Secret Santa Fic for calliopes_pen
X-X-X-X-X
"Bruce, Bruce, guess what happened in school today?" Dick shouted, slamming open the door and dropping his bag. For a nine-year-old, he made a ridiculous amount of noise.
Bruce glanced up from the ballistics report he'd been perusing. "Hmm?"
"It was awesome, today's the best day ever, we got to play with clay, because of the old dead Incans, and we got to paint what we made after it was done drying out-isn't that weird, that clay gets hard when it dries out--" Dick continued chattering as he moved toward Bruce, shedding over clothing, books, papers, shoes, and miscellaneous junk pulled from his pockets as he went. Bruce nodded occasionally and made interested noises, while keeping one eye on the report. Three murders in two weeks, all with the same gun... It could be a coincidence, but if this was a burgeoning serial killer, it was important to catch the man now, not later.
"-And then Sara started talking about how her mom would be coming the next day, and would definitely be the best 'cause she's a big, important CEO, but I told her there's no way, you were definitely the very best 'cause otherwise how come you were running the biggest company in Gotham? And she said you weren't either the best, and I said you were too, and finally she said to prove it, and I said fine, I would, and that's why you've gotta come to class on Thursday, so you can prove that you are the best, okay Bruce? Bruce?"
Bruce was snapped out of thoughts of trajectories and possible heights versus eyewitness reports by small hands digging into his knees and an anxious voice. Dick was peering into his face, a frown creasing his forehead and a pout beginning. "Bruce?"
"Ah, yes Dick?" he said, clearing his throat.
Dick's frown grew. "Were you even listenin' to me?"
"Of course I was," Bruce said automatically.
Dick looked skeptical. "Uh, huh. Sure." His small shoulders slumped. "Maybe I should go see Alfred."
Bruce dropped the papers to the side, and clasped Dick's shoulders in his palms. "Nonsense. I'd miss out getting to hear about your day."
"Bruce. I just told you all about today."
Bruce gave a mental thank you to the professional gambler who had taught him how to perfect control of his expression. "Yes, but I didn't hear about how you settled the argument with-" he trailed off. Damn, with who?
"Sara?" Dick began smiling. "You mean you'll help me?"
Bruce smiled back. "Of course I will. I'll always help you."
Dick beamed. "Great! So, you'll come Thursday?"
Bruce blinked. "Ah."
"Yes! This is gonna be so awesome!" Dick crowed. "I gotta go tell Alfred. He's gonna love it!" Dick shoved himself off of Bruce's lap and ran out of the room.
"... What?"
X-X-X-X-X
Bruce glared at the empty shot glass in front of him. "Career Day. I am going to Career Day."
Clark's hair hung in wet curls and his rain dampened cape clung to him, but he ignored both to drop into the seat across from his broody billionaire. " Oh, really."
"Yes, really. That tricky little brat maneuvered me into it; now I can't say no."
"Hmm."
"Oh shut up," Bruce groused. "Speaking of which, why can't you go with him? He's a hell of a lot more interested in your career than mine anyway."
Clark raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yes, of course. I'll just show up as billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne's good friend. To his son's Career Day. I'm sure the press will buy that."
"Oh, fine. Be that way."
"Hey, I'm not the one who wanted to hide this relationship in the first place," Clark objected.
"All right, well, why can't you go as Superman?" Bruce demanded. "You'd certainly be the biggest hit there if you pulled on the 'S' first."
Clark blatantly rolled his eyes. "Now you're just looking for excuses to moan."
Bruce opened his mouth to deny any such thing when Clark covered the other man's lips with his own. Breaking apart several moments later he added, somewhat hoarsely, "And I can think of better reasons for you to do that."
Bruce smirked.
X-X-X-X-X
Four days later, at an ungodly hour of the morning, Bruce strode into Dick's classroom.
"Mr. Wayne! So glad you could make it," the teacher schmoozed, hurrying toward him. Bruce gave the man a bland smile, which warmed into a real grin once he caught sight of Dick perched near the back, waving wildly at him.
"If you'll just have a seat sir, we'll begin in just a moment," the man ushered him to one of the empty student's desks.
Bruce stared at the tiny wood chair. This is for Dick, he reminded himself, and nobly made the attempt to squeeze his six foot four, 220 pound body between the desk and the seat. The wood creaked alarmingly.
