agoodyarn | daemon au

Dick's daemon isn't settled yet, given his age, but he's so fanciful and prone to climbing around acrobatically that she frequently takes the shape of something winged, or a small monkey. He does give the bat a look, but knows it's impolite to stare - instead he beams and shakes Clark's hand.

"Of course! I want to go horseback riding-- if that's okay," he adds quickly, another hopeful look up at Bruce, who nods and pats his shoulder. Dick grins again. "I'll go get ready! Oh, um, see you!" He waves at Clark and then speeds off, colorful bird chirping overhead.

Bruce lets him go, and gives Clark a watchful look after. So, that's his boy.

Clark looks back, tilting his head a little, wondering how he ever thought that would explode, but gently. After all, he'd heard enough and seen enough about Dick to know he was a wonderful child. Bruce was a fabulous father. And Clark liked to think he wasn't too terrible, really. Softening even that, he reaches out and takes Bruce's hand.

"Welp," Clark says, "my suspicions have been confirmed." A half-breath pause for effect. "He's a lovely little boy. Also, he is not made of kryptonite. Which is good, really."

He tips his head towards the spot where Dick ran off.

"Are we joining him?"

Yes, he'd been leaving, but he hadn't been leaving for anything dire. He could find another moment in the day to get his article done.

"I'm not worried about you disliking each other." Bruce takes Clark's hand, looks at it. "I don't want him to feel like I'm being taken away from him." It's a difficult concept, because Bruce struggles with the idea of anyone needing him around, but he understands it with Dick. His gaze flicks up to Clark's.

"If you want to. It's about him, though."

Horseback riding, the whole day now-- Bruce is free, he doesn't have any company work or backlog of time-sensitive cases. Until the little boy is shuffled away for homework and bed, Wayne Manor and for all intents and purposes the entire world, revolves around him. Bruce hopes that's understandable and Clark won't think he's ignoring him. Which is probably a ridiculous worry, but he has no idea how to go about dating or parenting, and a combination of them is almost making him bluescreen.

"Well," Clark offers, "if it's about him, why don't we see if he wouldn't mind me joining in. And if he doesn't mind, I will."

And... that's it. That's all there is to it. Because Dick is a kid. And children need to be the priority, especially adopted children. And Clark would never take that away from any child.

Bruce leans in and kisses Clark, soft. A quiet thank-you for his understanding and patience with everything - a part of Bruce is fully aware that Dick can handle this and at a much quicker pace. It's his uncertainty that's drawing everything out the most. But it means a lot to him.

"Give me a few minutes," he says, and then squeezes Clark's hand before he goes to talk to Dick, leaving his partner to kill time in the nearby sitting room.

It is... a funny conversation. Dick immediately points out that Caterin isn't hovering nearby as a Siamese cat, so Clark must be a really good friend. Bruce calls him a very good detective, and helps him find his hiking boots from under piles of laundry. (How does he even get this much laundry strewn about when Alfred goes through it every day? Bruce is baffled.)

Not too long later, Bruce reappears.

"You're in, Kansas."

Clark couldn't help but smile a little as Bruce came back and he tipped an invisible cowbow hat before stepping forward to follow behind Bruce.

"Do you feel all right about it?" he asked carefully, because he knows that this whole thing makes Bruce incredibly nervous. He'd nudged a little, but he wasn't about to push.

"I'm nervous," he admits as he takes Clark's hand again. "But if we wait until I'm not uncertain about everything, we're going to wait forever." Dick is wildly less uncertain, enthusiastic and curious. In the distance there's familiar chatter, his ward helping Alfred in the kitchen.

"Let's find you some shoes for it."

The next brief while is taken up with Bruce shuffling a variety of stupidly expensive leather footwear Clark's direction - fortunately they're near enough the same size for it to work out. Jeans, too, if he wants, but those are going to be a tighter squeeze than the boots. (Sure, Clark could zip back to Metropolis and change, but Dick is too sharp by half already at his age, and would definitely notice.)

