A/N Well… I kind of surprised myself by writing this, but I consider Clark to be an honorary member of the Batclan-an uncle of sorts to all the little Batkids, and I absolutely adore any interaction between him and any of the Robins. Thus, this was born.

I've dedicated this fic to my awesome friend, Electric Angel 1003, my favorite Dick Grayson fan, because I promised her a story with tiny Dick Grayson!

So… even though this is pre-season 1, I'm fairly certain this deviates from canon a bit… I'm not quite sure how much though. I was mainly inspired by two comics, the first being Superman: American Alien, in which Clark Kent, fairly new to the whole superheroing business at this point in his life, encounters a very young Dick Grayson (the meeting was actually very brief and played out a lot differently than this one did.) In fact, the cover image I chose to use here is from that very same comic. The second was a Batman/Superman title… unfortunately, the actual title eludes my memory, in which Superman and Batman worked together occasionally, yet neither was aware of the other's secret identity (Batman had his cowl lined with lead and… I'm not really sure what his excuse for not seeing past those glasses is.) They both had a challenge to see who could uncover the other's identity first, but when they did run into each other as Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent, it was on completely hostile terms.

So… I pretty much took elements from both comics and twisted them to come up with this! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned Young Justice, I sure as heck wouldn't be publishing my work here!

Clark Kent straightened his tie for what had to be the fifteenth time that evening, trying not to look out of place among the wealthiest of Gotham's elite.

He had a sneaking suspicion that he was failing.

Still, where the story went, you went, as Lois seemed awfully fond of saying.

And a charity gala held by none other than Bruce Wayne was most definitely a story.

It wasn't like the guy didn't get enough publicity as it was.

He stifled a sigh-which almost immediately became a startled gasp as something-or rather someone-collided with the side of his leg.

He looked down, meeting a pair of bright blue eyes staring up at him, wide and excited and curious.

"Hi!" The little boy flashed him a toothy grin, looking much more at home in his own suit then Clark was in his.

For a moment, all Clark could do was stare. He hadn't seen any one with their children here and so he'd been under the assumption that this was "adults only."

Obviously, he'd been wrong.

He'd barely come to that conclusion before the boy was thrusting a hand at him. "My name's Richard Grayson," he said cheerfully, "but you can call me Dick!"

"Dick," Clark repeated, accepting the proffered hand and still unsure of what exactly was happening.

He was supposed to be getting a story.

Instead, he was being upstaged by a child who couldn't be more than seven years old.

Oh, Lois was going to find this hilarious.

Clark Kent. Kansas farm boy. Struck dumb by one little boy.

"Don't say it like that." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "It's a family name," he said by way of explanation.

"Right. Sorry… Dick." Clark smiled apologetically, hoping to honest goodness he didn't look as awkward as he felt. "Clark. Clark Kent." He released the boy's hand and took a step back. "So… you're here at… Mr. Wayne's event?"

Maybe he'd get something for his article and learn why the kid was wandering around by himself.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Kind of boring though." He looked at Clark closely. "You looked bored too."

Clark was momentarily taken aback. "I… did?"

The boy just gave him a look.

"Okay," Clark conceded. "Guilty as charged. Now… what are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Bruce always makes me come. Says it's good for me to see how it's done."

"Bruce?" There were plenty of people named Bruce. Surely, he didn't mean…

"Richard!"

And Clark looked up to see man whose face he'd seen plastered across too many tabloids and front page news stories, but never in person.

Bruce Wayne.

Philanthropist.

Playboy.

And… father?

He had to admit… Bruce Wayne was not someone he'd ever have pegged as someone who would have anything to do with children.

And yet here they were.

The man came to a stop beside the child, sizing Clark up as a possible… threat?

Hard to believe as it was, that was the only conclusion Clark could reach.

Harder still it was to reconcile seeing such a look on the face of Gotham's "most eligible bachelor," her so-called "white knight."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the billionaire's hand on the boy's shoulder, almost as if he were trying to put himself between the two of them.

The man wasn't really that paranoid, was he?

