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There was a boy sitting at the kitchen counter.
If he hadn't already come to terms with Dick leaving for college, Clark may have thought he was reliving a memory.
The dark-haired boy turned his head at the sound of footsteps.
"You must be Clark," he did not smile.
"I am," the man set his work bag down as he made his way over to the kitchen. "And what's your name?"
The boy just hummed noncommittally.
"Alright. Do you want a snack? I always come home hungry after work," he shrugged, taking in the kid's subtle hitch in breath at the mention of food. "I was thinking about a mini breakfast. Eggs and bacon. That sound good?"
"I guess so," he mumbled.
As Clark grabbed eggs out of the fridge, he spoke up, careful not to scare the boy with too much, too fast. "How did you know my name?"
"Batman told me. Well, Bruce did. He wasn't in the costume when he said it."
"And when was that?"
"How many fuckin' questions are you gonna ask," he sighed angrily. "Jesus."
"I'm sorry if it feels like I'm grilling you. I just don't understand-"
"You'd think Batman and Superman would communicate more about stuff like this." A mutter, practically under his breath.
"Batman and Superman, huh, kid?"
"You don't have to play dumb. I know you're Superman. He told me."
"Well then, you must be pretty special," Clark smiled. "How do you like your eggs, bud?"
"However you were gonna cook 'em is fine," he looked away. Clark hummed, before he heard someone clear their throat. Bruce had made his way into the room.
"Clark," he said, and the Kryptonian knew he was attempting to tread lightly. "This is Jason. Jason Todd. Jason, this is Clark, my partner I was telling you about. Though, it seems you've become familiar."
"I just got home," Clark smiled at his lover, but not without some question in his tone. "I was just making us a little snack."
"Jason, did you tell him why I brought you here?" A squinting of eyes, almost a contest between the two of them. The boy grumbled something inaudibly. "What was that?"
"No, okay? Fuckin' hell, with you," Jason crossed his arms, then looked back over at Clark. "I'm here because I tried to steal his tires."
"And why would I bring you here because of that?"
"Because I need help, apparently," he threw his arms up. "I do fine for myself. Have for years. Don't know what the big deal is, all of a sudden."
"Jason," Bruce's voice was collected in a way he had never heard before. "I'm only asking for three weeks, remember? If you still feel that way then, you can go back to Crime Alley. But, please stay with us for a bit. You don't have to be the only one looking after yourself."
Jason huffed, but still muttered a 'thanks' as Clark placed a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him.
That night, after they had shown Jason a room he could make his, Bruce and Clark settled into their bed together the way they always did. But, as Bruce placed his head over Clark's heart and waited for those soft hands to begin carding through his hair, Clark deviated from their routine by whispering:
"You're not actually going to let that boy go back to living in Crime Alley, right?" he sounded weary.
"Of course I'm not," Bruce lifted his head up. "But he needs to know he has choices. Forcing him to stay here would only make him want to leave."
Clark hummed, finally placing his hand in Bruce's hair. The latter put his head back down. "Did he really try to steal the tires off your car?"
"Yeah. Almost got away with it, too. He was on the last one when I found him."
A pause. "Why didn't you tell me earlier, B?"
"I thought you might think I only wanted to take him in because I missed Dick," he exhaled. "Like I had empty nest syndrome, or something."
"If that's the case, then we both have it. There's no way I'm letting him go back to that place," Clark frowned. "It's not right, how some kids have to live like that."
"I know, darling," Bruce felt his eyes drooping. "Just keep your ears out for him, please."
"Promise," Clark gently kissed the top of his head.
It had been seven months, and Jason was still living at Wayne Manor. Bruce had called his bluff. He would stay.
With every day that passed, he got more comfortable. Now, Jason actually felt secure enough to ask for things, which was a big development—one that Clark was not ashamed to admit made him extremely emotional. But, honestly, how many people wouldn't cry if the orphaned child they took in from the literal streets asked if they could go to the Gotham Zoo, and did it so sweetly?
And they did go to the zoo. Dick tagged along as well, since he had a free day, which resulted in Bruce's new favorite picture: a candid he had taken of the boys hanging upside down from monkey bars, laughing, while Clark reached to tickle them with a blinding grin on his face.
It wasn't all laughs, of course. Jason was an angry kid, and he had every right to be. Bruce tried to harness that anger into training, but not for Robin. Not yet.
