Chapter Text
Alfred has seen his fair share of odd things whenever Batman comes back to the Batcave after patrol. Alien slime covering the Batsuit that he spent hours begrudgingly cleaning out the crevices. A shrunken Batmobile that had gotten into a crossfire of a shrink-ray. Piles of oddities and trinkets acquired from space travels returning back to the cave all for the sake of his alien contingency plans. Superman carrying a passed out Batman with an apologetic smile as the foolish man had reached his 75th hour of no sleep.
And certainly, this one simply astounds him.
“Alfred.” Bruce is not in a panic, nor calm and his tone is flat as if this was a fact of life. It doesn’t worry him, he knows Bruce is very much capable of a lot of things. Though this is more amusing than concerning for the butler.
“Hey, Alfred,” comes Superman’s cheery voice with a slight tremor. Clark, ever the nice man, gives a bright smile even though his eyebrows say otherwise.
The two caped crusaders were walking in from the entrance of the cave with a kid—not much older than six—nestled into Bruce’s arm. The child looked auspiciously like the oldest ward with his big blue eyes and the mess of black hair staring at him that in his 40 years of serving the Wayne household—he could never forget that precious face.
“I shall set up the room for the young master.”
Bruce mutters out a thanks as Alfred turns to ascend the stairs of the cave. He eyes the two sirs arguing in hushed tones as if the butler doesn’t hear them. He hears Bruce’s soft tone when regarding Dick about wanting to play on the jungle gym that resides in the cave collecting dust ever since the young master left for Blüdhaven.
“Not now, champ, in the morning when you’re rested.”
He’s in good hands, Alfred thinks.
—
“You haven’t slept.”
A coffee mug is placed in front of Bruce as he types away on the computer screens. He’s reviewing the action feed of last night’s fiasco with Mxyzptlk. Batman, Superman, and Nightwing had a joint operation within Metropolis—following a lead on an arms dealer operating along the East coast and his last known location in Clark’s jurisdiction.
They hadn’t expected to run into the magic user at all. He wasn’t a high-level threat compared to the guy dealing government-class weapons and so Batman had sent Nightwing off to deal with the surprise annoyance. Dick had experience with magic and knew how gullible Mxyzptlk could be—it was easy enough to defeat him, right?
Though that obviously wasn’t a great idea when Bruce noticed something amiss when Dick hadn’t come back within fifteen minutes. Superman quickly went to check on Nightwing and when he came back with a scared-looking five year old. The alien had a sorry look that seemed to say I should’ve been the one to go, he was my villain to handle.
Bruce couldn’t sleep. Not with Dick being regressed back to being a five year old—shit, he hadn’t even lost his parents yet, the poor lad is probably confused where they are and why two strange men in costumes picked him up.
“How is he?” The Dark Knight opts to say, rather than airing out how Clark isn’t as worried as he is.
“A little shaken up, but he just fell asleep. Good thing Alfred kept some children’s books.”
Bruce hums. “I’m sending this footage to Zatanna so she can review, but I’m not sure if she can do anything about it since Mxyzptlk operates on 5th dimensional magic.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Clark stands next to him, arms crossed and looking at the footage too. “Mxyzptlk is more of a jokester, his magic doesn’t mean much harm and they usually last from days to a week at most.”
“Dick doesn’t have days to a week.” Bruce whips his head up to the Kryptonian. He’s staring daggers at the man above. This wasn’t a mere joke, it was severe to Dick enough. “He has a city to protect and I can’t be here in Gotham and Blüdhaven. You as well with Metropolis. Tim is with the Outsiders on a special-ops mission and Damian is with the Titans assisting space relations. We don’t have days to a week, Clark.”
Clark winces at the other’s words. Sure it was harsh, but it was the truth more than anything.
A beat of silence goes by and Clark opens his mouth to speak. “If Zatanna can locate Mxyzptlk, I can confront him and send him back to his dimension. That way his reality alterations can go back to normal.”
Bruce narrows his eyes, going through all the possibilities of whether having Superman go against a magic user with the probability of ending up the same way as Dick—and that would be catastrophic—or having the uncertainty of reversing the spell in different ways.
