Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The oldest of his children is well into his twenties. Still, Bruce finds himself saying, “Dick, could you please stop playing with your brother's stuffed animals? We have to leave and you’re distracting him.”

Damian, of course, had not said anything, but the tugs on Bruce’s pants were enough for the toddler to make it very clear that he does not appreciate Dick making his lion roar and his pig oink. At least, Dick did not touch the damn cow. Bruce had made the mistake of forgetting it at Kate’s when they visited and Damian ignored him for days. 

“You’re okay on your own here?” he asks Dick while scooping up the youngest. 

Dick sighs, “You do know I live on my own.”

He does. The only reason Bruce has another resident of apartment 319 right now is because of some construction on Dick’s place in Blüdhaven. Still, he worries. Being a parent, Bruce has realized, doesn’t stop once they leave. Or once they turn 18 or 21 or any figure representative of adulthood. No, his kids will always be his to care for, sometimes to unnecessary measures. 

“We’ll be back by three at the latest. I’ll bring lunch so don’t worry yourself in the kitchen. And-”

“Bye, Bruce,” Dick interrupts, sounding exasperated, then turns his attention to Damian. “Bye, baby,” he adds in a considerably softer tone.

Damian’s rich eyes, holding so much intelligence, meet Dick’s before landing back on Bruce’s. His mouth has a slight downward curve, always too serious, but his tiny hand moves in the slightest of waves. Damian loves his big brother too much to leave without so much as acknowledgement.

Bruce has been taking care of Damian for nearly a year and the toddler is still the youngest child he’s ever been responsible for. It’s a learning process he’s fully willing to experience. In fact, he takes so much joy from seeing the child develop and come out of his shell in the most minute ways; like with the cow fiasco. Bruce was still happy to see Damian express opinion and stance so vehemently. The boy had a different initial upbringing than most others and it’s not his mother, Talia, that Bruce took problem with. Her ways of showing love are different but not wrong. The proximity to her father in that environment, however, is what made Bruce ultimately take the child. He was always going to have a place in Damian’s life, yet when he saw the bruises on the baby’s side and the way his child could cry without making a sound, Talia couldn’t even convincingly lie to herself about what had happened. He may not have gotten her blessing on his way with Damian, but he got her permission, which meant more than words could explain. 

Part of Bruce’s method of upbringing is, unfortunately for them both, breaking the childhood isolation with parent groups. He thinks they both hate the socialization and activities in equal amounts but Bruce forces them to stick to a schedule in going. It will do Damian good, Bruce says to himself every day before meeting the too bright organization leader in the morning.

Bruce has never liked mornings.

Today, the head of the group signals over to them with glee and they sit in the usual circle. Seeing the familiar faces is nice, Bruce can admit. Kenan Kong walks around the adults, speaking mainly gibberish. Baxi Wang follows with the cutest pout on his face. This arrangement takes place in the library, Bruce’s favorite location of the parent groups. The children’s section is colorful, art lining the walls. Bruce sees Damian now, tracking the lines of a rainbow and following it to a sunny sky.

A cheerful voice breaks Damian’s focus, as the leader starts by calling out “good morning” and the obligatory “I couldn't hear you” until the kids are screaming the words back at her.

Damian, as if on cue, looks at Bruce with dislike.

The progress they made today was minimal. Damian did give Bruce a book that he took from another group of kids. It was shiny and gold, so thus highly treasured among them all. Damian gave it to him like it was a trophy whilst the others cried in the background to complete the battlefield scene. Times like these are the only reason Damian even acknowledges his peers but it only strengthens Bruce’s resolve to come back tomorrow, after apologizing to the right people.

“We do not take from others,” Bruce tells Damian as they stand in line at Gary’s to bring back food.

Bruce isn’t totally certain Damian understands. The language aspect of his childhood is complicated and most definitely adds to his hesitance in speaking because theoretically, one Damian’s age would be talking in near complete sentences by now. They tried ASL, or rather, the baby signs and Damian just wrote it off. He has the same grasp of understanding others in his range do, the doctor had explained, he will reach out eventually.

He does. Bruce can’t complain. Damian lets Bruce know what he’s thinking in smaller ways like the earlier pant tugs.

