Baby Damian one-shots

Secrets in Shadows

"Bruce, you're being suspicious," Clark said, crossing his arms as he stood in the Batcave.

Bruce didn't look up from the Batcomputer. "I'm always suspicious. That's what keeps us alive."

Clark sighed. "You know what I mean. You've been slipping away from missions earlier than usual, disappearing for days at a time. Even Diana's noticed. What's going on?"

Bruce's hands paused over the keyboard for a fraction of a second before continuing. "I've got personal matters to handle. That's all you need to know."

Clark's brow furrowed. "Personal? Bruce, we're your teammates. If something's wrong—"

"It's handled," Bruce said curtly, cutting him off.

Before Clark could press further, a tiny voice echoed from the staircase leading to the upper levels of Wayne Manor.

"Papa?"

Bruce froze.

Clark's head snapped toward the sound, his super-hearing already focusing in. "Was that... a child?"

"Stay here," Bruce ordered, standing quickly and heading toward the stairs.

But it was too late. Damian appeared at the top of the staircase, rubbing his eyes sleepily and clutching his Batman stuffed doll—Batty—to his chest.

"Why are you still working?" Damian asked, his voice tinged with the crankiness of being woken from his nap. "You promised to read me the rest of Oliver Twist."

Bruce crouched down, his tone softening in a way Clark had never heard before. "I'll be up in a moment, Dami. Go back to bed."

Damian frowned, looking past Bruce to the man in the red cape. His sharp green eyes narrowed. "Who's that?"

Clark blinked, his mouth slightly open as he took in the sight of the small boy—clearly Bruce's son, with his dark hair and piercing gaze.

"Damian," Bruce said firmly, turning his son's attention back to him. "This is Clark. He's... a friend."

Damian tilted his head, appraising Clark like a miniature detective. "He looks like Superman."

Clark chuckled awkwardly. "That's because I am."

Damian's eyes widened slightly, then he straightened, as though trying to appear taller. "Tt. I suppose that makes sense."

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Clark, meet Damian. My son."

Clark's jaw dropped. "Your son? Bruce, you—why didn't you tell us?"

"It wasn't relevant," Bruce said simply, standing and placing a hand on Damian's shoulder.

"Not relevant?" Clark repeated, incredulous. "Bruce, this is huge!"

Damian scowled, stepping closer to Bruce. "Why does it matter? I don't see why you need to know."

Clark raised his hands defensively. "Fair point, kid. I'm just... surprised, that's all."

Bruce nodded toward the stairs. "Damian, go back to bed. I'll be up soon."

Damian hesitated, glancing at Clark one more time before muttering, "Fine. But don't take too long."

As he trudged back up the stairs, clutching Batty, Clark turned to Bruce with a mix of shock and amusement. "Bruce. You have to tell Diana about this."

Bruce gave him a deadpan look. "And deal with her lectures? No thanks."

Clark laughed, shaking his head. "This changes everything, you know."

Bruce smirked faintly. "No, it doesn't. He's my son. That's all that matters."

Clark glanced toward the staircase, his smile softening. "Well, for what it's worth... he seems like a great kid."

"He is," Bruce said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Now, are we done here?"

Clark sighed, realizing he wouldn't get more out of Bruce tonight. "Yeah, we're done."

As he flew out of the cave, he couldn't help but grin. Bruce Wayne—a father. It was a secret worth keeping.