Chapter Text
It was a fairly normal Saturday at Wayne Manor.
Dick, Jason, and Tim were sprawled on the floor in the largest of the building’s many dens, engaged in a rather sadistic game of Mortal Kombat on the incredibly large screen Bruce had purchased for them the previous Christmas.
Alfred was somewhere deep in the manor, likely still immersed in the kitchen. Saturdays were Alfred’s ‘new recipe’ days, a tradition that started when Jason made an off-handed comment about being sick of spaghetti and meatballs.
“You try cooking for three young men and one incredibly picky eater,” Alfred had said. Clark had been left out of the mix; he was known for being willing to try and being most likely to enjoy anything that Alfred put on his plate. A polar opposite to his boyfriend of just over two years.
It was 5:30, and Clark and Bruce had assumed their usual positions on the couch behind the boys, keeping track of the score so that they could ultimately decide which teenager had won when it inevitably came to an argument.
Under Bruce’s guidance, they had learned to question authority, but none of them questioned Bruce. Clark found it incredibly amusing--each week, Bruce declared the ultimate winner based on who was his favourite at the moment, not on who had actually earned it in the game. The boys had not yet caught on.
Today, though, Clark noticed that Bruce seemed uncomfortable. It was clear that his attention was elsewhere. Bruce had not made a single comment about the battle in front of him, and though his eyes were trained on the screen, they were glossed over. He looked sad and tired, maybe even a little bit sick.
“B, are you okay?” Clark asked quietly, hoping the boys wouldn’t hear. He was successful, his question drowned out by Jason’s screams of “Die! Die! Die!”
One thing that Clark’s relationship with Bruce had taught him was that while Bruce could twist the truth so believably to criminals, he was a terrible liar when it came to his family.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, Clark. Tired.”
Despite knowing it wasn’t the full truth, Clark dropped it. Bruce was not known for openly sharing his feelings, and he knew from past experience that he would discuss it with Clark when he was ready.
It was hard to keep quiet, though. Especially when Bruce’s discomfort only seemed to grow over the next half hour, until suddenly he stood and walked quickly from the room.
Clark stood to go after him, but Dick stopped him.
“I’ll go, C,” he said, pausing the game. “I have a feeling I already know what this is about, and I think I might be able to get him to talk.”
Clark frowned, but ultimately let him go. He knew that Bruce was close with Dick. The 19-year-old was his first ward, and had been with him through some of his lowest points. He was his first Robin, his first confidant, his first son . Dick had been in Bruce’s life for much longer than Clark had, so he tried not to take it personally that Bruce confided in him first.
When Dick had disappeared from the room, Jason turned to Clark and interrupted his thoughts.
“Wanna play?”
Clark nodded and lowered himself to the floor next to Tim, grabbing the controller and rustling the youngest’s hair. His concern for Bruce lingered in the back of his mind as he began virtually hunting the boys down.
Around twenty minutes later, Alfred came into the den.
“I’ve just finished supper, sirs. Please wash up. And Master Clark, if you would be so kind, retrieve Master Bruce and Master Richard from the cave?”
They all nodded as Jason paused the game.
Clark made his way over to the study just around the corner, heading straight for the grandfather clock and clicking the hands into place. He tried not to listen as he descended the staircase, but it was hard to ignore Bruce’s raised voice from below.
“What’s he going to think, though, Dick?” he was asking. Clark could hear the frustration and fear in his voice. “This isn’t normal! This isn’t what he signed up for!”
“And why not? He knows you, B, possibly better than anyone else in the world. He signed up for all of your chaos, including the three of us, so why would it make any difference to him?”
Clark almost turned around, planning on announcing his arrival from the clock as if he hadn’t heard a thing, but Dick’s next sentence made him freeze.
“If anything, I think Clark would be thrilled to have another son.”
Clark did not move, disbelieving of what he’d just heard.
Another son? Bruce had another son that Clark didn’t know about?
Clark’s heartbeat picked up, mulling over the idea in his head in excitement.
