy silence that followed gave Clark all the answers he needed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, his voice softer than he expected it to be. Bruce shook his head in that brusque way that he always does when he wants to change the subject. 

“Don’t be. It’s all part of the job,” he said gruffly before signaling to the others. Before he knew it, Clark was watching them soar away into the city with their grappling hooks. If he didn’t have super hearing, he would’ve missed the faint noise coming from Bruce’s comm and the way he grunted “Shut up, O”.

From that point on, Clark Kent made it his personal mission to give each and every Batfamily member the love and validation they deserve. 

Chapter Text

Superman had gotten a tip about a goon of Lex Luthor’s running a drug ring in Bludhaven. Because Lex Luthor was his supervillain, he felt responsible for cleaning up the mayhem, despite the city being a ways outside of his jurisdiction. 

Upon entering one of the gang’s primary warehouses, he discovered it had already been crashed into by none other than Bludhaven’s very own Nightwing. Clark had to hold back from smiling upon seeing Dick. He figured it might ruin the hero’s carefully curated reputation if Superman walked in, treating him like a stepson. 

Clark helped intimidate the henchmen for information and landed a few finishing blows, but mostly he let Dick do his thing. It was nice to see Bruce’s first child in his natural habitat and Clark found himself laughing at more than one of Dick’s one-liners. It was fascinating to see the similarities and differences between Dick’s and Bruce’s fighting styles. Nightwing was a very different hero from Batman, but Dick couldn’t shake all the little fighting mannerisms he got from being trained by Bruce. Of course, no one would have noticed except Clark, who had spent more than enough time with Bruce to have memorized his fighting style. 

“You didn’t have to come,” Dick said once all the henchmen were successfully knocked out and tied up for the police. “I had it handled.” 

“I can see that,” Clark grinned. “But I felt a little responsible for letting Luthor’s people get all the way to Bludhaven. I don’t doubt you would’ve dealt with them just as easily without me.” 

“Eh, I’m not one to brag,” Dick shrugged with a smirk on his face. Clark couldn’t help smiling back. He’d seen Dick compare villains with his siblings too many times to believe that. 

“I mean it, D- Nightwing,” Clark stumbled, almost forgetting to use the alias. “You do good work out here. Not enough people appreciate that.” 

“If you wanna, like, pay my rent as a thank you, I wouldn’t be opposed,” Dick smiled. 

“Hey, starving writer over here!” Clark scoffed in mock offense before it melted into a genuine smile. He clapped Dick on the back. “I want you to know, I’m proud of you.”

Dick’s smile faltered a bit as he blinked in confusion. When his smile returned, it was off-guard but genuine. 

“I… Thank you,” Dick said, confusion still lacing his tone. “I haven’t- I don’t really hear that a lot.” 

Clark smiled back. 

“I know.” 

“Gosh, I just realized how sad that sounds,” Dick chuckled half-heartedly. “It’s not like no one’s ever been proud of me.”

Clark could see Dick’s eyes shifting around the room under his mask, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him. 

“It’s just… I mean, my only father figure for, like, the last 20 years has been the poster child for emotional constipation,” Dick smiled and Clark knew that it didn’t reach his eyes. “I love him, don’t get me wrong, but he doesn’t really express his emotions. Ever.” 

“Believe me, I know,” Clark laughed. “I mean, you’re aware of how long we knew each other before he ever told me he liked me. We’re still working on showing affection for the people he cares about. Though I don’t think he’ll ever be a hugger.” 

“Now there’s a scary thought,” Dick shivered. “If I come home for Christmas this year and Bruce greets me with anything more than a smile and nod or maybe even a handshake, I will be holding you personally responsible.” 

Clark threw his head back in laughter and patted Dick on the back a couple of times. 

“You know, this is my first time in Bludhaven. Does there happen to be anywhere good to eat around here?” 

Dick’s body language lit up in concealed excitement. 

“There’s this great pho place a couple blocks from my apartment,” Dick offered, trying not to reveal how much he really, really wanted to show Clark around. “Only if you’re paying though.”

“Technically, your dad’s paying.” 

“Yes! Trust fund money makes it taste so much better!”

Chapter Text

One of the only times Clark caught Jason alone was in the Batcave’s garage. Clark could only see black hair with a tuft of white peeking out from under a red motorcycle. Jason looked very concentrated and Clark hated to interrupt him but he had been exiled to the cave until the other kids were finished with a “surprise” for his and Bruce’s anniversary. The word “surprise” made Clark more than a little bit nervous but he knew Alfred was close by in case the kids got too out of control. 

 “You aren’t a part of the surprise?” Clark said, loud enough to catch Jason’s attention. Jason slid out from under the bike and flipped off his safety goggles. 

 “I got kicked out for, quote, bossing everyone around,” he said as he grabbed a nearby grease rag and wiped his dirty gloves off. “Which is ironic because I’m the only person besides Alfred that should be allowed in the kitchen at all.”

 Clark raised his eyebrows and Jason scrunched his face with an unsaid swear. 

 “Sorry, I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” 

 Clark shrugged and smiled fondly. 

 “At least I know this surprise includes something edible.” 

 “I wouldn’t go that far,” Jason smirked. “Dick’s banned from the kitchen for a reason.” 

 Clark laughed and looked around, eyes landing on the bike Jason had been working on. 

 “Sweet ride,” Clark commented, resisting the urge to run his fingers along the red vinyl. “You mod it yourself?”

 “How did you-?”

 “I lived on a farm, Jason,” Clark held back a smirk. “I’ve worked on enough engines to know that one is way too powerful for a bike that size.” 

 Jason almost looked a little embarrassed. 

 “Would it be presumptuous to ask you not to tell Bruce?” 

 “Course not. As long as you don’t tell my mom I used to play chicken with my friends in the tractors.” 

 Jason seemed stunned. He opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to find the words. 

 “How fast can she go?” 

 “Uh, 280,” Jason said, his shock still evident on his face. He grabbed a torque wrench from his workbench and sat back down next to the bike. Clark whistled in downright awe as he regarded the bike before taking a knee next to Jason. “Sorry, you just don’t really seem like the type to, uh…”

 “Do stupid stuff?” Clark shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I’ve been known to be a bit reckless on occasion, though I don’t seek out trouble anymore. It doesn't seem to have any problem finding me.” 

 Jason chuckled as he tightened a plug. Clark then noticed that the oil filter on the bike was new and had been seamlessly installed. 

 “Did you change the oil by yourself?” Clark asked, impressed. 

 “Just the filter. I still need to actually change the oil itself,” Jason glanced up and kept working. 

 “Nice.”

 “What, it’s not that hard,” Jason scoffed and wiped the sweat off his forehead, smearing a bit of grease on himself in the process. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had to change oil on a vehicle before.”

