Chapter Text
Bruce struggled to sleep that night. He was running every possible scenario in his mind, trying to find one where Clark doesn't break up with him when the truth comes afloat, but his brain came up with none. The moment Clark found out the truth, then it was over.
His only option was to stretch this charade as long as possible. Maybe if he avoided in-person meetings in a civilian context, this could last for a few months before its inevitable demise.
Was he wrong for grieving a relationship that wasn't even over yet?
Clark’s arms were warm and heavy as they wrapped around him. He enjoyed the comfort they brought. After hours of semi-consciousness, he jumped alert again by a quiet vibration from his phone on the nightstand announcing 5 a.m.
Usually, it would be his reminder to go to sleep, but this time, it was his sign to get up and do something.
He invoked all the stealth training he'd had in his life to slide out of Clark's arms without waking him up. The Kryptonian had to be a heavy sleeper or else he wouldn't catch any sleep at all due to his super hearing. At least he had that in his favor. Clark stirred but stayed asleep.
While Bruce had already assumed the bleak fate of his relationship, he couldn’t just do nothing in the meantime. He changed the shirt and pants he had slept in for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt Alfred had piously put in the closet and went downstairs. Like he expected, Alfred wasn’t there to cook breakfast, so it was up to him.
He pulled the fridge door open and found it fully stocked and neat (thanks, Alfred), but that didn’t make him feel particularly better, knowing the difficulties he had in kitchens. He could cook, alright ? He just had to stay focused for long enough. That was a little bit of a challenge.
Now, there were four people he had to make breakfast for. He had eggs, orange juice and apples. Perfect for omelets and sliced apples. 5:07 a.m., an hour until the kids wake up. He better get to work.
Forty minutes later, he had four omelets on plates and two in the trash can. He was a bit too distracted reading the report of last night’s patrol to realize the first one was burning, and the second one was just too ugly because it was still raw when he tried to flip it.
Maybe it was a bad idea to cook the omelets first, but in his defense, he had thought it’d take a lot more failed attempts. Now the omelets would get cold when the kids came down. Dammnit, he’s an idiot. A lying, bad-at-communication idiot who messes everything up, from breakfast timing to the best relationship in his life. He could put the omelets in the microwave later. He had to move on with the next task.
Just as he picked the knife to slice the apples, he heard the door opening. His heart hoped it would be Alfred to help him confirm if he was doing alright, but no. It was another silhouette, slightly sturdier but still lean, with agile steps as the person walked inside.
“I passed by the Batcave and A gave me a copy of the keys,” Dick informed Bruce. He didn’t seem that enthusiastic. “And he also told me everything. First of all, how could you-”
Bruce interrupted him, raising his hands as a gesture of rendition and silently asking for a chance to explain.
“Not my proudest moment, I am able to admit that,” Bruce said. Dick pressed his lips into a thin line, not convinced at all. “I have my reasons, at least let me explain.”
“Then explain.”
Bruce sighed and nodded. “Just give me a second.”
On his phone, he played a white noise frequency to super hearing-proof the area of the kitchen. That would give them a bit of privacy (and secrecy) from Clark's extraordinary capabilities.
“I know it was wrong to lie,” Bruce said. “But Bruce Wayne was never meant to have a partner or settle down. The media would tear Clark apart, then his family. You know the worst things that could happen. Clark doesn't need the burden of dating someone like Bruce Wayne.”
“Sure. Of course. You always come up with the best excuses to just not act like the grown adult you are,” Dick said. He was clearly angry, and Bruce thought it was a bit of an overreaction. “Maybe it's you who doesn't need the burden.”
“Dick, this is not the time-”
“No, no.” Dick huffed exasperatedly. “I know, it's not the time. I'm taking time away from you that you could be using to figure out how you're going to solve this, because you messed up.”
“I know,” Bruce said, looking down. “I know. You don't have to tell me that.”
“Oh, but I have to tell you,” Dick told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because for some reason, it's like you don't learn from your past mistakes. Honestly, I'm surprised that your relationship has lasted four years without you being capable of trusting your boyfriend.”
“Dick. Enough,” Bruce said roughly and Dick stopped talking, he just kept looking at Bruce, silently judging.
