Chapter Text
"Dad, I need you to come to school.”
For a moment, Clark’s brain short-circuits. His mind races, scrambling to explain how he can have a child that sounds to be around ten years old. It takes him a moment—an embarrassingly long moment—to clock why he recognizes that voice.
“Dick?”
“Yeah, dad. Can you come?”
“Wha—” he starts, but there’s a rustle on the other end, and soon, another voice sounds over the line.
“Mr Kent?” Comes what Clark can only assume is the principal's voice. Clark clears his throat and straightens a bit.
“Yes? Yes.”
“This is Collingwood Hammer, headmaster of Gotham Academy. I’m calling because Richard Grayson got into a fight today. Do you think you can come by for a meeting?”
Clark opens and closes his mouth, words there, just out of reach, but refusing to come to him. His head is swimming with questions, the most prominent one being why? Why me? Why is this happening? Why aren’t they calling Bruce? Why is Dick calling me dad?
“Uhm—”
“Richard has informed us that Mr Wayne is unavailable, so it’s really important you come.”
Clark deflates. It sounds like he doesn’t really have a choice. Or, he does, but he doesn’t want to abandon Dick when he clearly needs him.
“I’ll be there,” he promises before he can think better of it.
“Great. I’ll see you soon, Mr Kent.”
They hang up.
Clark pockets his phone and turns his chair. Lois, feeling his eyes on her, looks to him and raises an eyebrow. He stands and approaches her.
“I have a thing,” he says, voice quiet as he leans down to talk in her ear. “A super thing.”
Her eyes go wide, and she nods fervently. “I’ll cover for you if Perry asks,” she says. Clark gives her a grateful smile.
“I won’t be long,” he promises. Lois nods.
“You owe me,” she tells him, poking him in the forehead. Clark laughs and straightens up.
“Absolutely,” he says, and turns to leave.
He makes it to the rooftop of the Daily Planet and immediately takes to the sky, high enough that people won’t see him as he races over the clouds. He hits Gotham in a matter of minutes and soon lands behind a tree just outside Gotham Academy. He runs a hand over his chest and legs to smooth out the material of his clothes, getting rid of any wrinkles. He pushes his glasses up his nose and gives one, determined nod to the air before rounding the tree and making it into the building.
It’s a big school, and only thanks to the signs put up does he manage to find the headmaster’s office. Before entering, he makes one attempt to reach Bruce—calling his phone. As no one answers, Clark takes a shaky breath, then knocks.
“Come in,” comes Mr Hammer’s voice. Clark pushes the door open and enters.
The first thing he sees is Dick, sitting on a couch and sporting an impressive black eye. Clark gapes, then immediately snaps to attention, approaching Dick with quick steps.
“What happened?” He asks as he sits down on the couch next to Dick and cradles his face.
Mr Hammer is seated behind his desk, his fingers threaded, with a displeased look on his face.
“Good of you to make it,” he states in a placid tone. “I’m surprised you could get here so fast.”
Clark looks over at him, still holding Dick’s face between his hands.
“I was just around the corner,” he lies. “I had business in the neighborhood.”
Mr Hammer nods. “Well, I’ve called you here because Richard got into a fight today.”
Clark finally lets go of Dick’s face to fully turn and face the headmaster.
“Yeah, I can see that. What happened?” He directs his question to Dick, who opens his mouth to speak. But before he can get a word out, Mr Hammer intervenes.
“As you probably know, we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to violence.”
Clark watches Dick shrink in on himself, and his jaw tightens. He turns his eyes to the headmaster.
“That’s all well and good. But what about the kid that did that to him?” He gestures at Dick’s black eye. Dick gives him a smile, a small thing that trembles at the corners. Mr Hammer clears his throat.
“As I understood it, Dick threw the first punch.”
Clark gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have done something like that unprovoked—” he starts.
“I was provoked,” Dick says quickly, before Mr Hammer can interrupt again. His voice is tight in that way Clark’s only heard a handful of times—usually when Bruce is bleeding and pretending he isn’t hurt. “They were talking about my parents.”
The room goes quiet. Clark feels something in his chest twist.
Mr Hammer sighs, like this is all terribly inconvenient. “Richard, regardless of what was said, violence is not an acceptable response.”
“They said my mom and dad died because they were stupid,” Dick snaps. “And then one of them said Bruce probably wishes I died too.”
