Work Text:
On the third week of the November Jimmy Olsen will walk into the Daily Planet as he usually does.
The typical catcalls of the staff won’t follow. Nobody will leave his freshly printed copies at the desk.
They’ll smell the heady scent of an alpha on his clothes. The stainless steel of a tightrope and the thick oily kerosene of a firebreather imbued into the fabric of his jacket.
And when Clark approaches his desk Jimmy will absentmindedly smile, tilting his head genuinely as he asks: “What’s up with everybody today?”
Clark will start off gently, not wanting to make the beta worry about anything that wasn’t too important.
“I guess Dick’s been a little overprotective lately?” He’ll lightly ask, glancing over the dividers to the window.
Nightwing will be there smiling, hanging off his trapeze wire.