Bruce looked defeated. The weight of his actions had been pulling him down emotionally all night, and it felt like Dick was just purposefully rubbing salt in the wound.
“I know it was wrong to lie. It all slipped out of control faster than I expected, and I don't know what to do now,” Bruce said with a sigh. “I guess it's true. I also wanted to avoid being seen dating as Bruce Wayne. The cameras, the media, it's also overwhelming for me. For once, nobody treated me like I'm stupid, they weren’t even noticing me at all. I felt like a normal person.”
“That’s because you look like a sleep deprived zombie without makeup. Of course nobody recognized you,” Dick replied, rolling his eyes. “And you might feel normal, but you can't really be yourself, can you?”
“... No.”
“You know you have to tell him, right? You can't keep this up forever.”
“I know.”
“Do you actually plan to? Or do you plan to let him find out?”
The kitchen fell silent after that, the only sound being the white noise playing on Bruce's phone. It was already getting on his nerves, so he turned it off. It was also his way to say that the conversation was over. Dick knew Bruce had this little habit of avoiding words, and knew that Bruce thought the conversation was done, but Dick wasn't done.
“I’m gonna tell him if you won't,” Dick said, unfolding his arms. “By the way, Little D is not going to like the omelets.”
“Wait! Wait what? What's wrong with the omelets?” There were some things to unpack there but he'd manage it later.
»”No, don't do that,” he said, his eyes wide with shock and a bit of fear from Dick’s words. “I will manage this myself. This is an order, do not- ” Bruce suddenly shut his mouth.
“Good morning!” Clark said, wearing the warmest smile Dick or Bruce had ever seen on someone's face at 6 a.m. as he entered the kitchen. “How’s everything? My name is Clark.” He held out his hand for Dick to shake. Bruce froze and Dick reached out for that hand with a smile. The two knew Clark had probably heard everything since the noise was turned off.
[...]
Clark had been slowly coaxed out of sleep by a strange ringing in his ears, but it was his alarm at 5:55 a.m. that fully snapped him to reality.
He realized Bruno wasn't in bed with him, so he didn't think it was worth it to go for five more minutes. He turned off his 6:00 alarm and sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The ringing in his ears wasn't shutting up. It wasn’t a normal sound. It was like his ears had partially stopped working and caused all the sounds to dim.
He had felt this before, but not in the same situation. It was a sensation that filled him with unease due to the fact that the other times he'd felt the same sensation was in run ins with villains and criminals who didn’t want Superman to hear them. That also meant the sound was in a radius of less than 1 km.
He'd have to tell Bruno about that to investigate together. Or maybe not. Bruno had been on edge since the day before. He seemed tense and honestly, he was acting weird. Of course, he had expected slight change once Batman took off his mask and revealed his identity. Maybe he'd be more open, or more calm, but on the contrary, Bruno seemed to be even more on edge since then. Clark chided himself for jumping to conclusions, but maybe, just maybe, it would've been better if Bruno hadn't revealed his identity at all. Clark’s instincts were telling him they were dangerously close to a step back in their relationship. That was what he had been thinking as he took a shower and changed into yet another pair of ill-fitted pants and a white shirt.
As he walked out of the room, the noise stopped and all the sounds hit him again at the usual volume. It took him a moment to filter out everything, and when he did, he still heard a conversation downstairs. It was being a bit loud, hard to filter out even if he didn't really want to eavesdrop.
“I'm gonna tell him if you won't,” a voice said. A young man with a voice he'd heard before. “By the way, little D is not gonna like the omelets.”
He heard Bruno's voice arguing with this person, about something. He sounded pretty alarmed and upset in the way only Bruno's monotone voice could be. Even if other people couldn't tell, Clark recognized the emotions in that tone. This must be something serious, then. Could it be about him?
He walked into the kitchen, ready to mediate a conflict. Be friendly and smile , he reminded himself. And they'll trust you.
“Hey there! How’s everything? My name is Clark.” He gave a general greeting and nodded subtly at Bruno to serve as a silent, personal greeting. As he returned his gaze to this new person, he held out his hand to him.
“Right, Clark! We've met before,” the young man said with a friendly grin that matched his. “I was actually waiting for you to come down.”