Though, after a long talk with Dick, the mantle of Robin would indeed be passed down to the new Wayne, whenever he was ready. Dick took the new title of Nightwing, the name taken from a Kryptonian folk tale Clark used to recite for him at bedtime. It fit him, but the new development still caused a twinge in both Bruce and Clark's hearts as their son spread his wings. And, yes, Clark did cry to 'Breakaway' by Kelly Clarkson when it played on the radio. So what? He loved his son.
The biggest sign of Jason's progress, though, was when he began to call Clark 'Pops.' Dick had given him the title long ago, as a more "country-bumpkin" (direct quote from nine-year-old Dick) way to say 'Dad,' which he had given to Bruce.
It was the day after the zoo trip, and the two of them were lounged in the library—their favorite spot to be together—when Jason asked him a question, rather out-of-the-blue.
"What does it mean to actually love someone?" he looked up from his book, adorable crease between his brows. "These characters keep saying 'love,' but I don't think they mean it."
"Well, it depends," Clark met his puzzled gaze. "There are a bunch of different kinds of love. I love Bruce in a different way than I love you and Dick, and I love you boys in a different way than I love my friends. But it's all love, at the end of the day."
Jason made a sound, encouraging him to continue.
"But the one thing that all kinds of love have in common is wanting to care for someone else. Like, I would go run errands for Bruce, or tuck you and Dick in at night, or bring my friends food if they were sick all without a second thought, because I love you and want to help make your life easier. Does that make sense to you?"
"It makes sense," the boy looked back down at the page of his book. "I don't think these people love each other."
"Well, you'll have to let me know what ends up happening," he smiled, and there was a gleam in Clark's eye. The gleam he got whenever he looked at his family, before he said something tender. "I love you more than you'll ever know, Jaybird."
"Whatever, Pops," Jason looked away, embarrassed in the way that only a pre-teen could muster. But, after a few minutes had gone by, he managed: "I love you, too."
Clark set his book down, tightly hugging his youngest son close. Jason clutched him back, and he could hear soft sniffles being muffled by the collar of his shirt. He kissed his forehead, whispering, "Oh, Jason. My baby boy."
They spent a lot of time in the library. Even though Jason had become Robin and was training with Bruce, Clark still believed he needed a 'kid' hobby.
Finding Dick a hobby had been easy, since that kid loved everything, but Jason was a tougher nut to crack. He hadn't shown much interest in anything. Clark guessed that stemmed from his lack of downtime while living in poverty. Unfortunately, he always had other things to worry about.
As they tested what he liked to do, they found that Jason was absolutely captivated by stories. No matter what they were doing, whether it be running track or painting, whenever Bruce or Clark related the activity to a personal memory, his eyes lit up in interest. That gave Clark the bright idea to begin reading with him. At first, nothing came of it. The boy never had time to sit and crack a book open before, so it wasn't engaging for him. But, as both Bruce and Clark read to him at night, he began to pick up books. Juvenile, initially, but quickly becoming more advanced. After two months, he was reading titles like The Grapes of Wrath and Pride and Prejudice. Clark had never been more proud.
They formed a two-person book club. Jason would find them books to read, then they would do chapter-by-chapter analyses of the characters, scenes, and themes. Even though they both loved discussing literature to no end, they still appreciated the comfort of silence when reading in the same space.
It seemed that, although he was only fourteen, Jason had found his calling. Bruce and Clark couldn't have been happier for him. They couldn't wait to watch this passion grow.
As Jason groggily walked down the stairs, wiping the sleep out of his eyes, he was met with... a sight.
His Dad and Pops were dancing. The stove was on, and they were dancing. Was that a fire hazard?
He couldn't dwell on the question for long, since he heard singing as he got closer. Singing! Did Bruce even know what singing was? He was so serious.
"...You do something to me that I can't explain. Hold me closer and I feel no pain, every beat of my heart, we got something going onnnn," Clark shimmied toward Bruce as he sung, laughing. "Come on, Bruce, sing it!"
He rolled his eyes, but Jason watched as the man started mumbling, "Tender love is blind, it requires a dedication."
His Pops just laughed louder, smushing their cheeks together as he hugged Bruce, who couldn't help but smile. "All this love we feel needs no conversation," He joined in again, pressing kisses to Bruce's face as he did so.
