Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kent Clark was stuck at his day job at the moment, a reporter for the daily planet. Today was especially tiresome because his ex/ long time best friend Lois had somehow convinced him to go to one of the very stuck up charity galas that are always being thrown in Gotham.

So now here he was in one of his nicer suits (that's still a size too big) talking to Gotham's most elite who are faking their care for whatever cause makes them look the best. Most of the people there were either drunk so they had no decent information for him, didn’t care enough to talk to him or were trying to get into his pants. It was basically a complete failure but he was still on the clock for another hour.

After another 30 minutes of no luck, Clark basically gave up hope, snagged himself a mini sandwich and walked out to one of the many gardens connected to the venue. He knew he couldn’t find a quiet spot per say due to his superhuman hearing. But just being in a little less crowded would work well enough.

The garden was really nice. The flowers filling the space were slowly losing their brightly colored petals. The display of Earth’s cycles even in its ugly stages was always in a weird way beautiful to Clark. The night had a gentle breeze barely penetrating the overly thick fabric of Clark’s oversize suit jacket.
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Bruce was stuck at another charity gala. Don’t get him wrong, he cared about the charity. It was just the people there were either trying to fuck him to get into his pockets or propose borderline terrible business ideas to get into his pockets.
Either way he just did not wanna be in such a crowded place when he could be patrolling. The streets of Gotham were especially rowdy since another breakout from Arkham happened.

Bruce still found himself playing into the “Brucie Wayne” personality he had made himself. He danced around a bit, tossing the honestly nasty champagne he was handed into plants while acting more and more tipsy. He let himself get dragged into a conversation with a few inherit babies about whatever nonsense they wanted to talk about before drunkenly excusing himself to go “catch some fresh air”.

Bruce let himself through one of the many doors leading into the garden. He could feel the breeze, sending a small shiver through his lean frame. He wandered further into the night, still letting a small stumble be added to his step just in case the few lurking eyes caught a glimpse. He found himself stopping, he wasn't alone in the garden.

The bulky frame of another man was lurking close to a wilting flower bush, seemingly unaware of the shadowy man watching him. As he slowly wandered closer, he realized it was one of the reporters from earlier. Specifically a very nerdy but almost cute reporter. Instead of sulking away not to be seen, Bruce edged closer to the man before making his presence known.

“What's a man like you being out here all by himself? '' Bruce said letting the Brucie Wayne persona take over.

Bruce could see the other man have a little startle wrack his figure before he heard him replying “Well I could be asking you the same, Mr.Wayne”. Bruce felt himself letting out a little laugh, this guy for being near the prince of Gotham seemed to be keeping his composure quite well.

“Well I was just wandering to let myself get away from that stuffy gala. Maybe you could help me get even further away” Bruce let out with a sultry tone.

“ I don’t think that would be very good, Mr.Wayne. You don’t even know my name” replied the mystery man with a little bit of sas. Maybe Bruce’s evening wouldn’t be all that wasted.

“Well Mr.Mystery, why don’t you give me a name to connect with my dreams later?” teased Bruce still sinking deeper into the Brucie persona.

“Oh. uhm, I’m Clark Kent.” replied the mystery man,Clark with a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

Bruce liked this guy, maybe a little more teasing wouldn’t hurt. “So Mr.Clark Kent, you still haven’t answered my question. What's a handsome man like you doing here?” asked Bruce with a flirty twang to his words.

“I uhm work with the Daily Planet and I was doing interviews but it was crowded so I stepped out, sir” stuttered our Clark.

Before Bruce could answer, Clark’s watch began to lightly beep. “Uhm sorry Mr.Wayne but my shift is over and it's quite the commute back to Metropolis, so if you’ll excuse me” muttered Clark, his voice lacing in an accent.

Just as the fun was about to start, thought Bruce. “Well Mr.Kent, I would love to finish this chat later” was all Bruce replied as he slipped Clark his card with his number on it. Clark clearly shocked, stuttered out a quick thank you and goodbye before basically sprinting back into the venue in his too big suit.

Bruce had to say for once, it wasn’t just the whole “Brucie” side of him saying some of things. The other man just felt so familiar in a weird way.
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The whole interaction had Clark confused. He knew that all that had just happened was very real. He had a card in his pocket and an extremely red face to prove the fact. It was all that he could think about as he flew back to Metropolis. So many questions were to be asked but not a single one was answered.

The main one was ‘Why was Bruce Wanye flirting with Clark Kent?’ See Clark could see flirting with Superman because well it’s superman, the world’s little Alien golden boy from Krypton but Clark Kent was a nerdy guy in too big suits working as a news reporter. Bruce Wayne was known for being a playboy and fucking around but he was fucking with at least middle class famous people not news reporters at charity galas.

Another question that was really urking Clark was ‘Why did he like the attention from Bruce Wayne?’ It wasn’t like Clark didn’t know that he liked men, it was just that Bruce Wayne was far from his normal type. Which may or may not be tall, dark and hates his guts. Normally Clark would never let himself actually blush at Galas, instead only faking it to make the rich pricks feel more like they could spill their guts to him.

All of it was so confusing. Clark never even heard a change in the man’s heart beat while trying to flirt with him. The man was oddly steady, it almost felt familiar.

As he got home, all he did was slink out of his suit and place the card on his bedside to be dealt with another time. He had no clue what he would do with the number but maybe it would get him an interview.

Chapter Text

Clark woke up, wondering if the whole thing was nothing more than a dream. The only thing not telling him just that was the sign card, stamped with a phone number to the one and only Bruce Wayne.

Instead of rationaling dealing with the card you know maybe texting the number or better yet just tossing it. He called Lois.

After the initial period of her laughing at him because who besides Clark Kent would find themself as boring as he seemed to be, at the affections of the one and only Bruce Wayne. All she told him was to do what his heart was telling him before promptly hanging up. Not before asking to be a bridesmaid at the wedding.

A real help she was, was all the meta could think before continuing his day like normal.

The next few days Clark found himself constantly thinking back to the card sitting on his bedside table. He had thought about calling the number but things kept coming up. FIrst it was a crazy freak storm in the Philippines that needed Superman, then it was his boss thinking that a whole new article needed to be made instead of the one he had already written and got approved. Everything was chaotic.

He knew that at this point he should just throw the thing away and act like the night was just some stressed induced hallucination but something about how Bruce was acting left him still wondering.The man just wouldn’t leave his mind, it was awful. Maybe it was the familiar way he acted or it was the fact that he was rich and powerful enough to ruin his career within a second.

Even when a few more peaceful days came, he let the time pass before he finally caved. It wasn’t really by his own willpower. He had realized he would have to attend another Gotham Gala which meant once again having to see the prince. That was enough of a push to finally call the (hopefully not fake) number that had been a staple to his side table for more than it fair share of time.

The call had already started to ring through before he realized the hour. What, even Superman can make a few mistakes here and there.Too late to hang up and hope that a sink hole would open up and swallow him
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Bruce wouldn’t say he had been waiting for the cute reporter to contact him but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t checked his phone a few extra times. What can he say, the man had left Bruce in a weird state of Deja vu. He felt like he was flirting with someone he already knew but couldn’t quite place his finger on who.

He had already done a fair amount of research into the man and nothing helped him. He was just a man born and raised on a farm in Smallville, Kansas. His record was spotless, not even a speeding ticket was there. The man was so ordinary it was almost infuriating.

For being the world’s greatest detective, he was honestly stumped on why the man had such an effect on him.

Lost in his own thoughts, he barely had enough time to answer the ringing phone sat next to him. The hour was a little bit late for business but you never know with being Bruce Wayne. “Hello, Wayne speaking”

“Uh Hi, this is Clark Kent, the reporter from the gala.” a familiar voice filled Bruce’s ear. Seems as though the little reporter boy did wanna get a little more familiar with the Prince of Gotham.

“Oh Hello Clark, I’ve been wondering if you’d lost my card or not by now. It’s been days, I was almost worried” Bruce could feel the snark laced within his Brucie persona. No reason not to tease the reporter a bit.

“Uhm sorry, I just didn’t wanna bother you. I know I’m not the most memorable person” uttered Clark in a guilt laced voice.

Bruce laughed a bit, not memorable my ass. The guy had been plaguing his thoughts since he ran off in his disaster of a suit. “Oh darling, I could never forget you, not many people can stay on my thoughts like you” all but purred Bruce, the Brucie person practically oozing into every word. Bruce sat in silence for a few seconds listening to the sputtering of the other man, this guy sure was encapsulating.

“Well Mr.Wayne that is very kind of you to say. But I called since I was wondering if you would be attending the Gotham Zoo charity gala next week?” sputtered out the audibly flustered man.

Bruce loved the flustered sound of the other man, he was almost too precious to play with. Almost being the key word.

“I may or may not be depending if my favorite reporter will be there. I believe being stuck at another gala this month may be a thousand times better if I was able to see a man like you” In all reality Bruce knew he would already be at the gala since he was one of the main sponsors but teasing the poor reporter was fun.

The line was filled with stuttering, clearly the other man wasn’t used to being the center of such attention. “I- uh, well Mr.Wayne, that is quite flattering to hear especially from someone like yourself. But to answer, yes. I will be attending this gala.As press of course.”

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh a tiny bit, the younger somehow was even more flustered than before. “Well isn’t it my lucky day, I hope you come and find me at the gala. I know it’ll be a bore if you don’t.”

“I’ll try my best, Mr.Wayne. It might take a bit since I’ll be on the clock but I will try to get around you.”

The slight ramble in Clark’s voice made Bruce chuckle a bit. Glancing at the clock of his computer, he realized the time was slowly ticking towards the deep hours of the evening. “Well Clark, darling, as much as I would love to continue this absolutely spectacular conversation, I have kids that need to be put to bed. Good night, I hope to speak again soon”

Patrol was meant to start soon and he knew the kids would need some help both getting ready and not actively trying to murder one another.
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As Clark listened to the dial of the hung up call, he just stared. Good Rao, what had he gotten himself into, promising Bruce Wayne to see him. What was he thinking?

