Chapter Text
Bruce is bored.
This is a fairly new concept to him. Usually, he’s always active – always doing something, though it doesn’t matter what.
It’s a bit concerning. Peace isn’t really a concept in Gotham. Bruce is on high alert, constantly checking for any signs of danger, but nothing in particular is sticking out to him.
Most days, he’d be at home investigating a case, but today he’s stuck at Wayne Tower listening to some bullshit-spewing capitalist losers ramble on about potential business prospects and collaborations.
“The opium trade needs to be reinstated,” one of them says.
“Er, no thank you,” Bruce says, pushing past into the lobby.
The lobby is a large, luxurious space. With its glass roof, it was designed for plenty of sunshine to flood in, except in Gotham, that was never going to happen to begin with. There are plants – fake ones, after the real ones all shrivelled up when Bruce forgot to hire gardeners – dotted around, and more than enough food stalls set up in nooks and crannies.
“We’re setting up oil rigs in Gotham Harbor–” another businessman says.
“Not really my thing,” Bruce muses, and the businessman opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when the glass roof suddenly shatters.
Something – no, someone – falls through the roof, crashing through and landing on the floor in a cascade of broken glass. A blur of blue and red lands at Bruce’s feet, creating a small crater in the linoleum flooring.
“Superman?!” someone splutters.
“In Gotham?” someone else says.
Bruce blinks, staring down at… Superman.
“B-Bruce,” Clark gasps as the small crowd around them begins to grow. “I didn’t know where else to go– sorry–”
Bruce drops to his knees, pulling Clark’s head into his lap.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says in a hushed voice.
“‘M sorry,” Clark croaks, and it becomes clear he’s struggling to breathe. “I tried, I promise– they had– and–”
“They? Who’s they?” Bruce asks, slapping Clark lightly on the cheek to keep him awake. “Stay with me, c’mon.”
“I’m with you,” Clark slurs. “‘M always… with you…”
Bruce hisses out a curse. He had no idea Clark was even involved in a fight today. He thought Clark was supposed to be working a case at the Planet, but apparently not.
Clark’s curled up in a ball, wrapped in his thick red cape, so it’s a hell of an effort to try and figure out his injuries. In the end, Bruce uselessly tugs at the end of the cape, trying to will the fabric from Clark’s tight grip.
“N-no,” Clark pants. “Can’t– there’s–”
“I need to know if you’re hurt,” Bruce tells him.
The look on Clark’s face is pained. His eyes are glazed as they dart around the place, focusing on random people and things.
Finally, Clark’s hold on the cape loosens. Bruce is quick to unravel it, tossing any extra fabric aside to inspect Clark’s injuries.
He almost drops Clark in shock.
There are quite a few visible injuries – deep ones, too, those should probably be dealt with sooner rather than later – but that’s not what catches Bruce’s attention.
No, instead, he’s stuck staring at the baby swaddled in a torn-off section of Clark’s cape. One of Clark’s hands is clutching his shoulder, where a sickly green glow illuminates his skin, and the other hand is wrapped around the baby protectively.
It’s a literal baby, there’s no denying that.
Bruce doesn’t get much of a chance to process any of this, because Clark’s eyelids flicker and suddenly he’s out cold, his head resting in Bruce’s lap. At least Bruce manages to instinctively catch the baby before it can fall out of Clark’s grip.
-
Bruce scrolls through his social media feed with little interest. Everyone’s gossiping. That seems to be the general idea of social media, but today, they’re gossiping about him. Bruce Wayne and Superman, to be specific.
And the baby.
There’s no forgetting about the baby.
This is fake, is the first comment under a video of Clark and Bruce’s short exchange in the Wayne Tower lobby. Bruce huffs out a laugh. He sort of wishes it is fake. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with the inevitable aftermath that’s going to pour down on him once he finally returns to Earth.
Right now, he’s in space, aboard the Watchtower, playing Bruce Wayne, the concerned… something… to Superman. The Justice League have no idea what to do with him, so they’ve left him in Clark’s recovery room with Hal of all people.
It’s times like these when he wishes he’d just told the League his identity along with the rest of them. But he hasn’t, and he won’t, not while he’s got important people to protect.
Hal’s too busy fiddling with a rubik's cube to give a shit about Bruce. Every time he comes close to solving it, he’ll mess it up again, and Bruce has become tired of watching that happen.
Hal probably has it in him somewhere to complete the puzzle, but he’s definitely distracted, so Bruce can’t blame him for not being able to focus on the plastic cube.
Bruce rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone. The second post he comes across is… odd.
Are Superman and Bruce Wayne dating? It asks.
Bruce frowns at the screen, staring at it for so long it fades and he has to tap it to keep it from turning off.
No? Why would they be dating?
I swear they are!! One of the comments under the post says.
Superwayne?? Someone else says. Bruce isn’t sure what that means, but it doesn’t seem bad. Then again, it doesn’t seem very good, either.
Lol absolutely not! Superman’s not gay, a different comment says.
Hahahaha #Superfag
Bruce frowns at that last one. He hovers his thumb over the report button, and just as he’s about to click it, he hears bedsheets rustling as Clark stirs from his drug-induced sleep. He sets his phone down and tightens his grip on Clark’s hand.
Clark hums as he blinks groggily. His eyes land on Bruce first, and he lifts his lips into a lop-sided grin.
“Bruce,” he mumbles happily.
Hal’s eyes snap up from the rubik’s cube.
“Oh, shoot– hey, Supes, you’re awake!” he scrambles to his feet, tossing the cube aside. “I’ll go get a doctor. You wait here, kay?”
“‘M not going anywhere,” Clark says dazedly, peering down at himself.
