-This story is a SuperBat AU set roughly in November Year 1 -

"You're really doing this?" Clark asked.

"I am," His boyfriend replied, pulling into the alley beside the hidden zeta entry. The team had after school training today. "With Tornado escorting Ms. Martian to her cheer championships this weekend, he would be left all alone."

"And you don't trust him by himself?"

"And I don't think a five-month-old should be left unsupervised." He corrected coldly.

Conner's existence had really thrown a spanner in Clark and Bruce's dynamic. Finding out that Clark had a bastard son was bound to put strain on their relationship, but what was truly frustrating to Bruce was how Clark refused to acknowledge the boy in any sort of personal way. Not to mention that since Conner had been foundational in the team's creation, and was tangentially related to the league, Clark claimed discussing the boy's existence was 'talking shop' and shouldn't be done in their personal lives. Bruce did not subscribe to that idea.

The back door opened and the teens piled into the backseat. "Hey B!" Dick chirped. "Hi Clark."

"Hi Dick," Clark replied, glancing over to greet the child.

Bruce pulled out onto the main road. Dick waited, thinking Clark would greet his clone too. He didn't.

"So, Superboy-- or I guess I should call you Conner-- how was school?" Bruce asked, watching the kid in the rearview mirror. He wasn't quite human enough to pass as human, but he was more than Kryptonian enough to look like superman.

"Fine." The boy said, glaring at his feet.

Bruce's eyes flickered between the road, the mirror, and Clark in the passenger seat. He tried again to break the ice. "Are there any classes you like so far?"

Conner shrugged.

Clark let out a frustrated huff, leaning against the window.

Dick, noticing the growing tension, took over the conversation again: "So, how about the mission last week? We only destroyed one piece of private property."

Bruce smiled a little at the boy's tenacious attempts at lightening the mood. "You're lucky it's owned by one of our subsidiaries, otherwise the money would have to come from the team's delegated funds"

"The same funds you don't let us access cause we're 'too impulsive'?"

Bruce glanced in the mirror again, Conner had mimicked his father's posture, leaning against the window.

"Conner, What did you think of the mission last week?"

The boy muttered something. 

"He asked you a question." Clark scolded, turning in his seat to face Conner.

"I said it was fine!" The boy snapped.

The car went silent. They'd stopped at a light and the tick of the dashboard took over the atmosphere. Clark readjusted his position and the upholstery squeaked slightly. Bruce coughed.

"Well," Dick said, "We'll try not to break anything next time."

The light turned green and they all shot back in their seats with how quickly Bruce accelerated, like a bat out of hell he burned rubber towards the manor. 

They got home pretty quickly, and upon doffing their shoes, Dick invited Conner upstairs to play video games. Conner, preferring the company of his friend to Batman's, agreed.

"Come on, I just got a PS5."

"I  don't know what that means." Conner said, almost enthusiastic to get away from the adults. 

"It's a gam-- oh, hi Alfred!" Dick waved down the butler as he exited one of the guest rooms. "Conner, this is Alfred, our momager. He runs the household."

Conner decided the correct formal greeting was a slight bow, this was after all the man behind Batman and Robin, the mastermind, Robin had called him previously.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet the young master Kent."

Conner opened his mouth, but Dick cut him out. "That's just how he addresses people, he's old fashioned." He lowered his voice. "Seriously, don't fight him on this, you can't win."

Conner took it like a dare. "Just call me Conner."

Alfred looked vaguely amused, in the same way one might watch a child trying to lift something twice their weight. "I've just prepared a room for our friend, Master Dick."

"Thanks Alfie." Dick dodged past the old man. "C'mon Conner, let's find something to play!"

Conner squinted at the man as he passed, not letting up on the challenge he'd created in his mind. 

The adults sat in the drawing room to await dinner. Clark was decently aware of his fate.

"What was that?"

"Bruce--"

"That snap in the car, what did you mean by that?"

"I just meant for him to speak up."

Bruce sat, gesturing for Clark to do the same. "I have raised that boy upstairs for four years." He glared at his boyfriend. "I've given up opportunities for Dick, I've held him when he cried... God knows I've hurt him, and likely will again, but I know how to respect him, even when he's in a mood swing."