“See,” Bruce talks in his gentle way of speaking to his youngest, a voice he once used on Dick and Jason when he was still able to lift them into bed. “We don’t like Dick stealing our toys. We shouldn’t steal others'.”

The conversation with Damian lasts him the entire trip back. He explains the laws surrounding his bad behavior, in addition to the origins of such. As they approach the apartments, another voice cuts in Bruce’s description. 

“Are you talking about Hammurabi's Code with a child?” The man speaking is standing right in Bruce’s way, moving boxes in his hand and a vibrant red baby stroller at his waist. 

Just as Bruce opens his mouth to answer the man, Dick shouts from further in the entrance, “Bruce! Meet Clark! He’s your neighbor!” Dick also has a few boxes in hand and the narrative of his son’s afternoon slides into place.

Clark shuffles his boxes into his left hand and reaches out with his right. “Oh, Bruce. It’s good to meet you. Dick has been telling me so much about you.”

Bruce tries to send a glare to Dick but the younger man has fled. “It’s nice to meet you,” Bruce settles on replying. Bruce takes one look at Damian and they silently agree he can walk. After setting down his son, Bruce grabs the end of Clark’s stroller. “Allow me to walk you up.”

“Oh thank you so much! You guys are so polite.” Clark continues what was supposed to be a short conversation as they wait for the elevator and walk to the rooms. He doesn’t really stop for a breath the whole time. “Your son, Dick, has really helped me this whole time with my boxes. I mean it would have been real trouble for me with the parking garage on the other end and not wanting to leave Jon during the trip. Dick just came right out to help.”

Alfred would be proud of them, Bruce thinks during Clark’s never ending speech. Bruce moved to a smaller place once his kids started leaving. It just wasn’t sustainable any more. He couldn’t use all that space if he tried. When he was situated with Damian, Duke and Cass started their plan of convincing him they should live on the campus of Gotham Academy. Duke even presented an argument over saving gas and time to drive there every day, sometimes multiple times a day for club or dance pickup. Bruce wouldn’t hesitate to drive if that’s what they needed, though. Both of them know they can stay with him if they need support anyway. No matter if they’re on official break or require some extra hugs or are stressed for a recital or need to study or anything. But given the lack of children, area, and driving needs, Alfred felt retirement calling him back to England. Nevertheless, this does not mean Alfred is off their back about manners and etiquette. 

“Alright this is me.” Clark says at door 321. Dick did not overstate the term neighbors. “Sorry for talking your ear off and really, thank you for the help.”

“Sure,” Bruce shrugs awkwardly, feeling off balance by the genuineness that Clark radiates. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Bruce catches Clarks eyes as he’s prepared to go, and can’t seem to look away from the beauty there. When they do break contact, Bruce notices Damian seems not to have liked their trip delay and wandered over to the stroller. Damian also must have investigated the stroller because he holds a stuffed dog that belongs to the stroller’s resident. 

“I’m so sorry!” Bruce scoops up Damian while giving the white dog back to the child, who looks like a near replica to his father and is, surprisingly, not crying. The kid’s eyes are big as he simply observes his toy being handed back to him. The boy is smaller than Damian, bundled up with red blankets to match his stroller. He looks all around adorable. 

“Guess you need to study more of Hammurabi's Code,” Clark jokes. “Say goodbye Jon!”

The child exaggeratedly pushes his lips together and giggles, “Mwah.” It raises his adorable level considerably. 

When Bruce had turned and diverted attention to his own door, he hears Clark whisper, “No that’s for Papa, Jon. Remember how we wave to others?”

Bruce opens the door to find Dick on the kitchen table with a smirk too big it’s dangerous. It actually physically makes Bruce pull out Dick’s lunch from his messenger bag and peg it at him. Bruce has no say in the matter

“Clark is super nice, Bruce.”

Bruce ignores what Dick is trying to get at and makes himself purposely oblivious. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“Bruce.”

“Dick.” Bruce raises his eyebrow, an Alfred taught expression.

“You should make friends! I mean, don’t you want to teach Damian to do the same? And Clark has a son too. Did you see Jon? They're really good people. Come on! Go to the park together! Hang out! Have a good time!”