And so that's how the eight of them (Bruce, Clark, Dick, Alfred, everybody's daemons) end up walking out to the stables; it's a bit of a hike, and Alfred's packed lunch, and Dick talks the whole way. Caterin becomes a starling, flying to and fro with Dick's daemon and Neoma, entertaining him.

Clark makes a point of watching the daemons to see how Neoma's taking to Dick's little daemon (well, and perhaps even a bit protective of the two sweetheart birds) and the rest of his attention is on Bruce and Dick. Any question Dick has he answers, to the best of his ability, and he does his best to be honest while not revealing too much or anything he thinks Bruce may not want to share.

He took the boots but not the jeans (there are times to wear tight jeans around Bruce and they are not right now) and figures that he'll do some laundry, but he's in high spirits. He likes riding, hadn't been able to for a few years since his parents had had to give up their horses, so this'll be a rare treat. And Dick's honestly an absolute treasure.

Getting the horses tacked up is an ordeal - there are competent stablehands who live at residences for the small grounds staff, but Bruce is teaching Dick how to do it. (Nice accommodations, for the record, and people who are happy living away from the city; one of the stablehands in particular even looks slightly peeved at the interruption. Leave it to Bruce to employ the weirdo loners who wouldn't be happy anywhere else.)

Alfred opts to remain behind until they wander back, and so the three of them set off. Dick is happy to keep chatting, breaking occasionally to discuss trail choices as they go with Bruce, who quietly encourages him to make calls about the state of the ground and gently corrects him when he doesn't know. It's good for him to learn and have confidence, Bruce thinks.

"Have you ever seen Superman?" Dick asks Clark at one point. "Because you live in Metropolis! Isn't he cool? I mean, do you think so? I think he's the coolest."

Oh, god. Bruce pulls the slightest of faces over Dick's shoulder. (No, Dick doesn't know about Batman, a fact Clark is of course aware of.)

Clark can't help a bit of a warm smile and nods, easily enough.

"I've definitely seen him," Clark admits, almost as if it's a secret. "He flies by the building sometimes. I do work at the Planet, after all."

Then he smiles just a little over at Dick and he can't help, can't help, that the words warm his heart just a little.

"And I'd have to admit he's pretty cool. What do you like about him?"

"He flies!" Dick almost shouts it with excitement, and his horse tosses her head but doesn't startle. Bruce is bemused but keeps quiet, letting them talk. "He seems really nice. You'd have to be nice to do all that, right? I mean, really. Not just the stuff he tells the press, 'cuz everybody lies to the press. No offense," he adds quickly, a slightly guilty dart of his eyes as he remembers Mr. Kent is a journalist. "Is it really like that in Metropolis? Like on the news? It looks like a movie, the stuff that Superman has to fight. The stuff Batman fights is real."

--Still lighthearted, but there's a steely tone to his voice, there, like he's trying not to think of something. Bruce leans over and re-direct his horse's reins, and Dick snaps out of it.

Clark actually seems more amused at his 'cynicism' more than anything, but he takes the barrage of questions without much ruffling. The steely tone doesn't make him defensive, nor does the strange, almost-defense of Batman. He takes it in stride, and this is probably one of the few times that Bruce has seen that he's actually quite the accomplished actor in some ways.

"He is very nice," Clark agrees mildly, "and while I think there are many reasons why someone might go out and fight bad guys, I do think that it requires a kind of kindness that not everyone comes to easily."

He lets the horse clop through a few steps before he continues talking.

"As for Metropolis, the kind of threats she faces is a bit different from what you see in Gotham, it's true. But the people in both cities are good and they work hard and I think Batman and Superman do their best to take care of them no matter what they have to face to do it."

But he wants to switch the topic so--

"The flying looks pretty neat though. Have you ever gotten to fly on a plane?"

Batman looks out for ordinary people from ordinary evil; the kind of evil that took Dick's parents. And Bruce's. Dick doesn't know how to articulate how he feels about it - Metropolis is a shiny city that seems so perfect that it can't be real, and then sometimes Godzilla stomps through. He's not sure if it's better or worse than Gotham, which is not perfect, but doesn't have Brainiac.

