A/N: I did multiple edits on this one so I hope it turned out alright. Let me know what you think and drop a review!


It's a chilly autumn night and the skies of Bludhaven swirl in black and red. Sirens and helicopters buzz in the distance as the streets whoosh with commuters driving back to the safety of their homes. The City's dilapidated buildings loom in the darkness, creating ominous shadows and a dreary landscape. Perched on one of the few towers, Nightwing cocked his head as he surveyed the lower ward. However, for once, he isn't alone.

Superman leaned back on his elbows, munching on a donut. "So, what are your Thanksgiving plans?"

It had been a busy week at the Daily Planet with a new story on a string of burglaries in one of the northern neighborhoods. Lex Luthor was up to something again with his new deal with a corporation and, most importantly, Thanksgiving was coming up in a few days. For the first time he would be on his own in his cramped apartment. Ma and Pa were going to go visit family on the coast and it was about time that Clark be an adult by hosting his own dinner parties: the Ever First Annual Friendsgiving. JL members included. Big steps.

"Oh," Nightwing shrugged, sipping his coffee, "Nothing officially planned. Tim'll be staying over my place for the weekend so I guess I should, I dunno, at least attempt to feed him."

"Well, I'm sure Alfred could take care of that aspect."

"Nah, he'll be out of the country. Visiting friends and family then. It'll be ramen noodles and Chinese take-out for us."

Superman cringed and twiddled his fingers, thinking of which was the best way to approach the unwanted subject. Face it. There was no best way. He knew Bruce really did love Dick and not seeing him for years just because he became his own person was tearing him apart. "But, there's still the manor? I'm sure Bruce wouldn't object…" He sensed the acceleration of Nightwing's heart but continued. "He's no Julia Childs but he could probably afford to order something fancier than shrimp fried rice or wonton soup."

"Well…" The acrobat clenched his jaw but forced an amused smile. "Someone's been a lazy bum and ordered from Chinese Yum-Yum one too many times, yeah?"

"You caught me. But, hey, you used to love that place. You'd always beg for it when you and Jason used to visit."

"Ugh, jeez, Uncle Clark," Nightwing groaned, running a hand through his untamed hair. Just like that, he had reverted into a petulant teenager. "Just gotta throw it all out there, huh?"

Superman gave a small innocent smile and shrugged. In all honesty, he knew why Batman had been avoiding him recently – holiday season was buzzing in the air and he knew the Kryptonian would bring up the subject of his estranged sons and overall dysfunctional family. He'd glare and probably hiss something like "Stay out of it" or use his birth name all like "Drop it, Kal'El" so he would but then later wouldn't. Because, well, he cared about them as if they were his own family. How could he just leave it be?

"Listen," said Superman, "you know what I'm going to say" –

"That Bruce is a complicated person and we all need to try a little harder to understand and even though he may act like an asshole, look like an asshole, talk and dress like an asshole, he is an asshole. But," Nightwing gestured, "we need to love the world's assholes."

"…No. But, I guess, if you want to summarize or put your little spin to it" –

"Look, Uncle Clark. I…It's not like I haven't tried. You know him. You know how he's like." He shook his head and leaned forward on the edge of the building. "Honestly, it's better this way. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?"

"Dick..." Clearly, he didn't believe it applied in this case but he could spot a losing battle from a mile ahead. He cleared his throat, attempting a different route. "Bruce may be swinging by my dinner with the others. I'm sure he'd love seeing you there."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really."

"Really." It wasn't exactly a lie. "Maybe even bring Jason around."

Nightwing jerked his head, scoffing. "Isn't it called happy Thanksgiving? 'Cause I'm pretty sure the inclusion of Jaybird would oppose that. Strongly."

The Man of Steel's face softened at the old pet name, which clearly slipped from the vigilante's mouth without thought. He remained silent.

"Fine." Nightwing clucked his tongue in defeat and dug out his grappling hook, pointing it to the sky. "But I'm not making any promises."

Shrugging his shoulders, Superman nodded halfheartedly and watched as the young vigilante dove into the night sky, the blue costume dissolving into the dark.


"Jeez, I didn't know you were also a part time Dr. Phil. Bringing people together under false pretenses since 19" –

"Really, Jimmy?"