The high-pitched giggling drew his attention. Bruce eyed the fourth-graders around him with all the wariness he usually displayed when dealing with psychotic clowns or schizophrenic ex-attorneys. After more than two years as Gotham's protector he knew-the more innocent they looked, the worse they were.
Ten seconds later, a gorgeous, leggy brunette in a suit even more expensive than his own breezed into the room. Swooping down on a dark-haired little girl in the front row she gave what must be her daughter a hug around the shoulders. “Hi, sweetie! Having a good day?”
Bruce watched as the teacher oozed his way over to the woman, babbling about how lovely it was to see her again, and tried to think of where he knew her. Her face was familiar.
“And this is Mr. Wayne, here on behalf of his ward Dick,” the teacher said, directing her attention to him. Bruce rose cautiously from the desk, wary of breaking it, and reached out a hand, only to freeze at the woman’s next words.
“Oh, we’ve met. Last year. The Hampstead’s Winter Ball? Not that I expect you to remember,” her sweet tone at odds with the deadly look in her eyes.
Bruce mentally cursed everyone from Alfred, who’d insisted it was absolutely necessary he attend said Ball and just as necessary he bring a guest, to the Joker, who’d picked that night of all nights, to attempt to kidnap and ransom the President of Gotham’s National Bank (also a guest at the party), to the woman in question, Sandra Didion.
She was easily the most intelligent woman he’d dated in years, and had tricked him into dropping the dumb playboy act several times that night. It had actually been one of the best dates he’d had in a long time-until the Joker appeared.
The problem was, she was too smart. For Bruce Wayne to disappear, only for Batman to reappear moments later…. She’d have put the pieces together easily. So Bruce got rid of her in the best way he knew how-by making her angry enough with him she wouldn’t bother to wonder. After dispatching the Joker, he found one of the ever-present gold diggers, allowed her to seduce him, then arranged to come stumbling out of a side room, rumpled and supposedly drunk, with his arm around her right as Sandra came looking for him.
She’d thrown a drink in his face, the gold-digger had collapsed in hysterics, and Bruce went home to glare at Alfred and sulk. He’d honestly never thought he’d see her again.
“Oh, how lovely,” the teacher prattled on, oblivious to the tension. “And I can’t tell you how grateful I am to the two of you giving up your mornings to come talk to my class. Two of Gotham’s most well-known CEO’s here to discuss their careers….”
“Actually,” Sandra cut in, “I have a thought. Why don’t we make things a bit more interesting for the kids, hmm?”
Bruce kept his bland smile up through sheer force of will. “And how do we do that, Ms.-“
“Oh, please, call me Sandra. As it happens,” she went on, turning to face the class, “both my company, Altech, and Wayne Enterprises, are about to start bidding on the new contract for the south docks. We can just have it out right here.”
Bruce’s smile slipped a notch, as Sandra’s grew.
X-X-X-X-X
An hour later Bruce was feeling as though he’d gone ten rounds with Cain. He was also out a five hundred million dollar contract. Lucius was going to kill him.
“Well, wasn’t that… exciting!” said the teacher, who’d been inches from hyperventilating for the last twenty minutes by Bruce’s count. “I, ah, can’t thank you both enough for coming in.” The class filed to the front of the room, most still wide-eyed. For all that the language probably went over their heads, none had failed to pick up on the ratcheting tension.
“Yes, well, it has been delightful,” Sandra said, giving Bruce in particular a triumphant smile. “We must do this again.”
Bruce smiled back weakly. “Oh yes. Definitely. I’ll have my people call your people.”
“Such a pity you lost out on the contract,” she said, poisonously sweet. “Class, Mr. Wayne has been a remarkably good loser about this. I think he deserves a hug don’t you?”
Bruce blinked. “What? Wait, what?” he asked, just as fourteen tiny yet remarkably heavy bodies piled themselves on him and knocked him to the floor. The last thing he saw before cherubic grinning faces blocked out his vision was Sandra with an obscenely smug look on her face.
X-X-X-X-X
Bruce went home, yelled at Alfred (who blatantly rolled his eyes at what he called “Master Wayne’s little dramatics”), sulked for an hour, threw a book at the answering machine when Lucius came on shouting about what the hell had happened to the docks’ contract, debated getting drunk, and finally stomped down to the cave to literally beat the stuffing out of several punching bags.
Eventually, he gave in and called Clark. After the Kryptonian stopped laughing, he flew over and managed to cheer up Bruce very well indeed.