 “No, no, I have. I just…” Clark looked up at Jason with a proud smile. “I’m proud of you, Jason. You did a good job.”

 Jason froze in the middle of tightening a screw. He looked up at Clark even more bewildered than he had been before. 

 “Like I said, it’s not hard,” Jason said hesitantly before setting down his wrench. “You don’t have to be proud of me.” 

 “Doesn’t change the fact that I am,” Clark said plainly. “It’s just nice to see how self-sufficient you are. I hope that doesn’t sound too patronizing.”

 Jason shrugged and adjusted his goggles so Clark couldn’t see his eyes.

 “I…” Jason started. “I didn’t even do anything special.”

 “I know. But I’m just proud of you. Honestly, I don’t think you would even have to do anything at all, special or not, for that to be true.” 

 Clark couldn’t read Jason’s expression as he continued working on his bike. It was only a small ‘thanks’ he heard muttered that made him smile. 

 They were interrupted by a very loud notification from Jason’s phone. He peeled off his gloves before opening it and sighing. 

 “We’re off probation. They’re letting us back upstairs,” he shook his head in annoyance, though he couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto his face. 

 “Dare I ask what they made?” Clark tentatively asked. 

 “A cake, if we’re lucky.” 

 “Oh gosh.” 

 “Don’t worry. The real one is in the fridge,” Jason chuckled, unable to keep a grin off his face any longer. Clark breathed a sigh of relief. “Good thing too. I don’t know if even the man of steel himself could handle whatever monstrosity they whipped up.” 

Chapter Text

Clark usually took the train to Gotham, but when he heard that someone had gotten shot on nightly patrol, he flew to Wayne Manor faster than he knew he could. 

By the time he got there, no one else was at the house. He assumed they were all out searching for vengeance as they tended to do. Clark just hoped whoever was injured wasn’t left completely alone. 

Alfred let him in and informed him that Tim had been shot in the shoulder and was now resting, though it had taken a frankly ridiculous amount of sedatives to get him to go to sleep at all. It was the Wayne way, after all, to insist on being fine while facing a life-threatening injury. Tim would live, but Bruce would probably bench him from patrols for a while which Clark didn’t imagine he would be too happy about. 

Clark helped Alfred with a few housekeeping things while he waited for Tim to wake up, and though the butler insisted on not letting a guest do housework, English hospitality was eventually trumped by the Midwestern need to be useful.

While Clark was helping scrub a stain that looked concerningly like blood off the wall, he heard footsteps in the hallway behind him. They were very light like the person they belonged to was trying to sneak in. Or… sneak out.

“You’re supposed to be in bed, Tim,” Clark called without turning around. The footsteps stopped abruptly followed by a perturbed scoff. “Don’t give me that. You need your rest. Gunshot wounds are serious.” 

Tim laughed sarcastically. 

“Like you would know.” 

Clark had to hold back a chuckle. He had to remind himself to be stern as he turned around to look disappointedly at Tim. 

It quickly morphed into deep concern. Tim looked truly terrible. His shoulder was wrapped up completely and he had a few more bandages sprinkled over his chest, which Clark assumed were from shrapnel wounds. Tim’s eyes were sunken and bloodshot, an indication that he hadn’t been resting nearly as much as he was supposed to. 

“I suppose you’re gonna tell on me to Bruce, then,” Tim pouted, meeting Clark’s worried gaze with defiance in his eyes.

“Right now, Tim, I’m just concerned about you,” Clark exhaled in shock and worry. There was something about this very injured boy obstinately standing in front of Clark, almost challenging him, that reminded him of another headstrong man that he cared about. “Might I ask what the goal was in sneaking out while in this state?” 

“Same thing everyone else is doing,” Tim grunted and turned around, though Clark doubted he was going back to his room without a fuss. “I’m going on patrol. Your concern is noted, but don’t think that’s gonna stop me.” 

“Tim, you’re going to get yourself killed if you go on patrol now,” Clark said patiently. Ever since he had become a part of Bruce’s family, he had gotten a lot of experience dealing with stubborn superheroes determined to kill themselves. “That seems a little counterproductive, don’t you think?” 

“I can’t just sit around here useless!” Tim yelled, whipping around to stare Clark down. He only seemed to notice how loud it was when the shout echoed through the hallway. He shook off his surprise and squared up, almost seeming ready to fight. “The guy who shot me is still out there and everyone else is doing something about it while I’m just sitting here letting them do the work. I refuse to be dead weight.” 

Clark’s demeanor softened when he began to understand the root of the issue. 

“Tim, you aren’t dead weight. Being hurt doesn’t make you any less of an asset to the team.” 

“You’re wrong! While I sit around waiting for my shoulder to heal, other people are out there getting hurt.” 

“And what good is it gonna do them if you hurt yourself more in the process?” Clark said, a bit firmer this time. Gentleness worked more often than not, but at the moment, Tim needed to be snapped out of his self-sacrificing mindset. “This is a temporary injury, but putting strain on your body while you should be taking care of yourself is only going to bring permanent consequences.” 

“What’s it to you?” Tim snapped. “You have no obligation to care about me! You’re not even my dad, you’re just dating the guy who’s supposed to be my father.” 

Clark took a deep breath and stepped closer to Tim. 

“I understand that you’re angry, but is it me you’re angry at?”

A moment of silence passed and Tim let out a heavy breath followed by a tiny “no”. 

“So is it fair to take it out on me?” 

“No,” Tim muttered. “Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry for reprimanding you,” Clark admitted. “And you’re right in saying that I have no obligation to care about you. I have no legal or moral duty to care for you. It’s not my job to feed you or shelter you. But I care about you anyway, whether you want me to or not.” 

Tim shifted his weight from foot to foot and glanced up at Clark, quickly averting his gaze. 

“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Tim. And I know I speak for everyone else when I say that.” 

“Not Bruce,” Tim scoffed, making the pang in Clark’s chest hit a bit deeper. “I’m sure he couldn’t wait for an excuse to get me out of the field.” 

“Exactly because he doesn’t want to see you get hurt,” Clark sighed and closed his eyes for a second. “I know Bruce doesn’t always show his concern in the, uh, healthiest of ways, but I can promise you he cares about you more than anything.” 

“How can you tell?” Tim laughed bitterly. “He’s not exactly the poster child for parenting.” 

“I can tell because I see the look on his face whenever you get hurt,” Clark continued, recounting the distress he saw in Bruce’s eyes the first time Tim got hurt in front of him. “I see him carry that fear every time any of you go into the field. It’s dangerous and he never forgives himself when one of you gets hurt. You know how he blames himself when things go wrong. He might tend to take it out on you, but if you looked closer, you’d see that he’s only angry with himself. You and him are a bit similar in that respect.” 

