A Borrowed Summer
Category: M/M
Fandom: DCU, Superman - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types
Relationship: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Conner Kent/Tim Drake
Character: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, Chris Kent, Colin Wilkes, Leslie Thompson
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg, Miscarriage, Intersex Omegas
Summary: Damian thinks there are too many children in this house. Until he realized that there actually aren't enough of them.
Notes:
The title is inspired by this quote:"Let your children be as so many flowers, borrowed from God. If the flowers die or wither, thank God for a summer loan of them." – Samuel RutherfordWritten at 3am.
Unbeta'd. Mistakes are mine.
And I tried to give them a happy ending.I'm going with the idea that Damian arrived during Bruce's early thirties. So now that he's a university student at around 20 perhaps, Bruce can still have that baby and be happy!
Also, I wrote Damian a little mellow. And more mature, though still withdrawn. Bruce isn't going to take his shit calling Clark an alien. Conner's a different story. There are too many Kents to call him just Kent. xD This was my first time writing Damian, so please be nice! D:
It was raining.
A thunderstorm that Damian was capable enough of driving through, but it was hard enough for Bruce to allow Damian to cut school. Even Bruce knew tertiary education professors barely gave a shit about attendance. Summer terms weren't necessary, but Damian saw fit to take subjects during the summer, just to lessen his load of general subjects for the next semesters.
Bored, surprisingly lazy, and surrounded by coursework, Damian decided to go downstairs and maybe join the others for a warm mug of hot cocoa and their marathon of Tom and Jerry, even if he never understood the appeal of watching a cartoon about a never ending cat and mouse chase.
"Ah, Master Damian," said Alfred as Damian entered the kitchen. He slid a mug over to Damian on the counter, and handed him the bag of marshmallows.
"Thank you, Alfred," said Damian as he took the mug, and put a few pieces of marshmallows in.
Alfred never thought he'd see the day those words would ever come out of Damian's mouth. It took a lot of hugs, mostly from Dick, a lot of gentle coaxing and firm orders from Bruce, and a lot of time spent with his brothers and sisters. He was glad that Damian had mellowed out, but he still acted older than he was.
Mug of cocoa in hand, Damian made his way to the living room, where most of his family members were gathered. Richard was on one of the chaises, his hot cocoa half-finished on the coffee table, laughing with Mr. Kent's clone at something Jerry did that Damian failed to find amusing. The Clone was on the sofa with Drake's legs on his lap, with Drake lying on the sofa, reading a book and paying no attention to the TV. Brown and Cassandra were cuddling on a bean bag on the floor half listening to the show and talking to each other; Todd was passed out on a floor pillow, mug of cocoa forgotten; Colin was in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn and Mr. Kent's foster son, Christopher, was lying on his belly on another floor pillow beside him, deeply engrossed in the cartoon show as Colin.
Damian stood there behind the couch Drake and Kent were on, sipping his cocoa and trying to see how his older siblings could possibly such mindless waste of visuals entertaining. Sometimes he wondered where his father and his husband found all their patience for their children. Every single one of them, for the tiny exception of Drake as much as he'd hate to admit, acted like they were ten on several occasions. Cassandra not so much, but when Brown was concerned, Cassandra would just go with whatever Brown wanted to leap at.
Richard was a bottomless pit of hugs, smiles, and would probably find baking cookies for all the children in Gotham his calling. Todd liked teasing Richard and stealing the cookies he baked; he also liked annoying Drake as he read a book, or stealing and drinking his glass of milk at breakfast. Drake would sometimes, when he has had it with Todd's shenanigans, would promptly punch him in the face once, retrieve whatever Todd had stolen from him, and walk away without a word. Brown, some years ago, had once begged his father to take her and Cassandra shopping, and they came home with so much pink, he swore he heard his father say he felt a little light headed. Colin, and the two younger Kents also had their moments, one of which involving a trampoline and the pool. All three were grounded. Even though Damian also had his fair share of bullshit, at least he was ten.
This led him to conclude that Wayne Manor had too many children. He couldn't imagine how his father and his husband, and naturally, Alfred, could manage all this chaos, but they did, and most of the time it went smoothly. Richard used to live in Bludhaven, but ever since his promotion to Batman and his father's retirement, coming back to live with them at the Manor was of course a need. Some people would agree that still living with your parents at Richard's age would be embarrassing, but Richard felt no such thing, and was happy to move back. Todd came and went as he pleased, and his father was just glad that he came home.
As for the elder of the two young Kents, he used to live with Drake in an apartment in Gotham, but since Christopher started to live with them at the manor, he thought it'd be fun to for them to all be here. It actually just meant there would be civil war during breakfast over the last bowl of Froot Loops, and his father and Mr. Kent would be calmly dodging whatever was in the air as they quietly had their toast and coffee while reading the day's paper.
It amazed Damian how this many people, with resources such as theirs, with tempers such as his and Todd's, could stay in one place and not burn it down. It also amazed him how so many grown (and super powered pseudo) alphas, Mr. Kent, his Clone, Christopher, Todd, Cassandra, and himself, could live under one roof without much casualty. Usually, it's he and Todd who were always at each other's throats, and Mr. Kent would break them up, and then it was his father who'd decide the punishment. Now he's careful of engaging Drake in a fight, because no matter how many times he would tell the Clone to back off, the half-Kryptonian would always come to his rescue. He had already broken one of his ribs trying to get back at Drake for something so shallow he couldn't even remember, and that he was too stupidly young and proud to let go.
"Anybody want anything?" Dick sat up on his chaise. "I'm gonna go get some chips,"
"I'll get it!" Christopher got up from the floor and turned to head for the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Damian! Are you going to join us?"