X-X-X-X-X
The next morning, Dick refused to get out of bed. As he had been sneezing all through dinner, and was currently flushed faced and wheezing pitifully, Clark, who had stayed the night, coaxed Dick into drinking some children’s cold medicine while Bruce went off to call the school.
"Hmm. Apparently, there’s a virus going around-and it’s not just the kids that are getting it,” Bruce called out, reentering the room. “Some of the parents have as well. Ms. Sandra Didion called in to say both she and her daughter have come down with a bad cold," Bruce finished, not even bothering to hide his satisfaction.
Clark rolled his eyes. "Do you have to sound so pleased about that?"
Bruce smirked. "Yes, well, after what she said about Gotham's R&D division being outdated and unnecessary-"
"Of course, of course. Heaven forbid she insult the maker of your toys. The cold was obviously karmic punishment."
"No, just the succumbing of inferior health to your basic virus."
"Inferior health?"
"Naturally. She obviously wasn't eating right-another one of those who'd choose a tiny waist over a solid immune system."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "You know Bruce, everyone catches a cold eventually. It doesn't matter how healthy you are."
"I don't."
"You've never been sick?"
"Not since before I became Batman."
Clark stared. "So you've, what, scared all the germs away?"
Bruce gave him a pitying look. "No, I'm just in much better health. Remember, I was actually pawed by all those grimy little bacteria carriers. And aside from a slight cough and what I’m sure is temporary sinus congestion I've suffered no ill effects. Unlike dear Sandra, who'll be miserable for a week to come, at least," he added smugly.
Clark eyed him. "You know, I think I'll leave this one to be a learning experience."
X-X-X-X-X
Late that evening, Clark stopped in the doorway of what he had come to think of as 'their' room. Bruce was buried under the blankets up to his nose, the sound of labored breathing, interspersed with a hacking cough coming from beneath the coverlet.
"... I'll just go get some adult cold medicine, then?"
Bruce growled.
X-X-X-X-X
Early the next morning, Clark was so busy persuading Dick to swallow the admittedly nasty-looking cough syrup that he nearly missed the sound of sneezing coming from their bedroom. After bribing Dick with the promise of some time flying as soon as he was better, Clark headed into the bedroom. Bruce, red-nosed and bleary-eyed, was stumbling around the room, trying to pull on his socks and his jacket at the same time. "Bruce?"
"What? Oh, it's you." Bruce sounded extremely disgruntled about that fact, although who else he could have expected.... "Have you seen my cufflinks?"
Clark caught him right before he crashed into the bureau. "Bruce, are you feeling all right?"
"Hmm, yes I'm-ACHOO! Fine." Clark watched as he dug another handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose.
"Are you sure? Because you look like you should be in bed." Clark said slowly.
"Don't be stupid, I'm perfectly all right. ACHOO! Just a little-ACHOO!-under the weather. I can-ACHOO!- work through it," he finished, mopping his face.
"Bruce, I really don't think you should be out of bed," Clark said, concern showing plainly.
"Oh for fuck's sake, I'm fine! Stop mother henning Clark, you're being a damned nuisance," Bruce snapped.
Clark stepped back hurt. "All right. Fine."
"Good." Bruce finished dressing in silence, and stalked out of the room. He paused, just outside the door. "You'll look after Dick while I'm at my meeting." It was phrased as a command, but Clark could hear the plea underneath, and softened.
"Of course I will."
X-X-X-X-X
Ten hours later Clark was at his desk, catching up on his messages, and trying to remain calm.
He'd stayed with Dick while Bruce went off to play conquering CEO, and between Alfred and himself, the boy was beginning to feel better. After Bruce came back, he had tried to persuade the stubborn man to go to bed. Bruce had responded to his concern by picking a fight, and by the time he'd started on 'meddling aliens' Clark's patience was long gone. He broke the sound barrier leaving Gotham.
Sinestro was once again attempting to kill GL and take over his sector. Clark took out his frustrations on the unlucky former Lantern and left the man unconscious in the middle of a crater. Hal didn't even say anything, just gave him a dry smile that said he knew exactly who Clark had last dealt with, and pointed him to some trouble on the West Coast-some magician who'd been stirring up hurricanes. After that was there was an earthquake, and then a bank robbery by a meta with pyrokinetic abilities the police were having trouble handling, and by the end he was beginning to feel less like strangling one thoroughly infuriating vigilante.
