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Bruce hunches awkwardly over a desk in the Batcave – as Dick had started calling it. He’s tinkering with a batarang, hoping to get the electrocution function to stop malfunctioning. Last night the rain had caused them all to glitch at once – while still on his person. He frowned at the memory, and at the fact this is causing a delay in his pet project.
The monitor on the Batcomputer – another Dick generated name – flashed to life showing the alert for Clark setting off the perimeter alarms. Near-instantaneously his shoulders relaxed and gentle warmth settled in his chest.
“Superman,” he greeted his friend quietly.
“Hey, B,” came the cheerful reply, “How’s it going?”
Bruce hmmed in response.
“Oh, that bad, huh? What happened?”
He turns to face Clark, “Electrifying batarang malfunction.”
He watches as Clark struggles to hold in his laughter, admirably only a small smile creeps its way onto his face, “That doesn’t sound fun.”
Bruce hmms again, “Can I help you with something, Kal?”
“Nope,” Clark pops the ‘p’, “Dickie’s been asking non-stop to go flying, and I have some free time today. Thought I could take him up,” he hesitates, “With your permission, of course.”
“That’s fine.” Bruce trusts Clark implicitly and had long ago resigned to the fact that nothing makes his ward happier than flying through the air. At least he knew he would always be safe with Superman. “He should be in the main drawing room doing his homework.”
Clark laughs, having witnessed Dick’s fantastic rants on why he doesn’t need to go to school and do homework. As he turns to the stairs out of the cave, his eyes catch on a large metal tube pushed near one of the walls. The only reason he gives it a second thought is that it’s lead-lined, or at least partially. He can see through where the lead is thinnest, there’s a mix of Ktyptonian and human technology.
A cold weight settles in the pit of his stomach. He really thought that he and Bruce were past the part of their relationship where Bruce was coming up with new ways to subdue him. He was aware that Batman made contingency plans for everything, including if Superman became evil — they’ve even come in handy, and unrelatedly mind control is the worst. But, he thought all those plans were already in place, why did he feel the need to make new ones?
He considers not bringing it up at all, but Bruce is his best friend. And he really thought he was reading him right, that they were heading toward something more. But, why would he be creating some sort of containment unit if they really had been flirting for the past couple months?
He pulls forth the courage he projects as Superman and asks, “Um, Bruce? What’s that?”
Bruce makes his questioning hmming sound.
“The, uh, lead tank?” Clark managed to stop his voice from wavering, but it still comes out very weak.
Bruce slightly angled himself away from Clark. “Project.”
Clark waits for a few seconds, but that’s all Bruce says. Project. Imprisoning his friend in a lead tank is a perfunctory project? Like tuning up the Batmobile? His eyes start to burn, tears threatening to fall. No– no, he will not get emotional about this.
Yes, it hurts, but this is Bruce. If he thinks he needs to be making a new Superman deterrent, then fine. Bruce isn’t malicious, he would never hurt Clark on purpose, not unless he had no other choices left. Everything he does is done out of love and care, of wanting safety for the people he loves. So, yes, it hurts, but if Bruce thinks it’s the right thing to do … Well, Bruce is usually right.
“Right,” Clark says, “I’m just gonna go find Dick, then.” He rushes out of the cave, desperate for a distraction.
He finds Dick, surprisingly, in the main drawing room where he is supposed to be, unsurprisingly though, he’s cartwheeling and flipping around the room – not doing his homework.
The moment Dick spots him he’s greeted with, “Uncle Clark!” and the small acrobat launching himself into his arms.
“Hey, kiddo,” Clark smiles, Dick is always so full of warmth and life, this will be the perfect distraction, “I got permission from B to take you flying.”
The words are barely out of his mouth before Dick is jumping out of his arms, whooping loudly. He grabs Clark’s arm, dragging him outside, cheering.
Once they are outside Clark takes Dick in arms and lifts off. He turns and spins in the air, moving Dick to sit on his shoulders to better feel the air in his face. Upon Dick’s demands, Clark flies higher before tossing him in the air, then swoops down to catch him.
They go on in that manner for sometime, Dick’s laughter filling the sky and alleviating Clark’s troubling thoughts. Eventually, Dick points out Bruce and Alfred who had come out to watch them. Dick whispers into Clark’s ear a trick he wants to try. Clark flies up to give Dick some space to work in, then once again tosses the boy up. Dick performs several mid-air rolls and flips. Then Clark dives down, but instead of catching Dick in his arms, he lands in a handstand on Clark’s shoulders. Dick shouts happily before flipping into Clark's waiting arms.
Clark touches back down and sets Dick back on solid ground. He runs towards Bruce’s waiting arms.