Oh was Lois gonna have a field day when she heard Smallville himself was rubbing elbows with the Prince of Gotham. She was gonna laugh, his unrequited love for the bat was one thing but this, Bruce Wayne.

The two crushes(?) weren’t in the same ball park, hell’s fucking bell’s, they weren’t even the same game. Only definitely totally normal Clark Kent would find himself wanting to be in a Batman and Bruce Wayne sandwich and it be plausible.

Glaring at the offensively bright screen of his phone, Clark saved the contact under ‘Bruce Wayne’ and turned off the horrid device. Nothing sleep couldn’t fix. At least that's what Clark hoped, either way he would be seeing the billionaire in a few days.

Chapter Text

The days leading up to the gala were oddly slow for Clark. Nothing really happened, both as a reporter and a superhero. The most interesting thing was seeing Batman and him being oddly happy? Well happy for Batman standards (not glaring at him like he just told him he hoped one of the Robins would fall off a cliff and break both of his legs while his heart raced extremely fast.)

Batman truly was a mystery.

Time felt so slow, he barely realized the gala was happening until he got a call from Perry telling him a car was arranged for him that night. Thank the stars Perry knew Clark had a reputation for being a little tardy. Aka always getting a little too involved in his side occupation.

Looking at the clock on the wall, he realized that if he wasn’t out the door in about 12 minutes that Perry would make him walk to the gala since he would never be caught dead paying for a late fee.

Good day to have superhuman speed, he was out the house and sprinting to the train station in less than 6 minutes.

One train ride later and Clark found himself in the bustling crime city of Gotham. The car booked for him was well very Perry fashion, it was a shabby little car that barely fit Clark in the backseat with a driver who told him “it's a one way ride” which was basically telling to find his own way home.

Great, Perry couldn’t even splurge on a round trip in the most crime riddled city. Maybe getting mugged would be a lovely way to spend his evening in Gotham. (The ideal evening would end with him in a certain billionaire's bed)

Either way, Clark found himself being dropped off about a half a block away from the gala due to the sheer amount of traffic. Clark in his dress shoes (that barely fit his inhuman stature) dejectedly started his trudge to what would hopefully be a good night of harassing the rich and famous.

As he came closer to the doors of the overcrowded gala, Clark could hear the all so new but familiar voice of Bruce Wayne exclaiming about one of his many odd adventures. He could hear many other voices and heartbeats of guests but all of it turned to nothing but background to the echo of billionaire's tale and ever so steady and so familiar heartbeat.

A few minutes later Clark was walking through the press entrance, praying that he got at least one good thing to write about that night (and possibly talking to the playboy billionaire whose name rhymes with Truce Layne).

Letting that thought leave his mind, he wandered closer to the action of the gala, snatching a small cup of what he hoped was water. Spoiler it was not just water.(You know plants around galas always need hydration, over priced gin that tastes like cat piss counts.)

He chatted with a few people, all giving him small quotes about how they loved whatever charity this gala was for and how they would be donating sums almost incomprehensible to Clark. The quotes to anyone else would seem to be genuine and kind, almost as if the people didn’t just care about reputation and the public. But to Clark, it was more an insult since he could hear how the beat of their hearts changed when they lied to his face.

At least it would make a good article of what would sadly be a borderline terrible gala.

Just like the last gala Clark attended, things got boring way before he could even think about being off the clock. He let himself wander the large ballroom, picking small snacks off of other people being paid to be there, always thanking them with his best midwestern charm. He eavesdropped onto the many random conversations happening around him.

Most of it was normal like the fact that the CEO of some business ( that was somehow ruining Gotham’s atmosphere worse than Scarecrow's fear toxin) was cheating on his wife or that the wife of some politician actually hated what her husband stood for.

He flipped from conversation to conversation like his own personal podcast before something very peculiar caught his attention, crying specifically a child crying. It didn’t take much thinking for him to put down his cup (of water this time) and follow the sound of the small hiccups.

He found himself walking down a more secluded hallway, only to find a black haired boy crying under a table. The kid couldn’t be more than 10 years old, who in the hell had lost their own kid at a gala.

Clark quickly realized he needed to do something to help with the kid. However he also realized that his normal method of using the whole “everyone loves superman” charm wasn’t in his cards, instead using his sweet farm boy self would hopefully work.

Before he could formulate enough of a thought on what to say to the boy, a pair of the bluest eyes (next to his own) filled with tears met him in a frightened stare. Well shit, Clark was gonna have to work quickly.

“Hey Buddy, I’m Clark. Are you okay?” The kid shook his head, sinking further into the shadow that the table was creating.

“What’s your name, Buddy?” asked Clark, careful not to get too close or scare the poor kid more.

“I’m Richard” came in a small, almost inaudible voice. Lucky day to have hearing that could borderline hear atoms moving.

“Oooo, Richard is a nice name!” Clark said trying to sound as interested as possible in the smallest things. Something in the back of his mind, nagged him a bit about the name. It was familiar but he had bigger fish to fry than remembering something so miniscule.

Richard’s tears cleared a little more, slowly coming closer to the light of the late evening. “Thank you, a lot of people usually call me Dick though. You can too, sir”

“Oh well it's an honor to get to call you that, Dick. Do you need help finding the people who usually call you Dick? It's not safe to be in such a big place all by yourself, buddy.” Clark really wanted to help this kid but he wasn’t the best with them. He was also wondering why in the world would someone call this sweet little boy something so vulgar but besides the point.

“Well Father is around here somewhere talking with people. I was playing hide and seek with Jason but when I went to find him, I couldn’t. I think I lost him, Father is gonna be so disappointed.” Dick spewed, a new wave of tears beginning to wash over his still baby fat filled cheeks.

“Oh no, Buddy, Dick, it'll be okay. We can find Jason and your dad, do you know what your dad’s name is or anyone he would be with?” Clark was honestly a little scared seeing the poor kid burst out in tears and learning there was not one but two little boys running around by themselves. Whoever is the so-called ‘Father’ of these kids was in for an earful.

“Well Father said to not tell people his name because they might hurt us. But you seem very nice, Father is-” Before the name could fall from Dick’s mouth a different shouted out.

“RIchard, Oh my are you okay sweetie” Came from a thundering voice.

The voice was so very familiar to Clark. It didn't take long to figure out why when none other than the Playboy Millionaire, Bruce Wayne’s hulking figure came into his sight of vision. Bruce completely ignored whoever had been talking to his child instead wiping the boy’s tears away and whispering to him.

He had so many questions but before they could become words, two more presences came running towards the now group(?)

“Master Jason, please stop running away! You will get lost and we need to find your brother” Spoke strictly from an elderly voice before being followed by the giggles of a child.

Once again before he could ask a question the body that belonged to the giggles came running directly into him.The boy looked to be a year or so younger than Dick. He looked both very different and the same as the other little boy. This one who he presumed was Jason, had a shaggy haircut in his ink colored hair with eyes just as stunning as the other boy’s. However instead of a shocking blue, his were a teal swirled with green that reminded him of clear river water.

Clark was honestly too stunned by the new people to say anything. Lucky for him, Bruce had realized that his other child was here. Looking to what he had thumped into, met the eyes of none other than Clark Kent. Clark started to try to explain himself for helping the still tearing up boy but Bruce stopped him with his praises and thanks.

“Oh my stars, Clark! Thank you so much for finding my son. I don't know what I would do if someone got him. Is there any way I could thank you more??” Spewed from Bruce like the words were gonna suffocate him if he didn't say them right then and there.

“Oh Bruce, it’s okay there is no reason to have to give me anything, I was just trying to help out a child, I didn’t even know he was yours but you really should keep a better eye on him in this big of a building.” Clark replied, already stepping back away from the group of Waynes.
“No Clark! I insist I must pay you back. Let me take you out, Clark.”

Clark stared at the Billionaire like a fish out of water. “What? Bruce, you don’t have to take me out. I know I’m a reporter but I won’t write or talk about this. It’s truly nothing.”
“Clark, I promise I would enjoy going out with you.” Clark decided to take the chance and slowly began to nod his head. A date with Bruce Wayne?!?!?I

“Oh Clark, I’m so glad I don't gotta wear ya’ down more. I’ll text you the details. I really got to head home, the kids as you can tell have had a field day of an evening.” And with that Clark felt a small, almost non existent kiss pressed to his cheek. In shock he watched Bruce Wayne gather up his children and wave from his butler(?!?) as the group made an exit.
This night was truly not what he expected.
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Bruce was having a terrible evening. He had to go to one of the good awful galas. And to make the troubles of the gala even worse, he had to take his oldest sons.

Yes, Bruce loved all his children with all his heart but lord could Jason and Dick be two little troublemakers. He only had to take them with him since Alfred had said that it would be for the best. The boys were usually around the house doing whatever they wanted but never seeing them in the public did tend to cause some very strongly worded articles.

Being a single father and openly queer was nothing that the media liked.

Bruce ended up getting split from the boys and Alfred when one of the many money hungry business men pulled him away. Great, he would even get to spend time with his kids.

Time passed boringly slowly as he mingled with others who were rich but thousands of times more boring. To make the evening even worse, he had yet to see the cute reporter who had been plaguing his thoughts for weeks now.

Bruce went through the crowd flowing as if he was water until the slight pull of his jackets caught his attention. Looking down to the offender, he sees his son, Jason. The poor boy had tears lightly kissing his baby cheeks as he hiccups out something indistinguishable. Bruce was in rightful shock until a distinguished but to Bruce, utterly flustered Alfred, pulls him to whisper that Dick has gotten lost in the building.

Bruce thought truly his night couldn’t be any more unfortunate but hell’s bells, was he proven wrong.

That's how Bruce found himself rushing to leave the bustling ballroom into the dim hallways of the gala venue. The halls were long and seemingly endless as he rushed to find his oldest. As the minutes ticked on, so did his temper. Bruce was slowly getting closer to ripping a new one to the next drunk person who stumbled into him,

Bruce thought he was about to bite off the head of the man crouched in the middle of a hall until he heard the voice of his son. As quickly as he could, he had the mystery man who was built like a fucking brickhouse, pushed to the side and was hugging his son whispering about how he should not run off.