"It's not the same." Clark replied. "Dick's smart, he knows how to behave."

"You don't love them because they behave, you love them because they're children." Bruce snapped, standing sharply. "That's what we're supposed to do."

"Bruce," Clark said before he could stop himself. "you know he's not mine..."

Bruce stared into his eyes. "Do you mean that?"

"I don't know."

Bruce took a seat across from him again. "Yesterday Dick was telling me that Conner was asking him how to use a curling iron." Bruce's hand reached out, fingertips grazing the little curlicue that formed on the front of Clark's forehead. "He really admires you, you know?"

Upstairs they could hear the boys shouting in the distance.

"Bruce..."

"Do you?" He demanded.

Their eyes caught for a second. The clock on the mantle continued on its course, unbothered by the tension between the two men.

"...I know." Clark sighed, head sinking into his hands. "I know he does. but that doesn't justify what he's doing to me."

"He hasn't done anything to you."

The dinner bell went. 

When the teens came down for dinner, they were raving: "It was awesome! It got down to just me and Conner and another team, and we slaughtered them!" Dick exclaimed.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes, it was fun." Conner said in his usual monotone, though his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Oh, B, by the way..." Dick lead gently as Alfred began dishing out the shepherd's pie. "We need another spare controller."

Bruce frowned. "You just got a spare."

"Yeah well.... We sort of..."

"I broke it." Conner admitted. 

Clark let out an aggravated sigh, thanking Alfred for his plate.

"It's fine Clark." Bruce said sharply. "Things happen, I'm sure it was an accident."

"Of course it was an accident! I didn't break it on purpose!" Conner growled. 

"I mean we still have two left, it's not an issue." Dick backtracked quickly. "We really don't need a spare anyways."

"It's not a big deal." Bruce assured. He turned to exchange a look with Alfred, though the butler had already stuck out of the room, leaving him to handle this by himself. "I promise, you're fine."

Conner let out a shaky breath. He had been expecting to be verbally crucified; publicly reprimanded and shamed for his incompetence and inability to control himself. After all, that's what Batman usually did when they got back from missions. Robin had always insisted he was a nice guy at home, but Conner hadn't believed it until now. Bruce Wayne was much kinder than Batman.

"I can try to fix it after dinner." Conner said. 

"I think you've done enough." Clark muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"Clark, he said he was sorry. We said it was fine." Bruce said firmly. "It's over."

Dick fumbled his fork over the plate of meat pie. "Have you ever had shepherd's pie?"

Conner shook his head.

"Look, I can replace it, but I don't want to take responsibility for what Superboy does." Clark said sourly.

"I'm not asking you to take responsibility for him, I'm asking you to get off his case for five minutes."

Dick looked around desperately for Alfred. He wanted permission for he and Conner to eat in his bedroom. Alfred was not present. 

"Do you want me to be present for him or ignore him?" Clark demanded. "You can't make up your mind."

"I just want you to be kind to the boy."

"Look!" Conner stood, no longer able to tolerate the pressure. "I'll leave, okay?!" He stormed for the door to the foyer. 

Dick jumped up, following him. "Conner, wait!"

Bruce waited until the boys had left the room before speaking again. "Are you proud of yourself?"

"That was as much your fault as it was mine." Clark insisted. 

"Clark," Bruce tensed his jaw firmer. "He may be a clone, but he's a child first."

Clark ground his teeth slightly, finally breaking eye contact. "Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"You don't have to like him." Bruce replied coolly. "But don't go after him for things you'd excuse Dick for. If anything, Dick knows better than Conner does, Conner deserves more slack."

Clark took in a deep breath, sinking back in his chair. "I'm sorry I raised my voice."

"Don't apologize to me." Bruce said. "I'm the one who can take it."

Dick shouted, chasing his friend out the door. 

Conner didn't know where he was going. He didn't know which way lead home. He wasn't considering this at all, blurry thoughts streaming through his mind as he stormed, blurry-eyed, towards the gate that lead the property.

Something dribbled and fell down his cheek. Conner wiped it absentmindedly, assuming it was rain. Another one trickled off his other cheek. He wiped that too.  Looking up at the night sky, he saw not a single grey cloud staring back. He blinked and two more tears shot down his reddened cheeks. He wiped them desperately; he couldn't be crying, it wasn't something he did. He'd never cried before, why now?