Bruno apparently wasn't a fan of the interaction, if his burning glare was anything to go by.
“Clark, this is-”
The young man interrupted Bruno's attempt to introduce him to give his own answer. Clark noted how it was a complete switch from the angry tone he had heard just moments before.
“Please, B. I’m a big boy, I can do my own introductions,” he said, giving Bruno a light-hearted grin. Unlike Bruno, this young man seemed completely at ease. ”My name is Ri-”
Bruno's severe look wasn't lost on Clark, so he was getting increasingly more concerned about what the two might've been arguing about. He added it to the list of things they needed to talk about.
On his side, Dick reconsidered his plans. Maybe it was true, and he should let Bruce manage this on his own. No matter how bad Bruce had messed up, he couldn't keep trying to fix it himself.
Besides, what was the chance something this hilarious happened? It would be hilarious if he played along. Clark probably wouldn't recognize him, since he was more of a local New Jersey celebrity, not as worldwide as Bruce Wayne.
“-cardo,” he finished. He also concealed his slip up better than Bruce had, with confidence and assertiveness. “Ricardo Tapia. But you can call me Ric. Nightwing, at your service.”
Bruno seemed to subtly deflate after Dick pronounced the name. Clark could interpret it in more than one way, but deducting from the context, it was probably defeat. Dick knew it was relief because he had a very different context.
“Don’t mind him,” Ric added, gesturing to Bruce. “He's just frustrated because he didn't want me to reveal my name.” He carefully designed his words and inflection, regulating it to the perfect point to make them genuine despite lying with all his teeth. “You know how he is with secret identities, but I can make my own decisions, isn't that right? ”
Bruno grumbled something unintelligible, but it could be universally interpreted as acceptance. Clark could understand the worry. More or less. He didn't have children himself, but he imagined he'd be similarly worried in that scenario. If that distrust would extend to his partner of four years and best friend for even more than that, he wasn't sure. He erased that from the list to talk about later and added it to the list of things to reassure Bruno about later. And maybe get some reassurance himself.
“I'm going to wake the kids up,” Ric said before the silence could be filled by anyone else. “You should whip up some Masoob for little D.” And with that, he left the kitchen.
After a moment of silence, Bruno spoke up again. “I’m sorry about him. Kids,” he said tiredly.
“It's alright, Bruno,” Clark said with a soft smile and came up to him to place a kiss on his forehead. “Can I help with anything?”
Bruno relaxed as he and Clark were left alone to share a bit of affection. Clearly the discussion with Ric had left him a bit affected.
“Well, if you could look up a Masoob recipe, I would appreciate that a lot,” Bruno answered with a half smile.
“On it,” Clark said and got to work. He watched as Bruno moved about the kitchen, preparing something that seemed to be liquid concrete and deduced it was a protein shake.
“Did you sleep well?” Bruno asked him as he sipped his yellowish liquid concrete.
“Yes, thank you,” Clark answered with a soft smile. “I always sleep great when I'm with you.”
Bruce allowed himself a soft smile at that.
“How about you?” Clark asked him back. Bruno shrugged: m ore or less. “May I?” He reached out to the fridge door. Bruno nodded: g o ahead.
The kids came down, herded down the stairs by Ric. They sat down at the dining table, talking about last night's patrol.
Bruno ran the omelet plates through the microwave to warm them up and took them to the table while Clark still got ingredients for the masoob from the fridge, a nice gesture from him. He placed a plate in front of every member of the family sitting at the table.
“And the masoob?” Dick asked with a raised eyebrow once he saw Bruno place the omelet in front of Damian.
“In process,” Bruce replied.
“I can eat what I'm given,” Damian argued stiffly. He clearly wasn't glad to vouch for eating something he didn't like.
“But there's no need,” Dick said, taking the plate away despite Damian's protestations. “Bruno can eat it.”
Damian seemed conflicted about that. On one hand, he could avoid eating it, and on the other, his father had cooked it for him. Naturally, he had to eat it.
“No. I'll eat it,” he insisted, and then looked away at the narrowed eyes Dick gave him. Shh and let me accommodate you.
Bruce, in the meantime, returned to the kitchen to retrieve the fruit he hadn't sliced (apples can be eaten whole, I guess), and was horrified to find Clark cooking (honestly, it was Bruce’s own fault for not telling Clark to sit down to eat).