A few minutes later after Alfrred and the other gremlin he so lovingly called his son arrived, Bruce finally looked at the man who he hoped he wouldn’t have to pay too much to keep his mouth shut. The media would love to hear about how Bruce Wayne is such a shit parent that he can’t even keep an almost 8 year old from running off. To his shock, the man was nothing other than the reporter that lingered in his mind.

The conversation was honestly more frantic than Bruce would like to admit. He needed something to thank the man (and just maybe, possibly give him the chance to get over the beautiful man).

He would have to plan a date worth the trouble that the other man was put through. Maybe take him shopping, for the build Clark had, all his clothes put it to shame (maybe no clothes was the best option).

The ride back to the manor was slightly stale as Bruce lightly scolded the boys for playing in the busy party and running away from Alfred. But as always, his frustration faded sooner than it came knowing that the boys were just children. By the time the group was back to the manor, the boys were hugging their adoptive father and apologizing for worrying him.

Bruce put all the kids to bed, paying extra attention to the littles who had been with Aunty Harls and Aunty Ivy for the evening. Once bedtime was done, Bruce got to work planning a date for himself and Clark. Once that was done, the masked Crusader was formally introduced to the evening air.

His patrol was as boring as it got until the sky went from a dark poisonous black to a creamy purple color when the Man of Steel found him on a roof. The man had talked to him about everything and nothing at the same time, it added an almost peaceful atmosphere to the early morning. Something about the man once again felt too familiar but he chalked it up to the friendship(?) that the pair had created.
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Clark was so struck with the thoughts of going out with the Billionaire, he barely remembered what shady cab he took to the train or the ride back to his tiny apartment. The thoughts settled to the back of his mind when he left to go on patrol. He subconsciously led himself toward Gotham, instead of finding the Billionaire he found Batman on a rooftop. The moment felt like deja vu but it was comforting.

Minutes turned to a few hours before he left the darkly cloaked man to get back to his home. He thought of the night on his way back to Metropolis. His mind lingered on the both men analyzing how he could seemingly find comfort in both. His infraction of both the men felt so similar but like whiplash simultaneously.
By the time he was home, he checked his phone.

A new message proudly displayed itself on his screen, one specifically from Bruce Wayne.

Chapter Text

The long evening out with the caped crusader left Clark tired and needing to refresh before he had to deal with the chaos of his work day. The peaceful bliss of slumber latched onto Clark before he could even think to answer the billionaire’s text.

By the time the meta woke up, he believed the text was nothing but a development of his subconscious. He quickly figured out that he was terribly (delightfully?) wrong.

Proudly on his lockscreen which was a picture of him and his Ma standing in front of their little farm house, awaited a text from Bruce. The text was sort of a summon and a confirmation. It was basically Bruce telling Clark that he had the date idea ready and all he needed was a day that the blue eyed man was free.

The older’s idea of a “repayment date" was a little shopping and dinner. Clark thought the date plan seemed rather ambiguous but it was so nondescript because it turns out Bruce “I love to surprise my dates ;)” Wayne seems to know how to keep a man on the edge of his seat (and other things if the evening goes right).

Once the shock and slight dizziness (maybe more closely described as excitement) Clark hurried to check his overfilled work schedule and give a date for the billionaire. He had told the older man that the following Saturday would be the best for him.

Only after watching the message be sent to the older, did Clark realize he just planned to go on a date with the richest man in the country while standing in his tiny Metropolis apartment wearing Batman PJs pants (A gift from the league for Christmas the year before).

The reply came sooner than Clark had expected. Bruce, still being rather mysterious, only told him that he would be at his apartment at 5pm sharp and to be ready for the full “Bruce Wayne experience” which definitely wasn’t alarming or slightly inappropriate (even if Clark was 100% not complaining).

Clark promptly forgot about the text while finishing to get ready for his long work day ahead. Showering, getting dressed, and sunbathing in the light of his window while munching on his breakfast left his thoughts clear (minus the normal scanning for trouble across the globe). Glancing at his clock to see the time ticking close to 9am, left him to set off for his commute to work. The walk to the train was short and the ride like always felt just as short. Soon he found himself in front of his office, with a deep lingering breath, Clark made his way to his small cubicle and computer. The office was quiet but a lingering whisper was heard like normal but the content of the whisper was different.

The talk was about the Gala that Clark had attended the night before. Through Clark’s super hearing, he could hear people saying that the news was all over the paparazzi of Bruce Wayne running through the gala drunk and leaving with his children. The way that some were gossiping made Clark sick, it was disgusting what the people were saying about Bruce without even knowing him. They would say that he was doing horrible things to those “poor boys” even though they didn’t even know the kid’s names or story. Before Clark could dwell too far into the chaos of gossip being spread in the office, Lois popped into his field of view. The savior she was, handed Clark a warm cup of coffee just the way he liked it.

“Good morning Smallsville. How was your wild night at the Gala?” came from Lois, looking like she already knew Clark's evening was eventful.

Thinking back to the night, Clark realized he would have to be very careful. he really doesn’t want Lois to think he was fucking Bruce Wayne. Clark knew that he wasn’t gonna say ‘Oh yea Lois well I comforted Bruce Wayne’s oldest son and now he is taking me on a date as repayment because he insisted on it’ but still he didn’t even want her to know.

After taking an uncomfortably long sip of his coffee, Clark tried his hardest to reply without Lois sniffing out that he was withholding information. “It was good, maybe a little boring. You know how those galas can feel stuffy too soon and the catering wasn’t the best”

Lois stared at him for a hot second before ultimately taking the reply even if skeptical. The conversation rattled on, chatting about nothing truly astonishing. That was until Lois, still clinging to her suspicion around Clark’s night out, asked about how he felt about the talk around Bruce or as she put it “his little rich boy friend”. Clark felt himself tense at the mention of the older man and his ward.

“Uhm Lois, I don’t really know. I- I don’t think as reporters we should just run with these rumors without any uhm, what's the word? OH yea, proof and uhm evidence” Clark really didn’t enjoy the talk about the older man especially after seeing the genuine care he had for the two boys. Not to say that Clark hadn’t been suspicious of the rumors being in fact just fiction to make people feel better about hating the man.

Lois gave an unimpressed look to the man’s stuttering and change in body language. She leaned forward and stared at him. It wasn’t a relaxed kind of stare, no she was basically picking apart the skin covering his skull to take a look into his brian herself.

Straightening up, she looked him dead in the eyes like she did when she wanted to get a good scoop. “You’re lying to me, Smallsville! What actually happened at the Gala?”

Clark stuttered out an non cohesive answer, something that could pause for a poorly timed joke in a 2000’s sitcom but at this moment, made him look like a complete and utter lier. Unimpressed as ever, Lois stares at him with the eyes that haunt many shady business mens’ dreams before remarking that the conversation wasn’t over but hse needed to start on the newest case she was writing about.

Clark silently thanked the gods for letting him get out of that awful conversation however his luck ran out far sooner than he expected. The familiar yell of his name sounded from his boss’s office. Usually Clark had an idea but today was basically unpredictable since he was on time today and didn’t even send him an email about the unreliable transport. Quickly fending off the thoughts that made him wanna quit, Clark hurriedly made his way to Perry’s office.

Before he could finish creaking the door closed, Perry was already on a tangent concerning the gala of the evening before. “Kent, tell me that you got something about the whole situation with Wayne’s ward?”

Clark felt the sweat make itself known under his collar as he tried to tell Perry anything not concerning Bruce Wayne. For the second time within the hour (more like 10 minutes), Clark is met with a face utterly unimpressed. “Kent, you really didn’t get anything from Wayne? Please tell me you’re just yanking my chain”

“Uh, no sir. I was able to speak to Mr.Wayne, very briefly. However that was before any of the stuff being talked about and I saw his ward who I believed looked dandy and fine. If it would help any, I found a few things about some other men in the field and their uuhm, less than savory escapades.” Clark hated lying, it felt dirty. However that sentiment was thrown out the window, he had sworn to Bruce to not talk about the evening and by golly was a southern promise worth more than a little disappointment from his always grouchy boss.

The mention of a different scoop allowed Perry to slightly perk up but the grimace in his face was still clear in his gaze at Clark. “Kent, I was hoping you’d find more but just get to writing about what you heard. Now get out of my office!”

Clark felt like he almost used his superhuman speed to get out of the office as soon as he could. Closing the door, he let out a tense breath and ushered himself back to his cubicle to start on the article.

Writing an article about some shady business guys was way better than being interrogated by his boss and best friend. Also writing gave Clark plenty of time to think about his evening split between two rather dashing noir men. But that's just between himself and his very crappy computer that seems to keep stopping when he is mid way through typing.
__________

Bruce was awake for many more hours after spending time with the meta, even if he normally hated when Superman ventured into Gotham uninvited. But for some reason unknown to him something about the evening had felt nice, familiar even. Sorta like deja vu, something to think back to later during one of his many sleepless nights.

Only a few hours into the morning did Bruce get a response from Clark. Bruce found the reporter's answer to be rather admirable and filled with that southern boy scout charm that he finds himself thinking back to far too often to be normal.
Reading that the younger agreed to the plans and gave him a date, he began helping the kids get ready for their day as well as putting himself into the “Billionaire CEO Bruce Wayne” persona.

The morning went on rather slowly, only typing out proposals and reading what the investors thought would drive the company to the best place. No matter how busy his brain seemed to be with the plethora of emails and proposals, he felt himself thinking back to the other man. The thoughts of what he could dress up Clark in during their date and the hope that the younger even with his seemingly shy demeanor would enjoy and let loose during their evening out. The thoughts of Clark were also mixed with another boy scout of a man that plagues his mind more frequently than he would ever admit.

Superman and Clark to Bruce felt so different but agonizing similar. The comparison confused him, how could a shy bashful reporter be compared to a borderline god among me. The only things that connected them was Bruce’s own wild imagination and thoughts.

Shaking the thoughts of the pair from his mind, Bruce focused himself on his work. The work itself was a snoozefest, just some snobby businessman trying to convince Bruce to self shares of his company and make a terrible reputation damaging product.

