Okay, honestly, I had to write this for a future arch reference. Not entirely happy with it but... *shrug* well, can say this is what would happen the first time they visit the Kent farm. Pre-Dami

Dick-14 Jason-10 Cass-8 Timmy-6

Grandkids

The sun was barely up outside but that hardly mattered to the residents of the house. They were up that early all the time, feeding chickens, canning beans, milking cows, doing repairs… the list went on. Work on a farm was never done, not even in winter. Thankfully that though was over and wouldn't be coming again for quite some time. But none of that mattered when someone was knocking at the door.

Quickly the excited lady of the house was there, followed closely by her husband of forty years. They had been waiting for this day for weeks. When she whipped open the door her son was the first to greet her. "Ma! Pa!"

"Clark! Come here you!" Ma Kent gave her large grown son a strong hug, receiving one in return before motioning him in, along with the others in tow. "Was the flight alright?"

"Better than could be expected, all things considered," a man around the same age as their son answered, carrying his six year old against his shoulder. Three other children walked in before him , looking around, one shyly and the other two with broad smiles. An older gentleman came in last, a little dishelved but otherwise fine. "I never thought of flying by Lincoln before."

"This is so weird…" one boy murmured.

"It's like a movie set!" The oldest boy looked over to Clark expectantly, wonder and amazement in his eyes. "Did you really grow up here? What was it like? Did you have chores? Are there horses here? And cows?"

"Dick…" his father warned, causing smiles and snickers among those around him.

"We saw cows only once on the road at the circus. They stampeded through the big top in Nebraska."

"My you're a talkative one." Ma Kent smiled, practically glowing at the sight of them.

"This is what happens when your son gives him sugar first thing in the morning Mrs. Kent." The man gave his comrade a shrewd glare causing a surge of giggles among the kids once more. He offered his free hand to Pa Kent. "Bruce Wayne."

"Jonathan Kent. Nice to meet you Bruce." The old farmer gave him a firm handshake and was pleased this man's grip was as good as his own. He could tell a lot of things from a single handshake.

"Likewise."

"And what're your names sweeties?" the lady asked, using her grandma voice (she never had a chance to use it before).

"Guess!" the second oldest boy said before anyone could introduce themselves. The one girl shied away from them and went to her father's leg before anyone could ask her any particular questions.

Both men rolled their eyes. "Ma, Pa, I'd like you to meet Jason, Dick, Timmy, and Cassandra," Clark indicated each one as he said their names. "Ages ten, fourteen, six, and eight respectively."

"Oh sure, take all the fun out of life." Jason threw up his hands for dramatic effect.

"You forgot to include Alfred!" Dick objected loudly, flailing a hand towards the gentleman in the corner. He looked over to the old butler who had a ghost of a smile on at the exchange. "We'd be lost without him!"

"Thank you Master Richard." The old butler bowed slightly, glad someone remembered him. He tended to fall into the background far too often for his liking.

"Hey there little guy," Pa cooed, coming over to Timmy, cuddling up on Bruce's shoulder. "Are you hiding?"

"No," came his soft reply, rubbing his eyes.

"Timmy stayed up too late last night, reading," Bruce explained, keeping back the part where he kept telling him to get some sleep. "Said he was too excited. Then he fell asleep in the car flight over here."

"You really flew them where in their car." Clark gave his father a slightly sorry smile. It was the best way to bring them without causing a ruckus and having to make a cover story. As far as the world was concerned, the Waynes were just staying home for the weekend. All calls were being forwarded to their cells.

"Hey lady!" Jason started rudely, tugging on Ma Kent's sleeve. "What's your name? And age!"

"Jason!" his father reproved quickly.

But the woman laughed merrily. "My name's Martha, and I'm fifty-eight. Hey, why don't I show you were you'll be sleeping tonight okay? And I can show you Clark's old room, and all his old toys."

"COOL!" Dick was nearly charging through the house already in order to find it. Jason had just as big a grin on his face but wasn't running, yet. Timmy was looking over to his brothers and the lady, groggy still but interested.

"You want to go with them?" Bruce asked the youngest. The kid nodded, still rubbing his eyes awake. Slowly he eased the boy to the floor and he followed his oldest brother to where ever he was going. "Have fun."

"Hey! Was Martha a popular name when you were born?" The trouble maker asked the lady.

"I don't think so," she answered, cocking her head curiously before asking, "Why?"

"'Cause Dad's mom's name was Martha too." This won a surprised look from the Kents and an awkward embarrassed one from his father.

"Really!" Martha Kent looked up at Bruce, smiling slightly, but it turned a little to confusion when she saw a measure of pain on the man's face. "What a coincidence."

