Chapter Text
Clark and Bruce had been dating for nearly a year when it finally happened.
Much to Clark’s surprise, the ever-reclusive bat decided it was time for Clark to officially visit the Wayne Manor—“officially” being the key word. Bruce was firm about not introducing any partners to his adopted son until things were serious, which meant Dick was always sound asleep the few times Clark visited in secret.
Clark was just happy to learn that things with Bruce were finally serious.
However, another part of him was quite nervous. If they were going to make it as a couple, then things would also need to work out between him and Dick.
It didn’t help that, as Bruce had explained, it wasn’t exactly a standard “meet your boyfriend’s kid” situation; Dick’s parents died only a couple of months before Clark asked Bruce out. Dick already had enough on his plate for an eight-year-old without needing to deal with the stress of his new dad’s dating life, and nobody could be sure how he might handle another new parental figure in his life.
After some discussion, they decided it would be best if, for the time being, Clark only showed up in the manor as Superman. He and Bruce could simply tell Dick they were working together on an ongoing, classified mission that required Superman to be around the manor more often. They’d be nothing more than close colleagues while they tested the waters with Clark’s transition into a new family member. It was a simple, almost foolproof plan.
None of that stopped Clark’s heart from beating out of his chest as he touched down on the front lawn of the Wayne Manor, cape fluttering in the breeze behind him. He had, of course, visited the mansion many times before, but the dark, gothic behemoth felt particularly imposing that morning. As if it might swallow him whole.
He was fine. The near-invincible Superman was not afraid of meeting a small child. And he certainly wasn’t scared Dick might hate him and force him and Bruce to break up.
He was Superman; everybody loved him.
Clark hopped up the steps of the manor, still giving himself an internal pep talk, and, with one final deep breath, knocked on the front door.
He held his breath as his enhanced hearing picked up soft footsteps headed to the door, and he let out a sigh of relief upon realizing they were Alfred’s. With a creak from the old wood frame, the butler soon appeared on the other side of the door.
“Welcome, Master Kent.” Alfred smiled, giving Clark a reassuring pat on the back as he stepped into the home.
Alfred had, of course, been informed of the plan well in advance. Nothing happened in the Wayne manor without his knowledge.
“A pleasure as always, Alfred,” Clark replied, swallowing his nerves as best he could.
With his super-hearing, he had been able to pick up some rather chaotic noises coming from the foyer, which he could only assume came from a child. Yet, stepping into the room, he still felt his breath hitch in his throat. Clark had only ever seen pictures of Dick, and he was so much more… alive in person.
To be specific, the kid was running around like a cat on crack.
He was hopping around, black hair flying every which way as he vaulted over a chair, or swung on a light fixture, doing backflips and twists and everything in between. Bruce mentioned he was into gymnastics, but Clark had never expected such a lively scene to take place in the Wayne Manor.
Dick only came to a stop when he noticed the hero watching him, at which point his body completely froze. Silence took over the room, the once energetic child paralyzed in place.
Clark held his breath.
Then, Dick’s face lit up.
“Superman?” he said, eyes wide in astonishment. His voice was soft, filled with awe in contrast to Bruce’s rough, gravelly tone.
Clark had to force himself to respond. “In the flesh!”
Dick immediately sprinted towards the hero at full speed and wrapped him in a hug, his small arms barely able to fully reach around Clark’s waist.
“You’re like, my favorite person ever,” Dick yelled, practically vibrating as he squeezed into the hug.
Clark couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh come on now, your favorite person isn’t your dad? Batman’s pretty cool,” he offered, hoping to score some brownie points just in case Bruce was listening from somewhere.
Dick scoffed. “You mean Bruce? He’s cool, but he’s not Superman.”
Clark was a bit surprised to hear that Dick hadn’t taken to calling Bruce “dad”, but he shook it off. “Yeah, Bruce,” he corrected. “Y’know, he’s my favorite hero.”
“And you’re my favorite hero,” Dick replied, undeterred.
Clark was beginning to understand why Bruce never mentioned Dick’s stance on Superman; he wouldn’t have wanted it to go to Clark’s head.
“Dick, is that how we greet guests?”
Clark glanced up to see Bruce at the top of the foyer steps, his low growl of a voice cutting through the room with a command only he could have.
And yet, as Bruce stepped down the stairs, Clark could see the excitement seeping through the strict dad act. Though he did feel slightly overdressed in his full Superman outfit when Bruce was wearing a much more casual black sweater and slacks.
“I may not be Superman,” Bruce continued, “but I still taught you to have some manners.”
“Sorry Bruce,” Dick muttered, snapping from excited to sheepish. He broke away from Clark and moved to Bruce’s side, hands fidgeting by his side. “Welcome to the Wayne Manor, Superman.”
Even standing, Dick barely reached Bruce’s waist, and Clark had to hold back from fawning over how adorable it was. Instead, Superman beamed. “Happy to be here.”