Clark’s vision flashes red for half a second. Not heat vision. Just pure rage. Beside him, Dick goes rigid immediately, clearly realizing he said too much. His eyes dart toward Clark nervously, like he’s waiting for him to reconsider being here at all.
Clark doesn’t even hesitate.
“Well,” he says carefully, “that certainly sounds provoking.”
Mr Hammer pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mr Kent—”
“No, because I’d really like to understand the school’s logic here,” Clark says, tone still polite despite the steel underneath it. “A group of boys insults an orphan’s dead parents and guardian, and the concern is that Dick threw a punch?”
Dick makes a strangled sound beside him, somewhere between horrified and delighted.
Mr Hammer straightens. “The other boys are also being disciplined.”
“Did they get called into the office with a black eye?” Clark asks.
“No, because Richard escalated the situation physically.”
Clark exhales slowly through his nose. Right. Okay. He should probably stop before he says something unhelpful. Bruce would know how to navigate this kind of conversation. Bruce would probably already have the school’s donor board memorized and know exactly which pressure points to push.
Unfortunately for Gotham Academy, they got Clark instead.
He glances sideways at Dick again. The bruise is ugly, already darkening beneath his eye.
“You should put ice on that,” Clark murmurs.
Dick ducks his head a little. “Yeah.”
Mr Hammer clears his throat again, louder this time. “As I was saying, Richard will be serving a week of detention.”
“A week?” Clark repeats.
“It is standard policy.”
Dick immediately speaks up. “It’s fine—”
“It’s not fine,” Clark says automatically.
Dick blinks at him.
Clark blinks back.
Something shifts strangely in the room. Something soft and dangerous all at once. Because Dick is looking at him like he’s in awe.
Which—of course isn’t the first time. Dick had been quite the Superman fanboy when they first met. Honestly, it stings a bit that he thought Clark wouldn’t stand up for him. He got hurt. Someone said cruel things about his family. Bruce isn’t here. Someone has to be on his side. Of course that someone is going to be Clark. For as long as Dick will allow it.
Clark straightens in his seat.
“With all due respect, sir, I think a week is excessive considering the circumstances.”
Mr Hammer gives him a long look. “Are you suggesting we excuse violence?”
“No,” Clark says evenly. “I’m suggesting context matters.”
For a moment, nobody speaks.
Then Dick quietly says, “I only hit him once.”
Clark looks at him.
Dick scowls at the floor. “Okay, twice.”
Mr Hammer makes a noise of vindication.
“But the second one barely counts,” Dick adds defensively. “He ducked.”
Clark has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. From the look on Dick’s face, he barely succeeds.
He clears his throat and turns to the headmaster.
Mr Hammer gives him a look. “Regardless. The detention stands. I expect Richard’s guardians to reinforce that this behavior is unacceptable.”
Clark blinks. Guardians. His eyes drift to Dick, who affects a look of innocence.
“Of course,” Clark says slowly, eyes going to the headmaster. “We do not condone violence in our household.”
Dick stifles a giggle beside him, and Clark resists the urge to shoot him a glare.
“That being said,” Clark continues. “If Dick is serving a week’s detention, I’m going to need a bit more than they’re being disciplined when it comes to his bullies.”
Mr Hammer studies him for a long moment, and Clark meets the look evenly. Beside him, Dick has gone suspiciously still. It takes Clark a second to realize why.
Oh.
Dick’s waiting to see if Clark is bluffing.
Well. That settles that, then.
Mr Hammer leans back in his chair with a measured sigh. “The students involved will also be serving detention.”
“For how long?” Clark asks immediately.
“Mr Kent—”
“A week?” Clark presses.
The headmaster’s lips flatten. “Three days.”
Clark raises an eyebrow.
“And mandatory counselling sessions,” Mr Hammer adds, sounding deeply put upon.
Only then does Clark nod once. “Thank you.”
Dick is openly staring at him now. Clark pointedly ignores it.
Mr Hammer folds his hands together atop the desk. “I trust that will satisfy your concerns.”
“Mostly,” Clark says before he can stop himself.
Dick makes a tiny choking sound that might’ve been a laugh.
Mr Hammer’s eye twitches.
Clark decides he should probably stop talking before he accidentally ends up banned from Gotham Academy.
He puts a hand on Dick’s shoulder and jostles him lightly. “Are you okay with that?” He asks softly.
Dick stares at him for a long time, eyes wide and full of a vulnerable sort of wonder. He looks so young like this, and it’s hard to believe that this is the same boy who ran circles around Penguin’s goons just last week.