"Yeah coincidence." The CEO looked over to his daughter still hiding behind his legs, changing the subject as quickly as possible. "Don't you want to play with the others Cass?" She shook her head against him, clutching onto him tightly. The man gave their hosts an apologetic smile. "Alright then, but it may be a bit boring staying with me."

"Tough luck," Jason stated quickly, tugging in the lady's arm. "So how about that tour?"

"May I advise before something breaks," Alfred piped in, inclining his head to where Dick and Timmy had run off moments ago. The two were talking loudly, even giggling as they poked around the considerably smaller house. And knowing little boys… "I will assist in any way I can Mrs. Kent."

"Just call me Martha." She grinned at him then started leading the butler and the boys through the house while her husband and son continued getting acquainted with Bruce and the shy girl still hiding behind her father.

"And this is the barn," Pa Kent announced, partway through his tour of the farm. Alfred and Clark stayed with Martha at the house to help settle things there. Jonathan was responsible for distracting four kids and one adult in the meantime, and quite a few were energetic.

"SWEET!" Dick ran forward and grabbed a hanging rope, swinging and climbing it into the rafters. "This place is so cool!"

"Get down from there!" The farmer shouted immediately, his heart racing at the danger the kid was putting himself in. But the teen just laughed, leaping from beam to beam like a cat chasing a bird. "NO! Wait! Stop! Cla—"

"Dick, feet on the ground!" Bruce ordered, not at all surprised by his antics. "You're going to give Mr. Kent a heart attack if you stay up there!"

"Awww…." Quickly the acrobat leapt for the rope he climbed to get up there and slithered down until he was five feet from the ground. Promptly he let go, turning into a flip before landing nicely on the dirt floor. "WHOO HOO! Ten point!"

"What were you—" The old man really was starting to think he'd have a heart attack. But the kids' father rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Sorry about that. Dick's an aerialist, has been since he was three. He sees something he can climb and swing off of and he has to try it out." He gave the teen a shrewd glare. "Dick, rule 9."

The teen folded his arms pouting slightly. "Party pooper."

"And rule 10 while we're at it. That goes for you too Jason." The man looked over to the trouble maker climbing up on the walls separating the stalls. Jason looked over his shoulder, pouting slightly before stepping down. "No one's exempt and this isn't the manor."

"But I wanted to see the cows!" the ten year old declared. "Where are they?"

"Out to pasture," Pa explained, letting his heart settle back down. At least the younger two were behaving. Well, Timmy was, looking around with his hands behind his back even. Cassandra was still being shy hiding behind her daddy's leg. "I only have them in here for milking, pregnancies, or if they're sick. This place is mostly just for the horse or for winter months. Good for storage.

"And up there," he pointed to a loft not too far away, "is where Clark used to sleep, back when he was a teenager and didn't want to sleep in the house during the warm seasons. Ah… those were the days."

"We've got a carriage house and a guest house," Timmy offered in an attempt to make similarities. "And two garages! And a—"

"That's enough," his father prompted, laying a hand on his shoulder to silence him. He didn't want to make the farmer feel awkward. "We have things like barns and coops at home too, I know. Did you build this place?"

Pa Kent shrugged. "Rebuilt parts of it. Back when Clark was learning how to use his powers, several pieces had to be replaced. The majority of this was put together at a barn-raising about fifty years ago."

"Fifty years…" "Wow…"

The boys' eyes bulged at the idea. Their father on the other hand nodded, very impressed. "Very well put together. My complements to the carpenters."

"You think this is good?" the farmer grinned at them, glad their humble abode impressed them. "Wait until you see the chicken coops. I built those myself. Clark helped with their repair work too, but it was mostly me."

As the little family followed their host out, Cass stumbled, tumbling into the hay. Quickly her father picked her up and started carrying her, watching her with some concern. Her eyes weren't focused and he didn't know her to stumble very often. Something wasn't right….

Martha and Alfred were merrily working in the kitchen, comparing recipes and giving each other tips when Timmy came charging in, talking at sixty miles per hour. "Alfred! Alfred! Cass isn't feeling good! And I got some eggs! And Jason and Dick are throwing them around and calling each other names again! And Daddy got his pants dirty! And Grandpa Kent said cows don't just go Moo! And that wasps don't bother you unless you bother them! And… oh! Daddy said to make something light for Cass! She's really not feeling good."

"I see." Quickly the old butler gathered the eggs from the young lad and put them on the counter before Mrs. Kent made any commentary. "I'll get straight to work."

"My you're a fast one," the lady stated, slightly amused. "Just like your big brother. Does it run in the family?"