Tim took a breath and for a second, Clark could swear he saw him quivering. 

“I don’t want to be like him,” the boy nearly choked. Clark tried to smile, but he couldn’t keep the sadness from commandeering his expression. 

“Then accept the help he refuses. Let the people who love you love you,” Clark’s voice shook as he realized just how young the boy in front of him was. Tim tried with all his might to be closed off and calloused, but Clark could see how afraid he was. Clark remembered when Tim was a little boy, desperately trying to prove himself to Bruce and to the world. It wasn’t a burden anyone his age should’ve had to bear. “You are so strong, Tim. But you don’t have to push yourself all the time. Please let yourself rest. Let your body rest.” 

“I need to…” Tim choked, his breathing becoming more labored by the second. “I need to keep going. I have to.”

“You don’t have to,” Clark stepped closer to Tim and put a hand on his shoulder, making the boy look up at him. Clark noticed the tears threatening to spill over the boy’s eyes. “You’ve done enough. It’s time to take a break now. But I want you to know that I’m proud of you. For everything.” 

Tim looked down and for a second, Clark thought the boy was going to go right back to yelling. Then, Clark heard a sob and felt Tim’s shoulders begin to shake.

“Hey, hey,” Clark assured, pulling Tim into a hug, avoiding his injured shoulder. For once, the boy didn’t resist. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Tim nearly melted into the hug and Clark wondered how long it had been since he’d been given one. 

After many long moments of comfortable silence, Tim shifted and groaned in pain. 

“I think my painkillers are wearing off.”

“You ready to go back to your room?"

Tim grumbled reluctantly but nodded. 

“I guess.”

Chapter Text

It was an average Saturday morning at the Wayne Manor. Most everyone was asleep, tired out from a night of crime-fighting and keeping the peace. Clark had been assigned to a charity gala in Gotham so he decided to make it a trip and stay the weekend at the Manor. 

 Growing up on a farm, he wasn’t used to it being this quiet at 8 am. Normally, his dad would’ve already been up for hours to tend the livestock. Pa Kent’s dedication to his chores always made Clark laugh a bit because he could easily do all the farm work by himself in minutes, but he respected his father’s penchant for hard work. He said it kept him humble. 

 Clark had been wandering around the Manor for a little while already. He had been there more times than he could count but he still felt like he discovered a whole new wing every time he visited. He wouldn’t put it past Bruce to put a new room in whenever Clark visited just to mess with him. 

 A faint thud followed by a grunt interrupted Clark’s wandering thoughts. Clark cocked his head in confusion. He knew the sounds of a punching bag when he heard one, but he didn’t think anyone was still awake. 

 He sped toward the noise only to find himself at the entrance to the Batcave. He had been granted access a while ago so the door opened without complaint when he put in his fingerprint. 

 The first thing he noticed was the pile of broken punching bags in the corner. Following the wreckage, he found Cassandra, her back to the door and her fists flying. She didn’t show any sign of noticing Clark as he approached. He was about to clear his throat to get her attention when she whirled around, sending a punch directly at Clark’s head. 

 “If I were anyone else, you could’ve hurt me,” he said after he caught her fist mere inches from his nose. Cass exhaled and looked down sheepishly as he released her hand. She shook out her hands and turned away. 

 “I didn’t think anyone would be awake,” Cass mumbled. 

 “Me neither,” Clark said, waiting for Cass to continue. 

 “I was just training,” she said, nodding to the punching bags. Clark walked over to the pile and picked up one of the desecrated bags. He whistled in admiration as the sand spilled from the bag where Cass had punched a hole in it. 

 “Quite an arm on you,” he nodded and tossed the bag back to its final resting place. When he turned around, Cass was avoiding his gaze with a defiance he regularly recognized in his own partner. He smiled in understanding. “How long have you been at this, Cass?” 

 She hesitated before saying, barely above a whisper, “Since my patrol ended”.

 Clark did all he could to emulate the loving but disappointed look his mom used to give him. It must have worked because Cass’ gaze locked firmly on her toes, making her look like a child who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. 

 “Cass…”

 “I know,” she barked, turning away again. “I need to take better care of myself. Bruce won’t get off my tail about it.” 

 Clark approached gently and hesitantly put a hand on Cass’ shoulder. 

 “He says that because he’s worried about you. I am too.” 

 “You don’t understand,” Cass grumbled, anger lacing her voice. “I’m not… I can’t be…” 

 Cass’ head fell in defeat and Clark could feel a piece of his heart break. 

 “What happened, Cassandra?” he breathed. 

 “I…” she inhaled in what sounded dangerously close to a sob. “A civilian got hurt during patrol last night and it’s all my fault because I was supposed to be there and if I had just been better, then I would’ve been able to help them but I couldn’t because I’m not good enough and-”

 “Hey, hey,” Clark shushed gently. He circled Cass to look her in the eye, his hand still gently resting on her shoulder. “Look at me.” 

 She reluctantly looked up to meet Clark’s eyes. Her eyes, normally proud and defiant, were glossy and tired, both from her lack of sleep and surplus of stress. 

 “It’s not your fault, Cassandra. You are good enough and you help so many people every day,” Clark spoke gently. 

 “I couldn’t even help that one person,” Cass whispered. 

 “But you’ve helped so many other people! You decide to go out every night and help people. Do you have any idea how admirable that is?” 

 Clark took a deep breath as his words sunk in and Cass followed suit.

 “We can’t always save everyone,” he said with a sad chuckle. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

 “It really sucks!” Cass exclaimed, letting her emotion out in one burst. She leaned into Clark’s arm and he pulled her into a gentle hug. “Does it ever get better?” 

 “Eventually,” he said. “You learn that saving some people is better than not saving anyone at all. Just think of the people you have helped. Think of how grateful they are that you helped them.”

 “What if… What if I’m never good enough?” 

 “You already are,” Clark squeezed Cass, trying to imbue love and care into her body through touch. “You are good enough. And guess what?” 

 “What?” Cass asked, her voice muffled by his shirt. 

 “I am so proud of you.” 

 With that, tears finally started to fall from Cass’ eyes. She wrapped her arms around Clark’s middle, her calloused hands pressing into him like she was afraid he would disappear if she let go. 

 He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but however long it was, he was sure Cass could’ve used more. 

 Eventually, Clark realized that her breath had evened out and her weight had shifted entirely onto his body. He smiled and kissed the top of her head before picking her up like a princess and carrying her back to her bedroom. 

