Work Text:
Growing up, some things were just ingrained facts that Dick knew, before he could even recall a time not knowing them. That Bruce doesn’t talk about personal feelings and emotions. That Alfred doesn’t like people meddling in the kitchen when he cooks. That Bruce considers one o’clock as an acceptable time to eat breakfast. That Alfred likes gardening. That Bruce is never present in the house past midnight. That Bruce Wayne is Batman. That kryptonite is located in the third pocket of Bruce’s belt from the right. That Superman is kind. That Superman is Clark Kent. That Clark's favorite dessert is Alfred’s homemade apple pie. And—
That Bruce is in love with Clark Kent.
When Dick was younger, still in the preteen phases of youth and naive to any bittersweet aspects of the world, he thought it was a given that Clark loved Bruce back. Seeing the two of them near the kitchen, with Clark grinning and talking in that warm voice of his, and Bruce nodding along silently. To anyone else, Bruce would be seen as reserved, standoffish. But to Dick, it was the most welcoming he’s ever seen him. The constant tensing of shoulders, the furrow in the brow, the cold stare made more unforgiving with pale eyes—none were present. Instead, Dick would see a slight curve of a lip (a smile) and small, brief glances at Clark’s profile when the man wasn’t looking. But Dick looked, and he saw. Even in his adolescent brain, it was a given that Bruce was in love with Clark Kent.
In a sense, Dick could say that Clark did love Bruce. He cared for him, would fuss over Bruce’s injuries after a battle, and obviously enjoyed his company. When Dick was still a Robin, and awed in Superman’s presence in his scant moments to Gotham, he could see the friendly air between the two superheroes even behind the masks.
However, from the moment of Clark’s blossoming relationship with Lois, and to their subsequent marriage, it was clear that the love Bruce held for Clark was not the same kind given back.
*
“You’re not needed.”
“You think Clark is capable of sneaking around?”
Bruce gave Dick a flat stare. “No.”
“Then, I should come with,” Dick crossed his arms, settled firmly in his chair.
The humidity in the cave was not as apparent this time of year, within the season of fall. The lack of frizziness in Bruce’s hair attested to this.
The dark cape pooled on the hard ground, wrinkled at the ends as Bruce leaned back in his chair, eyes no longer on the computer. Instead, the full force of his gaze rested on Dick. Even after years of growing up in this household, Bruce’s stare still made him feel restless.
“Yeah, I know you can easily do the reconnaissance yourself, but…” Dick trailed off, mind working. He did have a reason for wanting to come with, but he knew if he said it, Bruce would never let him tag along. Plus, he’d probably get angry. No, scratch that, definitely would get angry. Dick’s pause stretched on for too long. “... can’t I just tag along? Bludhaven’s been quiet lately.” He jittered his leg, made his voice sound more petulant than usual.
The force of Bruce’s stare eased, but was still present minutely. “It’s never quiet.”
“Nothing the police can’t handle, at least,” Dick amended. His eyes were furtively casted at a blank space in the cavern walls, body tilted away with his ankles crossed. He kept his body language as passive as it could, in apprehensive hope that Bruce couldn’t somehow assess his true intentions. Not that he was planning something bad, of course. At least not by Dick’s standard.
He just thought it’d give Bruce a nice opportunity to be in Clark’s presence for a while, that’s all.
“I’ll handle the whole she-bang, do all the work. Hell, if they’re sloppy, maybe the vial is there, and I’ll snatch it up too; give it to Clark.” Dick said with a strong grin. Maybe too strong. He could feel his heart rate tick upwards.
“Any kryptonite you find goes to me.” Bruce responded promptly, gaze finally turning back to the computer screen. Dick inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Unless Clark grabs it from me first,” Dick joked. The only times Clark and Bruce would team up together—just them, no Justice League involved—was in matters of kryptonite. And considering this hidden location has been attempting to illegally create a synthetic lab-made kryptonite, of course Bruce would bring it to Clark’s knowledge. Sometimes, Dick wondered if he contacted Clark because he earnestly cared for his safety (Bruce’s supply of kryptonite showed no sign of being thrown away—love apparently doesn’t stop his paranoia) or because it gave an excuse to speak to Clark. Dick chose a hint of the former, but largely the latter.
“He won’t. It goes to me.” Bruce repeated firmly.
Dick nodded amicably. “Right. So, you two just hang out on the rooftop and watch the professional do the work,” he added cheekily. Bruce stilled, and Dick’s heart seized. He might’ve been too obvious. Then Bruce brought his attention back to the screen. Dick relaxed.
Watching Bruce go over the CCTV footage and timestamps of when the scientists would typically leave the location, Dick lips pursed as he absorbed himself in his thoughts.