Clark groaned as he continued pushing the cart down the frozen food aisle and adjusted the phone tucked in the crook of his neck. He thought it wouldn't be too difficult cooking a dinner – all he had to do was follow the instructions on the back of the boxes, right? It's Basic English and he got an A in grammar back in high school, too. But, getting a call from Jimmy and accidentally spilling the beans hadn't been the brightest of ideas.

He chuckled. "I'm just saying that I hope you know what you're doing.

"Of course I do. I've known this guy for years. Everyone's making this into such a big deal."

"Alrighty-ighty. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Well, besides counting sheep, right?"

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a box of frozen biscuits from one of the freezers. The Metropolis reporter didn't even know what to say anymore – he had the same conversation with Diana…and Wally…and John. And pretty much everyone else in the League was against his idea. While most of the JLA members didn't know too much about Bruce and his family, they could put two and two together: it may turn into an utter catastrophe. He even gave Jimmy the barest of details and the photographer thought he was crazy. Clearly, not everyone believed in miracles.

"I'm ever the optimist, Jimmy," he said, steering his cart to the side as he avoided being hit by another. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing. Wait, is there a difference between wax paper and baking paper?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Clark shrugged and yanked both from the shelf, tossing them inside his already full cart. He was going to have to work extra stories for this. After his discussion with Nightwing, he had spoken to Bruce the next day, making sure to call him when he was at work and would be giving him the most minimal of attention. Honestly, he shouldn't have been surprised that the billionaire totally forgot about Thanksgiving in the first place.

"How," said Bruce amongst the shuffling of papers, "do you keep getting through the lines to my office."

All he had to do was drop the words JLA and meeting and it was a piece of cake. Cake. He should buy some cake.

Jimmy's voice broke Clark out of his thoughts. "Look, all I'm saying is, if I was this fellah with some estranged kids, I wouldn't really see the, uh, thought of surprising me with an unwanted family reunion. It could turn a little Maury. Just sayin'."

"You know what – I don't have to explain myself anymore. I'm an adult." Passing by a table full of loaves of bread, he stopped and tossed a few in. "I pay taxes. I tip cabdrivers. I'm polite and respectful." He inspected two cans of cranberry sauce, narrowing his eyes behind the lenses. "I can do this."

"Yeesh, okay. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Clark snorted.


He wasn't nervous. He wasn't. Clark Kent had faced angry reporters and photographers. He'd faced the wrath of a blighted Lois Lane and an affronted Perry White. Heck, he was Superman – he had a gala of villains. So, why on Earth could he not stop pacing? He knew if he was fully human he'd be perspiring by now.

Ridiculous.

The oven door squeaked as Clark opened it once more, peering in as the World's Smallest Turkey baked. It was the only one left, tucked in the back of the freezer. He was lucky he had his super vision or else he would have missed it.

"It's just the food," he murmured as he picked at the meat with a wooden spoon. "That's what I'm nervous about."

And, once the first guests arrived, Clark kept repeating this particular mantra in his head.

"Man, it smells good in here!" Wally threw off his jacket as he bounded inside the apartment, John and Shayera close behind. "Gotta tell you, I was a little worried that it was just going to be some awkward family reunion but you're just a surprise all around, Supes."

Gesturing towards the closet, Clark shook his head with a lopsided grin. "Hello to you too, Wally. You guys can leave your stuff in here."

The reporter had made sure to broom and swipe down his apartment for his welcomed guests: his living room was already sparse with one couch and a small end table stacked with old magazines from the Daily Planet. He had placed a few fold out chairs, pushing aside his small fish tank next to the window, where the fish simply stared with mouths wide opened.

"I just hope you know what you're doing," said John as he placed a few bags on Clark's counter, taking out some covered plates and bowls. "But, it ain't my place. Hope you guys like soul food." Uncovering some of the dishes, he revealed a bowl of cornbread and greens. Wally rubbed his hands together in excitement and Shayera laughed, shoving the speedster playfully.

"The kid'll eat anything."

At 2:15, Clark made sure to raise the heater up when Diana came in from the chilly fall weather bundled in a coat and matching hat. The Catalina radio emitted the voice of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, accompanied by trumpets and violins, as the League members chattered over glasses of wine. J'onn arrived around 2:30 with a basket of chocolates and Clark's smile widened at 3 o'clock when Dick and Tim knocked on the door.

"Sorry for our fashionably late arrival," said Dick, unwrapping a loose scarf as he directed for Tim to do the same. "Got a bit lost. Looks like we haven't visited in a while."