"Believe me, Master Richard is by far the chattiest. Young Master Timothy," the older man started, "would you be so kind as to lead Mrs. Kent to Master Bruce to assess Miss Cassandra's condition?"

"Assess?" The boy cocked his head at the word, blinking owlishly. A habit of his.

"To see how she is and make a judgment," he replied.

"Ooohhhh… Okay!" The kid grabbed the woman's hand and started pulling her back the way he came. "This way!"

Soon the two were back in the family room, greeted by Bruce carrying his little girl back into the house. The child really didn't look very well. Her eyes were half closed, her flushed head leaning heavily against her father's shoulder. Occasionally she gave a week cough but not much more. Mostly she just seemed weak.

"What happened?" Martha felt Cass' forehead and cheek, surprised to feel it so warm. She wasn't like this when they arrived, was she? "Allergies? Valley Fever?"

"I don't think so. Timmy, can you grab that blanket for me?" The boy nodded and fetched one of the small handmade quilts. "I received a notice of this bug going around their school, but I thought they had their shots for it already. Thank you." He took the blanket and clumsily tried to put it around his girl with one arm. Mrs. Kent took it from him and draped it around them before guiding him to one of the soft chairs. "Thank you. It's possible the change in altitude and trip over here aggravated the contagion."

"Ahg-ra…vate the cont…igen?" Timmy asked, blinking owlishly.

"Made her sick," Bruce translated, shifting Cassandra around so he could wrap her up better in the quilt. She didn't make a sound the whole time, worrying the lady a bit.

"Do you have a sore throat honey?" she crooned to the girl, who just shied away like before. Worry flashed across her face. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Cassandra has a hard time talking in general," the man said in explanation. He tilted her head back a bit and gently opened her mouth to see how her throat was anyway. "Something we've been working on since she joined us. Let me see… Looks a little red. Alfred, did you bring any medicine with you?"

"Of course sir." Martha jerked around in surprise, having not heard the butler come back in. Alfred carried in a steaming teapot and a box with a few bags on a tray along with a few mismatched cups. He set the tray down on an end table, then too felt the girl's head. "Oh dear… Playing too hard in a new climate. I am reminded of a certain young man in his first week in Korea."

"That was food poisoning." His quick rebuttal stirred a giggle out of the little boy watching in wait. And that giggle gained him a quick glare.

"If you insist." Mild amusement played on the edges of Alfred's face as he prepared a quick cup. "Lemon and peppermint. Should sooth both her throat and stomach until I have something better prepared for her."

"Come on Cassandra," her father coaxed soothingly as he brought the cup to her lips. "Drink up. It'll help you rest."

Bleary eyed, the young girl lifted her head off his shoulder and started to sip the drink. She made a slight face but didn't complain, very different from the other children Martha was used to seeing around Smallville. Soon she finished the drink and the cup was passed back to the old man. "There you go. Good job. Now go ahead and rest. I'll wake you when your medicine's ready."

Silently the girl nodded, then let her eyes close. Within seconds she was fast asleep in her father's arms. Bruce looked up to Alfred and Martha nearby. "Mrs. Kent, mind keeping Timmy busy for a while? Your husband is trying to break up the fight between Dick and Jason outside."

Though an odd request, the lady nodded. "Of course."

"Aww…." Timmy whined, pouting slightly. "I wanted to stay with you! We could watch tv!"

"Now now," Ma Kent stared, charmed by his cute exclamation, "how would you like to help me make some cookies?"

"Cookies?"

Who knew it'd just take one word to have this six year old change his tune. Before any of the adults could blink he was running back into the kitchen, excited about cookies whether they were made or not. Martha laughed and followed after him. "Cookies, and I think tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches are in order. Clark, be a dear and help us out with that will you?"

She looked over to her son almost hiding in the far corner of the room, looking out the window at the scene outside. Mr. Kent was pulling two boys covered in eggs bits, dirt, and rye grass, away from each other. The fight must have been very entertaining for the man of steel to not intervene on anyone's account.

"Huh? Oh, sure Ma." The reporter followed after her obediently, his mind elsewhere. Knowing her son, Martha just shirked it off as one of those times he was lost in thought. But the detective raised a curious eyebrow as his butler went off to fetch medicine for the sick child and clean clothes and towels for the two outside.

"This is all your fault," Dick jibed, standing indignantly in the trough Pa Kent ordered him into. Jason was a good foot away from him, glaring daggers as well. "If you hadn't—"

"It's both your faults," Mr. Kent stated flatly as he sprayed them with the garden hose. An outside showerhead was above them, washing off part of the muck they lathered themselves in while fighting, while the farmer hosed them down where the shower couldn't reach. "You shouldn't be fighting, at all."