Being Batman came with perks, like his immense and often unyielding concentration. But even Batman got distracted, especially when he hears the sound of his giggling toddler barreling down. Looking away from his computer, he sees Damein covered in what he hopes was easily washable paint. Before he could get out of his desk chair, Stephanie, his daughter, came barreling into his office. The girl, just like her baby brother, was also unmistakably covered in bright splashes of paint.

Looking at the pair, he would bet good money that it was art day with Aunty Harley and there were three boys downstairs also covered in paint.

“HIIII DADDY!” came from the waving and giggling girl. Even while greeting his dad, Steph was trying to grab the attention of the paint covered toddler who was more interested in babbling to the gold detail animals of his fathers desk than acknowledging his sister.

Bruce laughed to himself before picking up both of his darling kids. His suit be damned, it probably would come out easily. But if it didn’t he would just buy a new suit. What he was the Bruce Wayne, he had money for 100,000 suits.

Instead of continuing the internal debate on the ethics of buying an outrageous number of suits, he turns to the girl playing in his arms. Planting a small kiss into the paint covered blonde lock, he laughs out a “Hello Sweetie, are you having fun with your brothers and Aunty Harley?”

Bruce knew that the simple question would have the sweet girl rambling on about how her afternoon was going. He would tell anyone that asked that he loved the energy and sharing nature of his kids even if it had caused him issues in the past. Because honestly as a first time single father, how are you supposed to explain why at the time your six year old only calls himself Dick or Robin instead of his perfectly normal name Richard to a reporter who thinks you're a creep?

Tuning back into the rambles learned that she was sent by Grandpa (Alfred) to get him for lunch and Damien just happened to beat her to it. Bruce giggled to himself about the whole situation, before that he should get a move on to lunch before Alfred sends one of his little gremlins to get him. Once again being Batman gave him the amazing perk of being to easily hold multiple of his children and walk without basically any strain. Bruce knows that sounds easy but with the hyperactive kids he has, carrying them and not having them fall might be a super power in of itself.

The closer Bruce got to the room, the louder the echo of chaos got. Bruce does the logical thing, which was pausing before opening the door and entering the craziness of ‘ Aunt Harley’s Art Day’.

Entering the room, he sees many giggling kids, a Harley covered in color (more than usual) and Alfred still pristine as ever. All he could do was shake his head and take a few photos of the chaos. He may be a billionaire and vigilant known for his stoicism but god dammit he was still a dad that wanted photos of his kids being happy.

Before Bruce could announce his presents or in fact say anything, a bustling Alfred began rounding up the kids and getting them to the overly long dining table. Even with a table that could seat 20 and have them all sitting apart, they all bunched to the edge of the table.

The kids' grubby, paint covered hands were quickly washed and soon the lunch of sandwiches and fruit was plated across the many seats of the table. Drinks were also given out, milk for Damie, Steph and Tim had watered down grape juice by choice, Jason had orange in a wine glass and Dick didn’t want a drink (he ended up asking for lemonade in his superman cup, much to Bruce’s humor)

The family was set up for a lovely and normal meal.

Well this is still the Wayne family we were talking about so lunch or any meal for that matter would not be “normal”. Jason and Dick were seeing who could fit more grapes in their mouth, Damien was trying to eat Harley’s fingers. Not even to mention that Steph and Tim were doing their weird staring thing like the creepy little twins they are.

Bruce loved his family, no matter how weird and mixed matched it was.

Even with content for his life, a small voice in the back of his head was whispering how if a certain reporter or maybe from an even quieter voice the brightly dressed meta was in one of the empty chairs, the family would be entirely complete. Even after they finished lunch the thought still lingered in Bruce’s mind.

Bruce finished the lunch with his family, washing up and thanking his pseudo father. He went back to his work and finished as much as he wanted because to be honest, he would be awake later to finish the rest.

Even through the painstakingly slow work, Clark still plagued his mind til he finally caved and texted the younger. It was a simple text, just asking if the younger was having a good day. Much to Bruce’s delight, the reply came quickly and was a rathered loaded answer. The reporter was talking about getting chewed out by his boss for his lack of Bruce content (funny because Clark probably knew more than any reporter he talked to last night) and even worse the absolute interrogation from his best friend Lois.

Bruce felt a wave of familiarity wash over him, seeing the way the younger talked. It reminded him of someone on the tip of his tongue but he pushed down the thought to bask in the domestic aura around the messages. Knowing that the younger felt comfortable talking to him about his personal life and involving him in his day felt like he could be a part of Clark’s life. Bruce felt disgusting like a love sick teenager, waiting on the beck and call of their lover when in reality he was a 30 something year old man who was texting someone who probably didn’t count him as a friend.

The pair continued to chat until Clark mentioned that his lunch break was over and that the laughing he was doing at his phone was causing Lois to be rather nosy. Bruce felt pride knowing the younger was laughing at his witty humor and enjoyed talking to him.

Bruce knows that most people still think that he is a suave and rich man, always sleeping around with men and women alike without a care in the world. But in reality, Bruce wasn’t that guy, maybe 10 years ago before he adopted Dick. Bruce had long slowed down, hell he basically stopped everything after the birth of Damien and subsequently the death of Damien’s mother. Bruce still could lay on the Brucie persona with ease but it wasn’t truly a part of him anymore, it was replaced by a much more preferred personality of a loving father.

Bruce believed that Clark saw him something more closely to the father that he was instead of a whore, ready to throw himself at the younger as soon as the opportunity arose. He knew it was wishful thinking but maybe the younger will give him a chance to prove himself.

Bruce let himself lean away from the internal dialogue and logged off the computer still running in front of him. He led himself out of the study, instead deciding to check on his children and see what they were doing now that the day was ticking slowly into evening.

He found the adorable sight of the children all piled together in the tv room with a mix of blankets draped over them. He lightly chuckled, taking a photo of the kids. He laughed a little harder realizing his kids fell asleep watching the absolute laughingstock of a Batman movie that he allowed to be made to counteract the violence of Batman. He may be a scary embodiment of darkness but he didn’t want kids to search up their favorite superhero and be traumatized for life by the horrors he had to commit to keep the people of Gotham safe.

Bruce wandered off to go find Alfred, who was preparing dinner in the kitchen. “Hello Alfred, did you see the kids?’

Looking up from his chopping, Alfred looks at his son and replies “Yes Master Bruce, they looked adorable.”

The pair fell into normal conversation, Bruce making tea for the two of them and Alfred went back to his preparations. The pair’s chat continued on without any hitch until Alfred brings up a topic that Bruce never expected. “So Bruce, how long until I expect to watch the children for your date with Mr.Kent”

Bruce choked on his sip of tea. “Pardon?” He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He had not expected to discuss his romantic endeavors (if you could even call it that) with a man that was basically his father.

Alfred simply restated the question, acting as if he was telling Bruce the sky was blue. Bruce, still stunned by the casual nature, stumbled out “Next week, next friday, the 25th at about 5 to around 7 give or take.”

In lue of a reply, Alfred simply nodded and refocused once again on his dinner preparations. Bruce decided to take his leave at that point because he just needed to process the short but startling conversation. He passed by his sleeping children once again, this time stopping to kiss the foreheads of each of them. Moments like this reminded him that he wasn’t nothing but a faceless crimefighter and the conversation with Alfred enforced the idea.

Bruce shook his head, making his way to his bedroom. He took a page out of the kids’ playbook and decided that a nap before dinner was in order.
__________

Clark was glad to finally be away from the planet, he loved being a reporter however today was not the day for him. After his integration from Lois and impromptu meeting with his boss already made him feel as if the world was against him, his computer decided to delete about 80 percent of the article he had written. Not to mention Lois basically breathing down his neck since she knew he was hiding information from her which he usually wouldn’t mind but he was just not in the mood.

His day had an upside when a certain billionaire happened to text him. He may or may not have spent his entire lunch nibbling on his sandwich (PB&J because well he was a simple guy) and giggling at his screen. This was good but all highs must have a low since this made Lois double her efforts of taking apart Clark’s thoughts, sometimes he really wondered if she actually had a mind reading power.

But Clark put all that trouble behind him, instead letting himself warm up a bowl of his Ma’s soup and resting on his creaky couch. He could feel the annoyance and general upset feeling come off of him in waves, leaving him content. His mind did supply the idea of what would make his relaxation even better. That being a warm body to cuddle and comfort him, specifically the warm body of a billionaire (or a brooding bat). Just this once he let himself indulge in the thought. The thought of not coming home to his tiny studio apartment to be by himself but instead a manor just across the water filled with his lover’s children. It was nice but he knew that he was crazy to think that the older man would ever want him for more than a date or two , maybe if he was really lucky they could be friends.

Letting himself dive deeper into his mind, he barely even recognized the sound of his phone pinging with notifications. He only escaped the prison of his mind when he heard the piercing sound of his phone ringing.

Without looking at who was calling, he answered. At first all he heard was silence before the unmistakable of oddly familiar giggling filled his ear. His mind still cloudy, he glanced at the user honestly believing it was some kids just playing a small prank. Instead he was met with ‘Bruce Wayne’ on the screen. That seemed to clear the clouds residing in his brain rather quickly.

“Uhm who is this, I believe yall called the wrong number” Clark didn’t know how to really handle the situation. He assumed one of Bruce’s children took the phone and Bruce didn’t know or had the intentions to converse with Clark.

The giggling lessened until a small voice spoke up. “Well I can’t tell you who I am but I think my dad likes you” and the giggling ramped up again, this time coming from at least 2(?) other children. Clark was starting to wonder how many kids Bruce had, it was probably in an article somewhere but that wasn’t Clark’s business. But more importantly he was able to conclude that the voice was most likely Bruce’s older son who he had seen at the Gala.

“Okay well mister boy, maybe you should give your dad back his phone. He is probably looking for you and him right now.” Clark didn’t wanna upset the kid by scolding him but Bruce seemed to be quite doting on his boys and probably wouldn’t be the most thrilled to see his child on his phone.