Bruce knelt down so he was eye level with Dick, a hand on the kid’s head to try to keep him focused. His voice quieted. “Now, Superman and I have something to tell you, but it’s important that you keep this top secret.”
Dick nodded.
“Superman is going to be hanging around the manor more, because he’s helping me with a secret mission,” Bruce continued, as serious as ever.
Clark could practically see the kid’s mind exploding.
“Superman’s going to stay here? With us?” he asked, as if Bruce were playing a practical joke on him.
Bruce nodded.
“This is the best day ever!”
As Dick celebrated Superman’s arrival, Clark couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.
Watching the scene unfold, seeing Bruce slip into “dad mode” for the first time, Clark felt something tighten in his chest. It was a whole other side to his boyfriend, a gentler, softer side, and God if it wasn’t the most attractive thing he’d ever seen.
He walked over to Bruce’s side, and it took all of his power not to wrap his arm around his boyfriend. “Guess we better get to that secret mission, huh?”
It wasn’t long before Clark became a semi-regular fixture in the Wayne household. The pretense of a secret mission faded to the wayside, and at some point, he just started being there because he could.
He gave Dick rides to school if Bruce was buried in meetings, or stayed the night on random weekends without pretending to be doing mission work. And yet, if Dick was catching onto their relationship, he at least gave the appearance of being none the wiser.
Eventually, Clark even began “sparring” with Dick. The boy was nonstop begging to go with the superheroes out on patrol; Bruce didn’t want to encourage it, but Clark thought it wouldn’t hurt to at least teach him some basic combat skills. With the inherent danger that came with being associated with Batman, basic self-defense was going to be useful eventually.
Besides, what Bruce couldn’t find on any security footage later wasn’t going to hurt him.
For the near invincible alien, “sparring” with Dick ended up looking more like practicing keeping a reckless egg from cracking. With the way Dick liked to flip and twist around, quick reactions and agile maneuvers were essential to making sure limbs weren’t accidentally… flipped or twisted.
One particular day, though, there was an anger behind Dick’s attacks that Clark wasn’t used to seeing. Punches and kicks that usually felt like nothing more than tickles to Clark became aggressive. Forceful.
Dick was attacking blindly—without regard for strategy or proper positioning, as Clark had been trying to teach him. Instead, he saw tears start to well in Dick’s eyes as he started hitting as hard as he could, almost using Clark like a punching bag.
Clark still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to approach more sensitive conversations with Dick. He wasn’t yet a full parental figure, and even then, Bruce was pretty clear that the major duties of parenting were his alone. Clark wasn’t there to be another parent for Dick, at least not yet.
But Bruce was gone, and he had never seen Dick look so miserable.
Just when Clark was about to say something, Dick suddenly stopped his attacks. He was panting from exertion, arms dropped limply to his side, as the tears started to spill down his cheeks.
That was a new one. Dick was practically always happy, like a puppy that never ran out of energy. Even his usual adolescent stumbles didn’t typically result in such intense outbursts.
Clark quickly knelt down next to Dick so they were eye level, resting a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?”
Even as Dick leaned into Clark, fighting through tears to even speak, he still said: “Nothing, I’m fine.”
“You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you,” Clark coaxed.
Dick looked away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Clark ruffled Dick’s hair, trying his best to give a sympathetic smile. “Come on, what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine!” Dick yelled, ducking out of Clark’s hand before making a beeline out of the training room.
Clark stayed crouched, staring in surprise at the empty space before him.
Like father, like son.
Still, Dick at least had the excuse of being just a kid. Clark figured he just needed a minute to cool off.
Using his super-hearing, he was able to track Dick running up a set of stairs and slamming a door shut, which was enough for him to feel confident that Dick wasn’t going to run away—or try any other shenanigans.
Without a plan in mind, he scanned the home for Alfred, unsurprised to find the ever-helpful butler in the kitchen.
Clark quickly floated through the halls of the manor and popped his head around the entrance to the massive kitchen.
He cleared his throat, just to make sure his presence wouldn’t be startling, though Alfred didn’t look up from his work. “Hey Alfred, would you happen to know any reason why Dick might be upset?”
Alfred gave a knowing smile as he stared down at the vegetables he was chopping. “A few days ago, Master Dick mentioned having troubles with some kids at school. I cannot recall anything more recent.”
“Did he say what the troubles were?” Clark pressed.
“Best to ask him yourself,” Alfred replied, without missing a beat.
Clark didn’t need to be told twice. Whatever Alfred said was gospel, as far as he was concerned—most especially when it came to the Wayne household’s moody residents.
Back through the maze of looping hallways and endless stairs, Clark eventually made his way to Dick’s bedroom door.
He took a deep breath. You can do this.
A tentative fist knocked softly. “Dick, can I come in?”
Silence—though enhanced hearing could pick up sniffles coming from the other side of the door.
Another knock. “I noticed you were upset when you got home from school the last couple days. Did something happen?” he asked. A necessary lie, in Clark’s mind.