"No," said Damian. "I don't find this show entertaining,"
"Oh," Christopher looked like he'd break a bone thinking why Damian didn't like Tom and Jerry. "Okay," he said as he made his way to the kitchen.
"You don't find any show entertaining," said the Clone.
"I like Spartacus," Damian said defensively.
Colin looked over his shoulder. "That's because you like all the killing there,"
"Hey, Little D!" Dick said cheerfully.
Damian's eye twitched. He had not been little for a few years now. He was also taller than Drake. "I am not little, Richard,"
"Of course you aren't," Dick grinned.
"Aaaww," Brown cooed. "Little Damian, are you sad you don't have anyone younger than you to bully?"
"Shut up…" Jason mumbled sleepily.
Damian's grip on his mug tightened as he started to get annoyed. "I am not—!"
And then it hit him.
This house didn't have too many children. It didn't have enough.
Damian knocked on the door three times before entering. His father was at his desk, working on a stack of papers. He couldn't tell what they were, but a few steps closer and he could tell that all of the papers scattered on the desk were from Wayne Industries.
"Damian," Bruce looked up and saw Damian approaching his desk. "The others, I believe, are watching TV. Why don't you join them? I enjoyed Tom and Jerry myself when Dick was young," he said as he signed a document. "And later, if it's no too much trouble, please go downstairs and tell Alfred that Clark will be bringing home some Chinese, and some Japanese for me, for lunch so he doesn't have to prepare anything,"
"Yes, Father," Damian nodded. He shifted in his spot, unable to figure out how to bring up the subject.
"Something troubles you, Damian?" Bruce asked as he grouped some papers together and set them aside. He adjusted the glasses on his nose, took another piece of document from a stack, and started writing some remarks on the edges.
"Father," Damian started. "Why haven't you and Mr. Kent had a child yet? You're healthy Omega, and Mr. Kent, though not from this world, I'm sure is a robust pseudo-Alpha, and the both of you are perfectly capable of having one. And I know that you are fond of children, otherwise this house wouldn't be so full,"
Bruce suddenly stopped writing, and froze in his seat.
Damian was unsure of how to receive this reaction. "Father?" he said softly.
Bruce set the pen down and blankly stared at the document he was writing on. "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me and do not try to stop them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.' Matthew chapter nineteen verse fourteen,"
Damian resisted a frown and his brows met in confusion. "I don't understand," What did a bible verse have to do with this?
Bruce took a long, deep breath, took off the glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He leaned back on his chair and for a few moments avoided Damian's eyes, and then looked up to face his son.
"Before Talia sent you to live with me," Bruce began reluctantly. This wasn't something he thought he'd ever share with Damian. "Before Clark and I bonded,"
Damian could see that this was a story Bruce was struggling to tell.
"I fell pregnant and we chose to keep it a secret," Bruce looked away and couldn't maintain the eye contact with him. "Rather, I wanted to keep it a secret. Clark only respected my wishes. And I respected his wishes that I take leave from work and duty. Eventually, the League found out, but by the time I decided I was ready to tell our teammates, I suffered a late miscarriage,"
"Stop," said Damian apprehensively, immediately regretting that he asked. A late miscarriage. That meant his father had been far along his term. That's what the bible verse meant. "Stop, you don't have to continue—"
"And Clark and I had a stillborn little girl," Bruce said shakily.
"Father," Damian frowned sadly.
"Placental abruption at twenty-five weeks. It was a summer night, and Clark wasn't home yet, when I woke up to no movement, and I was bleeding. I yelled for him. I yelled that something was wrong and I was losing the baby." He gave a sad, fond chortle. "Clark broke the windows getting into the room." Bruce could clearly remember the look of horror on Clark's face when he saw all the blood on their bed. "He quickly checked me over and explained to me on the flight over to Leslie that the placenta had separated from the uterine walls, and that she wasn't getting any nutrients from me anymore. We didn't make it to Leslie in time." He could also clearly remember the deathly pale face of his little girl. "There was nothing wrong with me. It happened for no reason,"
Damian felt suffocated.
"The scar from the C-Section done to retrieve her is the cleanest one I have," Bruce absently traced the horizontal scar on his abdomen. "It hurts when it rains, or when it's about to rain, or when the weather is cold,"
There was a long moment of silence before Damian spoke. The revelation agitated him. It angered him too, that something as simple and uncontrollable as the change of weather could keep a memory so painful so fresh. "I'm sorry for your loss, Father," he finally said.
Bruce looked at his son. "We tried, Damian. We tried again, many times. But I guess, I am not meant to bear my own children," he paused to gather his thoughts. "She just wasn't for us. And we are blessed enough to have you and your siblings,"
Damian could do nothing but nod.
Bruce gave him a single nod back. "Now, go back downstairs, and tell them about lunch," he put his glasses back on, pulled himself together, and went back to work. "I will join you downstairs shortly,"
"Yes, Father," Damian nodded again, and left the room.
Bruce had been cleaning up when Clark entered the office. "Clark!" he said as he stood up, moving to welcome Clark home after half day at work. "I have something I need you to sign—mmmhh!"
Clark kissed him. Clark kissed him like they hadn't seen each other in weeks. Clark wrapped his arms around him, and kissed him long, slow, and hard, and pressed their foreheads together when he pulled away. "I love you," he breathed. "I love you,"
"I love you, too," Bruce panted heavily. "What brought this on?"
"The sushi," Clark answered vaguely. "You asked for sushi. And now I can hear it. Loud and clear, Bruce,"
"Hear what?" Bruce asked confusedly.
Clark smiled. "I can hear your heartbeat, going at eighty beats per minute. And another, going at a hundred, coming from you,"