Well turns out Clark was on the right track since just as the boy was about to reply, he heard the steps of someone and ‘Jay what on earth are you doing with my phone’ being said. Clark was not surprised he was wrong with his guess of the boy but was delighted to be able to properly see that he was right in his assumptions of Bruce. While he wasn’t glad about the situation he found himself in, he was very appreciative to hear the sleep laced voice of Bruce. It sounded almost shockingly similar to another B named man, something Clark was filing away in the bank of his mind for nothing but selfish reasons.

Clark heard a shuffle between the man and the boy for the stolen phone before he heard Bruce. “Hey Clark, I am so sorry that Jay called you. He tends to be very sneaky and ran off with my phone before I could even process what was happening. I really hope he didn’t bug or interrupt you too much.” Clark could heat the exasperation in the man’s voice. He could guess having at least 2 kids was a handful not even to mention owning a fortune 500 company.

Clark realized that sitting on the other side of the phone silent while someone apologized probably wasn't the best thing. “Bruce it’s really no big deal, I just got home from work and was relaxing. Your boy wasn’t a bother, you don’t have to be so apologetic over a kid’s fun especially if it wasn't hurting anyone” Silence dragged on for a few seconds, Clark guessed that Bruce was taking in the reply.

“Clark, I must extend my apologies still, it was out of line for my son to bother you. I know that you see it as a minor thing but my father would have me by the ear if I didn’t offer some type of condolence for the inconvenience. I must extend the invitation for you to have dinner at the manor and get a proper apology from Jay. I mean I know that you don’t find this situation to be serious but I believe an apology is in order.” Clark was shocked, he must have fell asleep on his couch because there was no way in Ra that this was real life. Clark couldn’t even reply before Bruce added on. “I mean only if you would like to. I know that you don’t know me all that well”

Yea, Clark must be lucid dreaming or something because the Bruce Wayne was not only inviting him to dinner at the Wayne Manor but now stumbling over his words? Clark let him play into this seemingly dream by quickly reiterating that it wasn’t a bother but he would be honored to join him for a meal. He thought by now the other man would have backtracked and uninvited but much to his surprise, he doubled down and asked if the following evening around 6:30 would work. Clark agreed to the dinner and quickly find himself ending the call.

Hearing the click of the phone. Clark was struck with the reality that he was not in fact asleep or drugged by some crazy rogue. He was in fact having dinner in less than 24 hours with the Wayne family.

Clark thought his life was weird being Superman, but somehow an one time accidental encounter with a billionaire flipped his world more than when he developed his powers at 12. He needed to call , no fly to his Ma and have some apple pie because what in the world was happening this week.

Chapter Text

Clark found himself at the very farm he grew up on. Spotting the very lady he was looking for, he jogs over. “Hey Ma!” before almost barreling over her.

The woman catching her balance didn’t even ask why the man was at the farm again, instead just hugging the meta that she proudly called her baby boy (even if he was 6’4 and could hold up the plant). “Hello Clarkie, how are you doin’? I have some roast cookin’ for Pa and I, if you plan on stayin’ for a bit”

Clark could practically feel the worry and anxiety fall off his shoulders listening to his mother’s odd dialect. The combination of a lifetime worth of living in the south with a touch of the learned midwest accent felt like a warm hug for Clark. He relaxed into the gentle hug of his ma, he felt like a boy again, before the powers, before the move to metropolis and long before meeting the men that just won’t leave his mind.

“Ma, I would love to stay for dinner. It’s been a day, no it's been a month” Clark sighed into his mother’s shoulder. He knew he probably looked crazy clinging to his mother but good lord, he needed it.

He just felt so confused, one day he has never talked to Bruce Wayne, the next he somehow knows his personal number and is going on a date. Not even to mention meeting the Wayne family and having a dinner together.

It was all just so stressful and confusing.

On one hand he is falling head over heels for the sweet, protective Bruce Wayne that he seems to meet more and more with each conversation. But on the other he is terrified of the man suddenly finding a new person and tossing him to the side. Not to mention his crush on the dark knight, which adds a whole new level of what the fuck to the situation.

It was just all too much. Superman may be the defender of the world and is known for his courage and being outspoken but Clark was not. Clark was timid and scared of things, he was just a journalist who worked at the daily planet.

He was not cut out for all of this drama, for Christ's sake, he was raised on a farm. The most drama he’d ever dealt with was if Johnny down the road was fucking his sheep or if Lidnsey kissed Jessica’s boyfriend at the county fair.

Bruce Wayne was a whole new level of drama and craziness to deal with. For starters, his job was crazy. An owner of a fortune 500 company who has been in the public eye for years was a lot.

Even if his job wasn't already crazy, Bruce does have at least 2 small children. While Clark clearly sees no issues in Bruce's parenting it's how people speak of him, it is absolutely crazy. The wild stories of him doing things to his sweet sons or saying that he secretly had them at 20 with a prostitute, it was all too much.

Its all so terrifying. Anything could happen and Clark's whole career could be ruined for simply knowing the older man.

Clark wishes that he could just stop in the moment where he is in his ma's arms and forget about all his life outside the farm.

"Clark, my baby, let's go inside. I just made some more tea, it should be cooled by now" Martha pulled herself from the overly large arms of her son before waking toward the farmhouse. Clark took a deep breath before hurrying after his ma's slowly fading figure.

The house was the same, just like it always seemed to be when he returned.

Everything stayed the same. Memories scattered throughout the space. the random half patched holes he made as a kid realizing he could fly or the backdoor stuck with magnets that the 'Amazing Superman' would pick up around the world.

No matter how much he changed, it seemed like the old, rickety farmhouse never changed much.

Best of all was the aroma of pot roast filling the tiny space of the kitchen, making Clark feel like one of those silly floating cartoons. Clark knew he picked a great night to visit the Kent household for dinner.

Clark snapped out of his daydreaming by his ma's giggling voice, "Clark, honey, please set the table before you hit the ceiling fan."

Clark hadn't realized but he truly did look like one of those cartoons and was just about to float in the ceiling fan hanging above the dining table. Laughing alongside his ma, rather embarrassed, Clark slowly floated back to the ground. Smiling, he grabbed the plates waiting in his ma's hands and placed them out on the table. Soon after he grabbed the forks and knives, deciding that everyone could have their choice of cups. He knew his ma would probably have a bottle of cola and his dad would be drinking out his old cup so there was no point in the matter.

By the time Clark was done setting the table and helping his ma with the sides ( a quick fly to Ireland for potatoes never hurt), his Pa loud work shoes were being dropped by the door.

"Well look who the dog dragged into the yard today" alongside a heavy hand onto Clark's shoulder was all he needed to know that things would be okay. Johnathan kissed Martha on the cheek before walking away to rinse off before dinner.

Clark and Martha sat at the table ,letting the roast settle while waiting for the older man.

"So honey, what's wrong?", the concern in his Ma's tone almost made him snap back to the reality of his life, outside this elysium.

Clark stares at her for a moment, "Ma can I not visit yo-"

"Clark Joseph Kent. Do not play with me; I am your mother. I know when something is wrong or you just want a home cooked meal from ya mama. Don’t think I didn’ see how you basically fell on me earlier. So now, tell me what's wrong."

See one thing Clark had learned, is Martha Hudson Clark Kent was not a woman to be messed with and could read anyone like a picture book.

So Clark did the most reasonable thing. He spilled his guts on the table where he made baking soda volcanos and thought about Lucas down the road. He rambled about seeing Bruce Wayne and all the chaos that has followed. And his ma just listened and listened til he was done.

"Well Clark, he seems lovely. You know when I met your pa, I felt the same way. Its not the same because Pa is no big shot like your Bruce but I was shaking in my boots when he asked me out, not to mention when he took me home to his folks." Martha recounted the tale of her and Pa like it was yesterday but Clark knew she just wanted him to be happy.

Before Clark could thank her for the advice, he felt his ma's arms wrapping around his shoulders. "Also if he breaks your heart, I'll just do what my pa used to to do to the old hogs in the backyard"

Straightening up she walked away to finish preparing the table ,just as Pa left the bathroom. Clark just sat in shock about his Ma.

He knew not to bring it up at dinner so he just ate his food, dreaming about the cherry pie that he knew his ma made for dessert.
____________

Bruce found himself shocked by his own actions for once. Usually the shock of when he did crazy things like spend 2 million dollars on a painting or beat the living shit out of Joker didn't weigh on him too much. However for some unknown reason, inviting Clark to a simple dinner had him faltering.

Even worse, Bruce could see Jason was being a grinning little devil. Jason had been bugging him to see Clark again after meeting him at the Gala and according to the little gremlin, his long term love for journalism (Who knew the little gremlin even liked journalism, better question: can Jay even read??)

It's like deja vu, Jason had only been like this one other time with a certain meta.

It must be the stress of his own dumb mistake because there is no way that Big Blue and the darling journalist, Clark Kent could be the same person. Even though they look the same in the face besides the glasses and seem to have similar mannerisms but that has nothing to do with anything.

Bruce realized he had been spaced out for far too long, even for him. Tuning back in, he realized he had somehow already made his way to the dining room alongside his hoard of children. He silently took the seat at the head of the surprisingly short table, it was their everyday table, not the long one for galas or hosting dinner parties.

Bruce smiled gently as he watched his older sons help the younger kids into their seats with the aid of Alfred. Which means Alfred did it for them while the boys ushered them like sheepdogs.

A simply adorable sight.

Bruce loved his little family and once again thought of the large man, god was he plaguing his every thought. Grimacing, Bruce remembers exactly what he has to ask Alfred and he’d rather bite the bullet right now than later.

“Uhm, Alfred?” God did he always sound like a scared child when speaking to Alfred or could it be since he feels like a high school girl saying she has a date to prom.

“Yes, Master Bruce?” Alfred calmly announced while seating Steph into her chair.

“I need you to uhm, prepare an extra seat for tomorrow's dinner. Please.”

Oh how the great Bruce Wayne falls when merely asking for extra seats at dinner, god was he embarrassed. He was motherfucking Batman for fuck’s sake.

“Oh! Well that can be arranged Master Bruce, any specific requests or seating arrangements for this guest?” Alfred may seem composed but Bruce could see the way the older man perked up realizing that his disaster of a pseudo son may actually be gasp! Making friends or even a lover!

