The Batcave is quiet. Batman and Robin sit in front of the huge bank of screens, each one showing something different: local and international news stations, the feed from the watchtower, footage from hacked security cams . . .
The volume is turned down low to allow the two Wayne men to concentrate on their research and homework, respectively. Its peaceful; the low jumble of recorded voices, the clack of keys, the scratch of pencil on paper.
An indignant shout breaks the silence.
"But Dad, you can't date Batman!"
Two dark heads jerk up, two pairs of narrowed eyes zeroing in on the watchtower feed.
On screen, Superman and Superboy are walking down a hallway, Jon trailing behind his father, waving his hands agitatedly. The older hero looks back over his shoulder, smiling at his son's tone. "And why not? I thought you liked Bruce," he says.
"I do. That's not the point! He's Damian's dad!"
"So?"
"Sooo, if you're dating his dad, that would make me and Damian like, brothers! And then I can't date him! That'd be gross!"
They've stopped now, standing in the middle of the hall. On the other side of the screen, Bruce raises his eyebrow and glances at his youngest, who is watching the feed, stone-faced.
Clark laughs. "I guess you'll just have to ask him first, then."
Unamused, Jon folds his arms. "Maybe I will."
Clark folds his arms, too. "Alright then, go ahead," he says, waving a hand. Eyeing him suspiciously, Jon pulls his phone out of his pocket. Still shooting his father suspicious glances, he hunches his shoulders defensively, shielding his phone as he taps out a text. Clark chuckles and pulls out his own phone, as well.
"What are you doing?"
"Relax," Clark says, not looking up. "I'm just giving Damian's dad a heads up. He'll appreciate the warning." Back in the Batcave, father and son's phones buzz simultaneously.
To: Bird Boy from: Jonathan Kent
hey what r u doing rn
Pursing his lips, Damian types back a reply.
To: Jonathan Kent from: Bird Boy
Currently, I am viewing you and your father on the watchtower feed
To: B from: Clark
just a heads up jons planning to ask damian out on a date
Bruce smirks.
To: Clark from: B
I know, I heard. Look up
At the watchtower, Jon and Clark look down at their phones in unison, then snap their heads up, finally spotting the security camera. A light blush dusts Clark's cheeks, while Jon merely frowns in determination before zipping out of the Wayne's sight in a superspeeded blur. A few seconds later, someone clears their throat behind them. They turn around to see Jon, clutching a slightly windswept looking bouquet of flowers and wearing the same determined look as moments ago.
Damian raises an eyebrow, arms still folded. "Kent," he says, sounding unimpressed.
Jon side-eyes Batman for a moment, then clears his throat again. "Ahem, um, Damian, wouldyouliketogoseethenewDogCopsmoviewithme?"
Damian raises his chin. "Which theater?"
"Uh, Metropolis? The one on seventh?"
The older boy sniffs pointedly. "Tch. Very well."
Jon lets out a whoop, pumping his fist. "Yes!" He thrusts the flowers at Damian, a few petals fluttering to the ground. "Here! These are for you!"
Damian eyes the bouquet suspiciously. "And just what am I supposed to do with them?"
Jon blinks at him, arms still outstretched. "Put them in water?"
"Give them to Alfred," Damian says, standing. "And go change, I can't be seen at the theaters with Superboy."
"Okay!" Jon beams, then zips off as quickly as he came. Damian turns to his father, who is watching with a small smile dancing around his lips.
He inclines his head. "Father. May I go to the movies with Jon? My homework is nearly complete; I will finish it upon my return."
"Of course," Bruce says. "Go have fun."
"Tch."
As Damian heads up the stairs, Bruce turns back to the monitor. Clark is still standing there, looking at the camera. "I assume you heard all that," he says, not bothering to press the intercom.
Clark grins. "Every word. I didn't realize you monitored this feed personally."
Bruce allows himself a small smile, eyes fixed on his friend's face. "I have several feeds running at the moment; I wasn't really paying attention until Jon spoke up."
Clark laughs. "Well, I'm glad he did. It's about time he asked him."
"He beat you to it," Bruce says.
Clark snaps his fingers. "Aw, rats." He grins cheekily up at Bruce. "Wanna follow our sons to the theater and spy on their first date?"
There's no one around to see, so Bruce leans forward, resting an elbow on the desk, chin in his hand. His lips curl. "That depends. Are you going to bring me flowers?" His tone is flirtatious, out of sync with the cape and cowl.
There's a whooshing sound, and Clark disappears from the monitor.
A set of hands come to rest on Bruce's shoulders, and he feels someone press up against him from behind, leaning down to murmur in his ear.
"I'm sure I could come up with something."