Anyway--

"Flown one myself? No," Dick answers. "I've been on Bruce's. We went to Disney World." That admission seems a little shy, for whatever reason.

"He got to keep a picture of me in mouse ears," Bruce deadpans, and Dick turns to grin at him, good mood restored at the memory. They're coming to a break in the trail, more open expanses, and the two Gothamites have a sideline to discuss whether or not Dick's allowed to ride any faster through it. Bruce puts him through his form paces a bit first, then okays it.

Bruce stays where he is, indicating Clark should, as well. Letting Dick make the shaky transition through the horse's gate to a canter, not quite experienced enough for a gallop. He's on an older mare who knows her stuff, and the brightly colored bird soars above his head.

"He needs white noise," Bruce says quietly. Talking, laughing, playing, always moving, to keep him from thinking of his parents laying crumpled on the ground before him. "But it's exhausting. I think this helps him breathe a little."

"It does." Bruce glances down at Caterin, almost startled by her unbelievably rare verbal input in front of anyone. She's a sugar glider again, sitting against Bruce on the saddle. She'd know, though, Bruce thinks. She stalks to Dick and his daemon.

Clark gives Caterin a bit of a smile at her comment as Neoma flutters down to settle on his shoulder. He lets it settle in the air for a moment before glancing over at Bruce. There's so many things he could say, but he decides on none of them. Most of them aren't necessary, and the ones that aren't necessary will either come off poorly or simply not be believed. He knows Bruce well enough. Instead-

"I'm asking him if I can see the ears picture," he 'warns'.

Cue a long, sighed exhale. "I figured that'd be the case when I mentioned it, and yet I let myself fall on the grenade anyway." Look at all the noble sacrifices he makes, Clark, how could you do this. "I don't even know if he liked Disney World, actually. Aren't kids supposed to?"

World's Greatest Detective, and he can't figure out his kid just wants to spend time with him more than anything else.

If Clark had not been dating Bruce for quite some time, if he didn't know him so well, if he wasn't aware of the fact that despite admitting to having fallen for him within half an hours time and spending almost every available minute he had and could spend with Bruce, Bruce still thought Clark was going to get 'tired' of him, he would have stared. But he had and he did and he was aware of these things, which was why he just gives Bruce a wry little smile.

"That kid'd like it if you brought him to Sears, Bruce," he says with a tip of his chin towards Dick across the way. The smile widened a little.

"He happens to share my excellent taste and as such, enjoys spending time with you. Period. End of sentence."

Bruce just makes a 'hn' noise at that. It's occurred to him before, but he's never sure. There are plenty of parenting advice books out there, but none about an orphan vigilante with PTSD raising an orphan child with PTSD. And Dick is just so good and sweet, kindhearted and innocent. Bruce is always so careful around him because he doesn't want his own moody pitfalls to influence him.

"Well, I guess I didn't like Disney World either, when I was a kid." So there's that. Bruce who hates fun, Dick who feels embarrassed at the money being spent on him. What a pair.

"What'd you do for special events?"

"Ma baked a cake, usually," is pretty much the answer, "and we'd set up in the living room with some popcorn and some treats after we'd all had some and watch movies. Not much to it, honestly."

But it'd been good. Simple, but good.

"Usually it's carrot cake, since Pa's daemon is a rabbit. Always the joke. And Ma's is a goose so he enjoys the cake just fine as well. After Nee settled, she'd always get a little bowl of grapes or blueberries for the occasion."

It sounds perfect, honestly, and the soft look on Bruce's face probably gives away his thoughts on the matter. He'll always have a weakness for family, for the thing that was his whole world before his parents were murdered. People think that tragedy flipped a switch in him-- and it did, in a big way, but his parents were a buoy that kept his sensitive, prone-to-depression spirit afloat. Without them, and without them like that... here he is, now.

But he loves it. Loves knowing it still exists for other people, if not him.

"Sometimes I wonder if I should send Dick somewhere like that," he says with a sigh. "But I understand him... I don't know if it evens it out or not." Would a 'normal' parenting couple be able to comfort him and have it mean anything? Maybe not.