"Bruce Wayne." The man held out his hand, a mirror gesture of the one Dick had offered minutes earlier, yet not as friendly. The man wasn't exactly openly hostile, but Clark got the message that he was far from pleased to meet him. Clark took it hesitantly. "And you're…"

"Clark Kent," Clark finished for him.

"... the reporter, I know."

And Clark found himself blinking in surprise, struck speechless for the second time that evening.

Bruce offered him a tight smile. "I make it a point to know who's on my guest list."

"...oh?"

So, he really was that paranoid.

Bruce Wayne turned to the child still standing at his left, silently communicating something between the two of them. Only a moment passed, before Dick nodded slowly in understanding and then turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

And then Bruce was facing him again.

"I see you've met my ward."

So he wasn't his son. That made sense, considering the different last names.

"Er… yes…" Clark answered, but the man's frown only deepened.

"I don't know your reasons for being here… unless you're hoping to catch me at one of my… less than stellar moments. In which case, I would have to disappoint you," he said, keeping his voice low and somewhat... threatening. Clark's eyebrows elevated to his hairline. "But Dick is not your story."

It was all he could do to keep from gaping at him.

Was that really what he thought?

And… considering the man's track record with reporters, could he really be blamed for thinking that?

"Mr. Wayne, I…" he began hastily, with the intent of clearing this up as quickly as possible. Preferably, without making this anymore awkward than it already was.

He was, however, quickly cut off as the billionaire was intent on saying what he had to say. "It's bad enough what the media vultures have to say about me, but Dick will not be subjected to the same kind of treatment. Do you understand me?"

Clark took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture that was both defensive and placating. "Mr. Wayne, I… I think this is all just a misunderstanding. Dick's not my story here. I'm supposed to be covering this." He waved a hand indicating the entire event.

If anything, Bruce only seemed more suspicious.

"And I'm supposed to just believe that? I know your type, Mr. Kent. Stay away from Dick."

"I assure you, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of turning Dick into a publicity stunt of some sort." Clark narrowed his eyes. "I'm not that low." He had already begun to move away, with every intention to excuse himself from this conversation, when…

"Bruce!" Dick reemerged from the crowd, breathless and panicked.

"Dick?" The child instantly had his guardian's attention. "What is it?"

A shot rang out, shattering what just before had been the mindless droning of a dozen conversations going on at once.

The room erupted into screams, people ducking or running for cover, and Bruce Wayne instantly went for his ward, dragging the boy down and out of the range of fire.

Clark glanced around him, trying to see past the dozens of terrified people, and suddenly, he realized that neither Bruce Wayne nor Dick Grayson were anywhere in his sight.

Gritting his teeth, he could only hope they were somewhere safe.

Right now, they were not his priority.

There had to be a place he could slip away to. A place he could change to Superman and prevent any of these innocent people from getting hurt or killed.

"Stay where you are!" a voice bellowed, and another shot, this one shattering a window, was fired off as a warning. Almost instantly, the cries died down into terrified whimpers and Clark finally was able to get a look at the gunman.

A man in a black ski mask swung his gun in a casual arc. At least four other men, wearing the same disguises stood behind him, their own guns trained on the crowd, watching for anyone who might try to make a run for it. "Stay where you are!" the man repeated. And Clark could almost hear as well as see the ironic smile on his face as he said, "We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

The woman to his right gave a soft sob, clutching at her husband's arm.

He strolled forward, relaxed. He knew there was no one there who could stop him.

Or so he thought.

"Don't worry. We won't hurt you. Not so long as you give us what we want." The man stopped. "Wallets! Jewelry! Now!" he barked and his companions (fellow thugs, Clark thought grimly) stepped forward to collect them, holding out pillowcases, their guns there to intimidate those more reluctant to part with their valuables.

All eyes were focused on the men with the guns and… for the moment… their attention was far from Clark.

It was now or never.

Slowly, he began to inch away. He was certain he had a pretty good idea of where the restrooms were located…

A small voice sounded right beside him and he went stiff, heart filling with dread, before turning to identify the source.

Dick Grayson, looking more than a little terrified, standing there, having found his way back to him.

What was he doing here?

He was supposed to be safe.

Where was Bruce Wayne?

"What are you doing here?" Clark whisper-hissed, dropping to his knees beside the boy.