The scene in the dining room flashed through his head, and the tears came quicker. His chest was starting to heave, so hard he had to stop walking, his knees fighting not to buckle.

"Conner!" Dick finally caught up with him. He hesitated, unsure of whether reaching out to touch his friend would result in him getting his face bashed in. The boy swallowed hard and extended his arm, up, cradling Conner's wet chin.

Instantly the boy let out a deep, guttural sob. He was frightened by how his body refused to comply: continuing to weep instead of composing itself. Conner was even more confused and frustrated; why couldn't he stop crying? Why couldn't he be strong at will?

"Why?" Conner cried.

"Just try to breath." Dick said softly. "It's okay to cry, just try to breath."

He did, he counted the seconds as he inhaled, held, exhaled; just like Black Canary had showed him. He'd seen the others cry after Failsafe, but he so scared of people seeing him cry? He was Superboy, he was supposed to be invulnerable. 

But right now he couldn't even control the tears.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Dick asked, gently lowering Conner towards a garden bench. "Why are you crying? It's because you're upset. Why did Superman do that? It's because he's being an assho--"

"Why are you helping me?" Conner stuttered out in between sniffs and sobs.

"Why? Conner, we're friends!" He sat practically on top of Conner, leaning over on him like a support dog sitting on its owner to calm them down. "Remember how you gave us room after failsafe because you felt guilty? That's how I feel now, I want to help you because I feel... I feel like it was my fault."

Conner blinked away a couple tears, the sobs replaced with a violent case of hiccups. "Why?"

"Because it was my idea to bring you over this weekend," He sighed. "I thought maybe if Superman saw you in a domestic setting he would see you as a person with a life outside hero stuff..." He sighed. "...as more than just his problem."

"I am his problem."

"No, you're our problem." Dick teased. "You're your own problem! Your life doesn't have to revolve around him."

Conner stared at the gravel driveway. He sniffed, wiping his face with the back of his wrist. "I still dream about being him." He admitted after a time. "But now they're usually bad dreams."

"I used to be the same." Dick muttered. 

The front door opened, yellow light spilling across the lawns, lighting up where the teens sat.

"I want your boys inside at your convenience. You went out in the cold without even your shoes on!"

"Sorry Alfred," Dick called, "We're coming!" He stood, holding his hand out to Conner. "Come on, we can go up to my room and hide."

The two boys crept up the driveway to the house, wiping their feet as they snuck into the warmth and light of the foyer.

The were halfway to the stairs when the dining room door opened.

The two teens froze, caught in the vulnerable transition state between the safety of outdoors and the safety of the lockable bedroom.

Clark Kent's eyes fell on the teens, Conner turned away to hide his teary face and Dick stepped in front of him protectively. 

Clark faltered, watching the little Robin he'd watched grow up stand up for the clone. It felt like both a betrayal and a relief. Maybe Dick could ease this for him "...I didn't mean to yell."

"But you did." Dick said.

"I'm sorry for yelling." Clark tried. 

"Who are you sorry to?" Dick said, his words increasingly angry. 

"Superboy, I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Dick stared him down, he'd learned that glare from his foster dad. "First, his name is Conner." He said icily. "Second, we're going upstairs. Maybe if your lucky we'll decide to forgive you." With that, he took the Clone's hand again, leading his friend up the stairs.

"I apologized, I don't get it."

Bruce stood, pouring himself a drink. "Apologizing doesn't mean he has to forgive you."

"No, but that's customary."

"Now," Bruce sat down again. "Who's supposed to teach him what is or isn't customary?" Clark sighed, sinking into his seat again. Bruce swished his glass. "Clark, I hope you realize that if I have to choose between protecting Superman, or protecting a lonely child. I'm going to protect the child every single time."

"Alright," Clark sighed. "I'll... I'll try. I'll try to be better with him."

"But?"

"But you need to be patient, I'm still in shock here."

"It's not my patience you have to worry about." Bruce replied. "He's been waiting almost half a year for you to show him kindness." The man stood. "Excuse me, I need to get ready for the night."