"We're always fighting," the teenager murmured, scrubbing some mud out of his hair.

"And the rules don't say we can't," Jason added, wiping some egg remains at his brother.

"Watch it!"

"What? Afraid to get more egg on your face?" The mocking laugh the kid was about to use was cut off by a few coughs.

"That's enough! Both of you!" Pa Kent squirt both of them in the face just to get them to stop fighting. He shook his head, sighing heavily. Now he was glad they just took in Clark. Imagine two or more… The fights they could have… "Seriously… Look, I know your family has rules, and maybe they work fine there, but here I have some of my own. Rule one: no fighting! It startles the animals and makes them difficult to work with. And you two are family! Family shouldn't be fighting!"

"What fantasy land have you been—OW!" Jason glared daggers at Dick, who gave him a reproving glare in response. "What was that one for?!"

"What did I just say?" the old man couldn't believe these two. But then…

"We're guests here," the teenager insisted, stressing on the word guests. "That means we play by their house rules. So cool it, or I'll bring Bruce in on it. We're supposed to be on our best behavior!"

This only gained a bitter scowl from his brother, but the kid jerked his eyes away, pouting. "Fine. But I'm kicking your trash as soon as we get home. Got it circus brat?"

"Fine, street rat."

"Is that your idea of a cease fire?" Pa Kent gaped at them in disbelief. The boys just gave each other impassive, near identical looks, before nodding.

"Yeah." "Pretty much."

The man sighed heavily. Yeah, he was grateful he only had Clark. "Alright… Turn around so I can get the rest of you."

"Why can't we just use the shower?" Jason demanded as they obeyed.

"Ma doesn't want anything messy on her nice clean floor." He gave their backs a spray, targeting the harder dirt and egg covered areas. Really, why did they fight to begin with? What a waste of eggs…

Dick giggled, reflexively crouching as the water hit him. "Sounds like Alfred."

"How much more until—" coughing cut the younger boy's question short, gaining another look from his brother. "Until we're clean enough to go in?"

"You're just about done." The old farmer turned off the showerhead and did one more pass with the hose before being satisfied. He put the hose to the side to finish cleaning up when he stopped the boys from walking right back onto the dirt. "Hold it. There's a stone path to the back porch that way. Take it and wait there until we get you some towels to dry off, got it?"

"Bet Alfred will have them there already," Jason predicted as they both exited the tub as ordered.

"Got it Mr. Kent. Sorry for the mess." Quickly the two boys ran off towards the back of the house, perfectly stepping on each stone instead of wandering into the dirt or grass. The man shook his head as he wound up his hose and prepared to empty the trough. Those two greatly reminded him of the days Clark and his best friend Pete were rough housing on the lawn, before his boy gained is super strength.

Soon enough he was back in the house and about to fetch some towels, only to be greeted by both boys, changed and mostly dried, sitting on the couch. Dick had just thrown a blanket on top of Jason. "I'm not cold!"

"You're huddling," the teenager insisted, glaring slightly. He glanced once over to Bruce and Cassandra in a nearby chair. "And you've been coughing. And don't think I didn't see you shiver out there when we were getting washed off. You're sick. Just like Cass."

"I'm not—" Two rapid sneezes and a series of coughs interrupted him, ending all doubt in the other members of his family's minds. Jason just scowled at them. "I'm fine."

"Currently," Bruce stated flatly, but in a low enough tone not to wake the girl in his arms. "Humor us and make sure you don't get worse. Take the medication Alfred gives you and rest on the couch there for the rest of the day."

"But I'm—" This time Pa Kent interrupted him, by putting his hand on the lad's forehead.

"Yep, fever," he confirmed. "Slight right now, but there. Better rest up there son. Can't milk Bessy tomorrow morning if you can't kick this tonight."

"Seriously?" One of the reasons the boys were fighting earlier was because they were sent to help with the eggs over working with other livestock. Pa Kent promised them a try at milking the following morning and both boys wanted to make the other one give up trying for it. Somehow it deteriorated to name calling and punches. Jason threw the first egg.

"True. Cows can sense things." He smirked to himself at a memory. "There was one time I was hiding the flu from Martha and Clark, did a good job of it too. And Bessy wouldn't even let me touch her. So rest up and get better so she'll let you near, 'kay son?"

Jason looked away, bitterly realizing the truth. Pouting, he took the blanket Dick had thrown on him and covered everything but his head as he set himself into the corner of the couch. "Fine… But I'm not taking any naps."

Both men chuckled. "Fine by me. Clark, mind picking a movie for them to watch?"

"Ah," the kryptonian was watching in the doorway, lost in thought until then, "sure. Any preferences?"

