I literally just finished typing this three minutes ago guys. Seriously. In those three minutes, I was mainly debating whether or not to upload, so if you see mistakes, that would be why. Also, no Beta, so not my fault. BT dubs, this is not meant to be a one-shot, and hopefully won't be. This is an idea I got a while back, which I recently received again, and that would be why I bothered to type it. Also, it's morning where I'm at, or at least I consider it morning since I just woke up, and I do things really well in the mornings or at late night. Basically, when my mind is has just turned on or when it's about to turn off. Sleep addled or Sleep depraved. Anyway, I would tell you what the idea is but, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you. (Because for once I actually, mostly, kind of know where I'm going to go with this). Who's actually reading this anyway?

Disclaimer: Not mine. Haven't eaten yet, so I can't give you any colorful ideas of what I would do if any of the characters in here were actually mine. Just, not mine, is all you guys need to know.

Light. There was so much of it. Clark shut his eyes as soon as he opened them, the sudden brightness blinding him. He didn't remember much, certainly not how he ended up where ever he was now. The part-time superhero, part-time reporter, had been on his way back from putting out a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park when he fell. Well, it was more like he had been hit by an invisible force. The last thing he remembered was the sight of the ground coming dangerously closer and the knowledge that he couldn't do anything about it.

Cobalt blue eyes opened slowly, hesitant but alert. Kal-El realized he was positioned with his back against one of the white walls. To his left, there was twenty more feet of solid floor before the fading started. It was like some force had smudged the rest of it away, and had he looked further, the Kryptonian knew the floor dropped off to black. A never-ending void that would swallow anything that fell into it. He didn't feel weakened like he would if there was any Kryptonite present, but something about the ominous look of the void the floor gave way to, didn't make him feel like he should fly over and check it out. For all he knew, it would swallow him up too.

Superman shook his head, warding off his dark thoughts. Heaven forbid he was turning into Bruce. Clark felt the familiar weight of his suit, Superman's, not the one that belonged to an average Joe who worked for the Daily Planet. It was a light kind of weight, so light it was almost as if it wasn't there. But he knew, more than anyone, how heavy it could get under the pressures of dire circumstances.

With the way his train of thought kept chugging, he really might turn into his Scowl-In-a-Cowl best friend.

Taking a deep breath, Clark stood, pushing off the floor beneath him. The familiar pull of flight lifted him a few inches from the ground, where he proceeded to make certain if he was unharmed. From what he could see and feel, nothing was off. It seemed the person or thing that had knocked him unconscious, not an easy task to do by the way, had wanted him whole and and unharmed for whatever trial they were about to make him go through. Clark turned his keen sight to the only direction he hadn't looked yet, he'd already perceived that he had about ten feet of floor if he went forwards, before the void was there again. What he saw, made his whole body go stiff. His mind and body shook from it, flight escaping him. The instant his feet touched the ground, he couldn't tell if the floor had disappeared or if his feet had turned to jelly.

There, not fifty feet away, stood a gray slab. The rock angled in just the right way so as to make sure what lay on it didn't escape his sharp sight. Dick Grayson, first of Batman's Robins, his newly adopted son, restrained.

Metal chains held down his wrist and ankles, a white cloth wrapped tightly around his mouth. And, because it wasn't exactly hard to miss with a body like that, he was completely naked. The room was deathly silent, only heavy breaths coming from the unclothed person in the room. Dick's bright blue, one-of-a-kind eyes stared straight into his very soul. That's what it felt like anyway. Now, Clark considered himself a straight man. He was proud of it. He loved Lois with all that he could give her… But anyone, with half a brain, was intrigued by Dick Grayson. Intrigued being the kind way of saying it. Crudely, it would be translated as "turned on".

It was different for Clark, though. Being one of the few who got to see the young acrobat grow from a hurting nine year-old to a laughing, mischievous adult, he respected the Batbrat. And unlike most, he used that term with endearment. However, he was also a man. Richard had gone from untouchable pixie to breathtaking beauty so fast, one couldn't have seen the transition. Yes, if you made any remark out loud in front of him, even just barely suggesting you wanted to bang his boy, Bruce would have you bleeding out so much (so he could use the liquid to, no doubt, paint a picture of the incredibly idiotic fool who would dare speak of his ward, now his son, in such an obscene manner) with your entrails hanging out before the entire world. But it was known throughout those trusted enough in the League, that, in any speck of darkness the Batman didn't occupy, you had a safe place to confess your sins of wanting to see Dick Grayson sprawled out and sweaty underneath you. And, while Clark wasn't actually stupid enough to say it out loud, he was guilty, too.

However, because he had seen Richard grow, had him under his watchful eye for all that time since he first introduced himself to the League, he couldn't and he wouldn't ever make the young man feel unsafe around him. Dick was the League's beloved child, the first ever to walk their halls. He was the Golden Boy for a reason. Each of them reminisced of days spent looking for lost things only to hear an entirely wicked, but also adorable laugh echo from the darkness you didn't suspect. Days spent watching, a bright smile on your face, as Dick tricked, stole from, and used your superhero colleagues as places to perform his death-defying stunts on. All the while calling out "Uncle Clark look!" or "Aunt Diana, uncle Ollie really is bad at hide and seek!", whichever of you was lucky and yet unlucky enough to not be the one he was playing with.

Clark cared for and respected Richard far too much to ever take advantage of him. So, while this being of divine beauty was laid out before him, Superman only fixed his posture, body pulling taught, before using his laser vision to cut Dick Grayson's bonds. Sometimes, he really despised living up to his boy scout nickname.

A/N: Still haven't eaten, finishing this up before I do. For any of my followers, this is a little something to tide you guys over and/or keep you from forgetting me. Also, I do actually have a life outside writing slash or Dickie, although who would want to, so if you want variety it'll probably arrive soon. As soon as it can, anyway. I will hopefully, be getting to updating my other fics so don't lose hope for them, if you've read/liked them. As always, review if you can, and by that I mean if you are breathing, please review. This is not intentionally going to be a one-shot so stay tuned. Oh, and as something else to tide you over if you're even reading this... You don't really think that's all Clark's gonna do, do you? Or at least, made to do? Although, it won't be something he doesn't already want to do, or that Dickie doesn't want him to. Love and kisses, also yaoi. -Gypsy