“Clark, what are you doing?” He asked, taking long rushed steps to Clark’s side.
“Masoob,” the other responded. “Like you asked.”
Bruce started to panic internally, even if his body didn't show any sign of it. He didn't want Clark working when he was a guest. What opinion would Clark have of him for that? Alfred had told him multiple times that was extremely rude-
“No, I asked you to look the recipe up,” Bruno said. “I can cook for my own family. You should sit down and have breakfast. You have work later and I don't want you to be late.”
Clark was a bit taken aback. He didn't mean to imply Bruno couldn't cook for his own family. Maybe he did go a bit far when he started cooking. It was true that when Batman have an order, he wanted you to do that, nothing more and nothing less, but this time it wasn't an order from Batman, it was a request from Bruno. He did expect it to be a bit different.
“Sorry. I guess I misunderstood,” he apologized. “If you say so, then I'll go have breakfast.” He leaned in and kissed Bruno's forehead again. “But don't take long to join.”
Bruno nodded appreciatively. “Thank you.” He paused. “Would you help me take the apples to the table, please? I heard children need fruit in their diet, so I'm trying it out,” he said, carefully adding playfulness to his tone.
“Sure.” Clark grinned. He picked up the washed apples, one for each person at the table, and headed out of the kitchen. What a curious order to serve breakfast as.
Upon seeing him, the conversations the kids were having died down. “Ah, you’re still here,” Daniel pointed out mindfully, and he nodded in confirmation.
“Yes, I'm still here, but not for much longer, don’t worry. Sorry for interfering,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice, as he sat down. Daniel seemed to approve of that comment and started eating the apple.
“Oh, please, you’re not any bother,” Ric said, waving a hand dismissively. “Don't mind Dani.”
“Yeah, you have nothing to apologize about,” Tony added. “Actually, we should be apologizing to you. I’m actually sorry you had to come the exact day Bruno has to make breakfast. Usually gramps makes a way better one.” He put a hand over his mouth to giggle with a mouthful of omelet. Clark deduced he meant Robert. “At least it’s edible today.”
Clark couldn’t help but chuckle at the alliance the kids seemed to have formed with the purpose of annoying their father, except maybe for the youngest, who watched more than participated. It was cute, and he felt fortunate to see it happen.
Bruno came out of the kitchen announcing masoob and Daniel’s eyes widened with eagerness. As soon as the plate was put in front of him, the kid started eating as quickly and politely as possible. He was much like Bruno, showing interest in subtle ways.
“Do the two of you go to the same school?” Clark asked Tony and Daniel.
“No,” Tony answered, shaking his head. “I go to Gotham Academy. Daniel is homeschooled.”
“Oh, is that so?” Clark was hit with yet another thing he didn’t know, and he just wanted to know more. He thought Gotham Academy was pretty exclusive. Even for people from the outside who didn’t know a lot about Gotham, he knew those Academies were usually reserved for rich kids. Don’t get him wrong, Bruno and his family didn’t live badly, but…
As if he was sensing his confusion, Bruno spoke up. “Yes, we’re really fortunate. Wayne Enterprises subsidizes education for children of employees,” he explained. “Daniel is just a bit of a special case…”
Clark listened to Bruno intently. He was learning about Bruno’s family, even if Bruno was over-explaining some things. He was used to it, Bruno often explained everything so there was no space left for doubts. The kids plus Ric held their own conversation while Bruno and Clark spoke.
“By the way,” Ric said. “Doesn’t the bus get here in fifteen minutes?” He checked his phone to reveal 6:34 as the time.
Duke froze. He hadn’t considered that he would have to take the bus. Alfred wasn’t there to drive him in the Grand Cherokee and get going at 7:10 to arrive in 20 minutes, exactly at 7:30. The bus would take way longer, of course. It’s not like he had never taken the bus, but the comfort of being driven around in a luxury car had grown on him.
“Right, I gotta go!” Tony exclaimed, then he picked up his dirty dishes and tossed them in the sink with barely enough finesse to not break them and ran upstairs to take a shower. By some godly miracle, he was done by 6:47, or was he?