“He’s my responsibility, Bruce, I should’ve handled him in the first place so Dick wouldn’t have ended up like that.” He pleads again.
It wasn’t your fault, Bruce wants to say. It could never be your fault, but he can’t show that he has a soft spot for Clark.
“Fine.”
—
Bruce manages to get three hours of sleep when he wakes up to go check up on Dick. Clark has flown back to Metropolis for work and will be back as soon as he gets off. Zatanna messaged him that she’ll update him on trying to reverse the spell before locating Mxyzptlk as a failsafe. Clark would’ve disagreed with him on that regard, but Zatanna’s efforts are needed elsewhere than the blind hope of defeating a magic user capable of distorting reality.
“Hey, bud, you sleep okay?” Bruce kneels beside Dick’s bed. His room stayed the same ever since he left the Manor. The shelves lined with books, posters plastered all over the walls, Alfred cared for it, making sure to wash the sheets every two weeks in case Dick ever needed a place to stay—he hasn’t slept over at the Manor in three years.
Dick rubs his eyes sleepily, the red puffiness of his eyes faint from all the crying last night. He was in shock—can’t blame him—but he seemed to take the information well that Batman and Superman were there to help him.
“Where’s Clark?” Bruce’s chest tightens at that. The first thing he says when he wakes up is for someone other than the guardian that raised him. He brushes it off. This version of Dick hasn’t spent years under him. All he knows is that Bruce is his adopted father and that was less than a day ago.
“He’s at work right now, but he’ll come back later in the day.” Dick finally takes a good look at him. In the dark of the night, the kid didn’t have a good image compared to how bright Clark was in primary colors.
“You look better out of that creepy costume.”
That gets a small chuckle out of the forty year old man. “Thanks, chum. You want to eat breakfast? Alfred makes some really good bacon.”
The black-haired boy’s eyes light up and with a toothy grin, he nods and quickly gets out of bed.
After a hearty breakfast and some morning meetings Bruce had to get through, he sits back down in front of his screens with Dick playing in the jungle gym behind him—with the safety net, of course.
He’s helping Clark plan out a trap for Mxyzptlk. The imp hadn’t shown his face in a while. Concerning, since after a trick had been pulled he’s off to terrorize poor souls while people are preoccupied with the last one.
He writes down some plans hoping to discuss later with Clark about his thoughts. Now he has to worry about how he's going to care for Blüdhaven. He could patrol there and have Superman handle Gotham—that twists his stomach in a way. He trusts Clark, trusted him for two decades, but this was his city and it took him so long to look past his no-meta rule.
He hears the hum of an engine near the entranceway, his ears perking up suspiciously when he turns around to see the Batmobile still in its place. The entrance to the cave opens up and not many have the access to it—singles out a lot of people who own a certain motorcycle and can enter the Manor as they come and go.
The bike screeches to a stop in front of Bruce. The shiny red helmet reflects the blue light of the screens as the man takes it off and hangs it on the handle.
Dick does a flip into a somersault off the bars and lands gently next to Bruce, the older man now standing up to his full height and with the kid hiding behind his legs from the stranger.
“Didn’t realize you fucked up this bad, Bruce.” Jason notes, looking down sharply at Dick carefully peering with his bright eyes.
“Language.” Bruce huffs out, arms crossing. He should be delighted that Jason came to the cave willingly to see Bruce after many attempts to get the vigilante on his side. But right now he’s deducing who could’ve told Jason and it's between two men who can’t seem to mind their business.
Jason stifles a laugh. He steps a bit closer, but that makes Dick clench tighter on the fabric of Bruce’s pants.
He looks up and whispers not so subtly. “Bruce, who is this?”
Bruce lets his hand ruffle Dick’s hair, relaxing the child to let his guard down.
“This is Jason. He’s your…” His words trail off, not knowing how to describe their relationship now that Jason is estranged from the family—but Bruce would gladly call him his son if given.
“I’m your brother,” Jason finishes. Bruce’s eyes flicker to him in surprise. Had this been normal Dick, Jason would’ve been repulsed at the thought of them two being brothers or anything of familial significance.
