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Bruce Wayne had no desire to go to Haly's Circus.
It was a push from both Clark and Alfred to take a break—and, of course, Bruce was at their mercy. Clark was on the last day of his off-world mission, meeting with some planet's royals to strengthen intergalactic relations. So, Bruce went alone.
Big mistake. He heard the sharp snap of rope, and the Flying Graysons were falling, falling, falling. He frantically muttered, "Kal-El."
It was too late. He had been too late. John and Mary Grayson were on the sawdust floor. People were screaming. The youngest Grayson was in the middle of a triple somersault with a full twist, ready to reach for his mother's outstretched arms. Instead, he was met with the strong embrace of a man much bigger than anyone he had ever met.
Bruce Wayne was running to the ring.
"Superman?" The boy was confused, but a wide grin still appeared on his face, high from the adrenaline of performing.
"Don't look down," Superman swallowed. "I'm going to get you to safety, okay?"
"Safety?" he looked down, and promptly let out a gut-wrenching scream. Clark put his broad hand on the side of the boy's head, pulling him closer.
"Don't look, don't look," the man whispered, clutching a now-sobbing child in his arms.
When the pair reached the trailers behind the tent, Bruce was already in conversation with a shaken C.C. Haly.
"He- I- the money, he asked for- Oh, God," Haly broke down.
"What money, Mr. Haly?"
"Tony Zucco," he whispered. "He said we needed to pay protection money. I didn't listen. I didn't listen, and now they're dead. Oh, God."
"The money doesn't matter now. Where will the boy go?"
"Dick," Haly breathed out, looking around. Once he saw the young boy with Superman, he ran over. Bruce and Clark met eyes, a silent understanding between them.
"Mr. Haly, will he be able to stay with you? With his other family?" the Kryptonian questioned.
"His parents were his only family. I don't think we can- keep him with us," the man swallowed thickly.
"This is nothing fit to discuss in front of him," Bruce cut in, though softer. "I'll take us to the GCPD. Superman, follow us."
Clark nodded. They were doing this. The boy—Dick—clutched the collar of his suit a bit tighter.
It had been eight months since that night.
The three of them had been through a lot in that time. Bruce and Clark officially took Dick in as their ward, with minimal pushback from the legal system. He tried to run away, back to the circus, in the first few weeks. Clark and Bruce both revealed their identities to the boy in an attempt to deepen his belief that they truly would care for him. Trust formed. Slowly, the boy opened up. A small smile here, a laugh there. Sharing memories of his time at the circus didn't hurt as much as it did before.
Now, Clark heard the soft pat of tiny feet hitting hardwood floor.
He was laying in bed, reading an article Lois Lane had written on LexCorp's tendency to hold illegal offshore accounts. Bruce was sleeping soundly beside him, breaths coming in and out evenly.
Clark listened out to where Dick had just been fast asleep, but was now sniffling as he made his way out of his room—toward the master bedroom, he realized, as the footsteps got closer. The door creaked open.
"Can I sleep in here, with you?" Dick's voice came out ragged. Clark could see that his eyes were puffy, and he was clutching a worn stuffed elephant to his chest; it was one of the few mementos he had of his life as an acrobat.
"Of course, baby," Clark folded his newspaper and set it on the nightstand. He pulled back the covers as the boy climbed over his legs to nestle in between the two men. Not quite his dads, not yet, but something close. "What's the matter?"
He just shook his head in a silent 'no.' Clark reached around to turn off the lamp, then pressed a kiss to Dick's hair.
"That's okay," he whispered. "You're safe in here, sunshine."
They fell asleep like that: with Clark's arm around Dick, hand stroking his hair, and Dick's rapid heartbeat steadily evening out.
Bruce groaned lightly as he woke up. When he rolled over to bury his face in Clark's neck, as he always did to regulate himself before preparing for the day, he bumped into something else. Someone else. He cracked an eye open. Dick was laying there, cheek smushed up against Clark's collarbone.
Bruce's heart squeezed.
He reached for the camera Clark had gotten them specifically to capture family memories (family memories) and snapped a picture of the pair. Okay, he took a few. The flash of light caused Clark's eyes to flutter open, though still heavy with sleep.
"Mm?" he hummed.
"Nothing, I just love you," Bruce traced his thumb along the man's jaw, willing him back to sleep.
"Dickie had a nightmare," Clark murmured, eyes closed once again.
"He came to the right place," Bruce smiled, not taking his eyes off the other man. "Sleep in some more, it's Saturday."
Clark barely nodded before Bruce could hear his subtle snores return. He can't believe he missed Dick coming in here.
Well, it was Saturday, now. He could stay in bed, awake, soaking the moment in.
"My boys," he whispered before he leaned over, lightly kissing Clark's forehead, then Dick's.
Dick shifted, his cold little feet wrapped up in Clark's warm legs. He smiled in his sleep.
It was nearly nine in the morning before either one awoke. Dick stretched his arms out wide, hitting Bruce's chin and Clark's nose in the process. Bruce thought he may be the luckiest man alive.
"Good morning, little bird," he said softly as Dick's eyes opened. "How did you sleep?"
"Better than I did in my room," he grinned. "Clark's warm."
"That he is," Bruce laughed, and the man in question stirred.
"Did the sun wake you up, or us?" Dick leaned over him.
"Both," Clark smiled before opening his eyes. "I missed you, my loves."
"You were just asleep, silly!" Dick exclaimed, but he still giggled when Clark pressed a firm kiss to his cheek, ruffling his hair, and then did the same to Bruce. He looked out the open blinds at the shining sun.
"'Since thy duties be to warm the world, that's done in warming us,'" Clark quoted, eyes shining as he looked at his family in bed.
"What?" Dick shook Clark's shoulders with his hands, laughing, but the sentiment was not lost on Bruce. "I think he's still asleep, B."
"Not once he starts smelling the bacon Alfred's cooking downstairs," Bruce joined in on the laughter.
"Bacon?" Dick's eyes lit up. "Will there be pancakes, too?"
"I don't know, chum, is it Saturday?" Bruce watched as the boy's brain worked.
A smile overtook his whole face as he jumped past Bruce and Clark on the bed. "Come on, let's go! Before it gets cold!"
The two men locked eyes.
"You heard him," Clark cupped Bruce's cheek, then left the warmth of the covers. "Dibs on the first blueberry pancake!"