 He made sure to leave a little sticky note on her bedside table: “

Call me next time you need a hug. ♡”

Chapter Text

At a charity gala hosted by none other than the playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Clark was surprised to find all of the kids there. It wasn’t unusual to see Dick or Damian attending the galas– Dick loved the spotlight and the reporters rioted if they didn’t see the Wayne heir at least once throughout the night– but Clark grew confused when he saw Jason there, stuffing hors d'oeuvres into his pockets. He decided it must have been the one gala a year Bruce required all the kids to attend to remind the world they still existed. 

Some of them seemed very in their element, like Stephanie, who was making some rich heiress giggle over her flute of champagne. Some of the others were sticking more to the sidelines, namely, Tim, who looked very uncomfortable in the suit Bruce must have picked out for him. 

The one person Clark was keeping his eye on was Duke. It wasn’t his first gala but it very well might have been the biggest one Bruce had held since indoctrinating Duke into the Wayne family. Clark remembered his first time at one of those massive events. He was awed and excited and stressed out of his mind by how many people there were. Wayne Galas might even overtake Metropolis public transportation as the loudest place Clark had ever been. 

He knew how overwhelming these things were and thus, he made sure to look out for Duke. For the time being, he seemed to be holding his own quite well: making polite conversation with reporters, laughing at all the right times. He even greeted a supermodel with a kiss on the hand. If that’s not Wayne's charm, Clark didn’t know what was. 

What worried Clark, however, was Duke’s heartbeat. Every time another person approached the boy, his heart rate stumbled a little bit closer to unhealthily fast. When Clark saw Duke’s hands start to shake, he decided to intervene. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I believe young Mr. Thomas here promised me an interview,” Clark butted into the one-sided conversation a corporate heir was trying to have with Duke. “I’d like to take him up on his offer as soon as possible.” 

The heir tried to protest, but Clark was already leading Duke out of the ballroom to a quiet hallway. 

“Sorry for stealing you away, but I want to make sure you’re doing alright,” Clark said once the clamor of the party faded away to a dull roar. Duke seemed more tense than usual and his gaze remained firmly downward. “Duke? It’s okay if it’s too much.” 

“Is… is it always like this?” Duke asked, his voice too quiet for anyone but Clark to be able to hear. “So many people and so many lights and sounds and…”

Duke trailed off before he could finish, but Clark knew exactly how he felt. 

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” Clark said softly, plopping down on the ground next to the wall. Duke looked momentarily confused but nodded and sat down next to him. “The short answer is yes, it's always like this. I’ve been going to these things for a long time and they don’t get less stressful, you just learn how to deal with the stress.”

Duke curled up into his legs. 

“Your abilities make it worse, don’t they?” Clark asked, his voice ridden with sympathy. Duke nodded again. “I’ve been there. Superhearing isn’t the most public-event-friendly superpower either.”

“I’m sorry,” Duke whispered. 

“No, don’t be. I’ve had years of experience. It doesn’t really bother me anymore,” Clark’s eyes softened as he looked over at the boy, curled up in himself as if he was trying to hide. “I am worried about you though. If there’s anything I can do to make it less scary…”

Duke waved his hand in dismissal. 

“No, it’s fine. There’s nothing you can do,” he mumbled into his cocoon of self-defense. “It just feels like all the others are so good at this and here I am wanting to cry because of the lights.” 

Clark smiled sadly and scooted closer to Duke, nudging his shoulder. 

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to cry. I cry all the time.” 

Duke looked up, his expression twisted in confusion. 

“But you’re Superman?”

“Yeah,” Clark half-laughed. “Seems silly, right? But I think you’ll find that everyone needs to cry sometimes, especially the ones you think are the strongest.”

“Bruce doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry, have you met him?” Clark gasped in mock offense, making Duke laugh which he took as a win. “I love him more than life, but that man is the most stubborn, closed-off prick to ever walk the Earth. I think he might have a stroke if anyone saw him show emotion for more than 5 seconds.”

Clark was quite pleased with himself to have elicited another round of giggles from Duke. He sighed and continued. 

“Seriously, though. You shouldn’t compare yourself to anyone, least of all Bruce. You don’t need to be your family. Being you is enough.”

They stayed in silence for a few moments before Duke broke it. 

“It just doesn’t feel like I belong here.”

Clark took a deep breath. The look on Duke’s face made him want to cry right then and there. 

“You are incredible, Duke,” Clark whispered. “It kills me to think that you don’t know that. You have a place here, with this family. You don’t need to be good at high-class socializing for that to be true. And you wanna know something?”

Duke looked up expectantly. 

“I’m proud of you,” Clark smiled fondly. “I’m proud of the way you keep going, even when you’re carrying this weight on your back. I just want you to know that you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Clark barely saw a tear trickle down Duke’s face before the boy wiped it away with his sleeve. 

“Your family is here for you, Duke. I’m here for you. We’ll all be waiting for you to turn to us whenever you feel overwhelmed or hurt or stressed.” 

After a few silent seconds, Duke finally released the emotions he had been holding in. He leaned his head on Clark’s shoulder as the tears came pouring out and Clark put a hand on Duke’s head as an assurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

The party roared on in the background but neither of them was worried about it anymore. 

“Do I have to go back in?” Duke sniffled after what could have been anywhere between 5 minutes and an hour. 

“Not if you don’t want to.” 

Chapter Text

It was a perfectly peaceful night in Metropolis. Clark was just about to make himself a cup of cocoa and settle down with Krypto for an episode of Friends when he heard footsteps outside his door. He heard the person outside pause in front of his door and take a deep breath. Clark waited for them to knock, but it never came. Eventually, the person whispered a curse and started to turn away. Before they could leave, Clark sped to the door and opened it. 

 Out of all the people he expected to see, Stephanie–still in her Spoiler suit– was probably at the end of the list. 

 She turned around, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. 

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she started but her breath kept catching in her throat. Clark smiled softly and stepped to the side of the door. 

 “It’s okay. Please come in.” 

 Stephanie hesitated before nodding and following him into his apartment. 

 “I just didn’t know where else to go,” she said, her voice heavy with fatigue. Clark could sense that she wasn’t just physically tired but emotionally exhausted as well. “I’m sorry, I know we aren’t super close, but everybody else is out on patrol. And I don’t really want to be anywhere near Gotham right now.” 

 Clark sighed sympathetically and gestured to the couch. 

 “Sit down, please,” he said as he started a kettle on the stove. “I was just making some hot cocoa. Care for some?” 

 Steph managed a small smile.

 “Yes, please.”

 Clark was pleased to see his Midwestern manners weren’t wasted on her, but more pressingly, he was worried about why she was in Metropolis instead of on patrol. 

 “I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but when you’re ready, I would like to know what’s going on, Stephanie,” Clark leaned on the counter and looked at her with concern in his eyes. She had taken off her mask and hood and was scratching Krypto under the ears with a distant look. Bruce hoped the animal therapy was helping at least a little bit.