After a beat, he jerks his head in a small nod, lips pressed together. Clark responds in kind, giving a small nod before turning back to the headmaster.
“Was there anything else?” He asks, hand wandering down Dick’s arm to grab his hand. Dick holds onto him tightly.
Mr Hammer shakes his head. “That is all. Be sure to have a conversation with Richard about resorting to violence.”
Clark wants to roll his eyes, but instead, he nods. “We will.”
He stands then, Dick following—still holding his hand.
“Well,” He says, feeling a little awkward after everything. “Uhm. Take care?”
Mr Hammer raises an eyebrow. “You too,” he replies slowly. Clark nods.
“Bye.”
He hastily makes it out of the office, dragging Dick with him. As soon as they’re off school grounds, Clark lets go of Dick and turns to face him. He raises an eyebrow.
”Dad?” He just says.
Dick ducks his head and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He scuffs the ground with his shoes before looking up at Clark.
“I needed to clue you in without saying too much. He was breathing down my neck!” He says, a bit defensively.
“You don’t even call Bruce dad,” he points out. “Don’t you think you were laying it on a bit thick?”
Dick shrugs. “He bought it, didn’t he?”
Clark huffs out an incredulous little laugh and shakes his head.
“Why, Dick?” He asks then. “Why lie?”
Dick looks away. His bottom lip starts wobbling, and for a terrible moment, Clark thinks he’s going to cry.
“I messed up,” he admits in a small voice.
Clark feels his heart ache.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he says softly, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Those boys—”
“Not that,” Dick turns to look at him now, lowering his voice. “Last night. On patrol. I messed up, and B got hurt.”
Clark takes a breath, feeling his chest constrict at that information.
“Is he—?”
Dick swallows. “He’s fine. But he was mad at me.”
Clark breathes out, and he places his other hand on Dick’s other shoulder, now holding him steady.
“You know he’s only mad because he’s scared, right?” He says softly. Dick looks up at him with an outraged expression.
“No way!” Dick protests. “B isn’t scared of anything.”
Clark nearly laughs, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“He’s very brave,” Clark agrees in an amicable tone. “But there is one thing I know he’s terrified of.”
Dick stares up at him, eyes wide and mouth open.
“What?” He whispers breathlessly. Clark squeezes his shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes.
“Losing you.”
Dick opens and closes his mouth, looking to be searching for words that won’t come. Finally, he just whispers, “Oh,” and stares down at his feet.
Clark ruffles his hair. “So, you got scared of telling him you got into a fight because you felt he was already mad at you for last night?”
Dick bites his bottom lip and nods. “I thought you—you’re always telling me I can come to you if I need anything. I didn’t know if you actually meant it or if you were just being—you.”
Clark frowns. “Of course I meant it. Dick, you can always come to me, for anything. I might not always be able to help, but I’ll always listen.”
Dick swallows. “You helped. I didn’t think—I did hit him, you know? I didn’t think you’d take my side after that.”
Clark looks around to make sure no one can hear him, then he leans down until he’s eye-level with Dick.
“Between you and me, he deserved it,” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth.
Dick looks absolutely delighted at that.
“That being said,” Clark continues. “I am going to have to tell Bruce about this. I can’t hide it from him. It wouldn’t be right.”
Dick’s shoulders slump in defeat, and he nods slowly. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I figured as much.”
Clark ruffles his hair. “Hey, it won’t be that bad.”
Dick stares at the ground, sulking. “He’s gonna lecture me,” he whines. “His lectures always last hours!”
Clark shivers. “You don’t need to tell me that. I’ve been on the receiving end a few times myself.”
Dick’s eyes go wide. “Really?”
Clark laughs softly. “Do you think you’re the only one who’s messed up and gotten B hurt?” He asks, playfully hip-checking Dick. “I mess up all the time, kiddo. And then B has to lecture me for hours about what I did wrong.”
Dick gapes. “I didn’t know,” he whispers.
Clark shrugs. “Well, it’s true. But listen, no matter how many times I mess up, B always gives me another chance, and he always forgives me. Just like I forgive him when he messes up. He’s going to be upset, but only because he cares about you. He’ll get over it eventually.”
Dick gnaws on his bottom lip. “You think so?” He asks in a small voice.
Clark smiles. “I know so. Now, come on. Let’s get you home.” He hunches down so Dick can climb up on his back. When he’s comfortably seated, Clark takes to the sky, flying towards Wayne Manor.
This, he thinks, is going to be awkward.