"Not Disney," the younger boy stated quickly, earning smirks from his family. The Kents though were confused. Why not Disney? They didn't have many kid friendly movies, and most were Disney either way. But before they could pose the question, Alfred strode in and selected a case, handing it to Clark before he could say a word. Then the butler strode back out of the room towards where he had placed their baggage earlier.

Clark looked at the title then back to where Alfred went. Pa Kent went to his side and blinked at it as well. "Labrynth?"

"Wuzzat?" Jason asked, curious. Bruce even seemed interested. But Dick was excited.

"I haven't seen that in years! Let's see it!"

"What is it about?" Their father cocked his head as he asked, surprising half the room.

"It's about a girl who makes a bad wish that comes true and so she has to go on a rescue mission in order to save her baby brother! She faces goblins, strange creatures, dwarves and a topsy-turvy world where sometimes the bad guys aren't really bad and the good guys are hard to figure out. It's a classic." The young acrobat was really getting excited about the movie.

"Then why haven't I heard of it?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because Master Bruce," Alfred chimed in, carrying a small medical kit, "you were far too interested in forensics and facts than fantasy movies when it came out."

"Ah."

"Daddy! Daddy!" Timmy rushed in carrying a plate of hot chocolate chip cookies, grinning from ear to ear with some chocolate smeared on his face. "Look! We made cookies!"

"Very good," his father murmured, shifting slightly in his seat so he could grab one. "Mm… not bad at all. Maybe you should be a chef when you grow up."

Overly pleased with the praise, the boy pranced around the room offering cookies. Almost everyone grinned at his antics as the movie started to roll. The kid settled down after putting the plate on an end table and sitting next to Jason, nearly bouncing off the walls. "So! What are we watching?"

It was almost a shame to wake Cassandra and Jason for dinner, but the two needed to eat. Martha felt the girl's head as they settled her into her own chair at the dinner table. "Hmmm… feel any better sweety?"

Cass nodded mutely before looking over to Jason, curious. He just scowled bitterly at the table, frustrated more than anything. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier? I didn't even get to see them leave the Bog of Eternal Stench."

"Those pink fuzzy guys were scary," Timmy admitted. "And that ball…"

"There was a ball?"

"You snooze you lose!" Dick bragged, taking a sandwich away from the middle of the table before sitting back down. Alfred finished placing bowls of tomato soup before them just as Bruce gave the teen a light karate chop to the head. "Ow!"

"Maybe you'll be the next one to get sick," the man chided before taking his own place between the two not feeling so good.

"Hey, I'm all for passing out while watching something I've seen before. But Jay falling asleep means we get to see it again when we get home." He grinned at the thought. "Never can get enough Jim Hensen."

Bruce grunted in response, taking a glass of water for himself before taking anything for himself. Martha Kent looked around a little awkwardly. "Sorry it's not what you're used to but—"

"It's more than enough Mrs. Kent," he told her quickly. "No need to put yourself out because of us."

"Hey Uncle Clark!" Dick waved over the farm boy off to the side of the room. "Come on over and join us! You've got to be starving!"

Clark laughed to himself. "I'm fine, really. It's not that big of a table you know."

"Big enough for all of us. Get over here!" The rest of the kids looked over to him now, impish grins growing on their faces. Their father gave him a knowing look while his mother gave him a 'get over here' glare. Resigned, the alien joined them just as his father brought in a couple more chairs.

"I knew we had a few more spares! And I found a piece of ply wood that's just the right size. We can bring it in tonight so breakfast won't be so crowded." Jonathan Kent handed one to his son and another to Alfred before taking the last two for Martha and himself.

"Yeah, nine people around a five by five foot table probably isn't the best idea we've had." The kids snickered at their father's comment.

"Almost makes you miss that dining table at the manor, does it not?" Alfred sent a knowing look at his employer.

"How long is that?" Martha asked, taking a sandwich then dipping it in the soup before eating it.

He gave a heavy sigh. "Thirty by three. We only use it for dinner parties or guests. Else we eat in the kitchen, either at the bar or on a much smaller table."

"Uncle Clark's seen it," Timmy piped in, enjoying his sandwich greatly.

"Uncle Clark eh?" Pa Kent stated, taking a spoonful of the soup. His eyes nearly popped. "This is amazing! There's no way Martha made this."

"Pa!" Clark objected in his mother's defense. But she took it easily in stride, also impressed.

"Alfred, I have to get this recipe," the lady insisted, taking a spoonful herself. "It is simply divine!"

"Where did you learn to cook like this?" Pa asked eagerly.

"Her majesty's special forces." This made the farmer's still, shocked at the statement. The Waynes held back their snickers when the y saw their faces.