The words come out as a whine, missing the calm Bruce is trying for. “I have friends.” 

“Bruce, you have children.”

“Alfred-”

“Is your father.”

“Selina, Talia, Diana-”

“Your exes.”

“John,-” 

“Who?”

“Constantine.”

“Also an ex, even if I can’t prove it.”

“Barry,-”

“Okay Barry. Your friends are your exes and my best friend’s Uncle.”

“Hm. Harley?”

“Harley? When do you hang out with Harley?”

“I join her and Ivy at brunch twice a month on Tuesdays.”

Dick freezes and Bruce begins to feel triumphant. 

“What?” Dick spits out.

Bruce doesn’t think the disbelief deserves an answer so he unpacks the bag of food and Damian’s things. 

“When did this happen?”

“After Harley broke up the Jerk again I ran into her at the diner. She was pretty broken up about what happened. I stayed with her a bit and we made plans for the next week. Soon she brought Ivy along as her girlfriend. Ivy doesn’t come to every brunch but when she does she has some interesting points to make about the green activism she’s up to. It’s very enjoyable. I also visit Harvey at the hospital, see Jim golfing, and get coffee with Lucius.”

Bruce feels like a winner after the speech, yet Dick remains dumbfounded.

“I have friends,” he adds, in case the meaning was lost. 

“If you’re happy with that social circle,” Dick shrugs. The punk.

Dick leaves him after another day. The construction isn’t finished but he has decided to stay with Kori. Dick did take Damian on a trip out before leaving, which the youngest seems to have enjoyed if his ice cream covered face and sun pink cheeks said anything. Not to mention the small, although extremely bright smiles he kept sending his big brother’s way. 

Now, Dick’s gone back to the city and their schedules are back to normal. Damain said a big goodbye, even giving Dick the lion plush to look after. Days start to feel the same; they go to the groups at the library and museum and park; their new neighbors aren’t a big disturbance to their rhythm. Crossing paths with Clark is always a pleasant experience because of Jon, who is never missing from Clark’s side. The child seems like the happiest on the planet, with huge, wondrous eyes and various, animated reactions. Hand clapping is becoming a growing favorite.

It’s two weeks after meeting the family when this changes.

Bruce opens the door after the knocks, knowing Damian was down for an afternoon nap and Tim was in the back bedroom unpacking. Their apartment had three bedrooms. Bruce sleeps in the master and Damian sleeps in the one besides that. The back bedroom holds two sets of bunk beds for the boys, when they visit, and Damian’s bedroom holds an extra bed for when Cass comes over at the same time. Usually around the holiday’s, Bruce ends up on the pull out couch and Alfred in the master. The arrangement works for all of them, but in the span of a few days, most need a break from each other. The same problems occurred at the manor, though, so there really is nothing particularly wrong with the smaller space. The boys are usually the most squished in the back bedroom, but they organize themselves well. Jason, for obvious reasons, takes the bottom bunk and Dick is on top of his set. Then, Tim and Duke have some way of figuring out their arrangement that consists of games and puzzles. By the end of it, they both grow so tired they crash at the bottom together. Bruce was worried about the apartment at first, thinking: what if everyone was there and Barbara or Steph or Luke or Kate or Helena wanted to crash? Duke was the one to point out that, now that he wasn’t in Bristol, he would be closer to Barbara's place and downtown so anyone could find a space to rest easily. It was a solid point for apartment 319.

Resident of 321 stands behind the door, a tragedy only because Clark doesn’t have his baby and Bruce is wearing pajama pants at noon.

“Hey, sorry to disturb you,” Clark starts. 

“It’s okay.”

“I just wanted to invite you to a get together at my place later. I’m having a few friends over for a ‘moved-in’ celebration. Nothing too big.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“So, you’re coming?” Clark looks eager and Bruce is certainly not going to say no like he has plans when he’s, again, wearing pajamas. 

“Yeah, I can swing by.”

“Cool, great.” Clark nods and leaves before Bruce’s brain registers that he should ask if he could bring anything.

He closes the door to find Tim, the sneaky ninja, typing on his phone. “Dick needs to know your socialization skills have not improved,” is the justification.

In similar fashion Caesar would whisper, “Et tu, Brute?” he says, “I thought you were on my side, Tim.”

