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"Superman."
Clark is in trouble.
"Why is there a baby where Robin should be?"
Clark swallows, throat bobbing. Robin Dick babbles in the chair beside him, content to slobber and chew on his domino mask. Bruce blinks pointedly at the pair, arms crossed, face downturned into an even deeper scowl than he normally carries.
"I…uh. I can explain."
"You better. And quickly, please."
Clark glances over at Dick, who's rolled backwards onto his back in the high-backed Justice League issue chair. He kicks his little chubby legs and reaches tiny fingers up for the twinkling lights of the watchtower above him.
Clark wets his lips and his eyes snap back to Bruce when the other man clears his through and gestures a clawed hand towards the infant beside him.
"He got hit with some sort of funky alien beam."
Bruce sighs, hands moving to rest on his hips.
"You let Robin get hit with a magic beam?"
Clark sputters.
"What? Uh, no I didn't let Robin do anything, you know you can't let that boy do anything. I couldn't stop him if I tried!"
"Sure."
Bruce walks up to the boy, boots tapping against the waxed tile floors, hands clasped firmly behind his back.
Dick babbles louder as Bruce comes into view, squealing with delight. He clenches and unclenches his little fists in excitement at the very presence of the man.
A ghost of a smile flits across Bruce's face and he brushes a knuckle against Dick's cheek, touch feather-light.
Clark suddenly feels like he's intruding.
Bruce lets out a weary sigh as he stands, hands settling on his hips once more. His face pulls in a frown, lips curled downward as he thinks.
Clark hasn't moved a bit since this whole ordeal started.
"We'll take the Zeta back to the Cave, he doesn't need to be here." Bruce gestures vaugely around them, the console in the center of the room blinking idly.
"We?" Clark asks, tilting his head slightly.
Bruce turns, the whites representing eyes on his cowl narrowing.
"Yes, we. You, Robin, and myself."
Clark blinks, sitting stock still.
"Me?"
If the eyes on the cowl could roll, they would've.
Bruce shakes his head in a motion that almost seemed fond. He reaches for Dick, wrapping the boy snugly in his cape. He mumbles something to him and Dick responds in kind, clapping his hands and gurgling.
At that, Bruce turns and walks towards the tubes, cape billowing behind him.
By the time Clark catches up, Bruce and Dick are standing in the tube, the older tapping his foot against the metal.
"Thought you didn't want to come."
Clark shuffles to stand beside them as the door to the Zeta tube shuts with a hiss.
"I never said that." He mumbles, fiddling with the end of his cape.
"Could've fooled me." Bruce says, eyes closing as the Zeta whirrs to life, casting the tunnel in an eerie blue glow.
Dick wiggles and laughs as reality shifts around them, yanking on the shoulders of Bruce's costume as he bounces in his grasp.
The lights dim for a moment and suddenly they're in the most 'Batman' looking place Clark has ever seen. Bruce steps out and an older man greets him, an assorted bundle of things clutched in his arms. Clark blinks for a moment and realizes most of the items are clothes and supplies for an infant.
"I'm not even going to ask." Clark mumbles as he steps out of the tube. Alfred just smiles at him.
At some point between walking from the tube to the largest computer in the world, Alfred and Bruce have dressed Dick in comfy looking baby clothes and wrapped the little boy in a blanket.
Bruce taps away at the machine with Dick in his lap as Alfred meanders to and fro, doing god knows what.
Clark sure doesn't.
Standing still in the middle of the massive chamber probably isn't helping, but this is the weirdest day of Clark's life so far, so he doesn't seem to care.
There's stalactites on the ceiling, steadily dripping condensation and rainwater into what seems to be an underground river. Maybe a reservoir? Actual real-life bats swarm and squeal in the upper chambers, hang from the rocks and crags. And if he thought the Watchtower was advanced, he wasn't prepared for Batman's personal arsenal. There's something for everything in here, it seems. Bruce probably had a plan if something like this were to happen, it would be just like him to do so.
Clark pads over to stand beside Bruce at the helm of what seem to be his operations. The keyboard, which seems small in comparison to the absurd amount of screens in front of them, clacks as Bruce's clawed fingers race over the letters.
"He won't stay like this for long, if what this is saying is correct." Bruce murmurs, idle. He's taken his cowl of at some point, not that Clark would've noticed before now.
Bruce's hair stands up wild against his almost too pale skin. It's only now that Clark realizes how young he looks.
He pushes the thought down as soon as it surfaces.
"You've…figured out what's wrong with him already?"
"Of course I have. And there's nothing wrong with him, he's a baby."
Clark nods, lips pursed slightly.
"You know what I mean, B."
Bruce turns and genuinely smiles at him and Clark thinks he's actually going to die.
"You know, you're going to realize one day that I say these things to get a rise out of you."
Clark feels like he's out of place again, like he has all night. He stamps his foot, red to his ears.
"I, well, it's not going to work anymore now that I know!"
Bruce hums, a smirk settling over his face. Bastard.
Dick laughs from his place in Bruce's lap, from where he's standing and leaning against his chest to look over Bruce's shoulder at Clark. He points a little finger at Clark and squeals again, bouncing on his toes.
"The baby is laughing at me, Bruce!" Clark huffs, crossing his arms across his chest.
Bruce smiles again, hand cupping the back of Dick's head.
"What do you say, chum, should we keep him?"