He ran down the stairs, basically skipping the last steps and called out. “Bruno!” He sounded impatient. He had his backpack, his uniform, his shoes, even if a bit messy. The only thing left undone was his tie, which he still had in his hand.
Bruno stood up, ready for an emergency, but Tony’s next request threw him off.
“I still don’t get how to tie a tie,” Tony declared. “Please, help.”
Bruno nodded and went up to the teen, taking the tie from his hands. “Sure, alright. It goes like this…” He had everything under control.
Or did he?
Tony just looked at Bruno with an intense glare when the knot ended up crooked, loose and looking more like a bow tie made from spaghetti. Ric didn’t wait a moment to intervene.
“No, no, it’s like this,” he said, undoing Bruno’s pitiful knot and redoing it. The result wasn’t much different.
“No way none of you know how to tie a tie,” Tony accused them.
“I thought you had to wear ties for work every day?” Bruno accused Ric.
“Mine are clip-on. What am I supposed to know about tying them?” Ric replied defensively.
“Make way! I know how to!” Daniel intervened and tried redoing the knot himself. It had a bit more shape than the last attempts, but it was still, in essence, a sad spaghetti knot. “I guess you will just have to suffer the consequences, Warren,” Daniel declared and returned to his seat at the table.
“6:52, B!” Ric exclaimed. “The bus is outside!”
Clark watched the encounter with quiet amusement. It was a bit funny watching them all unable to do a simple task. He interrupted Ric’s and Bruno’s discussion to ask Tony, “how do you normally get it done?”
“Usually gramps get it done for me,” Tony admitted, looking away. “I’ve been trying to learn but it doesn’t stick.”
Clark nodded and stepped closer. “May I?”
The whole room went silent as Clark put the tie around Tony’s neck and tied it, like all of them were expecting something to go terribly wrong, but Clark had to wear ties to work every day, and they weren’t clip op or pre-tied. In less than a minute, he had it done.
“Crisis averted,” he announced and smiled at the group.
“Thank you! It’s great to see someone competent in this house. Bye!” Tony said as he ran out the door. Clark smiled with satisfaction.
“Well, now that the crisis is averted,” Ric said, allowing himself a yawn as he stretched, “I’m going to bed. I stayed up all night and haven’t caught a single moment of sleep.” He patted Bruno’s shoulder. “I’m gonna use your bed. I hope I don’t find it messy. ”
“Ric-” Bruce grunted, but before he could scold Dick for insinuating in front of Damian, he was gone like the wind.
Damian was picking up the plates, but Bruce stopped him. “I’ll do it. You go up and study,” he ordered him. The kid, who had no actual intention of studying so early, also left and disappeared on the second floor.
Once again, it was just the two of them. Clark spoke first. “How come you don’t know how to tie a tie?” He asked teasingly.
Bruno let out a huff, which was an equivalent of laughter. “I haven’t worn a tie for work in years. I guess the knowledge didn’t stick.”
“You don’t wear a tie for work?” Clark inquired with a raised eyebrow.
“No. With Bruce Wayne making decisions, the dress code has always been… lenient,” Bruno explained, looking away. With how frequently he avoided eye contact, it couldn’t be taken as an indicator that he was lying, but he was lying, with all his titanium white teeth.
»”Thank you a lot,” he told Clark. “It would’ve been worse if you hadn’t been here. The last thing we need is to get a call from the school because they dress-coded my son.”
“Hey, I’m glad I could help,” Clark replied. “And I think I’m integrating seamlessly, don’t you think?” He added with a joking tone.
“Yes,” Bruno confirmed. “You have a talent for that kind of thing.”
»”How long until you have to go?” Bruno asked. Even when he had been so stressed in the last 24 hours, he still didn’t want Clark to go. As much as he had wished the nightmare of pretending would end quickly, he realized it hadn’t been nearly enough time.
Clark checked his watch. “I have to go in 23 minutes,” he said. He didn’t want to go either, but he was already thinking that they'd meet later for monitor duty. That brought a smile to his face, despite everything.
“... Wouldn’t you like a cup of coffee?” Bruno asked.
“Won’t it be too much trouble?” Clark asked tentatively, coming closer to Bruno.
“No trouble at all. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
“After you.”