His son looks him in the eyes. “I have friends.”

It’s the face Tim makes when he thinks Bruce is stereotyping him as a skateboarder to be a loner. Bruce, of course, was more referring to the ability to hold a normal conversation that Tim lacks but the kid is right. He has friends.

“Could you keep an ear out for Damian on your video call with Bart tonight?” Bruce asks grumpily. “I have plans.” Ugh. He does not like this.

Tim smirks. His phone dings. “Dick says to have fun.”

Chapter Text

Bruce knocks on the door to his neighbor’s apartment around seven, after hearing through the walls the arrival of at least a dozen people, and dreading meeting each one. In one hand Bruce holds a case of store bought brownies, free of gluten and nuts because he really has no idea who is here tonight and what the dietary restrictions they have are… and he panicked at Walmart, alright? Other than buying the brownies, Bruce also completed the hard task of putting actual clothes on. Overall, the day had been taxing and Tim made fun of him. Luckily, Damian was there to put his brother in place by throwing toys at him, another problem Bruce might now face with the parent groups.

Clark opens the door with a smile, still no Jon to be seen.

“Bruce! Come in!”

As Bruce walks into apartment 321, he observes the similar layout to his own place as well as the pile of boxes that still need to be unpacked in the living room. He follows Clark into the kitchen, where everyone seems to have gathered.

“Hey y’all,” Clark introduces with a surprising midwestern undertone, “this is Bruce, my neighbor.”

A collection of people wave over at him and Bruce returns the greeting, eyes moving from person to person, then stopping because-

“Oliver Queen?”

“Brucie Wayne?”

The Star City celebrity looks just as surprised as he is and the blonde’s face breaks out into a grin. 

While Oliver starts to laugh, Clark looks at them confused. “You know each other?”

“They ran in the same social circles,” Dinah fills in and no matter his thoughts on Oliver, Bruce can honestly say it’s good to see her again.

 Bruce sends a small smile her way. “Hello, Dinah.”

“Hello, Bruce.”

Bruce doesn’t want to admit that he’s helped by anyone’s presence, but knowing the two party members seems to break the ice with the rest of the group as they all start into conversation with quite some ease. 

“How’d you meet Clark?” Bruce asks Oliver and is answered with a story about a certain investigative journalist, upset at being assigned a whole feature piece on Oliver Queen.

“The poor guy seemed so upset at having to be in Star City for multiple days that I had to buy him a drink.”

Clark denies his misery but one of the other guys shoots back, “No, you were so sad. I went to visit Ollie one night and you were moping like being in a billionaire’s manor was just about the worst place in the world.”

“Okay, come on. I’d like to maintain that I had a bit of professionalism here.”

“Wasn’t that when Lois was pregnant?” A younger woman wonders, making Clark uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess it’s no wonder you didn’t want to be there, Jon was going to be born any day then.”

“I still made it, though, Kara,” Clark points out, ending that discussion.

Bruce has time to mull over all he learned about Clark while he meets the others, including Hal Jordan, someone he does not like, and J'onn J'onzz, decidedly better company. When the group breaks off and Hal finds the brownies, Bruce brings up the acquired information.

“You’re an investigative journalist?”

“Oh, yeah. I work for the Daily Planet.”

“In Metropolis? Why are you here then?”

“Well, White’s allowing most people to work from home. It makes sense, with having so many people out in the field anyway that our virtual communication has got to be a pretty good system. I could have still stayed in the city after that but I wanted to branch out a bit. Work in a different environment. Besides, this area has good schools for Jon when he gets a bit older.”

It’s a good response, Bruce can admit. Bringing up the kid does prompt Bruce to wonder again his whereabouts because Jon is clearly not at home; the houseguests are not being quiet enough that the baby could sleep through it. “Where is Jon today?” 

“He’s with Lois, at his mom’s.” Separated parents, Bruce mind notes as a confirmation of his previous theory. Not that he had dedicated time to thinking about Clark’s situation as a single dad but merely just keeps a running tab of observations he has throughout the day. It applies to everyone, from his current analysis that Kenan from the parent group had interesting parents to his inspection that the block may get another hipster coffee shop Tim will want to try out. “I’m glad, you know? Jon misses her so much sometimes and I never know what to do.” 