"I...Bruce came back to h-help!" the boy stammered. "I wanted… I want to help too!"
Oh no. Clark squeezed his eyes shut. The last thing he needed was a middle schooler with a hero complex getting himself killed.

"You should have stayed where he left you," Clark remonstrated gently. He didn't know how he was going to get away now, not with Dick here.

There was no way in hell he was leaving the child here alone to fend for himself. Not with these criminals.

Still… maybe there was a way he could get the boy away to safety and still be able to take out these gunmen.

Crashing glass interrupted his thought process and he instinctively moved in front of the boy, hand at his shirt collar, ready to defend against this new threat.

And instead, Clark witnessed a dark shape come crashing through the skylight.

Batman.

Clark easily recognized Gotham city's protector.

The so-called Dark Knight.

Maybe he wouldn't be needed here after all.

"It's him!"

"The Batman!"

No longer was their attention focused on the many valuables Gotham's wealthiest were willing to give up in exchange for their lives, but on her dark protector.

Someone fired off their gun and there was a shrill scream, but it didn't look as though anyone had been hit.

Not yet.

"Dick, we need to get you somewhere safe," he told the child, this boy he had only just met, yet suddenly was responsible for the safety of.

He grasped the boy's shoulder, making sure that he was between the child and the gunmen, even though their attention was centered on the man in the Bat costume.

Someone noticed them.

"You there!"

Crap!

A gun levelled in their direction, Batman momentarily forgotten.

Clark tensed, even as those around him panicked, desperate to get away from the gun's aim, ready to tackle the man to ground.

Before he could make a move, however, an object soared through the air, knocking the man's hand and he dropped the gun with a cry, clutching at his injured hand.

The criminal looked up in time to see the dark figure of the Batman, before a solid punch landed him on the ground, out cold.

Despite himself, Clark was impressed.

For the briefest of seconds, the vigilante's eyes were on him, narrowing slightly as they took in the small boy still hidden partially behind him.

Clark resisted the temptation to look beyond the mask, to solve the mystery of who the "Batman" really was.

The man deserved more respect than that.

Then, almost imperceptibly, the man nodded his head and, with a flash of smoke, was gone.

"He did it," the boy at his side said and Clark detected a sense of hero-worship, of pride in his town's very own hero.

And Clark smiled down at the boy. "He sure did."

And then he frowned, scanning the crowd of panicked people, even as sirens sounded in the distance. There was no sign of Bruce Wayne anywhere.

His brow wrinkled. "Dick… do you know where your guardian is?"

He almost immediately felt like an idiot. Of course, he wouldn't know.

But the boy shifted uncomfortably. "No." Maybe it was just his reporter's instinct, but there was something the boy wasn't telling him.

Clark hmmmed in response, studying the boy for a brief second before flickering his gaze away.

It appeared they were going to be stuck together, because, Clark might not know this kid, but he was not leaving him alone. Not after something like this had just gone down.

His ears caught the sound of footsteps echoing off the marble floor as they swiftly approach.

"Dick, there you are! You were supposed to stay with Alfred!"

Clark swiveled around, catching sight of a disheveled Bruce Wayne, hurrying towards them.

"Bruce!" The boy was instantly gone from his side, flinging himself into his guardian's waiting arms, and Clark heaved a sigh of relief at seeing that the two of them were back together.

He then subsequently stiffened, bracing himself for the storm that was sure to come as the billionaire's eyes sought him out.

However, instead of the verbal attack he had been expecting, the man swallowed, before slowly standing up.

"You kept him safe."

"I…" Flabbergasted, Clark had utterly no idea what he was expected to say and so, much to his dismay, he was once again rendered speechless. "What?"

"I mean it," Bruce Wayne said and it occurred to Clark just how difficult it was for the man to admit that. "I… appreciate that."

"He… just found me," Clark told him honestly, because it was true. He'd just done what anyone else would have done.

He bit the inside of his cheek, studying the man in front of him, taken aback by the lack of hostility he saw now.

Or maybe he really shouldn't be.

Life or death situations had a tendency to change people after all.

So what did you guys think? Anyone else think Dick was adorable? And I just love how flustered Clark gets when he's uncomfortable! Poor Clark. ;)