“Well, I , uh, I can ask him if he has any preferences and I would uhm prefer him seated near me. It's the guy that found Dickie and Jay at the gala a few evenings ago, Clark.”

The last part tumbled out of Bruce’s mouth. He couldn’t help but lower his head in nothing but shame. It was only made worse when he raised it to find not one but three pairs of eyes staring at him.

Before he could get a word out, the two tiny sets of eyes lit up with joy as they began to fill the room with talk of how they were happy to see the blue eyed man again and how ‘he writes real good’ among other outlandish praise. Once again could those two even read?

The large aged eyes staring at him, almost said something unspeakable, maybe even scary.

Simply just ‘Do you care for this man, like you cared for her’

Bruce couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. He never wanted someone like her in his life again. She hurt him, but Clark seemed to care.

Clark seemed like warm sun on your face and light music to bless your ears. She was like icy rain and nails to a chalkboard. At least he hoped Clark was like that, she seemed …good at first too.

Bruce let out a slight sigh, he so wished he could have kept it internal because it was enough for Alfred to know the answer.

The chaos of a new person joining the next evening winded down as Alfred left and brought back dishes of mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, chicken and many other small things to fulfill the super appetite of the family. The dinner was filled with the babbles of the children and fussing of Damien when Bruce tried to make him eat his mushed green beans.
It was bliss.

But bliss only lasted so long because soon the kids were being washed and tucked into their beds with kisses of sweet dreams.

With all of the nosy ears away, Bruce knew Alfred wouldn’t let him out of this conversation.

“Bruce” He could hear this was not the voice of his life long butler but instead the one of the man who had been with him through thick and thin. The man that he calls a father and his kids see as grandpa.

“Yes Alfred” Bruce could feel shame running through him like it was embedded in his blood. It wasn't the whole it being a man or anything, Alfred has known for years about Bruce being bisexual.

It was that Alfred could see Bruce falling too fast and being hurt once again. Alfred may know that Bruce is a grown man but in his mind, Bruce was still his little baby B who clung to him at the grocery store or cried at the sight of spilled juice.

“Son, please don’t throw yourself into it this time too.” Times like this is when Bruce could see signs of aging resting on Alfred’s face. A wrinkled forehead from years of worrying to the permanent eye bags.

“I promise I won’t. If not for your sake but the kids, I could never do that to them.” Bruce knows that he was somewhere far from sane during that time, he’ll admit the depressing but true fact. That woman who he found comfort and joy, was nothing but evil. He got love but at a hefty price, He was left with so much pain and hurt but also with something wonderful, Damien. He would never forgive her for what she did to him or forgive himself for what that pain caused him to do but he’ll never be angry with his sweet baby boy.

Alfred took his word with a light nod, patting his son on the back before exiting the room.

Leaving Bruce to think about everything, Clark, Damien’s mother , all his kids and much more. Bruce wished that he could do better but just like his kids, he is healing from life.

After a while, he left the dining room and headed to the bat cave. A night of patrolling could help. Suiting up, he was off to become the shadow that haunts Gotham. Only slightly hoping to see a certain meta.
______

After the dinner and some delicious pie, Clark was on his way with a few strong pats and his ma reminding to “not be a stranger” with a look telling him that she, if anything came about with the mystery man; would be meeting him as soon as meta humanly possible. Luckily his pa didn’t pry, the man only cared about one romance, specifically involving his beautiful wife.

The fly back to Metropolis felt short and as he’d heard some people explain, cold. The evening air hundreds of miles in the sky did nothing to Clark but the liquid pulsing under his skin inside his veins couldn’t be farther from that. He couldn’t explain the ache but he wished someone was there to fill it.

Finding himself back at the door of his apartment, only made him feel worse.

Cold hardwood floors, silence spread like anything living had been killed by the plague. It was sterile, not a mouse was even heard. Clark hated it so much. The silence in one of his only protected places made him feel like a lunatic rather than a man enjoying the comfort of home.

Realizing he had been standing in the unheated hall of his apartment, Clark dragged himself in. He sighed like a long day of journaling had been done as he made his way to the old couch he’d brought for 10 bucks at a thrift store.

His head hitting the cushioned seats made him realize how much he wished there was more for him. He was meant to be the last son of Krypton, a hero to the people. But in reality he was a loser 29 year old journalist who was borderline obsessed with a literal billionaire and a vigilante who most likely hates his guts. Clark wished he could just genuinely sleep, he felt too human to be alien but too meta to interact with normal humans. Times like this made Clark’s brain feel slow.

He let himself drift into dreams of what Bruce could be doing at that moment. He dreamed of the man sitting with his many (?) children, tucking them into fancy little beds in that borderline castle of a house. Or maybe he was up in a study, glasses sitting on the tip of his nose so he could browse over many Wayne Enterprise documents.

Somehow that dark hair man shifted into a man cloaked in darkness. The sweet name of Bruce in Clark’s head morphed into a savory Batman.

Instead of seeing a large manor filled with fancy paintings and giggling children, the visions shifted into a darker room with a child or two slowly waking for the evening and a tall, dark figure shifting gear onto his toned body.

Clark honestly couldn't see the difference in his brain, the two men shifted into one figure. The way that Bruce would interact with Dick seemed almost the exact same as the Bat when his little sidekick, Robin, got hurt while they patrolled the dangerous city of Gotham. It seemed like the two were basically the same, wouldn’t that be the worse and best thing ever.

Imagine Clark and Superman both trying to woo a man that could split himself so perfectly into two. On one hand, Clark had Bruce as a friend, maybe more. But Superman and the Bat had a terrible relationship. For Ra’s sake, Batman’s heart would race so fast like he was ready to run at any moment; the poor guy was probably terrified of him for being a stupid meta.

Clark wished he could be normal but he wasn’t and there was no chance Batman or Bruce wanted him. At least Bruce didn’t seem to hate him but he’ll probably be kicked to the curb sooner or later, he always had been.

Clark heard the near silent to anyone else but deafening to him, notification ping his phone. Shifting slowly, Clark grabbed the phone and adjusted to the blinding light. A simple ‘Bruce’ was displayed on the screen.

Clark gently sighed, maybe this was finally the ‘actually you can’t come to dinner tomorrow and out “date” is never happening’ text. Instead, much to his surprise and delight, it was just a simple text of telling him the time and wondering if he wanted anything specific for dinner.

He would never admit it but that night, when Clark forced himself to bed; he could feel a tiny smile. Maybe he’ll even see Batman soon and his heart won’t sound like a jet engine.

Chapter Text

The morning came oddly slow to Clark. Usually he would feel like the shift from stone night into the rejuvenating morning only took mere seconds but the anticipation made time run like molasses onto a biscuit during the winter. It made him feel human in a way, like time truly did restrain him instead of just being another thing he heard be feared. It was odd but so was everything about him.

Still the sun came blindingly and Clark was soaking in the loving embrace of the rays before getting ready for another day at the planet. He dressed well this day, there would not be enough time to get the trolley to Gotham and go home to change out of his work clothes. So a nicer one of his dress shirts and slacks (that he definitely chose on accident and not because it makes his butt look good) would be the outfit to wear to the home of the richest man on the east coast.

Hopefully, Lois would leave him be today. He really could not deal with another therapy/interrogation session from the woman.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved the curious nature of Lois but he wanted to feel like he wasn’t held at gunpoint everytime she asked about his evenings. It was exhausting sometimes especially with the whole secret double life thing, worse recently because he was basically running another life in Gotham.

Enough time had passed and with his work bag suitably packed, Clark was off to his daily transit. He may be superman but his bank account was not super, reporter’s salary and all that. So instead the public bus was his average way to work. Sure he had a rusty old junker of a pickup truck that lived in his parking spot but the last time he drove that, Perry threatened to get him towed since he was ‘bringing down the property value’ or some other wildly rude comment.

He didn’t love the bus but it was what brought him where he needed to go. The super senses made the babies who fussed or teens with gum about a million times more irritating. Not to mention the disgusting smell of the people who are still half wasted at 8am or the lingering smell of cheap and grease filled food. He thought maybe these things were close to what most would call a headache, he wasn’t sure but it definitely wasn’t pleasant in the slightest.

Okay so maybe Clark did hate riding the bus, sue him. Maybe don’t actually, you would at most get a bus pass or the old rustbucket of a truck.

Soon enough Clark found himself at the bus stop down the road from the Planet. His daily trudge to the building went on how it does everyday. He waved to the sweet man who worked at the cafe and the crossing guard who seemed to always be smiling. After those two he would glance to the end of the street and see the little tabby cat trying to get into the bodega at the corner. It was nice to Clark.

It felt human

He knew in his heart that he truly would never understand the socialization of humans but the simple gestures of familiarity felt so comforting. It was so odd because he knows he grew up just like them but he just doesn't have a sense for random unexplained emotion. Maybe that is what made everything with Bruce and Batman feel so off.

He stopped his musings about how alien it feels to be well, Alien, and went into the large glass building. He kept on with his normal routine, walking up the stairs to punch in his card before making his way to the pale, comforting break room then leading himself to the cubicle he had decorated to be a spitting image of everyone else's along with a little bit of Batman merch seeping into the cracks. Maybe a little more Batman merch than he would want to admit, the JL and perhaps himself might like to give the vigilante to him.

Clark quickly got to work, he always had a new ‘groundbreaking’ article to write, this week being about how the “Amazing Man of Steel, Superman” had once again saved the day. It felt like writing self insert fanfiction sometimes with how much people thought and praised him as a figure of virtue and strength, a hero among men. It felt good to be loved but it was far too extreme especially when he sees the internet forums detailing every little change about him. Why did it matter that he slouched at 3:49pm after saving a bus full of children?

Soon Clark was done with the article just as the lunch hour was creeping up to him. He went on with his normal day, a seat by one of the building's huge windows and a Pb&J on wheat. As he was settling into the seat he felt the gentle buzzing of his phone. Looking he saw no other than the billionaire who seems to never leave his mind.