Jason decided that he was too hungry to acknowledge this... whatever this was. He sat on a kitchen stool, and immediately slumped to rest his head on his hand.
"Good morning, chum," his dad smiled at him.
"Someone's in a good mood," Jason cheeked, though the gleam in his eyes gave him away.
"Well, who wouldn't be?" He actually was in an uncharacteristically good mood, for this time of day. "I've got a loving partner and two wonderful sons who make me more proud of them every day."
"Gross."
"Yeah, yeah. I love you, Jason."
"Love you too, Dad," he mumbled.
"Oh, my boys. We just need Dickie to head over so I can get everyone's plates ready—" Clark began, but was promptly cut off by the front door opening.
"Guess who's ba-ack?" Dick intoned from the entryway. "I'm so ready for this french toast, you guys don't even know."
"Well, good. We were just talking about you," Clark smiled at his son as he made his way over to them.
"All good things, I hope."
"Only ever good things, Dickie-bird," Bruce pressed a small kiss to Dick's forehead.
He looked at the man in front of him, eyes sparkling with mirth. "What's gotten into Dad? He's awfully expressive this morning."
"Oh, Dick. You should've seen them," Jason said, over-exaggerated. "They were dancing when I walked down here. Honest-to-God, I think I just barely missed B getting twirled around."
Dick looked at his brother, then his parents, then back at Jason, before bursting into belly-laughter.
"Oh, I bet it was '80s country. That always gets Pops sentimental," he cackled, wiping make-believe tears from his eyes. "Which, then, gets B in a lovey-dovey mood."
"Hush, be happy your parents love each other," Clark scolded, but there was a smile on his face. "And that I have french toast with raspberries for you, if that's still the way you like it."
"That's perfect, Pops," he looked at Clark. "You know it is."
Once Clark set the table with their plates full of food and everyone sat down, he kissed every one of their cheeks before sitting down himself.
"My heart's going to explode, I love you guys so much," Clark beamed as he reached out to grab hold Bruce's hand.
"You are so goddamn weird, Pops," Jason shook his head.
"Don't listen to him. I understand what you're saying, Pa," Dick smiled reassuringly at Clark, their shared overwhelming compassion showing.
"Well, that's because you're weird too, Dick."
"Hey!"
They lost Jason on a Sunday.
There's nothing worse in the world, they think.
It hurt to do anything, knowing Jason was gone. That they'd never see the quick, embarrassed flush of his cheeks whenever they praised him, though they knew he loved it, ever again. That Dick would never get to hug his little brother again, or ruffle his hair. Or bicker like little kids, even if they were seven years apart.
Bruce shuts down, for a while. For a long time. He doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. Doesn't do much of anything, except sit and stare at the wall. It's Dick that snaps him out of it, sobbing to him about how he misses his dad, how he shouldn't have to miss someone who's still alive.
It doesn't get any easier.
Clark and Bruce can't look at each other without crying, sometimes.
Alfred tried to make comforting meals, but everything just tasted the same. Like gravel. Like pain.
They went to Smallville for a week, Bruce, Clark, and Dick. They can't remember anything about it, except the deep-seated ache engraved in all their chests. Not even time out in the Kansas sun could fix this hurt, Clark had thought bitterly. Nothing could.
And, maybe it was supposed to be that way. No parent should ever bury their child. No big brother should have to see the lifeless body of their younger sibling lowered into the ground. It's something that you can't move past. It's like they're all still there, on that night, looking at Bruce clutching Jason's beaten, bloodied body. He was so young. He should've been worried about geometry homework he hadn't finished, but instead he was gone. They'd never see that precious, moody, adolescent face again.
It was the lost future that pained them the most. At family dinner, when they can't pretend to have an appetite any longer, they talk about what would've been, alongside a chair that shouldn't be empty. How Jason was so bright, how he had wanted to go to school for English. How he thought that wouldn't be a worthy way to spend college, but the family encouraged him too much that passion outweighed everything else. He would've probably been more college-crazy now than he was before, but they wouldn't get to see him stressed out over applications, now.
Sometimes, all the time, Clark wishes it was him instead. He knows Bruce does too. Dick had told him, the day after the funeral, that he wished he could take Jason's place. The guilt just made everything worse.
All they could do was love. But, without the fourth member of their little family to love as well, it didn't feel like enough.