Calmly, Bruce explained. "Alfred has a very interesting employment history. I believe you were mostly in the services as support, right? Intelligence, arraignments, behind the scenes."

"Mostly." The hint of a smile on his face sent the boys into roaring laughter. Even Cassandra and Bruce smirked at their faces, eating without any fear. "I assure you, I have done nothing I would not allow Master Bruce to do while he donned cape and cowl."

The Kents stared at them a moment longer before Ma let out an uneasy laugh. "Glad you're on our side. Didn't know there were so many dangerous people here."

"I assure you Mrs. Kent," the butler started as the kids calmed down, "you are perfectly safe from the likes of us. Particularly with your son here. I cannot vouch for your safety from the children here," more impish giggling filled the room, "but from myself and Master Bruce, there is nothing to fear. Well, unless you allow him the use of your kitchen."

As everyone who knew the billionaire roared with laughter, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want that bit of information to get out again, but Alfred liked to embarrass him when in close company. A series of coughs from the two on either side of him made him look up. Jason was still laughing despite it all. He gave them an awkward smirk, letting the Kents relax again. Dangerous though they be, they wouldn't harm them.

"Enough already. Dinner's getting cold." The boys tried to quiet down and return to their meal, making the Kents grin in return.

After a few minutes where Martha and Alfred talked recipes while Bruce coaxed Cassandra into eating a sandwich and some of her soup, Timmy looked over to Clark, curious. "Uncle Clark? Are you sick too?"

"Huh?" The confused look on the alien's face was almost priceless. But the question caught the adults' attention. "Sick? Me? No… I don't get sick."

The kid pointed to his food. "But you're not eating very much."

"Oh that's just Clark," Martha offered as explanation, waving it off. "He doesn't need food as much as we do. Some nights he eats like a pig and others he's like a rabbit. Hasn't had a steady appetite since he was twelve."

"Ma…"

"I'm more interested in why you call him 'Uncle Clark'," Pa declared, looking over to the two healthy boys.

"Dick's idea," Jason stated flatly as he devoured his soup. The kid never was one for wasting food.

The teenager shrugged, thinking it was nothing. "Back at the circus, everyone was close. We were all one big happy family as far as I was concerned. Didn't have any other relatives so…" he gave an awkward smile, "they were my aunts and uncles. Since the League's been coming and going from our place a lot, mostly Superman, I thought it'd be cool if he'd be our uncle. He hasn't objected so We never stopped calling him that."

"But he's not related to you," the old man persisted, still confused, "at all."

"None of us are related to each other," Dick pointed out, smirking. "Doesn't mean we're not family."

"Next thing you'll know, Dick'll be calling you Grandma and Grandpa Kent." Jason grabbed another sandwich, dunking it in the soup before eating it like Ma Kent had. His brother looked away a bit shamefaced while the younger cocked his head to the side.

"Is that not okay?" Timmy looked over to Ma Kent, who remembered the boy calling her husband 'Grandpa Kent' earlier that day.

"It's a bit compli—" Pa started only to get cut off by his wife.

"Of course it's okay sweetheart," she crooned, elated to hear the title. She gave the kid a little hug in appreciation. "Call us whatever you like. Though I feel the title belongs more to Alfred here over us."

"Madam," the man in question started, "I am merely the butler, nothing more."

But off to the side Dick mouthed to her, 'We tried.' Slightly grim and awkward glances were passed among the Waynes before Bruce ended the debate. "Alfred refuses to be called anything but his given name. It is just something we have to live with. Speaking of which, do you have the medicine ready?"

As the old friend rose to fetch the desired drugs and they changed subjects yet again, Clark went back to fiddling with his food, quiet as a mouse. Bruce watched him out of the corner of his eye, curious.

Clark Kent was staring at the bright starry sky, listening as they settled down the children for the night. He heard his parents' happy tired sighs as the last of them quieted and they too started heading for bed. Likewise Alfred was doing the same, performing some preparations for the next day as was his habit apparently. Be prepared seemed to be a motto he lived by more than Bruce.

Speaking of whom, the billionaire walked up behind the farm boy, not trying to hide his presence this time while the man of steel had his eyes locked on the clear sky above. Clark liked to sit on the front porch step sometimes to think, or to stop thinking. Especially now. "Mind if I join you?"

He smirked at the rich man's request. "Please. Have a seat."

Bruce sat down on the other side of the step, making sure they weren't touching. He looked over to the reporter for a minute, the man's glasses tucked away in his pocket and a bottle in his hands. "Never took you as the beer drinking kind."