His hard-earned peace lasted exactly as long as it took to hear Alfred's message.
"Ah, Mr. Kent. I hate to bother you at your work, but... I'm afraid our mutual friend has decided there is no job he cannot handle at the moment. Despite his current handicap and the inclement weather. In any case, I would very much appreciate your help in persuading him otherwise. Preferably before he breaks his head open in his desire to prove himself invincible to a mere cold?"
Clark shot a glance out the window. If it was chilly and wet in Metropolis, it would be, freezing and icy in Gotham, Clark mentally finished. Bruce, damn you!
X-X-X-X-X
"Br-Batman! What the hell are you doing?" Clark shouted as he shot down out of the sky to land next to the man.
Bruce's red eyes glared out at him through the cowl’s lenses. "I'b nod sick."
Then he sneezed hard enough to make the edges of the cape he'd pulled around him flutter.
Clark fought back a smile, and reminded himself that the man came out here knowing that his balance was shot to run around on icy rooftops in below zero weather. "Batman. You should not be out here."
Bruce coughed, and glared some more. "I'b fine! Lebbe 'lone." He stumbled in the direction of the edge, weaving as he went.
Clark rolled his eyes, and caught him by the shoulders. "Bruce. Come home," he said softly.
Bruce spun crazily in his arms, and shoved him away. "SHH! It'ds a SECRED IDENDIDY!" Bruce glared at him, and then at the corner of the roof. "'Ou hear dat too?!"
Clark blinked at him, and then at the shadowed corner. It was empty but for a drift of snow. "Um, Br-Batman, there's nothing there.
"Go 'way, I'b god work 'o do."
"You've got a fever of 104 and have apparently started hallucinating."
"I'm BADMAN!" Bruce staggered vaguely in the direction of the corner. "And I'll stob you, crimbinal!"
Clark covered his face with his hands. "Bruce. Please, I am begging you, come home."
Bruce ignored him, muttering incomprehensible threats and swinging his fists at the air as he went.
Clark gave up on reason and just grabbed him, something made much more difficult by the slick Kevlar and Bruce's attempts to get away.
"Ubhand me, ebil doer!"
Clark rolled his eyes, tucked the struggling man under his arm and took off for the cave.
X-X-X-X-X
Alfred was waiting with a tray of food that steamed and smelled delicious. Clark gladly dumped Bruce on the floor in front of him.
Together he and Alfred managed to get most of Bruce's wet armor off, along with the cape and cowl. Not that Bruce made that easy.
"No! I habe to work! Gotham needs me!"
Clark met Alfred's eyes and they shared one long, commiserating look. "I'll get him out of the rest of this if you start the bath," Clark whispered.
"Truly, sir, you are a hero. Good luck."
Twenty minutes later a still wet but much warmer pajama-clad Bruce Wayne was bundled into his bed, and he and Alfred took turns pouring soup down his vociferously complaining throat.
"I can'd leabe Gotham!" Bruce managed to get out between mouthfuls.
"Bruce it'll be fine for one night," Clark said, exasperated. "Not that that means you can go back out tomorrow," he backtracked hastily.
“’Ou don know dat!”
“Bruce-“
“Sombudy could die!” Bruce’s tone was honestly desperate this time. Clark stopped and looked at him. Stubborn and an idiot, yes, but this was about much more than pride.
He looked at Alfred. “Can you handle him for the night?” he whispered.
“Certainly Master Clark.”
“All right. Thanks.” Clark turned back to Bruce, who was attempting to pry Clark’s hands off the blankets being held up to his chin. “Bruce. Bruce!” The other man looked up blearily. “What if I look after your city? Would that be okay?”
Bruce searched his face intently-much as he was able to when he couldn’t focus for more than a few moments at a time and kept having to blow his nose. “You? As ‘Uperman?”
“Yes.”
“… okay. Whad aboud Dick?”
Clark hesitated, and then as a truly evil idea took root, gave in to the promptings of his inner devil. “Bruce, I promise any time I have to stop patrolling to take care of you and Dick-“
“Don’ need t’ be taken care of.”
“-any time I have to stop for whatever reason, I will make sure that someone else is patrolling. Okay?”
Bruce eyed him suspiciously, but relented. “Dohkay.” And sneezed.
Clark, meanwhile, left to go put back on his suit, and make a call to a certain archer.
“Hey, Ollie? Know how you’re always complaining about the gang trading between Star City and Gotham, and how Bruce won’t let you work in his city without permission? Well….”