That was enough for the door to open a few moments later, revealing tear-stained cheeks on the other side.
Clark stepped into the room, Dick quietly shutting the door behind him.
“So do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Clark asked, as he stepped over and sat on the edge of Dick’s bed. The boy had Batman-themed sheets, but a Superman-themed comforter, and Clark couldn’t help but imagine the fight that happened over those.
Dick joined Clark, flopping down on his bed, but said nothing.
“Is it a teacher giving you trouble? Or your classmates?” Clark prodded.
Dick looked the smallest Clark had ever seen him, curled in on himself in his bed, but he eventually spoke up. “Being gay is wrong, right?”
What?
The small voice rang through Clark’s ears. Were they really about to talk about homosexuality? Was it something Bruce had ever even talked to him about before? He wished he could call Bruce and let him handle it—Bruce was going to have his head for taking over such a serious conversation with his son—but he was already in too deep. He couldn’t just walk away and leave such a question unanswered.
Clark sat up, putting on the best parenting voice he could. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. It’s as normal and healthy as being straight.”
Dick paused, eventually scooting closer and cuddling into Clark’s side. “Superman, can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.” Clark paused, then added carefully: “But anything you tell me, you should tell Bruce too. He’s your—”
“No!” Dick shouted, startling Clark. “You can’t tell Bruce.”
Clark frowned. “Why not?” he asked. “You know your dad loves you no matter what, right?”
“I know, that’s what everyone says, but…” the tears started to well up again, “if he knew about this, he’d get really mad at me.”
Now, Clark knew that he would absolutely be telling everything that happened to Bruce. But he couldn’t help but see an opportunity to prove to his boyfriend that his son saw him (or at least saw Superman) as a trustworthy, important figure in his life. A figure worthy of secrets.
That would have to make him husband material.
“Well, I know that he’ll always love you, but your secret is safe with me either way.”
After a moment, Dick leaned in even closer, a hand covering his mouth as he whispered: “I have a crush on a boy in my class.”
Clark’s heart warmed at the admission.
Though another part of him was immediately confused. Why did Dick think Bruce would be mad about that? Did Dick think Bruce was homophobic?
No, surely not. There had to be a misunderstanding.
Clark plastered a smile over his confusion. “That’s great, Dick, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”
Dick frowned. “I told one of my friends last week, but she said we couldn’t be friends anymore because she can’t be friends with a faggot.”
That sounded about right for a kid at a private school in Gotham. Clark took a deep breath. “That was a very wrong and hateful thing for her to say. Did you tell a teacher?”
“Yeah, but the teacher said it was my fault for liking a boy.”
That did not sound about right for a teacher at a private school in Gotham. Especially one who was well aware that this particular student’s father practically paid their entire salary. Clark felt his blood start to boil.
“Alright, this is something we need to tell Bruce about,” he said firmly.
Dick immediately jumped up, panic in his eyes. “No! You promised you wouldn’t tell him!” he shrieked.
“Buddy, what you went through was wrong. Your teacher was very wrong to say that.” Clark paused. “Is there a reason you don’t want Bruce to know?”
“He thinks being gay is bad too,” Dick said, tears welling in his eyes.
Clark’s chest tightened. He was caught between feeling terrible for Dick, seeing how small and scared he looked, and wanting to laugh at the whole situation. The very idea that Bruce Wayne—the man who he kissed on rooftops in the quiet between battles—was secretly a homophobe was simply absurd.
Still, whether or not the charge was true didn’t matter. What mattered was that Dick sincerely believed it, and that the fear was hurting him.
Clark forced himself to smile softly, brushing a hand over Dick’s hair. “What makes you think that?”
“This one time I was watching this show and there were two guys kissing and when Bruce saw he came over and turned the TV off and when I got mad he said watching stuff like that was bad for me,” Dick rambled on.
“Oh really?” Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. That did sound quite like the Bruce he knew.
“Yes!” Dick protested. “And when I asked him why, he said it would corrupt me and that they shouldn’t glorify things like that on TV.”
It was, admittedly, a semi-convincing argument for Clark’s boyfriend being a homophobe. He was almost excited to hear Bruce's side of it.
“Well, I promise your secret is safe with me. Thank you for telling me,” Clark continued. "You know that there's absolutely nothing wrong with being gay, right? And that using bad words like the word your friend used is wrong?"
Dick nodded, a sad expression still in his eyes that Clark couldn’t stand to see. However, he knew they would have to have another talk with Dick about this eventually, and he didn't want to harp too hard on the lecture for the time being.
“And if anyone gives you trouble again, just tell them your best friend is Superman, and he says you’re the coolest kid he knows. No matter who you like.”
“Okay,” Dick replied with a sniffle.
Clark stood up from the bed and offered Dick a hand. “Now, why don’t we go see if we can steal a cookie before dinner? I think you deserve one.”
That was enough to get a smile back on Dick’s face, and Clark couldn’t help but feel proud.