"Not usually." A case sat just behind him, or rather the meager ends of one. Three bottles were lined up on the porch, empty. "My body metabolizes it differently than humans so I'm never affected by it. Just like a few brands tastes.

"You want some?" Clark almost reached behind him to pass one over before pausing for an answer. "I know you probably prefer fine wines over this cheap stuff but—"

"It's fine. Thank you." Bruce took the bottle he was about to offer, popping it open. Clark actually stared at him in surprise for a moment. "I don't get many chances to try them to tell the truth, not since my traveling days."

"Alfred watches you like a hawk doesn't he," he offered as explanation.

"You have no idea." The man took a sip and frowned slightly. "Hm. Barley based?"

"Most are. This one's local."

"Interesting." Bruce held the bottle, debating whether or not to take another taste.

"There isn't enough here for you to get drunk," Clark continued, looking back to the sky. It earned a small chuckle from the CEO.

"I make a point not to anymore. Only causes trouble." He decided to try it again. Tasted better after the second round, but not by much. "Hm. I'll have to remember to get your father a better brand."

"Support small businesses Bruce," the reporter chided, trying to be playful.

"I do. I buy them and keep them in business to make sure they don't go under."

They didn't talk for a moment, enjoying the quiet. Kent took a sip of his drink before speaking again. "Sorry about the kids getting sick."

"It happens," Bruce murmured. "I don't usually take them on long range trips so this was to be expected."

"I guess so." A touch of sadness was in the man's voice. "I've never been sick, unless kryptonite counts."

"Everyone's allergic to radiation Clark. You're just sensitive to a certain kind."

"Ah."

He looked over to the alien with his eyes still on the stars. Bruce's brow furled in thought at the sight. "Nice night."

"Hm."

"Good night for a flight."

"Mhm."

Silence.

Bruce gave him a shrewd glare. "Okay Kent, why did you really make us come here?"

"What?" Clark looked over to him, blinking slightly.

"You heard me." His eyes narrowed a fraction, demanding answers. "Why did you make us come here?"

"I didn't—"

"You talked to Dick, who talked to Jason, who both talked to Alfred, and all three of them talked to me about it over the dinner table." Bruce didn't like being manipulated, even if the end results were relatively harmless and possibly enjoyable. He had enjoyed the day, really, sick children included. He hadn't had one where he could just sit and talk about something other than work in some time. And the way the Kents acted almost reminded him of his own parents, had they lived to their age. But something was up with Clark, and this trip happened for a reason he didn't yet know. "That's as good as forcing me to come over here, short of kidnapping."

The alien hesitated. "Don't you like it here?" he asked timidly.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't mind it, really. You're parents are really good people and the kids are learning a lot about farms and animals. I just want to know what's really going on. Why are we here?"

"To enjoy yourselves," Clark answered weakly, looking straight down the path leading off the property without seeing anything. He started busying his hands and mouth with his bottle. "You really could—"

"Bull. And you know it." He narrowed his eyes further. Bruce hated when people lied to him. Especially when they weren't good at it.

"Seriously, I thought you'd like it here." The guy was going to stick with that story for as long as possible. His eyes and face though told a different story.

"Maybe, but that's not the real reason." Bruce watched him for a good minute in silence, hoping it'd prompt some sort of reaction from the man. "Clark, what happened? You brought us over here for a reason. You've been watching us with your parents all day. Now you're drinking cheap beer on your parents' doorstep, looking at the stars. You haven't asked to help the kids with anything the entire time. This isn't like you. What's going on?"

Clark kept his eyes forward, his face still, trying to fight back emotions. The alien must have forgotten who he was dealing with: the world's greatest detective who had emotionless faces down to a science. He was not being fooled by it for a second. Silence sat with them for a good while before the farm boy's head drooped, his whole body screaming defeat.

"I can't have kids."

The words hardly seemed to come out of his mouth. Saying it, the man felt so miserable. A harrowing pain filled his chest, making him nearly empty inside. A measure of sympathy appeared on Bruce's face, but not surprise. "Oh?"

"I talked to Hamilton at Star Labs, and he said my genetics were too different from humans to have children with them. Martians maybe but with J'onn being the last one…" His weak attempt at humor only made him feel more pathetic. It really hit him hard. He wanted to someday have children of his own and now he couldn't. Some wants could never be fulfilled.

"Is that all?"

A spark of anger lit in the man's face. He jerked up and glared at the man just sipping his beer. "Is that all?! Bruce, I can't have kids! My parents won't he grandparents! Ma tried for years to have a baby and every time… Do you have any idea how miserable they'll be when they find out?!"

"Some," Bruce answered calmly, still drinking.