He couldn’t remember precisely when Clark came over to the manor last. It had to have been at least six months ago. A long time, considering before that Clark made a point to come over bi-weekly. Dick understood why, as taking care of a pregnant Lois took priority. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop Dick from seeing the stark changes in Bruce. No more smirks, no more small quips. Gone were the days when Dick would see the steady relaxation in Bruce’s body just at the knowledge Clark was going to show up for dinner that day. Now, a stoic, closed off Bruce was a constant presence, just like in the earliest of Dick’s childhood days with him. Indifferent mask always firmly in place.
It reminded him of the grim day that occurred almost two years ago, when Clark came over unannounced to excitedly state his successful proposal to Lois; about how she earnestly responded yes. Dick didn’t want to think about what followed in the manor after Clark’s departure. He shut his eyes.
Bruce rose from his chair and shut the screen off after glancing at the time. Dick’s eyes opened. Twenty-eight minutes before rendezvous.
Bruce clasped his cowl into place, the deep voice of Batman reverberating. “Let’s move.”
*
Dick knew that Bruce always made a point of showing up early to any rendezvous, but he doesn’t see the point of it when Superman’s the one he’s meeting with. Especially at this cold time of the year, when the wind blowed relentlessly across the rooftops. Clark is always on time, and exactly so.
Once again, the time hit their planned meeting, and Dick heard the sonic boom in the distance and changing air before he registered Clark’s presence in the darkened sky. He always thought he’d get used to it after all these years, but his opinion stayed the same—at night, Superman’s appearance does not hold the same as it does during the day. The dulled blue suit in dim light, the blood red cape blowing regally in the wind, the marbled perfection of Clark’s face that suddenly looked cold and serene in shadowed lighting. Strangely, it’s times like these that Dick recalls that Clark is in fact, alien. Then Clark smiled, and all was right again.
Red boots touching down at the edge of the rooftop, Clark allowed the laws of gravity to take hold. He put his hands on his hips. “It’s pretty chilly tonight.” Funny he should be the one to bring it up, Dick thought, considering he doesn’t even feel it.
Bruce ignored the comment, dispassionate as always. But he could not hide the tilting up of his head, the instant angling of his body towards Clark’s. Dick saw.
“The building should be empty,” Bruce said. Dick heard the implied, But you should check anyway, and it seemed Clark did too.
Clark paused, looking lost in thought, and tilted his head in that way of his that Dick knew wasn’t necessary for super hearing, but only done so you'd know he wasn’t just ignoring you mid-conversation. After a second or so, Clark nodded. Building was indeed empty.
“I’ll scope the place out,” Dick declared. Clark looked at him fondly. Even though he’s grown to be Nightwing, he knew Clark still saw him as the ten year old Robin he once was. It was exasperating, but he couldn’t deny it also felt nice.
“Everything is lead-lined now,” Clark shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, but a smile still tugged on his lips.
“It’s a kryptonite facility,” Bruce responded. Dick’s eyes widened at his obvious explanation. Bruce never bothers pointing out the obvious. Dick did his best to rein in his elation; his plan was working. “Of course it’s lead-lined.”
Dick leaned over the edge of the roof, ready to arc a cable towards the structure and let them have their time together, but Bruce’s next words stopped him in his tracks. “How’s the baby coming along?”
Dick’s heart stumbled to a painful halt.
Clark immediately cast a concerned glance towards Dick, and he forcefully calmed his heart rate. Damn super hearing. Clark’s eyes lingered for a moment, but the discussion of his baby growing in Lois’s belly was apparently much more attention grabbing.
“No complications so far, thank god,” Clark smiled widely. Dick felt sick. “I was worried in the beginning, but I guess Kryptonians and humans really are compatible.” Clark scooted closer to Bruce, eyes twinkling. “Thanks for asking.”
Bruce nodded, face perfectly impassive. Dick couldn’t understand it—why Bruce insisted on torturing himself in this way.
“It’s a boy,” Clark continued without prompting, tone clearly eager. “Lois wants to name him Jon, after my dad.” Dick didn’t know how much longer he could listen to this. He shot a glance at Bruce, desperate to see some sign of Bruce’s inner turmoil, but his face was a completely smooth slate. The white lenses gave nothing away, focused only on Clark.
Dick didn’t understand, couldn’t understand the logic in Bruce’s backwards thinking, then turned his head and saw Clark smiling brighter than the sun—cheeks warm and flushed despite the dreary night, talking excitedly about the growing baby—and understood why Bruce thought the pain of hearing this was worth it, understood the thinking process. Just a little bit.
He must’ve stood there too long, because Bruce gave him a sharp pointed look. Message received. Dick turned and leapt.
*
Looks like the scientists were sloppy. A vial of actual kryptonite was present, while the synthetic makes were discarded in hazardous bins, unsuccessful. Dick took a small sample of them anyway. He then downloaded the digitized files of their research notes and snatched the vial of kryptonite, enclosing it in a case of lead.