The kid steps out of Bruce’s shadow, coming a bit closer to Jason now. “I have a brother? An older brother?”
Jason stills for a moment. A flash of hurt appears in his eyes, but he bites the inside of his cheek and goes along with it. “Yeah, your older brother.”
Dick smiles like a thousand suns. He smiles like Clark, Bruce thinks.
“How’d you get that white streak? It looks so cool.” Bruce’s heart pangs in his chest. It rackets against his ribs and he can feel every vibration from it. He’s frozen at the sight of Jason kneeling down to Dick’s height, unphased by the question.
“Bleached it too much trying to dye it red.”
Dick giggles. “It suits you!”
“Yeah? Well as long as I don’t have as much white hair as this guy over here.”
He goes into a laughing fit and Jason looks pleased at the jab at Bruce.
“I have a motorcycle you want to take a look at?” Dick looks behind Jason at the shiny hunk of metal and gasps at the sight of it. He turns his head back up to Bruce and the man nods as permission.
Jason watches the young Dick practically skipping his way to the bike and turns back around to face Bruce, his face back to serious matters.
“Clark told me what happened.”
Ah. That’s who.
“I don’t think you’re here to critique me on what happened on that mission.”
“No,” Jason doesn’t miss a beat. “Blüdhaven doesn’t have a protector now.”
Bruce’s eyebrows lift at the implication behind the young man’s words.
“And you…?”
“Gotham has you already. I can fill in Nightwing’s position for the time being.” Jason looks back around to Dick tapping the metal of the hood playfully.
“Thank you, Jason.” His mouth is dry. Their interactions haven’t lasted as long as this and Bruce doesn’t want this to end yet.
“Don’t thank me,” he scowls in return. “It’s what Dick would’ve done for me.”
Jason looked up to Dick in so many ways. As the first Robin, the first of many, a light in Gotham’s dark nights, a protector, an older brother—he used to revolve around Dick. And who couldn’t?
Jason walks towards his motorcycle, spinning the keys on his finger now. “You wanna take a spin on this?”
That excites Dick and Bruce doesn’t have the heart to say no to him.
“Don’t die,” he calls out as the two sit on the bike, helmets shoved onto their heads and Dick clinging onto the handlebars with Jason behind him.
“Again? Not likely, old man.” Jason revs his engine and makes his way out of the cave’s entrance.
Bruce finally has the air to himself. It
feels suffocating as he breathes the grimy air of the cave. His mind repeats the words Jason had uttered: “It’s what Dick would’ve done for me.”
It’s what Dick would’ve done for all of us.
—
Clark visits the Manor half past six, just in time for Alfred to serve dinner.
“Clark!” Dick exclaims, jumping off from the stair rails from when he was walking on it like a tightrope.
Clark catches him—he always does—and spins him around with laughter filling the place before settling him down into his feet.
“You’re looking better today, Dick, did something good happen?”
Dick nods his head vigorously, “I met my older brother Jason!”
Clark’s head immediately whips to the figure walking down the stairs. Bruce eyes him down with a glare that can only be read as we need to talk. The man looks away sheepishly before returning back to the kid.
“That’s amazing, bud! How about you tell me about what happened over dinner? I’m sure Bruce would love to hear too.”
Dick grins and runs off to the kitchen to help Alfred with preparing for dinner.
Clark is face to face with Bruce staring down at him with disdain. There’s no avoiding it now, he supposes.
“So… I guess you’ve heard.”
Bruce crosses his arms. “You had no business contacting Jason.”
Clark narrows his eyes defensively, “it’s like you said, ‘We don’t have days to a week.’”
“Thank you.”
“I was only trying to— wait, did you say thank you?” Clark looks like his eyes are comically bulging out at Bruce’s gratitude, which didn’t come often in the timespan of their companionship.
“I’m not repeating it again.”
“Too bad I have an eidetic memory.” Clark cheekily smirks. “I’m assuming it went well?”
“He lasted a whole conversation and offered to patrol in Blüdhaven.” Clark can practically hear the Dark Knight be giddy about this, his heart hammering away in his ribs.