Clark has majority custody over Jon, Bruce unwillingly adds to his mental list. 

“Jon seems like a very happy child,” Bruce says in some lame way of reassuring the other man that he’s done right by his kid, and Bruce can assume Clark has, which is not a light assumption.

Clark smiles, though. “That he is. Where is your little one? Dick watching him?”

“No, my other son is.”

“You have another son?” 

Oliver, naturally, choses now to join back into the conversation. “He’s got so many kids!”

Dinah tries to amend the addition with, “Hush, he has four.”

“Six,” Bruce tries to correct.

Oliver goes on as if he hadn’t heard either of them. “He’s got an army of them! And they are mini versions of him I swear. They all look the same!”

Now, Oliver was really being an idiot. “They do not. Okay, Jason looks a bit like me but that’s it I swear.” Even Damian, being his biological son, holds more of his mother’s traits than his at the moment and those attributes definitely don’t scream Wayne Clone; although, Alfred insists they have the same pout and chubby baby cheeks but Oliver wouldn’t know that.

“That’s a lot of kids,” Hal comments for Oliver with his mouth full of brownies. The blonde has thankfully stopped for the moment to think.

J'onn continues, “They are all from different families?”

“Yes,” Bruce responds in short because the attention and interrogation is wildly uncomfortable and he wants to get this over with. Clark seems to be contemplating his worlds, and for some reason Bruce seems to care what conclusion he’s drawing, so he explains, “Adopted. I adopted all my four other kids. Duke, I foster.”

“Oh,” Clark says. “What are all their names?”

And this Bruce can do. This he can do with joy. 

“Dick and Damian you met. Tim is in the apartment now. Duke and Cass are at school. And then Jason-”

“How is Jason? Is he out of the wheelchair for good?” Oliver inquires with so much ignorance.

The answer is no, of course not. Even if Jason walked a month with his cane there will always be days when the wheelchair is needed. And that’s fine. It’s why he has it. The way Oliver put it, makes it seem like the wheelchair was such a bad inhibitor when it is a tool Jason is allowed to take advantage of when his body needs it. Oliver doesn’t understand and Bruce can’t be bothered to make him right now. He ignores the intrusion to finish talking to Clark. “Jason is visiting the world with friends. Last time he called he was in Artemis’s home village but he wants to make it to Rome later and practice his Italian.”

“Wow,” comes from Clark and Bruce turns from distractedly watching Hal try to shove more brownies in his mouth and thinking about how well Barry would fit into this group. When faced with Bruce’s glare, his host finishes, “You just must be so proud. They sound like great kids.”

Bruce smiles.

“And you must be so busy! I only have Jon, and my cousin Kara here but that’s certainly enough family to look after.”

Kara retorts back, “I am older! I look after you!”

Clark laughs like it’s some inside joke and the tension from the evening fades. 

Bruce comes back, dreading some sort of intervention with Tim waiting on the couch, yet all is quiet. He peeks in Damian’s room to see most toys still thrown about and the child sleeping peacefully among a pile of stuffed animals as if he turned into a dragon protecting a hoard from Duke’s fantasy movies. 

Bruce also checks on Tim, who fell asleep on the floor of the back bedroom, laptop open in front of him. Bruce lifts him onto the bed and throws someone’s polka dot blanket on top. Briefly, he wonders where the blanket came from and figures that such a fluffy eyesore belongs to Cass or Dick.

Finally, laying in bed, Bruce is able to concede that tonight wasn’t terrible. He did make some new friends.

Mornings suck. It is an inevitable fact of the universe. This morning, Bruce woke up to a certain toddler butt in his face as Damian had decided the best place to sit quietly and play with his animals was his father’s chest. Naturally.

“You again,” Bruce groans, sitting up and knocking over at least eight different toys. Damian sets his dangerous pout on Bruce. “Alright, let’s get food.”

With those magic words, Damian smiles and lifts his hands up. Bruce lifts the child with no need for further instructions.

They make their way into the kitchen, Damian turning on the coffee machine while Bruce gets the bread in the toaster. 