Of course he’d be fine with having another son. Dick, Jason, and Tim had been an unexpected joy in his life since Bruce and him had started dating. Of course, if this meant Bruce had been cheating on him, then that would be another story, but Clark shook his head as soon as that thought crossed his mind. There was no way Bruce would do that to him.
Another son.
Clark covered his hand with his mouth and smiled. He started back up the stairs, floating slightly to avoid making noise. Once he had passed back through the clock, he turned around and called: “Bruce? Dick? Alfred says dinner is ready!”
He heard Bruce mutter under his breath about hoping that he hadn’t heard them, so Clark decided he’d keep it to himself until Bruce was ready. At least he knew that Bruce wasn’t seriously ill or something.
His nerves about his boyfriend were replaced with excitement at the prospect of meeting another of Bruce’s children.
If there was a spring in his step as he went to supper, well, he didn’t really care.
-----
Dinner was delicious; shrimp scampi with fettuccine. The kitchen and dining room smelled like fish as they ate, but Clark had no complaints.
Halfway through the meal, he realized that Bruce might.
His boyfriend had hardly touched his food, which was odd...Clark knew that Bruce really liked shrimp, and normally would have really enjoyed it. He refrained from saying anything about the food or the conversation he had overheard, but near the end of the meal tucked his hand under the table and laid it on Bruce’s thigh. He squeezed it reassuringly, and mouthed “I love you, always.”
Bruce’s eyes welled up a little as he said this, which struck Clark to the point that he jolted back. Bruce glared daggers at him, the rest of the table now looking at them strangely, and took a bite of shrimp.
Immediately after he had swallowed, his complexion changed to a sickly green hue.
“Bruce?” Clark asked, touching his hand. “Bruce, sweetheart, are you feeling sick?”
Bruce said nothing, but looked fearfully over at Dick as he stood up. Before anyone could say anything, Dick launched into a spiel about how excited he was for patrol. Clark, temporarily distracted by the confusion of Dick’s interjection, did not see Bruce rush out of the room. As soon as he noticed he was gone, though, he stood too.
“Thank you for dinner, Alfred,” he said, starting toward the doorway. “It was delicious. I’m just going to check on Bruce.”
Dick began to protest, but Clark shook his head.
“Please, Dick. Let me.”
Clark wasn’t really sure where Bruce had gone, so he expanded his hearing throughout the house, trying to isolate his heartbeat and breathing. He found him almost immediately, upstairs in their bathroom.
He took off in a jog when he heard that Bruce was throwing up.
When he reached their bedroom, he slowed, turning hesitantly around the corner. Bruce was sitting on the tile floor, his head pressed against the wall and his hand over his stomach.
“Bruce, love,” Clark said. “You’ve been acting off all day. What’s wrong?”
Bruce looked up at Clark for half a second, then looked down at his lap. His hand jerked away from his stomach to rest on the floor.
“Nothing,” he lied. “I must just have a bug.”
Clark sighed and stepped into the bathroom, sitting down on the floor next to his boyfriend and reaching for his hand.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, because I wanted to wait until you were ready, but I did hear you and Dick talking in the cave. I didn’t mean to listen, but it’s hard not to with my ears.”
Bruce was silent, still staring at his lap.
“I know that you have another son, B,” Clark continued. “And I just...I want you to know that it’s okay. You don’t have to hide it from me. I love you, and I’m not going to leave you because there’s another kid in the house. Lord knows I’m smitten with the ones you have already, why would this be any different?”
This time, Bruce looked up at him.
“I don’t have another son, Clark. I’m going to have another son.”
Clark’s heart leapt in his throat, confusion washing over him.
“But that means…”
“I’m pregnant,” Bruce finished, still somehow taking Clark entirely by surprise. “That means I’m pregnant.”
Clark stared at him, his mouth agape. Bruce fidgeted with his hands for a moment, then suddenly turned and began throwing up again.
This broke Clark out of his stupor. He shifted so that he was on his knees behind Bruce and pressed a hand to his back, rubbing small and soothing circles just above his waist.
Having already thrown up what little he had eaten, Bruce finished heaving less than a minute later, wiping his mouth inelegantly with the back of his hand and sitting back against the wall.
Clark took his hand anyway, a smile creeping onto his face.