“That’s good, Bruce, I’m happy for you— and I’m sorry for overstepping your boundaries, but there wasn’t much we could do.”
“It’s fine, Clark,” Bruce meets his eyes. He can never quite fathom just how handsome Bruce was. The streaks of white in black hair messily strewn over his forehead, the crows feet under his eyes, the light stubble on his chin, steel blue that looked crystal clear in the orange glow of the Manor. Clark wants to trace his fingers over every soft line or hard edge of Bruce.
But he can’t. It’ll hurt whatever they have already.
“I’m glad you did it,” the older man adds. “I think I needed that push to extend my hand to him.”
Clark smiles in return, “of course, Bruce.”
Dick comes running out into the hallway telling them dinner is ready and the two head towards the dining room.
Dinner goes by smoothly with Dick excitedly chatting about his adventure with Jason and finding out he has two other brothers. Bruce assured him that he’ll meet them soon—a bittersweet feeling that he hopes Dick gets reverted back, but also wanting Tim and Damian to meet the cheery younger Dick.
Bruce gets Dick to sleep and this time it’s a lot easier now that the kid is comfortable with him. He swells in his chest at that joyful moment and heads down to the cave.
Clark is there waiting for him and to his surprise, Diana as well.
“Clark, what did I just say about my business?”
Clark throws his hands up innocently and Diana lets out a laugh. “It was Alfred, Bruce.”
He stops himself from running a hand down his face. Leave it to the closest people in his life to be spilling out everything.
“I came here to offer my support. I heard Mxyzptlk is quite a finicky one, similar to someone I know.” Diana offers an assuring smile.
“Are you talking about Circe?”
She nods, “Circe’s powers are similar to the imp’s. Albeit more devastating than his tricks, but the intention to play with the minds is there.”
“Well then do tell, princess.”
The trio begin discussing ways for Mxyzptlk to reveal himself in order for Zatanna to track down his magic use. Diana gave insight on how the ego of the magic user is a great weapon to be used and Clark stores away that information.
Clark flies back to Metropolis just before Bruce is about to go onto his patrol. Diana stays a bit back to talk more with the man.
“So, how is he?” She starts as Bruce pulls on his boots to his suit.
“Dick is doing fine, better than yesterday when we found him.”
“I wasn’t talking about him.”
Bruce turns his head in confusion and Diana just simply smiles.
“Clark,” she clarifies. “How is he?”
He looks at her like she’s grown an extra head. “You could’ve asked him, he was just here earlier if you didn’t notice.”
“Oh, Bruce,” she shakes her head. “You can hide it as much as you want, but your soul is telling.”
Bruce keeps his face stone-willed. Diana is always like this, always able to read through his facades as if it was a rock she was punching through. It scares him if he’s slipping with his mask or Diana knows deep down how vulnerable he is.
“What do you want me to say?” Bruce’s voice comes out a bit softer—broken—echoing across the cave walls.
“That I…” His throat goes infinitely dry. He couldn’t even say the word.
“You won’t ruin anything.”
“How do you know that?” He retorts back. “How can you possibly be so sure that everything between us will be okay?”
He’s had nightmares of this. His feelings illuminated in the bleak night all for everyone to see. Clark couldn’t look at him in a different way—he just couldn’t.
Yet he’s had dreams of this. When he saw Clark handle Dick so gently and lovingly, it reminded him of a family he can’t have. Bruce ruins the good things in his life. It’s happened to Selina, Talia, Dick, Jason—he can’t have it happen to Clark, never Clark.
“I am not like you or Clark.” He says with a bitter taste in his mouth, “I’m human. I break. I bleed. I can’t live forever.”
Diana goes tight-lipped, eyeing Bruce with caution.
“I can’t do that to Clark.” He puts on his cowl, the kevlar digs into his skin especially hard. “He can’t suffer because of me.”
He turns his back away from her. The cold air of the cave brushes past his jaw.
“Have you thought about him?” Her words are like icicles tricking down his spine.
Always, Bruce answers. It’s not what she meant, but he deludes himself.
“I don’t need to.” His voice drops into the Batman register. The Man of Steel can’t be vulnerable and he’ll do anything to keep the hope of the world alive.