Bruce
12:07-Hey Clark, I am pretty sure you are at work but I just wanted to make
sure you were still coming over
12:08- I know I came off a little much last night

Clark felt almost stupid with how a grin overtook his face. He honestly thought the man was canceling but he was doing just the opposite. It felt nice for people actually caring about Clark Kent not Superman or even Kal El. His sandwich tasted extra sweet and perhaps a few folks took a double take at the love(?) sick expression that just wouldn’t leave his tanned face.
____________

Bruce was just waking up at around noon. His patrol had been much longer than normal, a mishap with the Riddler always made the night too long. (only the mentally ill like Edward would think to use elliptic curve cryptography for the word ‘chiroptera”)

It was okay since he finally had a day off from WE, and Alfred and Harley didn’t mind watching the kids until he was finally trudging out of his ten thousand count bed sheets. It really benefited to be rich while dressing up in a bat costume and being vengeance personified.

He guessed now would be a better time to text Clark since he finally felt clearer in the head. He knew that he shouldn’t have basically forced the man to come have dinner but the exhaustion and deep, selfish desire to have the man so close and not through the phone had simply been too much. Somehow the man didn’t run for the hills or more likely, the gossip columns and yell about the weird and pushy man that Bruce Wayne truly was when not veiled by the flashing lights of luxurious galas.

Bruce knew that he shouldn’t be letting the reporter come into his home. It wasn’t just out of fear for the media getting their dirty claws into his poor babies but the fear of what the man himself could do to Bruce.

He could feel the way that those feelings seemed to start burning him from the inside out by just seeing the large man taking care of his kids. Bruce has always been someone quick to jump, to chase the ones he deserved but Clark, he was worse. The man made him feel like he was drinking lava by the gallon with the way that he burned with selfish desire. He wanted to take the man and never let anyone outside of his life ever even dare to talk let alone touch him, he would be one of the prize jewels in Bruce’s keep.

It wasn’t this feeling of greed that scared Bruce. No, it was that the feelings aching in Bruce just below the surface wasn’t lust. He couldn’t focus on the thoughts of breaking down the sweet man til he was sobbing and begging instead he was struck with the want to care for him. He wanted to pick him up from work and sit next to him on a couch while he typed away on his clacky keyboard. To be domestic, be a family.

That's what scared Bruce.

Lusting and being lusted after was second, perhaps even first nature to Bruce at this point. He would use sex to his advantage, breaking down men and women to benefit the company or simply sleeping with the many rouges roaming Gotham to keep himself at bay. But Clark was one of the only people, beside Superman, who made him not immediately jump too well, jumping his bones. He could see the spark of love setting seed in his chest, nestling right next to the sunny superhero who hasn’t left him in years.

Bruce knew he needed to stop thinking about the two men and get out of his bed. He had much to do before the reporter would be at the manor that evening. It was silly and almost nauseating how giddy he felt knowing he would be eating dinner with him.

Bruce dismissed the childish thoughts instead dressing himself for the day (even if it was already hours into the day for most). He decided to be comfortable, a turtleneck and looser fitting trouser would be perfect.

Despite what most believed, did not always wear designer outfits. He preferred long sleeve lounge shirts and trousers over the stuffy formal button ups and suits that he always was seen wearing. He did have at least five children in his house at all times, Dolce and Gabbana would not stand a chance against Tim’s spills or Dami’s spit up.

Once ready for his day, Bruce creaked open the door not entirely sure what chaos awaited him that day. Sometimes it would be Dick falling off the chandelier for the nth time or Tim somehow hacking into the Gotham PD. He still didn’t know how the boy got not only into the bat cave but could read what he was doing, it was a mystery not even the world’s greatest detective could answer. However instead of mess and disaster, he was met with nothing.

Quietness, eerie silence that felt cryptic to the usually bustling manor. He was sure that most parents would be happy for the peace but it sent shots of panic through his body. What if someone had gotten into the manor, what if he was walking into another time his entire family was ripped away from him within minutes but this time he could have done something.

Bruce was stuck spiraling, the deep nasty parts of his brain rising to the surface, filling the emptiness with memories of snapped pearls and blood hitting the pavement. The next second, it wasn’t an alley anymore but a bright circus and a platform with a falling bird.

Unknown to Bruce, a tiny toddler was actively crawling up his leg. Only when the babbling reached his ear did Bruce snap out of the thoughts. Letting the glassy look from his eyes fade, Bruce found himself face to face with a toddler?

Well a baby being in his personal space wasn’t new but the baby itself was definitely not Dami. Who had brought this random toddler into his house? This child couldn’t be more than four years old, how would it have even gotten onto the manor property? Oh lord, which one of his kids kidnapped the neighbor (again)??

He didn’t ponder the question for long, instead properly scoping the tiny baby girl(?) into his arms and speed walking to the staircase whilst calling for his kids and Alfred. Honestly he knew the quiet was too good to be true, everybody in his house were people who fed off of chaos even while being so tiny. Their teen years are gonna kill him or themselves, he shuddered even thinking of the crazy headlines that his kids will one day create for the Gotham Gazette.

Bruce finally started to hear noise as he left the upper wings of the manor. He hoped that Alfred or Harley were the ones so he could get some reasonable answers to why a little asian baby (that wasn’t Damien) was in his house.

He soon realized god had abandoned him since it was in fact not an adult making noise but another random child but this one was ginger??? Was he going crazy, did the Joker make Baby hallucination gas or something this week?? Maybe he just should have stayed asleep…

Now with a second child following along on his journey, he continued to move through the house. He hoped that he would find an adult this time not another stray child or one of his own devious children. As he was walking, the shock of another child wore off a bit and he swore that the little ginger he acquired was Gordon’s daughter. He would ask how she got here but honestly the little girl was almost as devious as his own kids according to the stories from the commissioner.

Being the world’s greatest detective, Bruce soon realized why the house was so silent. The family was playing hide and seek which made him wanna bang his head on the wall a bit. See for a normal family, the game was fun and took up about half an hour but this was the Waynes. A family made up of a circus performer, a kid who knew his way around the alley, a tiny stalker, someone who somehow knew everything going on with everyone and a baby assassin—they were far from normal. The average Wayne game would take hours and with at least two extra children, it might as well be the entirety of Arkham Asylum breaking out.

It was gonna be a long afternoon. Bruce prayed that Alfred wasn’t in on the game so he could at least have someone to talk to about finding the kids playing throughout the manner.

Walking into the kitchen, he realized that once again God was cruel and had abandoned him. In writing that screamed proper, said that Alfred was not playing the game however as requested of the young masters and misses, he couldn’t help with the investigation. Bruce felt dumb but the groan that left his mouth could rival that of an emo thirteen year old in 2008. He couldn’t be angry at the man but it would have been nice to have some help, he only had a few hours until Clark was coming over for dinner.

Bruce wished that he could say being the world’s greatest detective helped him but he would be lying. All his children and their little friends were meances who all knew a little bit too much for their age.

Somehow by the grace of whoever was orchestrating Bruce’s life, he found all of the children around 4pm. Along with the ginger girl (who was in fact Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, Barbra) and Asian toddler (Cass was apparently her name according to Jason who said it as if common knowledge), there was also a black boy around Tim’s age that was also hiding away in the manor with his own children. Bruce couldn’t believe his eyes when there were just the normal five children that he loved but instead eight children who were all smiling and giggling like it was any normal monday.

Bruce honestly wondered what he did to have such oddities plague his life but today was not the day to hypothesize. Somehow through bribery (Alfred’s fresh cookies) he got answers to where the extra not wayne children came from. Turns out Cass knew Jason and Damien due to their time before Bruce and Alfred seemed to know that she wasn’t exactly going to leave any time soon. The young black child, Duke actually knew Tim and was already meant to visit today. Lastly, Barbra had come with her father to speak with Alfred about the events of the gala but once she met Dick and he proclaimed her to be his ‘girlfriend’, she asked to stay for a bit to play with him and the other of the wayne ward. Bruce could feel the ache in his head growing, there was no way that not one but three extra children in his house for the evening.

A lot of people knew about Bruce’s oldest ward but two is a lot different than having eight children in the house. Even worse, the similarities between the children, besides Barbra who was already publicly known, would tick off anyone of something let alone one of the best journalists on this side of the country (behind the Pulitzer winner Lois Lane herself.)
There was no way that Clark wouldn’t think that there is something up with Bruce. What would he think, he’ll probably think Bruce is some dumb man whore who won’t stop having non-ligament children. Maybe Clark will think some even worse things, child trafficker or maybe an organ harvester.

Bruce realized that instead of crying and festering over what crazy things Clark would think of him, he should instead start forcing all these wild children to look presentable. He did something that always made Alfred chuckle and used his Dad Voice™ aka the voice he used to scare the hardened criminals of Gotham, to get the many children’s attention.

One hour and the same effort that Bruce used everynight to keep Gotham safe, he had all of the children presentable for the very large dinner that would be happening in only about an hour. Luckily all of the children who lived in the manor agreed to wear relatively normal clothes except Tim who greatly argued that his Superman shirt made sense and acted like he knew something that no one else did. The real struggle was keeping the kids looking adorable and presentable since all of them were menaces to society and would all be the next rogues of Gotham if Bruce didn’t stop them somehow.

However Alfred finally decided that he would no longer leave Bruce to the wolves (his children and their friends) and help keep the bunch in check. What better way to keep a bunch of children contained and not ripping/messing up/ destroying their clothes than puzzles and a movie on the large television housed in the living room. Bruce for the first time in what felt like days even if just a few hours, took a long deep breath. Staring at the sea of children, Bruce felt oddly happy.

He had always known chaos but this chaos of family and laughing children felt refreshing. He could see as the oldest two of the bunch sat together putting together a slightly challenging puzzle, arguing gently over pieces one second then giggling the next. Steph, Duke and Tim sat on one of the many large couches, watching the show together. The last three were sitting together with the toddlers resting on Jason while he gently turned the pages of a children’s book. Bruce couldn’t say that he truly had ever felt happier than this moment. Atlas, Bruce didn't stay too long on the topic, it tended to be weird when he got teary eyed randomly and he had a guest to entertain soon.