 While the kettle heated, the two sat in silence. Clark heard Steph inhale multiple times like she was about to say something, but stopped herself before she could. 

 By the time the kettle was whistling, she was ready to confide. 

 “Me and Bruce aren’t on… good terms right now,” she said shakily, though it seemed more like a question. “If anyone can ever really be on good terms with him, I guess.”

 “What happened?” Clark said softly as he began making up two mugs of hot cocoa.  

 “It was just some stupid thing, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal!” Steph began, her voice already raised to the point that Krypto’s ears perked up. Once he realized there was no danger, he went right back to resting on Steph’s lap. “There was this bank robbery and Bruce told me not to engage until the hostages were secure but they were getting away! I don’t get why he’s so mad at me! We got the bad guys and no one was hurt so why did I get yelled at for doing my job?!”

 Clark smiled wistfully as he stirred the now-steaming cups of cocoa. 

 “He’s such a hypocrite, sometimes! I mean, who is this overdramatic furry with a god complex to lecture me about recklessness?” 

 Clark had to turn away to hide his silent laughter from Steph. He was definitely using that line next time Bruce did something stupid as Batman. 

 “We’ve got rules for a reason, Steph. Whipped cream or marshmallows?” He held up both for her consideration. She mused for a bit before pointing at the bag of marshmallows. Clark nodded in respect. “Solid choice.” 

 “I know we have a protocol for hostage situations, but no one got hurt so it should be fine.” 

 “I believe the point is that someone could have gotten hurt, including you,” Clark said as he brought the two mugs and one milk bone over to the couch. One mug was shaped like a dog, complete with little paws at the bottom. The other one was a “World’s Greatest Mom” mug but the word “Mom” was scribbled out in Sharpie and replaced with “Reporter/Superhero”. Lois had given it to him as a gag gift one year but it was the only other mug he had so he used it whenever he had guests. He handed Stephanie the dog mug and tossed the milk bone across the floor, laughing lightly when Krypto scrambled off the couch to chase after it. 

 Stephanie took a deep inhale of her cocoa and seemed to visibly relax. 

 “You know he’s just worried about you,” Clark offered, taking a sip of his cocoa, never mind the fact that it was still practically scalding. “He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, least of all you.”

 “Doesn’t mean he has to be a jerk about it,” Steph mumbled into her mug. 

 “Okay, I’ll give you that,” Clark chuckled. “Though that’s not the word I’d use.”

 “I can think of a few stronger ones.” 

 “I was going to say uptight. He could stand to be more patient, even when you directly disobey his instructions,” Clark raised an eyebrow at Stephanie over his mug and she looked down ashamedly. “We all make mistakes. Luckily, there were no repercussions this time.”

 “It seems like no matter what I do, Bruce only sees mistakes,” Steph huffed. “I just want to do things my way. At least that way I’d be able to do something right.”

 “Stephanie, you do a lot of things right,” Clark said, his brow furrowed in worry and confusion. He set his cocoa on the coffee table and sat sideways to look her in the eye. “No matter how many mistakes you make, you will always be valuable as a person and as a hero. You’ve done so much good and I am so proud of you.” 

 Steph’s face went slack with shock and she would’ve spilled her cocoa if Clark hadn’t caught the mug before she tipped it. She shook her head and laughed apologetically. 

 “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spill,” she stood up abruptly, setting her mug down and turning away. “I hope I didn’t get any on your couch.”

 “I don’t really care about my couch,” Clark assured her. “I do care about you though. I am proud of you and I mean that.”

 Steph’s shoulders were hunched over, her head hung defeatedly. 

 “You can’t mean that,” her voice was unusually quiet and seemed to be holding back emotion. “I don’t deserve it.” 

 “You don’t need to deserve it, Steph. I am proud of you, no matter how many mistakes you make.” 

 When she turned around, her eyes were watery. Clark breathed out in understanding and swallowed her up in the biggest hug he could muster. The both of them collapsed on the couch and Krypto, as if sensing someone needed comforting, hopped up on Stephanie’s lap and nuzzled into her stomach. She laughed and ran her fingers through his fur until all her tears were gone. 

 Clark finally released her from the hug and she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. 

 “I’ve overstayed my welcome, haven’t I?” 

 “Not at all!” Clark protested. “You haven’t even finished your cocoa. And I was planning on watching a Friends re-run if you wanna watch with me. Or some other show if you’d like that better, of course.”

 Steph smiled with a sniffle. 

 “I’ve never watched Friends.” 

 “What?! Then you absolutely need to watch this with me.” 

Chapter Text

The first time Bruce told Clark that he had a cow, the farm boy in him had to go meet it. He said he needed to make sure they weren’t mistreating the poor thing, but he had really missed being around animals since moving to Metropolis. There weren’t a lot of animals in the cities at all, especially not livestock, so Clark would jump at any opportunity for some little taste of home. 

The barn was about the same size as the one on the Kent farm which might have been a little grandiose because it only housed one animal, but when you’re a billionaire, you have to spend the money somewhere. 

Clark went to undo the latch on the door but was surprised to find it already unlocked. He pushed open the door only to see he wasn’t alone in his desire to visit the barn. 

Damian was sitting on a little wooden stool, patting the cow’s spotted coat and whispering soft words to it. Clark felt a little timid as though he was intruding. Almost as soon as Clark entered, Damian perked up and stood up straight, putting on the most serious face he could muster. 

“Kent,” Damian grunted, trying to appear austere though it was obvious he was caught off guard. “What do you want?” 

Clark fought to keep his face neutral at the very solemn little boy in front of him. He knew Damian had a few animals that he cared for so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to catch the boy showing affection to his pet. Clark had just never seen Damian being so nice to anyone, even his siblings. Especially his siblings. 

“I didn’t know Bruce had a cow,” Clark explained, nodding toward the bovine. She really was very cute with her star mark on her rump and her patch of white fur over her eyes which looked an awful lot like the domino masks the bats used for their vigilantism. “Do you take care of her?” 

Damian averted his eyes with a huff. If Clark didn’t know better, he would say the boy was embarrassed. 

“I just visit her sometimes,” Damian scoffed. “Not like anyone else is gonna do it.” 

“Well, I’m glad someone’s stepped up to the challenge,” Clark said decisively, playing into Damian’s charade. “Taking care of a cow is no easy feat. I don’t think I could trust any of the others to keep her comfortable.” 

Damian tried to hide his satisfaction, but Clark saw the tiny way his lip curled up before he coached it back into his usual scowl. 

“Of course. None of them understand the nuance involved in caring for animals. They’d probably try to milk her with cold hands.” 

Clark laughed and nodded in agreement. 

“Rookie mistake. I made it myself one of the first times my pa let me milk our cows. Poor Bill might have kicked me through the barn wall if I wasn’t indestructible.”

