Chapter Text
Clark was worried about Batman, to say the least. The Gotham vigilante had skipped almost three months’ worth of League meetings, which was extremely out of character for him. In fact, he had a reputation for lecturing anyone who skipped more than one meeting on a row, so for him to have missed six was… concerning.
(Depending on the severity of the situation, Clark had half a mind to give the Bat a lecture of his own when he returned.)
As a result, he was the first person to arrive at the next meeting, anxious to see whether Batman would show up or whether he would remain absent. If he didn’t arrive, Clark was on the verge of flying to Gotham himself, despite Batman’s strict No Metas rule. Fortunately, the Commissioner already liked him, thanks to a vacation he had taken in Metropolis a few years ago that had coincided with one of Luthor’s more violent plans.
“Kal-El?” A soft voice called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you unwell?”
“Thank you, Diana. I’m alright. Just worried about Batman.” Clark smiled at her warmly, letting the concern show in his eyes. Diana was one of the only JLA members that he could truly be himself with, one of the only ones who hadn’t been fooled by the glasses.
“As am I. His prolonged absence suggests a more personal obligation than any he has shown so far.” She laughed without humor. “I was beginning to wonder whether he even had a civilian identity.”
She wasn’t alone in that statement. Clark had hoped that by befriending Batman, he would finally discover his secret identity, only to be even more puzzled. Hopefully one day the Gothamite would feel comfortable enough around him to reveal his true face, but Clark felt that day was still far away. That didn’t stop him from trying. Superman didn’t give up, and neither did Clark Kent.
That thought stuck until almost everyone had arrived, most notably absent were Barry (who loved making a point of being late despite being able to get there in less than two seconds) and Batman. Clark had just began to consider that he wouldn’t be coming when he heard a gruff voice not far from the Hall’s entrance. He eagerly latched onto it, his ears straining familiarly to hear.
“Dick.” He heard Batman say, and almost flew into the ceiling in shock. Did Batman just swear? Clark hadn’t thought Batman even knew swear words, let alone said them to other people. But… no. He had almost said it affectionately, coaxingly, which took Clark a while to pick up on, mostly due to the absurdity of hearing that kind of tone in Batman’s voice. And while saying that.
“No.” A higher, obstinate-sounding voice replied. A child? With Batman? No way.
Batman sighed, and it was the long-suffering sigh of a parent. (Seriously, what was going on?) “And here I was thinking you were ready to meet Superman. How wrong I was.”
(DID BATMAN JUST MENTION HIM?)
Clark felt the moment the reverse psychology landed wrong. It was punctuated by a slightly tearful, mostly angry huff from the child. “I can’t believe you. First you drag me all the way here, insisting on taking me even longer than should be necessary to ‘avoid visibility’, then you say I can’t even go in! I hate you! I wish you never even met me!”
“Dick…”
“No. Either take me in, or I go home my own way.”
“Fine.” Batman grunted, and the pair began to make their way to the doors.
Clark was reeling. Was Batman bringing a child to meet them? He couldn’t be a hero, could he? Clark imagined a kid in a smaller version of the Batman suit, dragging a cape double their height behind them, and had to fight the urge to laugh. No way. The kid was probably just a relative or something, a fan.
The doors creaked open, and Clark looked up expectantly, only to see the ruffled ginger hair of Barry Allen instead of the dark cowl and cape of the Bat. He sighed impatiently, and Diana shot him a sympathetic look.
“Spooky not here?” Barry quipped. Clark glared at him in an unusual burst of hostility, which he immediately reigned back. It wasn’t Barry’s fault, no matter how much he got on Clark’s nerves. “How… unfortunate. Better luck next time, right?”
“I think not.” A deep voice said behind him, and Barry jumped a foot in the air. Clark positively beamed.
That was, before he saw the child. Stood half behind Bats like he was a human shield, blue eyes dilated in shock. It was like the entire league inhaled as one when Clark saw what he was wearing. A bright red tunic, scaly green short shorts (Clark was seeing way too much thigh) and a neon yellow cape. It was so bright that he saw a few people squint and have to blink away the spots in their eyes.
Clark swore he saw Batman smirk briefly at their reactions before speaking. “This is Robin.” He grunted. “He’s my crime-fighting partner.”
“Oh my God!” Clark exclaimed before he could stop himself. “That’s a- that’s a child! Bats, you didn’t- you let a child-?” He stuttered incredulously, shock stealing his words.
Robin glanced up, and Clark saw a well-hidden rage in his eyes that left him reeling. Was he okay? The anger was so quickly replaced by an innocent joy that he decided to ignore it, but it remained in the back of his mind. For a moment, Clark had been scared of this child. Weird.
“I’d like to see you try to stop me.” Robin said, his childlike voice and demeanour clashing with the fury in his eyes. Clark saw several league members lean back in their chairs in fear.
“Would you rather be try and murder a grown man with a wire?” Batman muttered so quietly that those without Kryptonian hearing probably didn’t even know he had spoken. Clark’s breath caught silently. That was what he had seen in the boy’s eyes. Murder.