“What kind of jam today?” Bruce says while getting out their selection from the market.

Damian wisely debates his choice from in his father’s arms. His tiny fingers scratch his head, a learned motion from Duke when he’s studying. Then, Damian reaches out a little arm as Tim walks in.

“Hey, Bruce,” Tim waves then gets to pouring two mugs of coffee, sliding one of them to Bruce and drinking from the other that boldly proclaims ‘Genius’ on the side.

“Hi, Tim. How’s Bart doing?” Bruce smiles when his words make his tired son light up. 

Tim’s response details most everything that happened during their video call, from how mad Max is at Bart right now to why their mutual friend Cassie even hangs out with them. The discussion moves to the state of Wayne Enterprises and the board being frustrating. Damian, all the while, enjoys his breakfast but grows tired of the lack of attention. They last three more minutes before a bouncy ball hits Tim in the chest. Tim glares at the kid, then at Bruce.

“Yeah, okay. Damian, we need to talk about how throwing toys at others is not right.” Damian picks up more ammo, this time plastic and dinosaur-shaped, prompting Bruce to get up immediately. “Okay, we’re going to the park.”

Tim glares harder at Bruce, as if to bring attention to the fact that he is not stopping the issue. 

Bruce tells Tim to get dressed as well because they’ll go for lunch. “And if you don’t throw anything else,” Bruce continues to Damian, “maybe Tim will help you get something special, but only if you're nice.”

Damian runs to pick his clothes out and Tim whispers, “What am I getting him?”

“That rolled ice cream place near the deli,” Bruce replies after drinking the rest of his coffee. He slips Tim a twenty.

Tim nods, “For sure.”

Damian had chosen to wear his fluffy yellow socks for their outing. Bruce is currently being a mean father, and insisting he wear clothes as well.

“I’m blaming Dick for the aversion to pants,” he shouts down the hall, chasing Damian.

Tim’s phone dings and he translates, “Dick emphasizes that he was an acrobat and wore leotards.”

Once ready for the outside with a fully dressed Damian, complete with his favorite green sweatshirt, they leave the apartment. The group makes it as far as the elevator, before Bruce realizes he has nothing for Damian to play with at the park.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he instructs his sons, putting Damian’s hand in Tim’s.

Going back into the apartment, he searches quickly for a few balls and toys to shove into the bag, debating a little too long about the benefits of bringing bubbles before shoving it in as well.

In the few minutes he was gone, someone else must have showed up at the end of the hallway because he walked back hearing voices, Tim among them.

“Bruce?” Clark asks as he gets closer. The neighbor stands by Tim and Damian with another person.

“Hey, Clark,” Bruce waves. Tim, Bruce observes, is kind of looking at him funny. “How are you doing?”

“Good, good. Thanks for coming over last night.”

“Of course.” Tim is definitely looking at him funny.

Clark gestures to the younger man with him, “This is Conner, by the way. We were just going to find someplace to eat.”

“We were too,” Tim suspiciously adds, looking at Conner who is about his age. “Why don’t you two join us?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Clark says, but it’s for show. His demeanor hides nothing. Clark really wants to join them.

It leaves Bruce no choice. He picks up Damian and presses the elevator button, saying the expected lines, but they aren’t so dreaded, “Come with us, we insist.”

It’s not like Clark is bad company.

Chapter Text

“So I haven’t had much time to explore the area,” Clark says as soon as the five of them shove into the elevator. “Where do you like to go to eat?”

That starts the conversation during their walk to the park and places around. Bruce lists a few of his favorite stops to eat, purposefully leaving out one Damian likes best to prompt his son into waving his hand for attention. 

“Oh,” Clark responds with a smile after Bruce names the diner, “Is that your favorite?”

Damian, with a stranger’s attention, doesn’t know what to do and stares at Bruce instead. 

“It is, right?” Bruce answers, still giving Damian a chance to reply, but trying not to put him on the spot.

Damian nods, small and not at Clark so much. Bruce is so proud.

After that, Clark talks with Damian, distinguishable to the alternate talking at Damian in many ways, none so articulable. 