"They'll never have grandkids! Everything they did with your kids today, they can't do that with their own!" Clark ran his hands through his hair, radiating misery with every breath. "And besides failing as a son to them, I'll always be the last of my kind. I can't do what my birth parents wanted either, to keep krypton's memory alive! I'll always be alone. Can't even marry a girl and expect a 'happily ever after'. How can I make a woman happy if I can't give her children? I can't—"

Something crashed itself over the depressed alien's head, shattering into a million pieces much to the man's surprise. He stopped his rambling and looked over to Bruce, holding the remains of his glass beer bottle. "What was that?!"

"Me trying to knock some sense into you without breaking my hand. Did it work?" The CEO merely raised an eyebrow at him coldly. Clark just stared at him for a moment in shock. Bruce just hit him over the head. Hit him! With a beer bottle! "Or should I go look for some kryptonite?"

"Why did you—"

"Consider who you're talking to Kent before you go back to your pity party." He set the remains of his bottle to the side, next to the other empties. "And then remember what you do have."

"But—"

"You have parents who took you in as an infant, regardless of circumstances. They raised you, knowing you'd be different. They've supported you every step of the way, kept you safe when they could.

"Most people wouldn't do that if they found a baby in a spacecraft in their fields one day. If most people had their way, you'd be locked away underground and studied all your life. Maybe you'd be a TV spectacle instead, if you were lucky."

Bruce waved around the farm before them. "You have no idea how lucky you were to have this childhood of yours, to have your parents. To still have them."

"You have Alfred," Clark tried to reason, only to get a headshake.

"No one gets over losing their parents Clark." His tone became darker, reminding him of his time as Batman. "Timmy has nightmares of finding his father's corpse and he hardly remembers him. Dick still wakes up screaming and crying from time to time, especially around their anniversary. I still have trouble some nights. Alfred's wonderful, really, but despite his efforts, and despite my own, the pain doesn't go away. Ever."

His glare hardened, driving another point home to the depressed alien once more. "So what if you can't have kids. I have four and not one are mine by blood. Adoption is always an option open to you when you're ready. Don't ever forget you're adopted too. And your parents did a fair job raising you. Just tell me when you're ready and I can help you with it. I'm sure you'll be able to handle one or two of your own when the time comes."

A bit of warmth filled the kryptonian's chest as he heard this. Bruce was right. He should focus on what he does have. But he was still envious of the billionaire. "At least you can have kids when you want them. Hamilton said I have less than 5% chance of ever having a child."

The man's glare softened slightly before he looked away. "That would still require a relationship Kent, and I can't seem to keep one for more than a month, if that. Those that last longer," mournful look entered the man's face, "tend to end in disaster.

"I've seen you with Lois." Clark nearly jumped out of his skin when Bruce made that statement. When? "While I was learning your secret identity and a few months after, I watched the two of you together. I think you two could have a long lasting, meaningful relationship. Potentially. And to quote Leslie, and Alfred, if a woman truly loves you, whether you can have children or not will not be an issue. Adoption is still an option and I can arrange it without any problems."

A smile started to grow on the alien's face as he took it all in. So while Clark Kent was envious of Bruce Wayne, single father of four with a human body and more money than he could spend in a lifetime, he was envious of the farm boy who had a full and joyous childhood, living parents, and the ability to keep a functioning relationship. Who knew.

"Thanks Bruce."

There was a slight twitch at the corner of the billionaire's mouth. Slowly he stood up and stretched. "Don't thank me yet. Wait until you have two or three of them tugging on your arm and constantly demanding attention."

With that the man left his friend on the porch step to either brood or just think. It didn't really matter now that Bruce had said his peace. The man had to get in bed before someone woke up and hunted him down for something.

A/N: Okay, I had the last scene in my head for a while. Not exactly glad leaving it there but there's only so much I can make them do on the Kent farm when they don't have much else to do yet. Like I said before, this is important for a future arch.

yes I have labrynth, and when I was a kid both the ball scene and the pink puppets who threw their heads around creeped me out. If you caught the Smallville references, kudos for you. Watched that until halfway through the third season I think, or whenever Lois became a regular, then periodically checked on it. really got weird for a while there I hear. Looking forward to see what they do with 'Arrow' though.

Haven't had a lot of between siblings fights lately so I thought they were due for one. Egging each other seemed plausible too. Cass didn't get a single line but considering she was both shy and sick, it makes sense. At least Cass got to be cuddly with Daddy. Was gonna have Jason sleeping next to Bruce too while the movie was running but couldn't manage to fit that in. Really, this whole thing reminded me way too much of my trips to my grandma's farm and how it'd be both boring and interesting each time. But we had waterwars instead of egg fights. =]

well, that's it for now. TTFN!