“Bruce! Bruce! Did you see?” he cries, happily.
“Yes, chum, I saw,” Bruce says, wrapping Dick in a hug, “You did so well.” Bruce ruffles his hair.
Dick shoves his hand away, turning back to Clark. “Let’s go again!”
“I think not, I’m afraid,” Alfred says, “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes and I expect you to settle your stomach before then.”
Dick lets out an exasperated sigh and flops onto the ground. The adults share a look above him.
“I’ll have him inside in five,” Clark says.
Alfred nods and leaves to go back to his cooking.
Bruce and Clark hold each other's gaze for a moment. “Thank you, Clark,” Bruce finally says, “For everything.”
“Of course,” Clark smiles, battling away the pit forming in his stomach.
Bruce follows Alfred inside. Clark releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and sits down next to Dick.
Dick shifts to face him, “What’s wrong, Uncle Clark?”
Clark gives him an incredulous look, before he laughs, “You’re too observant for your own good, squirt.”
Dick shrugs his shoulders once, then says, “Well?”
“It’s nothing, I’m just being…” he trails off, then decides to push his luck a bit, “Has B told you anything about that big metal tank down in the cave?”
“Batcave,” Dick corrects.
“Batcave,” Clark agrees.
Dick thinks for a moment, “Yeah, I think so, but I can’t remember the words,” he pauses, then says, “Sensational disadvantage tank?” Dick pulls a face, “Wait no, that can’t be right. But, I do know he’s making it for you.”
A sensational disadvantage, that sounds… horrible – Clark really hopes Dick did get that wrong. Clark frowns, has Bruce started telling Dick about his contingency plans? Come to think of it, why was Bruce creating new and inventive ways to kill him at the same he’s letting Clark toss his son around like a rag-doll? It doesn’t make sense.
Clark makes his decision then, he’ll have to do something Bruce will not enjoy – have a real conversation.
He waits until Bruce gets back from patrol that night. He monitors him from a distance as he and Dick strip out of their suits and shower, listens to Bruce tucking Dick into bed and he can’t help but swoon slightly at the unbearable cuteness of that, and finally Bruce returns to the cave.
Bruce looks up at him as Clark enters the cave, “Clark? I wasn’t expecting you again today.”
“Yeah, I, uh,” Clark rubs the back of his neck, “I wanted to talk…”
Bruce raises an eyebrow as an indicator to continue.
Clark takes a breath, then forces out, “Why are you making a Kryptonian containment unit?”
“A what?” Clark listens to Bruce’s heartbeat, his breathing – there are no signs of deception.
Clark's brow furrows, “You know I agree with you on being prepared for all possibilities, and I love that you’re working towards keeping everyone safe. But, if you don’t trust me enough to be creating that lead tank, how can you trust me with Dick?”
“This is about the tank?” Bruce asks.
Clark nods, studying his friend’s face. A sort of understanding passes over his features.
“Oh,” he says, and then, “Oh, Clark, no. No, no. That’s not– not what you think it is.” Bruce takes a few steps closer to Clark, “I do trust you, Clark, I promise I do. And that isn’t– well, it’s a–” The words keep getting stuck in Bruce’s throat.
Clark reaches out tentatively and grasps one of Bruce’s hands, when Bruce gets panicky like this sometimes physical touch can ground him, other times it sets Bruce off to completely shut down. Bruce takes a deep breath and holds Clark’s hand back.
“It’s a gift,” Bruce starts again, “I started making it after our last fight with Luther. He used that sonic pulse generator. You were overwhelmed by your super-senses for a week after that.”
“It’s for me?” Clark squeaks – oh no, he squeaked!
Bruce looks down to their feet, “A sensory deprivation tank, so if your senses over power you again, you’ll have somewhere to block it out.”
A laugh bubbles out of Clark, “Oh! Dick couldn’t remember what you called it, he said it was a sensational disadvantage tank!”
Bruce grimaced but before he could say anything, Clark pulled him into his chest with a tight hug. “Thank you, Bruce. You’re amazing!”
Clark finally released him, creating some space between them he rambled, “I’m so sorry I assumed the worst, I just got so worried! But, I’m so relieved! Because I thought, well I thought…” Clark’s eyes drop from Bruce’s to his lips. Once, and then again. Clark licks his lips, “B,” he whispers, “I want… Can I kiss you?”
Bruce’s eyes widen, then he rushes forward to claim Clark's lips.
Months later, Bruce finishes the Kryptonian sensory deprivation tank. Clark says it’s the best present he has ever been given. And after the pair use it together on their anniversary, having the feeling of their lover being the only thing filling their world, Bruce says Clark is the best gift he’s ever received.