“While I don’t like seeing you sick, I do think that this is possibly the most amazing news ever. At first, I thought you had another son from a past relationship, like Talia or Selina or someone, then when you said you don’t have another one yet, my brain immediately went to an affair. But I didn’t think you would do that to me, in fact, I was certain. I just...oh, Bruce, don’t get me wrong, if you’re actually pregnant with our child, I’ll be over the moon, but...how?”
“Clark...men don’t get pregnant. If it was just a matter of telling you I had another kid from a past relationship, I wouldn’t have even been worried. And you’re right, I would never cheat on you. But this is...how do you even explain this to someone?”
“Have you been to see anyone yet, B? When did you find out?”
“Last week,” Bruce swallowed. “Don’t freak out, but I actually...uh...I collapsed, on patrol.”
Clark stared at him.
“You what?!”
“I thought I was dehydrated or something, but Dick was with me and insisted that he take me to see Leslie. Turns out I overexerted myself. My pregnant body isn’t quite as versatile and strong as my non-pregnant one.”
“ Why didn’t you tell me this?” Clark said, panic rising in him. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay? What happened? Is that why Dick knew before me?”
Bruce shook his head and sighed, a small smile on his face.
“Slow down, Clark,” he said. “Yes, I am okay, and yes, so is the baby. He’s perfectly healthy and I’m about three and half months along. Dick was with me; we were just on our way home from patrol, on top of the museum. I felt fine, and then after I pulled myself up over the ledge and onto the roof I suddenly felt dizzy and collapsed. I didn’t lose consciousness, but Dick was terrified. I didn’t even want to go, but he insisted. He was with me when Leslie told me what she had found.”
Clark leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. He gently pulled him closer, up off of the floor and into his lap. He pressed his nose into Bruce’s neck.
“I love you so goddamn much, you know that?” he said, quietly. Bruce leaned into him and sighed contentedly.
“I know. I was scared, for some reason. I didn’t know what you would say and if you would leave me or what, but I’m also...excited? I guess?”
“You guess?” Clark laughed, pulling away. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been more excited in my life. We get another son, B. And he’s ours .”
Bruce nodded with a small smile.
“So when are you going to tell Jay and Tim? Does Alfred know?”
“None of them do,” Bruce answered. “I will tell them soon, but I kind of want to wait until we go to see Leslie again. She’s going to figure out how it happened, exactly, and where we’ll go from here. Then I’ll have the full story when I tell everyone else.”
Clark pulled Bruce in again, squeezing gently.
“And I love you too, Clark,” Bruce continued into his shoulder. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you, especially now.”
Clark chuckled.
“Well, you wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for me.”
Bruce rolled his eyes as he pulled away again. Clark noticed that the normal pinkish tinge to Bruce’s cheeks had returned and stood, helping his boyfriend to his feet.
“I want to name him Damian,” Bruce said as they walked out into the main part of the bedroom. “I know it’s really early for that, but I think that’ll make this feel more real. Giving him a name already.”
Clark laughed playfully and shook his head.
“I like it. If it sticks, I’m fine with that.”
He pecked Bruce on the lips and gestured to the door with his head.
“I think the boys are playing Mortal Kombat again. If you’re feeling better, we should probably get down there and keep score.”
Bruce chuckled to himself.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
They held hands as they made their way downstairs and back to the den, purposefully avoiding the rooms still touched by the smell of shrimp as to not instigate another wave of sickness. Bruce made sure to smile widely at Dick as they walked in the room together, silently communicating to him that Clark knew now, and that everything was fine.
More than fine , actually.
Dick returned the smile and looked up at Clark, a flash of joy and excitement in his eyes. It quickly turned to frustration as Jay cried out in glee, having snuck in and shot Dick’s character while he was distracted.
Clark was pretty sure it didn’t matter. Bruce’s smile told him that no matter the score, Dick would be the winner tonight.
Clark looked fondly around the room at his little makeshift family, eyes lingering on Bruce’s hand as it dropped subconsciously to his stomach.
Little did any of them know.
Clark was the real winner. All day, every day.
He smiled to himself.
One hundred percent .