Damian’s face twitched in a way that made Clark think he had almost made the boy laugh. 

“Your cow’s name is Bill?” Damian asked, trying not to seem interested. 

“Sort of. My ma named her Wilhemina, but I didn’t wanna say all that so I just called her Bill,” Clark smiled at the memory. “Has she got a name?” 

He gestured to the cow who was happily grazing on some alfalfa. 

“Batcow,” Damian said, a faint glimpse of a smile ghosting his lips as he petted her fur. Clark couldn’t help himself from smiling back, seeing the boy who was usually so stoic let down his guard for once. 

“A fitting name,” Clark agreed and approached the cow. “May I? If she’ll let me, of course.” 

Damian stared at Clark for a moment with unreadably blank eyes before nodding. Clark smiled and ran a hand along Batcow’s back. She was surprisingly soft. Clark was used to the Kent farm cows that had courser, more matted fur. Of course, the Kents took good care of them, but there’s only so much you can do for free-range cows in Twister country. Clark had no doubt Batcow was the most luxuriously-treated cow in the States if not the world. She was snacking on alfalfa for goodness sake. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a happier cow, Damian,” Clark said with a regard that can only be offered from one animal lover to another. “I better not tell any of my parent’s cows about her. They’ll get jealous.” 

Damian let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Clark chose not to capitalize on it, but he was inwardly very pleased to gain some sort of approval from arguably Bruce’s most temperamental child. 

“Not that you need it but you officially have my approval as a cow caretaker,” Clark grinned, ruffling the cow between the ears. “You treat her well, Damian. I’m proud of you.” 

Damian’s demeanor instantly snapped back to the closed-off wall he put up before. It startled Clark how quickly he shut back up into his withdrawn and irritable persona. 

“You shouldn’t throw that word around,” Damian barked, his tone somewhere between angry and hurt. “Pride is to be earned, not given freely.” 

Clark tilted his head, equal parts confused and sympathetic. 

“Is that what you’ve been taught?” 

“It’s what I’ve learned,” Damian turned his back to Clark, solidifying his irritation.

“What if I just want to tell you I’m proud of you?” 

“I’m not a child!” Damian yelled and Clark pushed away the part of his brain that wanted to protest that statement. “I don’t need to be given a gold star every time I do something! It’s not like there’s anything to be proud of anyway.” 

Damian muttered the last sentence, probably hoping Clark would just let it go. Clark, having learned how to match the Wayne stubbornness, did not. 

“Well, at the moment, I’m proud of you for taking good care of Batcow. Not everyone treats their animals with such love. But also I’m just proud of you in general.”

Damian snickered bitterly and turned to look Clark in the eye with a provoking glare. 

“Like I said, I don’t need your validation.” 

“That’s okay. I’m giving it to you anyway. Whether or not you accept it is up to you.” 

At this point, Damian seemed to be scrambling for something to say. 

“You aren’t my father. Why do you insist on trying to act like it?” 

“To put it plainly, because I love your father. And I’ve grown to love you in the process,” Clark admitted, meeting Damian’s harsh glower with a gentle smile. “No matter how much you want me to, I’m not gonna stop caring about you.” 

Damian huffed but didn’t protest any further. Clark knew better than to keep pushing the issue. Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was the trust of a chronically suspicious child. 

“Bruce tells me you’ve got a, um, dragon bat? Any chance you could show me what that is?” 

Damian’s eyes lit up, despite his efforts to appear nonchalant. 

“I suppose you could meet Goliath. It’s not my fault if he bites you though.”

Chapter Text

“You could’ve left this to Bruce, you know,” Barbara protested. She had gotten numerous death threats from an anonymous sender. It wasn’t too serious, but, just in case, Clark had agreed to stay with her after patrol while the others were resting.

 “I know, but I just finally got him to agree to a semi-normal sleep schedule,” Clark argued back. “This is the least I can do for him, and for you. I know how big a part you play in not letting any of them get themselves killed. I should thank you more often.” 

 Barbara laughed and wheeled over to her computer. 

 “Now if only you could get the rest of the family to appreciate me that much,” she huffed with sarcasm as she began looking through the logs from the previous night. “I’d be eternally grateful to hear the words ‘thank you’ out of Jason’s mouth even once.”

 “What you do is genuinely amazing,” Clark said in wonderment. “I don’t know how I could ever focus on anything with 8 people screaming in my ear. 

 “They don’t all scream,” Barbara said with a chuckle. “Sometimes Dick screeches.”

 That earned a hearty laugh from Clark. 

 “It’s just what I do,” Barbara mused. “All in the job description.”

 “Still, it’s something to be proud of,” Clark nodded. “I’m proud of you, Barbara.” 

 She looked up with a knowing smile on her face. 

 “Is that your thing now? Telling us all how proud you are of us?” 

 “If that’s what you call ‘showing the people I consider my family the love and affection they deserve’, then yes. That is definitely my thing,” Clark said, matter-of-factly. 

 “I wouldn’t call myself quite as emotionally deficient as all the others,” Barbara looked back to her screen, trying to appear busy, though Clark could tell she wasn’t actually doing anything. “I’ve got my dad. at least. The rest of them have only got Bruce.” 

 ‘Still,” Clark said softly. “When was the last time someone told you they were proud of you?”

 Barbara smiled, a bit sadly. 

 “It has been a while.”

 “I want you to know that just because I say it a lot doesn’t make it any less true,” Clark assured, moving to lean on Barbara’s desk so he could look her in the eye. “Some people might think I’m weak or fake because I’m open with my emotions. But my Ma taught me to love and I’m not afraid to tell the people I love just how much I love them.” 

 Barbara met Clark’s eyes and smiled, more genuinely this time.

 “That’s what makes you so perfect for Bruce,” she sighed. “Love… scares him. He’s afraid of loving someone and of being loved. I think maybe you could help him out with that.” 

 Clark’s lip quirked up into a small smile. 

 “Or die trying.” 

 “And you very well might,” Barbara laughed. “Who knows how far Bruce will go to avoid talking about his feelings?” 

 Clark let out a full-bellied laugh at Barbara’s quip. 

 “I sure hope it doesn’t come to that. Bruce has a contingency plan on how to kill me in case I go evil.” 

 “He did tell me that,” Barbara smiled. “He has one for all of us, apparently.”

 “Ever the planner,” Clark sighed with an affectionate roll of his eyes. “You know, that might be how he shows his affection.”

 “Planning on how to kill us if we go rogue?” Barbara quirked an amused eyebrow. 

 “We all show it differently. And Bruce surely is a bit different than most.” 

 “If that’s what it takes to get him to admit he cares about us, I’ll let him dream up a thousand different ways to kill me.”