Hal hurries out of the door, and soon they’re alone.
Clark watches him go. He glances at Bruce again, tilting his head slightly, then winces.
“Are you okay?” Bruce asks quickly.
“Yeah. ‘S just my shoulder. Hurts.” Clark sits there for a minute, his eyes slowly sweeping around the room. There’s a small frown knitting his brows together. “What happened?”
Bruce hesitates. He… doesn’t actually know.
“I’m not sure,” he confesses, and it feels weird to say, because he’s usually so in control.
It must be even weirder to hear, because Clark’s face goes all funny as he tries to wrap his head around this fact.
“You were shot,” Bruce states. That he knows. “And… there’s a baby.”
“Oh,” Clark’s frown fades. His smile goes gooey and his eyes soften. “Yeah. The baby.”
Now Bruce is really confused. Or maybe curious? Or both. He’s not sure. The thing is, Clark doesn’t have a kid. He and Lois broke up a while back, and Bruce knows for certain that they never had a kid together. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be as young as the baby resting in the room down the hall.
“Can you tell me anything you remember?” Bruce asks, shifting forward in his uncomfortable plastic chair.
“Huh? Uh… yeah,” Clark narrows his eyes. “There were… people. They had guns. Um. Kryptonite.”
“Yes, they hit you,” Bruce confirms. Clark doesn’t seem to fully understand what’s real and fake. “What about the baby? What’s that about?”
“The baby was created in a lab,” Clark explains loosely. “I… I don’t actually know much. I got a USB drive, but that’s all… oh, and I think there might be–”
“Yo! I’m back,” Hal interrupts, apparently oblivious to whatever Clark was about to say.
Bruce forces himself not to pull a face. What was Clark going to tell him? It sounded important.
There’s a doctor trailing behind Hal. She’s a familiar face, as she’s always working with the medical team aboard the Watchtower. She hurries over to Clark’s bedside and completes a few tests.
Diana’s there too. She’s standing in the doorway, frowning minutely as she watches Clark thank the doctor profusely.
After at least half a dozen tests, the doctor reports a clean bill of health. She leaves quickly, and then it’s Hal and Diana standing across the room from Bruce and Clark.
“Well,” Hal says, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I, uh, better get going.”
“Bye?” Clark mumbles as Hal shuffles out of the door.
Diana slides the door shut behind him. She turns to Bruce and Clark. Her face softens.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“I’m alright,” Clark says, struggling to sit himself up. “How’s the baby?”
“Fine,” Diana answers. “It’s a boy, by the way.”
“Whose baby is it?” Bruce asks, letting his curiosity get the best of him. It doesn’t really matter what he says around Diana. She knows who he is, as does Clark, unlike the rest of the League. He trusts her, and he trusts her to explain what’s going on.
“Well– they aren’t sure,” Diana begins tentatively. “They haven’t completed any tests yet…”
“He’s ours,” Clark says abruptly.
Bruce’s eyes snap to his, wide and confused. Ours? What’s Clark on about?
Clark meets Bruce’s eyes slowly. He has a small smile on his face. It’s a nervous, timid smile, like he isn’t sure whether he should be smiling or not.
“Uh, they told me the baby was created using mine and your DNA.” Clark says.
Bruce freezes in place. Clark’s talking to him. He’s… he’s insinuating that the baby is Bruce’s.
“Impossible,” Bruce says firmly. “I’m very careful about leaving DNA around as Batman–”
“But as Bruce Wayne?” Clark prompts, causing Bruce to cringe.
Yeah, okay, he has a point there.
When Bruce looks back at Diana, she seems unsure. She glances up to meet Bruce’s eyes, then looks over to Clark.
“What are you going to do with the child?” she asks with a frown.
Bruce still hasn’t got over the idea that the child might possibly be his. An actual human child biologically linked to Bruce Wayne, aka The Batman? It’s a bad idea.
“Whaddya mean?” Clark asks, fiddling with one of the IV drip tubes by his bedside. “We’re obviously not gonna abandon the baby.”
“Oh, I never doubted that, but–”
“But what?” Bruce interrupts, sensing a problem arising.
Diana lets out a deep breath.
“There are… issues. Legal ones.” Diana bites out. She doesn’t seem very happy about it. “I’m not fluent in human law, but some of the League – particularly Dinah, you should talk to her – well, they seem to think the government wouldn’t want to admit a child into the care of a superhero.”
“Why not?” Clark asks.
“It’s dangerous, for one,” Diana states. “But that’s not all. The government can’t track a superhero without knowing their identity. And unless you’re willing to reveal your biggest secret to them, then… well, I’ve been struggling to see a way around it.”
“And it would be bizarre if Clark Kent, a bumbling reporter from nowhere, was to suddenly decide to adopt a child linked to a superhero,” Bruce says.
Clark visibly deflates in his hospital bed. He glances at Bruce as if he has an answer to his problems. Bruce, deep in thought, chews on the inside of his cheek. They can’t let the kid get taken by social services, not when any villain could swoop in and steal the baby.
But…
“Can’t I?” Bruce says.
It only makes sense. He was seen with Superman, who went to Bruce first – and a part of him is really struggling to understand why that is – and publicly entrusted Bruce with the child.
“The public have already made up their minds,” Bruce continues when there’s silence in the room. “They think we’re… involved. Why not let them run with it, and I can take legal custody of the child while ‘Superman’ acts as my partner.”
It’s stupid. It’s so incredibly stupid that it almost hurts Bruce to think about it but who cares? Bruce Wayne is always doing dumb shit. Having a child with Superman isn’t exactly outside of ‘dumb shit’ territory.