They discuss the rudimentary topic of favorite colors before Bruce mentions Damian’s love for animals. His son becomes much more invested in conversation with the change of subject. Clark’s natural talent of storytelling shows them life on the Kent Farm, images of barns full of animals put together with his expressive words. The journey of Kansas acres takes them a couple blocks. The whole time, Clark’s face remains honest and open, looking at Damian with a smile too bright for the world.

“This is it,” Tim announces to Conner, and further, the rest of their group. 

The Gotham Grill sits on the block across the park with metal furniture outside to accommodate people in warm weather, though the chairs are never actually comfortable, a perpetual downside of outdoor dining. These seats in particular require one to squat lower than average so that the taller of the population may greet their knees as they bump against the underside of the tabletop, which of course, hoards a variety of gum that is never quite dried yet.

“Great! We can sit outside,” Clark says. 

This time, it seems it is Damian giving Bruce weird looks as he moves his chair in and hits his legs on the table that in no way should have sat five people. Bruce feels like a giant at a tea party. If his thighs were to move any higher, they may act like earmuffs to protect from the cold breeze the open air subjects them to.

“This is such a nice day,” Clark says.

Bruce nods and makes a note not to look at anyone or their reaction. He can hear Tim texting Dick.

Lunch goes smoothly, for the most part. When they all finish their meals, Tim suggests he and Conner go for a bit of a walk. 

“Okay,” Bruce agrees after Clark nods his consent, not that Conner is his son, though the relationship is questionably close to a parental one with Clark and Conner. Not to mention, Conner could be a clone of Clark with the way the two look so similar. “We’ll probably be by the lake. If you change locations, remember to text me.”

Tim nearly whines, “Yes, Bruce.”

The table empties of those two, leaving a smiling Clark with a wholly unprepared father and son.

“I just want to say, how great I think it is, with you and your kids,” Clark stumbles out.

Bruce takes the defensive. “What do you mean?”

“I just,” Clark sighs, obviously having trouble finding the words, despite the earlier portrayals of literary efficiency. “I was adopted. As a baby. I always knew my parents loved me, though our ties weren’t biological. They literally found me out in the middle of nowhere. They didn’t even- they could have given me up so easily. I wasn’t their responsibility. Sometimes, I think about what would have happened if they weren’t so loving. I’m just glad your kids don’t have to find out.” Clark ends with a smile to Damian, who narrows his eyes in return.

“I’m glad I found them, too, Clark,” Bruce admits. His children saved his life. He will be forever grateful to have this family. “I am a better man because of them.”

The silence between them is not uncomfortable, Bruce believes. Damian expresses otherwise, with his nonverbual demands to go to the lake in the park that prompt their exit from the torturous dining area.

Bruce continues speaking after walking in pleasant quietness, “I don’t know what you have read, or what Ollie has told you, but I haven’t been a great person in the past. Definitely not a role model or father material. I-”

“Oliver texted me this morning. He said he was sorry, he hadn’t seen you in a while and may have said some hurtful or false things about my guest. He asked if I could reach out to you with this apology.”

“Oh,” Bruce says, shocked.

“I will admit that it was a surprise that you knew him.”

“Well, like he said last night, we ran in the same circles. Plus, Dick was best friends with Roy for quite some time, not that that necessarily meant his involvement, but we were familiar. Then, of course, with Wayne Enterprises…”

Clark stops, which is alright with the group considering they have reached the water. His hand comes to rub against his neck and his body language becomes less confident. “About that,” he says in the manner Bruce uses with soon-to-be ex-lovers as he proclaims they “need to talk.”

“Yes?” That? In reference to the reality of the honest Midwestern reporter with caring parents and a wonderful son ending up neighbors with the most gossiped-about man in the city. It is a lot.

During Clark’s contemplation about finishing his discussion, Damian gets into the bag of toys and runs over to a tree with the plastic magnifying toy, most likely to indulge in his curious side of looking for bugs, a very serious manner to the child. Bruce watches him to avoid looking at Clark. 

“I didn’t know,” he finally says. “I feel like I should have realized, being the investigative reporter, but honestly, I don’t keep up with this city's celebrities. I knew, of course, as a businessman who you are. I have looked into a small number of your operations. Rest assured, I have nothing but praise for many systems in your corporation. I just didn't know about your family so I didn’t connect the dots, at first.”