With a light sigh and a nod to Alfred, Bruce left the moment that the kids were living in. He knew somewhere in his soul that this wouldn’t be the last time that these children would be together but instead, it was the first of many.

He walked the quiet halls of the manor and back up the stairs to his bedroom. The room was silent as ever. Bruce may have been known for being a man with a lively bedroom but in the past few years the only people in his bedroom were his children crying from nightmares or just needed some comfort before they saw their father off to his nightly patrol. His closet was stacked with designer and lovely clothes but he couldn’t bring himself to dress in a nice suit or the newest line from Prada, instead he grabbed an outfit that he would wear on any of his days off from the office. With the evening nearing, the manor while lovely did start to grow cold so Bruce dressed with one of his favorite turtlenecks that was worn out a bit and a pair of dark corduroys that to his odd mind felt almost the same as wearing sweatpants. He went without actual shoes instead slipping on his well worn slippers before journeying back to the living room to start the herculean task of getting the many children to the dining room.

The easiest were somehow Damien and Cass who stared at each other for a few moments silently before toddling their way over to Bruce and demanding to be carried. People definitely knew that Batman was strong for some odd reason but god did Bruce’s dad strength really make a difference. The rest of the children went fairly normal except for the terrible trio aka Tim, Steph ,and Duke who were bargaining for dessert, well it was mostly Tim and Steph while Duke just nodded in agreement. In the end the children were promised a treat after dinner which was gonna be served either way but Bruce wouldn’t tell the gremlins that.

The seating was honestly very odd. Bruce doesn’t remember the last time or ever that he had this many people in his personal dining room.

Normally the seating arrangements would have Bruce at the head of the table with Dami to his left in a high chair, Alfred to his right (he had long convinced the older man to eat with him instead of denying it due to being the ‘help’) and the rest of the family seated along the next four chairs. However tonight, Bruce would still be seated at the head of the table but with two high chairs to his left (Damien as normal and Cass for safe measures), Clark placement to the right of him and Alfred to the right of him. Bruce may love his children and could accept the people they brought around but there was no way on Gods’ green Earth or any other planet for that matter would he let any of those kids with their chaotic nature be seated to a man that he actually liked. If it was any other rando, he would have Tim and Jason on each side of him with one serving of mac and cheese waiting in front of him to see the boys argue but Clark meant good behavior and sitting next to the most sensible person in the entire manor.

Bruce wished he could lie and say that he didn’t care at all about Clark’s opinion on him and how he was as a father but he knew that would be far from the truth. He may not be looking for approval of his actions but acceptance and perhaps even enjoyment in the chaos that was the Wayne family would stroke that fire that Bruce is burning for Clark all the brighter. Yes, Clark could deal with Bruce’s oldest children but learning about not only two more adopted children but also a biological child may simply be too much. It worried Bruce greatly but it was too late to spiral.

The manor’s security had just begun to alert about a certain reporter requesting access to the grounds.
____________

Clark was in the simplest terms he could fathom at this moment; scared absolutely shitless.

It wasn’t anything catastrophic but lord did Clark realize,ironically, that he may be playing a bit above his weight class. Of course, Clark knew that Bruce was wealthy and lived a lavish lifestyle that he could only day dream about but lord did the manor look exceptionally beautiful, perhaps even rivaling Bruce. The early evening Gotham sky though starless was lit up in a beautiful array of warm tones of the day melting in the mysterious and alluring cold tones of the night which gave framing to the manor as if Bruce paid the gods to do it. The manor itself was the definition of elegance but somehow still perfectly held and embraced the essence of Gotham in the design. The looming roof and its details seemed to etch its own stars into the darkening sky but the dozens of windows placed along the exterior seemed to breathe a sense of hope into the air that Clark rarely ever saw in Gotham.

It was simply magnificent.

The beauty, the grace, the wealth in the form of stone was so far from Clark. He couldn’t help but wonder if he truly deserved to be in such a presence of beauty, be that the house or the main occupant. Clark knew he wasn’t much in comparison to Bruce Wayne but now sitting in his old beat up truck outside a house worth more than his life, he definitely saw the divide. He was worried, what if Bruce finally saw him in his world and realized he was nothing but a fumbling reporter? Maybe he would see Clark’s shabby work clothes and not wonder what it would be like to have them next to his in a wardrobe but instead think about the cheap price tag attached.

Clark had to stop himself. This wasn’t the rich and untouchable Brucie Wayne, this was Bruce who was worried about his kids more than his reputation and business endeavors.

Clark tried to remember that as he rang the doorbell at the frankly terrifyingly large front doors and as he was guided by the older gentlemen who was the butler of the manor, Alfred.

“I apologize for being the one to greet you rather than Master Bruce. However you will see why he was so preoccupied at the moment.” Clark felt like Alfred was rather ominous but simply nodded, silently hoping that he was not about to get his organs harvested by a billionaire or cannibalized. From his experience, rich folks were quite crazy (cough cough Lex Luthor).

Clark heard the crowd before he actually saw them. He briefly wondered if Bruce owed multiple people a thank you dinner but realized that it was in fact just eight(?) children sitting at the large table that somehow seemed quite small. He felt a small smile grace his lips when he saw Bruce in the middle of all the chaos. From what Clark could see, the man was currently trying to get an ipad away from a child that Clark was about 65% sure was the son of the Drakes while also trying to stop the two young children in high chairs from sword fighting(?) with spoons.

Somehow amidst everything, Bruce was still stunning. He didn’t look poised or have the perfect lighting like a magazine shoot— he looked human. He was imperfect and it took Clark’s breath away and made his chest ache in an almost possessive way. Clark didn’t want anyone else to see Bruce as this messy dad, he wanted this version of the man for himself only.

Clark stopped his thoughts of keeping this scene and perhaps the other man in a glass bottle when he met the gaze of those frosty blue eyes. Within the second, Clark didn’t just see those perfect eyes but also a blush spreading amazingly across Bruce’s face. It made him want to laugh, imagine a Billionaire playboy blushing at the sight of little ol’ Clark Kent from Kansas.

“Oh my..Hello Clark, welcome to Wayne Manor. I hope you found your way here easily?” Clark wanted to go pinch the older man’s cheeks because he was so cute.

“Hello Bruce, I made it here well enough. I can not lie, the manor isn’t the most unknown place but it is quite lovely in person.” He wanted to giggle at the man’s reaction. It seems like he had forgotten that his house was counted as a ‘must see’ spot in Gotham even if from 300 yards away at the main gate.

Before Bruce could reply both of the men were interrupted by Alfred who urged the pair to sit for the meal before “the many children find themselves bored" which if you asked Clark, scared the daylights out of Bruce to think about. The oldest man rushed off once getting the pair to sit down, going off to get the meal of the evening.

Clark couldn’t lie, he swore the last time he saw this much food must have been at the Planet’s last christmas party. There was a little bit of everything, he was frankly overwhelmed. Clark may be an alien but he was pretty sure that some of the food laying across the table was from a different planet. Somehow, Alfred could see the hesitance on Clark’s face and offered to simply make the man a plate of what he believed would satisfy for a meal. Clark thanked the man out loud and silently thanked the gods above for saving him.

The dinner mostly went as smoothly as one might expect when there are eight children. Clark felt odd seeing as he only spoke to two of the eight and could maybe name four. Bruce seemed in a similar boat as Clark somehow— did he not know his own children? One of them, he believed was Tim, seemed to stare at Clark with knowing eyes and as Alfred took the many children away after dinner seemed to mutter something about “I know its you Superman” but honestly Clark didn’t wanna ask. However by the time that the dinner ended, Bruce seemed far more exhausted than Clark had ever seen the man.

“Clark, I must apologize… I had no clue that there would be so many extra children in the manor today. I truly did not intend to put you through an evening of dining next to people who can not even tie their own shoes.” Clark felt sad for the man, he was still overly attracted but the signs of stress and frustration were rather clear.

“Oh Bruce, I can’t say I was expecting this to be the dinner that you invited me to, however I can not fault you. If it is not too much, can I ask which of the children are your ward? I know that you have two older wards but I could not imagine that they have friends still in high chairs” He hated that he was curious but sue him. To his delight, Bruce didn’t immediately kick him out of the manor but instead stared at him like a fish out of water.

“Clark…Did I not tell you my childrens’ names….” The slight shake of Clark’s head seemed to send the billionaire spiraling.

“Oh my lord, Clark, I apologize. It seemed to completely slip my mind to even warn you about the number of children, I have been so busy since I woke up dealing with all of them that I forgot to tell you now-” Clark’s light giggle cut off Bruce’s rant. He found it funny, a strict business man was basically word vomiting at Clark over his children and their friends. Once he calmed himself down, the pair stared at each other expecting the other to do something.

Luckily, Bruce broke the moment by pulling out his phone and in the most Dad way that Clark has ever seen, talking about each of his kids. Clark thought that somehow he might have gained a cavity from the sheer sweetness of the older man. Clark learned that Bruce only had five children, the older four being adopted and the youngest being biological.

The night went pretty similar to this, Bruce shared moments about his kids while Clark listened and sipped on the tea that Alfred at some point had brought to the table. It was nearing 9pm before Clark realized that he should leave back to Metropolis. When he told Bruce about his need to head out, he seemed upset but brightened when Clark thanked him and reminded him of the date that was planned.

Clark left the Wayne Manor and got into his beat up truck. Maybe Bruce and him weren’t all that different. They both seemed untouchable but were in reality just people. The drive home was nice, the lights of the city shifted from the cruel and chaotic streets of Gotham to the bright sister city of Metropolis. Even if Clark’s apartment felt a little bit quieter that night, he was happy. Clark laid in bed for a bit longer than usual that night, listening to his favorite heartbeat that worked hard only a city over. Maybe he had an oddly specific type in men? He didn’t wanna think about that. Instead, for the first time in a while, Clark wondered what it would be like to be known truly by someone. He didn’t just rest that night thinking about the hope that he kept alive in humans but the hope that a certain few humans created in him. Maybe it was hope for love, maybe for a new family, the uncertainty of it was what left Clark rest.

Maybe he wasn’t so alien after all.