He can't help but look over at Bruce at that. Send him away? No. That's the worst idea, and not just because Bruce understands him. They've found something here, both of them. Giving up that bond would leave a scar, a nasty one, and he doesn't want either of them to live with that.

"Then how about if I'm still in his good graces by the next time his birthday rolls around," because he won't intrude, he refuses to intrude, "I'll make a cake, tomato soup and cream cheese icing if you want to be authentic, and we'll all settle in for some movies."

He's trying to do more than plan a party, but this is the only part he feels safe enough to broach, the only way.

You can have that too, he doesn't say. You can build that family for yourself.

And I'll help you.

Bruce thinks about it, because part of him believes it would be the responsible and better thing to do in the long run-- but he knows deep down that he's never giving Dick up. He loves him too much, even if it's selfish.

"I think he'd like that a lot," Bruce says quietly. His tone of voice says I'd like that too.

Dick returns in short order, bouncing in his saddle as his horse slows from her canter. Bruce laughs softly and shows him how to keep his heels down and his weight centered for an easier seat; Dick is so eager to learn from him. (It'll change. He'll be a teenager and he'll hate everything, but now, he's so desperate for his foster father's attention.) Another bit of trail wandering after that and Dick asks Bruce to show him jumps on another field, but they're a bit dilapidated and potentially not safe for the horses. He compromises by promising to get it fixed up, and letting Dick walk his horse over a fallen log back and forth a few times. Thrilling adventures.

Several hours have passed by the time they head back to the stables and Alfred, though it doesn't feel like it.

Sometimes, selfish is a good thing. Sometimes, selfish makes sure that you keep the things you really need in your life. Clark would say this was the farthest thing from selfish, but Clark also knew Bruce wouldn't believe him.

But he's pleased that it sounds like he'll be making up a tomato soup cake sometime soon. He'd have to ask his mother for the recipe the next time he was home. She'd be thrilled to know that he'd finally properly met Dick.

Once they make it back to the stables, Clark tilts his head towards the house.

"I should probably head back once we get in. I wouldn't want to intrude on dinner." And it really isn't in any way an attempt to get invited. He wants Bruce to have some time with Dick before he has to go out.

He holds his hand out and Neoma regretfully separates from Caterin to flutter to his finger.

There are sandwiches waiting with Alfred, and at Clark's proclamation, he gets a few shoved at him, lowkey British fussing. Dick's already stuffing a peanut butter and jelly one in his face and ends up running over to say goodbye to Clark and Neoma, trying to communicate this without talking with his mouth full. Bruce's laughter is quiet and mostly unnoticed in the commotion, though he's also taking the time to make sure the horses are put away properly. Dick offers Neoma a piece of his sandwich, his own daemon (now a Capuchin monkey - too tuckered out to keep flying) coiled around his shoulders.

"He's not going to vanish into thin air, Master Dick," Alfred says, getting him to settle down. "We do have to walk back first."

Dick is, of course, immediately exhausted after eating so fast after all that activity. He's just about too big for it but Bruce carries him back to the house anyway - he's more than strong enough. His son's arms wrapped around his neck, little head on his shoulder, daemon snoozing inside her human's shirt.

Dick gets a warm hug, Neoma takes the piece of sandwich and nibbles at the jelly, and Clark stays long enough to eat those sandwiches. After all, he didn't want to upset Alfred or waste food. The walk back to the house is slow and Clark makes it beside Bruce, a warm little smile on his lips as Dick snoozes.

"He's a wonderful child," Clark notes quietly as they make their way, "I'm glad I got to spend some time with the both of you. And I hope it goes without saying that I'd love to do it again sometime."

Bruce gives him a little smile; it's obvious how much this all means to him. In the hallway outside Dick's bedroom, he stops and gives Clark a pointed look. He wants a goodbye kiss, so don't you go anywhere. Once he's gently deposited Dick on his bed - his daemon wakes up, gives Bruce a fond, sleepy look before curling - Bruce slips back into the hall and shuts the door quietly behind him. Immediately he's reaching out to take Clark's face in his hands and press a kiss to his mouth, passionate and thankful.

daemon au

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)