"Bruce, I don't think I'm ready for this,"
Clark wrings his hands nervously. In all honesty, Bruce is sure that he's never seen Clark so worried. He almost looks scared.
"Clark, you're fine. Everything'll be fine," Bruce places a hand on the younger man's shoulder.
Clark shows a weak smile, before knocking on the door. From inside, the couple can hear shuffling, a grunt, a smash, then a muffled curse. Finally, the white, paint chipped door opens to reveal two giddy faces.
"Clark! You made it!" His mother exclaims.
With an excited smile, and a slight chuckle, Clark wraps both of his parents in an embracing hug.
"And I'm guessing this is the 'friend' you wanted us to meet?" Jonathan moves forward, grasping Bruce's hand in a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, son," he says.
Bruce offers his hand to Martha, who hesitantly pushes it away. "Come here," she almost demands, dragging Bruce into a tight and unexpected hug.
Clark stands awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in wait of his invitation to come inside.
"Come in, you two,"
Inside, Martha moves to stand next to her husband, taking his hand in her own.
"Alright," Clark breathes out. Bruce pats his shoulder for reassurance.
"Ma, Pa, the reason I'm really here is to tell you that Bruce is my-..." Losing the words, Clark looks back anxiously.
"He's my... Um..."
Clark knows damn well he shouldn't be having this much trouble talking to his parents. He knows that they'll love him and support him no matter what he chooses but, there's a small part--a microscopic piece of his brain--that tells him that they'd reject him.
"I'm your son's boyfriend," Bruce finishes, and Clark isn't sure whether he should be ecstatic or devastated.
Martha lets out a slight gasp, while Jonathan only smiles.
"Ma-"
"Come here," Clark is quickly interrupted by his mother. Silently, he follows her into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
An awkward, tense atmosphere fills in around Bruce, and his soon to be father-in-law, yet, he feels oddly at peace.
"I don't mind," Pa Kent finally says, breaking the uneasy silence. "As long as you make him happy." At this, Bruce smiles.
"I think we're going to get along, Mr. Kent." There's a hint of surprise and happiness in his voice that makes Jonathan's smile grow.
Clark walks out of the kitchen, followed by Martha.
"What happened?" Bruce whispers. Clark only squeezes his hand, as assurance that he'd explain later.
"Well," Martha says, "when Clark said he was bringing a friend, I'd set up two rooms. I guess you can both share one instead if you'd like."
Clark smiles while Bruce nods, as Mrs. Kent leads the couple up to her son's old bedroom.
Bruce sets up his small carry-on onto the carpet next to the bed. Clark takes his things to his dresser, and begins to neatly stack his clothing in the drawers.
"Thank you, Martha," Bruce speaks pleasantly, as the old woman walks out of the room with a smile to allow her boys to get settled.
The second the old woman is out of ear's length, however, Bruce begins to giggle. "This was your room?"
He looks up at the posters littered around the walls, and the balled up ideas for costumes across the floor.
"Shut up," Clark says, not too harshly. "I was seventeen."
Bruce smiles and plants a kiss onto his cheek. "Come on," Bruce sits on the edge of the Queen sized bed, taking Clark's hands in his own.
"What are you doing," Clark chuckles, a grin spreading slowly across his face.
"Just, come here,"
Clark takes a chance, leaning forward towards the shorter man and into his arms.
"Now sit," Bruce demands, smacking Clark's knee when he turns to take the seat to his right.
"Right here," Bruce corrects himself, pointing to his own lap.
"Bruce-"
"Sit,"
"But-"
"Now,"
Defeated, the alien takes his seat, only to be immediately captured by strong arms.
Bruce places kisses and nibbles down the sides of his Kryptonian's neck, licking and nipping along the way.
Clark groans into the feeling, pushing back against the hot wet surface of Bruce's tongue.
"Love you," Bruce whispers just below his ear, tickling the tiny raven hairs on Clark's neck.
"Boys, dinner!" The couple hears from downstairs. As agonizingly slow as he can, Clark stands, rubbing his large hands up and down Bruce's thighs as he gets up. Finally, once he's on his feet, Clark takes Bruce's hands, and all but drags him off of the bed.
Downstairs, sitting around the round wooden dinner table, the Kent family--and their newest member--prepare their plates in an awkward silence.
"So, Bruce," Martha asks, "what do you do?"
Clark shoves mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"I'm the CEO of a company that was passed down to me from my parents." Bruce's voice glides smoother than the gravy on his plate. Despite the fact that he knows Bruce is the Batman, he was expecting a much more anxious approach.
"He's the third richest man on the planet, Ma," Clark says, "Right up there behind Bill Gates!"
"Oh my, that's lovely." Martha places a hand on her chest. "Astounding,"
"So how did you two meet?"
This time, it's Jonathan who speaks.
"First time?" Bruce says thoughtfully, "we tried to kill each other." He remembers back to that first morning here had come to cross paths with Superman. That had been an ordeal; although thankfully one that has provided limitless futures together.
Astonished, all three Kents sit wide-eyed--Clark shocked by Bruce's first impression.
"In our other jobs," Clark is quick to cover up. "Officially, we first met when I interviewed him. After discovering about each other's secret lives, things... changed."
This earned a happy sigh from his mother, and a chuckle from his father.
"So, you two ever think about children?" Jonathan asks.
"Oh, Bruce already has a son," Clark blurts.
"Oh?" From Martha.
"Yes," Bruce says, "Richard. Or, Dick, as he prefers."
"How lovely! How old is he?"
"He'll be 14 in March," Bruce smiles.
At this, Jonathan and Martha seem distracted. "Fourteen?" They question. "So you had him when you were eighteen, correct?" Martha asks him.
For a moment, both Clark and Bruce sit in confusion before their realization sets in.
"No, no, no," Bruce says frantically. "He's adopted. I took him in six years ago."
Now, the Kents seem relieved. Minutes pass in silence, before Clark stands, holding his plate.
"Why don't we watch a movie? You two can go pick something. Bruce and I'll clean up."
He walks around to his parents side, and picks up their dishes as well, stacking them onto if his own.
Reluctantly, Mr. And Mrs. Kent stand, and make their way to the common room to choose a DVD.