*
From a distance, especially with the darkness of this hour, it was impossible to see even the shape of Bruce. The draped black cape and cowl over his form turned his human body into a mass of shadows, a dark empty space. But that wasn’t the case today. Clark’s red and blue, however much dull they appeared now, were still colorful enough to snag Dick’s attention as he made his way towards their direction. Landing on a slanted elevated rooftop before theirs, he perched at the edge and was about to propel himself—
And nearly lost his balance, as what he saw threatened to send him tumbling off the edge.
The pair of heroes, standing close, perhaps too close. Dick’s heart beat at the sight. Perhaps? Was it possible? It was hard to tell what they were doing to be standing so close when he could barely see ten feet in front of him. Crouching, he leaned forward on the ledge from his upper vantage point. Then he saw.
Clark was playing with one of Bruce’s pointed ears, and laughing.
Dick stared in muted shock. But as his eyes were beginning to adjust to the dimness, he couldn’t deny that the sight was real. One of Clark’s large hands was pinching the top of the cowl’s left ear, squeezing, and his whole body seemed to shake as he tried to contain his childish laughter. He was unsuccessful, and the happy sounds traveled up in the air, reaching Dick’s ears.
Dick didn’t know how the sight made him feel. To see his father’s emotions getting played with like this—no, that wouldn’t be fair to say. Clark seemed totally unaware, despite the mounting pile of evidence. Dick knew Bruce was in love, but he never would have imagined this, for him to permit this. In the presence of anyone else, Dick would expect a scowl, a devastating snarl, a swift punch to the face or at least a jump back from the offensive touch. But no, Bruce remained pliant and still under the teasing touch, even as Clark flicked the pointed tip of one ear and chuckled. Dick couldn’t understand how he saw, and Clark didn’t.
Looking at the unfathomable sight before him, Dick felt a strange sense of sullen admiration for Bruce. To be able to keep his heartbeat and involuntary body senses so in check that even Superman couldn’t detect it after all these years, because Dick already felt his own heart stuttering as it broke for him.
Clark’s laughter suddenly stopped, blue eyes flickering to Dick’s form with unbending accuracy, teasing fingers no longer on Bruce’s ear.
Knowing he’s been exposed, Dick flung a cable and gracefully landed on the rooftop, rolling to protect his ankles and springing back to his feet.
Clark’s gaze was concerned. “Is everything alright? What happened?”
“What? No, nothing happened,” Dick said, finding it hard to talk. Before jumping off the elevated roof, he saw the moment Bruce broke out of his tranquil trance; presently felt the hard, unforgiving stare even under the cowl—to have ruined the small tender moment that Bruce must’ve been desperately aching for a hint of, despite knowing it would make the longing worse.
Clark’s brows were still furred in worry. “Your heart was off earlier too.”
“No, it’s all good here,” Dick laughed, strained. He patted his chest with what he hoped looked like confidence, and revealed the lead-encased kryptonite. “And I got the kryptonite. An actual one. Looks like they’re still struggling to make a synthetic kind, but I nabbed a sample just in case.”
He tossed the vial to Bruce, who caught it silently. Clark smiled and made no move to take it.
“So…” Dick trailed off, looking at the both of them. He felt like an intruder, but Clark’s expression was warm. Bruce’s was not.
Clark picked up the conversation with ease. “Sorry for making you do all the work,” he said, tilting his head to Bruce with a bantering grin, “Guess someone’s getting lazy.” His dark curls bounced with the movement.
Bruce remained silent.
Clark shrugged with a what can you do expression, red boots lifting off the paved roof as he began to float. No matter how many times Dick saw this, he couldn’t get over it. Where the laws of physics and gravity were no longer treated as a law, but as a suggestion.
Clark’s arms crossed across his chest as an easy smile retook his face. To Bruce, “Thanks for letting me know, as always.” To Dick, “And it was really nice seeing you. You ever want to meet up for a coffee at Bludhaven, just call me, okay?” With that, the Superman shot off into the sky, sending Bruce’s black cape rippling in the face of the strong gust. Dick heard the powerful sonic boom, and Clark was gone.
Dick felt the chill seep into him.
“Nightwing.” The voice was cold, and angry.
The jig was up. Bruce knew what he was trying to pull.
Slowly, Dick made himself look at Bruce’s dead white lenses. But he couldn’t hide the pity from his eyes, and saw Bruce’s teeth clench.
“Bruce… I, I was just trying to—” Dick began, then shut his mouth at Bruce’s coiled anger, the heavier gritting of teeth. “I’m sorry.” For reminding Bruce the pain of heartache, of wanting something he’ll never have.
Bruce turned away.