The statement holds nothing to outright hurt Bruce. He knows what’s not said. Clark would have looked him up afterward. Everyone has that curious side.

“There’s a lot of… stuff about you online.” Clark seems ashamed, because he would know how reporters live for the dirty details. 

“Clark.” Bruce turns to look at him. “Why are you here?” Why are you with the family you just read so many disgusting articles about? Why stay friendly with your neighbor after the reveal?

He answers like it’s simple, when it’s really avoidance. Or ignorance. It’s not an answer. “I wanted lunch.”

Bruce can’t press. The case is closed for now. Bruce goes back to watching His son, hands now full of rolly pollies from an underturned rock. Damian reaches his arm up, to show his father. Bruce gives a smile over the grimace. 

“Jon still away?” Damian needs friends, maybe.

“Yeah,” Clark sighs, mournfully. “That’s why… that’s why Kon’s here.” Clarks whisper meets Bruce’s heart, “I get lonely sometimes.”

“I understand.” The statement is truer than anything else Bruce could admit to.

Clapping interrupts the conversation and both adults look over to see Tim showing off across the street with another child’s skateboard. Conner is cheering the loudest out of the small group that had come to watch.

“I’m glad they’re getting along,” Clark says.

Bruce’s mind feels stuck on the question: Who is Conner? Yet, he manages to get out, “Me too.” Before anything else could be said, Bruce blurts out, “You didn’t mention, Conner last night.” It shows miraculous progress that he has shown restraint to last this long.

“What?”

“Last night. You talked about who you look after and only mentioned Kara and Jon. Why does Conner not fit in?” Is he not family? Despite the obvious biological ties together, something must set him apart.

Clark looks upset at himself once again and Bruce regrets his words a little more than usual.

“He does. He should fit in. There’s no problem with Conner. It’s me. He reminds me of my mistakes. In the past.”

Conner gives a loud cheer for Tim, whose cheeks are so red in embarrassment that Bruce can see it from here. Nevertheless, the skateboard is returned and Tim receives the biggest high five with a grin on his face. Bruce reads, “told ya,” off his lips.

“You don’t see him often,” Bruce observes.

“I don’t try to,” Clark corrects.

Damian gets the race car out of the bag and runs the miniature wheels against the bark of the nearest trees. The boy has begun to realize the difference in terrain in terms of a smooth ride for his toy. For instance, if he creates a mud course again, the wheels will become jammed and not only will that race be ruined, but he will not be able to play with the car until Bruce gets around to washing the wheels off.

“You can start.” If history were to tell Bruce anything, it’s that family means the world. He’s made mistakes in the past as well. Most everyone has. That’s how people learn to do better.

Bruce runs more than walks to the apartment after the day’s parent group. Rain attacks his face, proving the angel of the umbrella to be unsuccessful. Damian is in his arms with his own drenched sweatshirt. His brown hair is matted to his grumpy face. The building entrance in view, Bruce debates a full out sprint when a figure in front catches his eye.

Splashing in puddles half his size with yellow, mud-painted rain boots, is Jon. The boats cover the boy's knees and seem the width of twice his legs. Jon’s bathing suit shorts depicting a colorful rainbow have turned brown with the water. And still, he is laughing under the hood of his raincoat, a mismatched green and blue stripes monstrosity that contrasts with the boats. With another big jump, Jon creates a solid coating of mud on his coat as well. Walking closer, Bruce sees sprinkles even touch his cheek.

Damian sees the neighbor duo and looks at Bruce with body language that can only scream, “no.” Damian will not be joining in any rain frolicking. 

“Hello,” Bruce greets as he passes to go inside.

Jon laughs some more and goes to jump again when Clark saves Bruce from getting any more wet by grabbing the boy with one arm, the other holding an umbrella at a more efficient degree. Jon giggles even harder at being stopped.

“Hello, Bruce,” Clark groans, but he can hear the joy in his voice after all those days of it missing.

“Welcome back, Jon,” Bruce says, retreating to safety inside the building.

Damian shakes his head even more, disapproving of Jon and his crazy actions, however, Bruce thinks it’s fair to say they’re adorable. Clark clearly enjoys when his child is back. Bruce can understand.