X-X-X-X-X
Seven cold, wet hours later Clark snuck back inside, stopping only to shower in the cave and to check on Dick. He stopped by Alfred, who was sitting in a chair out in the hall.
“How are they both?”
“Better, sir. Master Dick woke up for a few minutes there-I managed to get some vitamins and juice into him. I think he’s over the worst of it. Master Bruce, on the other hand, I just got to drop off. His fever’s gone down, however, and he did take his medicine. Eventually.”
Clark winced, well aware of what that battle must have been like. “I can take over, if you’d like to get some sleep,” he offered.
“Thank you sir, I’ll indeed consider that,” Alfred responded, with the implacable courtesy that meant regardless of what Clark chose to do, he wouldn’t be budging from his spot in the hall until they were both well again.
Clark smiled and went in to the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Bruce was still awake, if just barely, stubborn to the last.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Yes. You can get Alfred to let me out of this damn bed,” Bruce growled.
Clark rolled his eyes. “Let me rephrase that. Can I get you anything that will help you get better, not worse? Kleenex, Vick’s, tea, medicine….”
Bruce glared at him for a moment and then admitted, “I could use some more cough syrup.”
After handing him the bottle, Clark noted that Bruce was probably the only person in the world who would refuse to pull a face while choking down that stuff.
“Better?”
“What do you think?” Bruce asked waspishly.
He’s sick, he doesn’t mean to snap, and I’m an adult. I can be patient. “You know,” he said lightly, “I think you might actually be easier to deal with when you’re hallucinating.”
“Oh, ha ha ha, I’m glad this is so funny for you.”
“It isn’t.
“I don’t even know why you’re here.”
“I’m here because I love you,” Clark said quietly.
“Oh God, don’t start on this again.”
“I wasn’t-I didn’t mean to-“
Bruce looked away. “You can’t possibly think this is going to last,” he muttered.
Clark sucked in a sharp breath and tried to control his voice. “What? I’m-is this why you don’t want to tell anyone? Why you won’t tell Dick? You’re planning to break up with me?”
Bruce snorted. “You sound like a lovesick teenage girl. ‘Break up with me.’ Honestly.”
Clark stood, badly shaken, and started moving away from the bed. “You-I can’t believe-“
"You might leave," Bruce cut him off, voice a whisper. "If you told Dick, and then later you left... he'd be very upset."
Clark froze, and looked over at the other man almost disbelievingly. Bruce's dark eyes were fixed on the blanket, face tense and miserable. Immediately, all of Clark's anger drained away. "Bruce. I'm not leaving you. I'm never leaving you." Clark's own voice was equally soft.
Bruce still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Clark gave up on words, stripped off his jeans and sweater and crawled into bed, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man.
All was quiet for several moments, until Clark whispered, "So from now on, when I want you to actually talk to me about what you're feeling, all I need to do is dope you up on cough syrup?"
Bruce growled unintelligibly at him. It might even have been frightening but for the hoarseness of his voice, and his red nose Clark could see poking out of the blankets.
X-X-X-X-X
"Fine. You win."
Clark had been redressing, but at this he stopped and stared at Bruce. "I win what?" he asked.
"You can tell Dick about us."
Clark's jaw dropped open. "... what? I mean... what?"
Bruce rolled his eyes, then winced, and put a hand up to his forehead. "Dick. Remember him? Dark-haired, tiny, hyperactive and perpetually cheerful, currently inhabiting the third bedroom on the second floor?" Bruce glared at him from under his hand. "Clark. You've been begging to tell him we're together for a month now."
"I haven't forgotten," Clark spluttered. "I just-you're sure? You-do you want to tell him?"
"No. I want you to tell him. Alone. In fact, right now would be great, feel free to leave."
Clark huffed, and dropped the blanket he'd been folding rather heavily across Bruce's legs. "Fine. Oh, and so you know, the other hero who's watching after your city when I can't? That would be Ollie."
"WHAT?!"
Clark smiled mockingly. "Now, don't overexcite yourself. Remember, the more you rest, the sooner you can get back out there.
“Clark! You left that Robin Hood wanna-be to guard my city? Clark! Get back here!”
X-X-X-X-X
FIN.
Credit: Bruce hallucinating while trying to work through a cold is an idea I borrowed from astolat's Reconcilable Differences, easily one of my favorite fics in any fandom.