Chapter Text

It was the middle of the night when Clark was woken up by the tiniest little noise. He groaned and rolled over to find Bruce wasn’t lying next to him but was instead standing on the balcony in his silk nightrobe (because of course it’s silk), staring out at the night sky. 

 Clark affectionately rolled his eyes before getting out of bed to join Bruce on the balcony. 

“If it weren’t for the brooding aura, I’d say you look like a rich widow in that robe,” Clark joked as he leaned against the doorframe. He saw Bruce’s face twitch with the hint of a smile. 

 “Come on, Clark. You know I’m the rich husband who gets murdered for his money,” Bruce smirked amusedly as he looked at Clark over his shoulder. 

 “Already planning your own murder?” Clark tapped his chin. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn't save you.” 

 “No, you’re the one killing me, of course,” Bruce said matter-of-factly, though Clark could tell he was joking. “Promise me one thing. If we ever get married, you’ll kill me for my money, not something petty.”

 “Oh, love,” Clark laughed and wrapped his arms around Bruce, pulling the man’s back close to his chest. “I would do a lot of things to you if we were married, but I’m afraid killing you is not on the agenda. I’d rather have you than all the money in the world.” 

 Bruce laughed and leaned his head back against Clark’s. 

 “You are such a farmboy, you know that?”

 “Born and raised,” Clark grinned. 

 The two fell into a comfortable silence, Clark swaying them back and forth as they stared out at the stars. Bruce sighed in a way that made Clark think something else was weighing on his mind besides being hypothetically murdered by his hypothetical husband. 

 “Tell me,” Clark said. Bruce knew what he meant without elaboration. He supposed that’s what happens when you know someone that well. 

 “Do you…” Bruce paused, struggling to phrase his worries. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” 

 Clark stopped swaying. He turned Bruce around to look him in the eye, his gaze soft. 

 “No, I don’t,” Clark stated firmly. He didn’t know what brought this on, but he knew how Bruce sometimes got so into his head that it started hurting him. “Love, why are you asking me that?” 

 Bruce took a deep breath. 

 “I know I’m a bad father. Even you can’t deny that,” Bruce laughed bitterly, making Clark’s heart squeeze in his chest. “All the kids could’ve had lives if it weren’t for me. They could’ve been happy. I feel like I’ve ruined them, twisted them into soldiers so they’d be just as miserable as I am.” 

 “Bruce…”

 “Don’t,” Bruce interrupted Clark with the sharp but innocuous word. Clark didn’t protest when Bruce pushed away his arms, even though it would have been easy to keep him there. “Don’t try to tell me I’m not that bad because I know I am. I’ve messed up those kids beyond repair and you’re still trying to pick up the pieces.” 

 “Bruce, please…”

 “I don’t deserve you either. You’re already a better father to my kids than I ever was,” Bruce stared out at the night sky, his gaze so cold he seemed to be trying to shoot down the stars with his eyes. “I can’t be the father they need. I can’t be the partner you deserve. That’s why I liked being on my own. There wasn’t anyone to disappoint.” 

 Clark felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes but he took a deep inhale and started to speak.

 “If you’ve already decided that I’m disappointed, then I guess there’s no use arguing.” 

 Bruce’s head fell ever so slightly. 

 “No point in telling you that even though you hold yourself to a higher standard, you’re still human and humans make mistakes,” Clark approached Bruce from behind, his melancholy gaze fixed on the back of the man’s head. “No point in saying that you aren’t perfect, no matter how much you try to be. You aren’t a perfect father, you aren’t a perfect partner, and you never will be. And that’s why we love you so much.” 

 Bruce turned around, his expression more vulnerable than Clark had ever seen him. 

 “I don’t want you to be perfect. Your kids don’t want you to be perfect. I know you haven’t always shown the most love to all of them, but you’re trying now. I don’t care what mistakes you made, I care that you’re trying to fix them.”

 Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled. His exhale was almost like a humorless chuckle and Clark couldn’t help but envelop him in a hug. 

 “I am so proud of you, Bruce,” Clark whispered with a kiss on the top of Bruce’s head. “You have done so much good and I admire you for it. You put so much pressure on yourself to be good enough for the people around you, but you forget that you’re already good enough for us. We don’t love you because you’re perfect. We love you because you’re you. And you don’t have to be anything else.”

 Bruce collapsed into the hug like he’d never needed anything else more. Clark held Bruce as close as he could, not wanting to ever let him go. 

 “I love you, Clark,” Bruce breathed, desperation in his voice. Clark sniffled with a smile as a hot tear rolled down his cheek.

 “I love you, Bruce.” 

Chapter Text

It had been a very long day of defeating bad guys in Metropolis. Clark had begun to be suspicious if his rogues had figured out his civilian identity and were purposefully wrecking the city the weekend before he had an article about the negative environmental impact of LuthorCorp due the next Wednesday. Between saving the world and reporting on it, Clark had almost no time to relax. He was dreading his deadline, almost as much as he was dreading telling Bruce he wouldn’t be able to come to the Charity Gala that was supposed to happen that night. Clark really didn’t want to cancel, but it’s not like he was needed. Lois was reporting, since everyone agreed Clark shouldn’t report on personal matters–namely famous men he was dating– and they were still keeping their relationship away from the public. No one would even miss him. 

Clark’s finger hovered above the call button under the contact “B ♥”. He really didn’t want to cancel but he knew the second he saw Bruce he would lose all concentration on his impending deadline and leave his work unfinished. 

Before he could press the call button, however, his screen lit up with a call screen bearing Lois’ name. He smiled a bit seeing the stupid picture from a ballgame 3 years ago that he had saved as her contact and answered the phone. 

“What’s up, Lois?” 

“I need your help,” she sounded genuinely concerned, unusually abashed compared to her normal bold personality. This immediately sent Clark into protective mode.

“Of course, anything. What is it?” His mind raced as he wondered if this was a Clark issue or a Superman issue. He had to stop himself from catastrophizing when she hadn’t even said anything yet. 

“You know the Wayne Gala I’m supposed to be covering tonight?” Clark narrowed his eyes in apprehension, though of course, she couldn’t see him. “I know it’s short notice, but something came up and I need you to cover it for me.”

Clark sighed, fighting between wanting to help his friend and not wanting to take on more work. 

“Lois, you know I’m not allowed.-” 

“Perry already approved it! I’ll trade you for that LuthorCorp piece,” she said insistently. “Believe me, I’d rather be writing about stuff I actually care about than another snobbish party for high-society jackanapes. No offense to Bruce.” 

“I’ll tell him you said that, you know,” Clark stifled another laugh, not wanting to slander his partner’s name too much, despite Bruce himself often saying worse things about said “high-society jackanapes”. 

“Good. He deserves to be humbled once in a while!” she snapped jokingly. 

“You make me laugh, Lois,” Clark sighed between chuckles. 

“So you’ll cover for me?”

He exhaled deeply, silently weighing the pros and cons. He felt bad passing off his deceptively overwhelming project over to Lois on such short notice, but then again, she did seem genuinely passionate about it. And if Perry had already approved the swap, he supposed there wasn’t much harm. 

“Sure.” 

“Yes!” Lois exclaimed, making a bit of feedback screech over Clark’s phone. “You’re the best, Smallville. I owe you!”

“I owe you !” Clark laughed back. “Good luck with that article. I barely started on it.” 

“Well, I don’t have a second job as a superhero, so I’m sure I’ll manage.” 

“If you don’t mind my asking, why can’t you make it to the gala tonight?” Clark asked, his mind starting to wander into worry mode. “Did something bad happen?” 

“Oh, uh, nope.” Clark sensed a bit of hesitation in Lois’ voice but he couldn’t pick out her heartbeat over the phone. “Just an appointment.” 

“You scheduled an appointment over your assignment?” 

“Why are we sitting here talking about me? Go get ready! It starts at 7 so you don’t have that much time!” 

“Lois-”

“Bye!” 

She hung up before Clark could say another word. He sighed and shook his head lovingly. Sometimes Lois could be all over the place but she was his best friend, in and out of work. 

He straightened his coat jacket and headed home to get ready for the impromptu reverie. Hopefully, nothing bad happened that night. 

—

Clark arrived at the Wayne Manor at a sensible 6:50. People had usually already started arriving and he was able to slip in without being suspiciously early or fashionably late, just the way he preferred it. 

Oddly enough, there was not a single limousine in sight as Clark pulled through the ostentatiously grand driveway. In fact, he couldn’t see anyone outside. The lights were on inside the manor, but not a single other person could be seen. Clark couldn’t even pick up on any chatter or music inside. 

He immediately relaxed upon hearing Bruce’s heartbeat, constant and thundering, along with the heartbeats of all the kids, though they all seemed slightly elevated. It was to be expected, what with the excitement and anxiety that accompanies a party as big as Bruce’s galas usually were. 

When he stepped up to the door, he picked up on a bit more bustle inside. 

“He’s here!”

“He’s early.”

The sound of a playful smack.

“He’s always early, dimwit. Why do you think we’ve been getting ready for the past two hours?” 

“Quiet down! He can probably hear us.” 

“He can definitely hear us.” 

Clark chuckled as the sibling banter continued. He smiled and knocked on the door, even though Bruce had explicitly said he didn’t have to. 

The first thing he saw was Bruce’s expression, which he could tell had been coached into a smile from the regular exasperation he wore when the kids were bickering. 

“Hi, love,” Bruce said, visibly relaxing as he pulled the door open for Clark to step through. 

“I’m confused,” Clark said in response to the entirely empty main hall. “What happened to the party, Mr. Playboy?” 

“I believe he just arrived,” Bruce smiled and offered his arm in that very Prince Charming way. Clark barely held back a laugh as he took Bruce’s arm. Bruce led him quite slowly through the hall toward the dining room. “In all honesty, I’m afraid I did lie to you about having a gala tonight. Nobody knows anything is happening here tonight except you, me, the kids, and the lovely Ms. Lane.” 

Clark’s eyes narrowed as he remembered how suspicious Lois had acted when he’d asked why she couldn’t make it. 

“So you all conspired to…”

“To make you take a break from work,” Bruce smiled. “You can’t get on our cases for being workaholics when you’ve been at the office overtime every day this week.” 

“But that means Lois just took on my work for nothing!” Clark groaned. He really, really disliked when people did things for him that he could have very well done himself. 

“What is that thing you always say to me?” Bruce tapped his chin. Clark rolled his eyes knowing exactly what words were about to be thrown back in his face. “Letting other people do things for you-”

“-doesn’t make you a burden. I know,” Clark groaned melodramatically, noting the irony of him reacting almost exactly the same way Bruce did the last time he had said that. “Of course you would find a way to use my own words of wisdom against me.”

“It’s not hard, you have a lot of words of wisdom,” Bruce said with a smile in his voice. As they neared the dining room, Clark once again became aware of the kids’ voices clamoring over each other. “I probably should tell you what’s going on though.”

“Yes, please.”

“The kids wanted to do something for you,” Bruce paused, looking Clark in the eye with an admiring spark. “I… wanted to do something for you. And I think you’re gonna love it. I mean, I sure hope so because otherwise I got your friend to lie to you and made you drive all the way here for nothing.”

Clark put a finger up, silencing Bruce with a genuine smile. 

“Whatever it is, if I get to spend time with you and the kids, that’s worth it to me.” 

Bruce smiled and knocked on the dining room door, giving the kids a modicum of advance warning before pushing the door open. 

“Surprise!” 

The first thing Clark noticed, after the initial barrage of sound, was the big poster board being held by Dick and a slightly embarassed Jason. Clark could have easily used his advanced vision to peek at the writing on the other side but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Obviously, they wanted to dramatically reveal it. 

 The entire family was there, even Barbara and Alfred, to welcome him with smiling faces, though the degree of intensity varied from Dick’s grin to Damian’s “smile” which looked nearly identical to his regular scowl if you didn’t know him well enough to notice the difference. 

“You’ve done so much for us,” Bruce said gently, putting his hand on Clark’s shoulder. 

“For all of us,” interjected Barbara, followed by a chorus of agreements from the others. 

“And we all wanted to let you know…” Bruce initiated, nodding at Dick and Jason to flip the poster board around. 

Clark couldn’t decide whether to start laughing or crying. 

The poster read the words “We’re proud of you” in massive decorative letters with little messages from each of the family members in between the words. Clark put a hand to his mouth as he attempted to process the overwhelming wave of emotion. 

“You all…” Despite Clark’s efforts to keep his emotion from spilling out, he could hear the tears squeezing at his throat. “You did this for me?”

They all nodded and Clark couldn’t hold it in anymore. He let the tears spill over his eyes as his lips pulled up into a delighted grin. 

“I- I love you all so much,” Clark sobbed, not bothering to preserve his dignity. These people had seen him in situations much more embarrassing than blubbering in the Wayne dining room. 

Bruce pulled him into a hug, rubbing comforting circles on the hulking Midwesterner’s back. 

After a few seconds, Clark laughed and waved all the kids over. 

“Come on, get over here, you goofs!” 

They were a bit hesitant, but eventually, everyone joined the hug, though some people (Damian) had to be dragged by the scruff of their neck. 

“I love you all,” Clark mumbled, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into Bruce’s shoulder. “So much. I mean it.”