Clark quietly shrugged but Tim's eyes wandered around the apartment, filled with a bunch of tipsy unmasked League members and home cooked food. A few waved lazily, gesturing for the boys to take some food and mingle. He hid the book clutched in his hand behind his back. "…I didn't know it was going to be a party."

"I told you to not bring a book."

"You say a lot of things I don't listen to. Why should I bother now?"

"Whelp, I'm right most of the time, dork." Dick winked and ruffled Tim's hair. "Best to listen to the bigger, cooler, more handsome bro" –

The young boy rolled his eyes, already walking towards the food displayed on the kitchenette counter, an inquisitive look etching his features. Grabbing their coats, Clark placed them on a few spare hangers and smiled softly to himself.

"Nothing on Jason?" Clark whispered, loping a coat on a wire hanger. He wasn't exactly surprised but the disappointment laced in between his words was evident.

"Let's just say he sends his regards." He sighed, shoulders drooping, as he ran a hand through his long dark hair. "Nothing…nothing on Bruce?"

Clark glanced at the clock. Bruce always showed up fashionably late but for some reason this tardiness seemed different. He was a detective so it wouldn't be that insane if he already figured out the whole ambush Thanksgiving plan. Regardless, it wouldn't be awful for Clark to finally relax and enjoy himself. So, Jason was a no-show and Bruce was probably solving some mystery in the sewers somewhere but the dinner was good. Dick and Tim were basically absorbed into the group, chuckling and munching on food as the others talked. The Kryptonian was glad – these were his friends. People he'd do anything for and he wouldn't really change anything else.

"My apologies for my lateness," Bruce's deep voice reverberated from the open door and Clark almost jumped. His blue eyes took in the surroundings, briefly pausing on Dick before resting on Clark. "Couldn't find parking."

The music had might as well come to a screeching halt because that's how swiftly the atmosphere changed. Dick stilled and Tim choked up the cookie he was nibbling on. Clark didn't need to tap into his heartbeat to notice the telltale signs of Bruce's anger. Shock. Probably some hurt in there, too.

"Bruce…" Diana sat up, an uncertain smile toying her mouth, and adjusted her sweater. "I didn't think you'd make it."

Wally shook a bag of chips in the air. "The, uh, food's good."

"Wait," Tim stood hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth between his older brother and mentor, "am I forgetting something? Was there a mission or" –

Bruce held up his hand. "It's nothing, Tim. Clark needed some documents that I was merely dropping off." He tossed a folder onto the counter with a loud smack. John exchanged a quick glance with Shayera.

"Maybe," Dick cleared his throat, fidgeting in his chair, "maybe I should leave. I didn't think…"

Clark shook his head. "Bruce, c'mon, don't" –

"Nonsense. I was just leaving." He tilted his head in a quick dismal before flicking a sharp glare at Clark. Turning around, Bruce left as quickly as he had arrived. But, it was a few moments before Shayera coughed and Wally stirred the conversation into a safer, different direction. Something about boom tubes.

"Clark…" Dick said quietly, hands clenched into two tight fists. Cheeks flushed, his blue eyes blinked furiously. "Y-you said…you promised that" –

"Look, Dick," Clark placed a hand on his shoulder and glanced at Tim, "you two mean the world to me. Really. I've known Bruce for a long time and I don't think he wants it to be like this. Trust me okay?"

Their hesitant nods would have to do because he could see through the walls that Bruce was booking it down the hallway, attempting to beat the Man of Steel's super speed. Because when Bruce didn't want to talk about something, he really didn't want to talk.

"Bruce." Clark found him waiting by the elevator, arms crossed, staring at a pointed place above his face. Cold.

"Kal."

Clark opened his mouth but quickly closed it as Bruce simply stared. His silence. He truly hated it. He shook his head, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Remember when I brought you to my parents for Christmas last year? You were nervous. Like actually nervous. I know you're human but I just never thought you could get nervous."

Bruce's eyes narrowed but he still hadn't looked at him.

"I said that I would never put you through anything you can't handle. Remember?" Clark paused. "I'll always look out for you, Bruce. You might find it annoying or corny or whatever but I don't care. That's what…it's what brothers just do."

It was quick: a crack in his expression as his eyes zeroed in on the Kryptonian's. Except Clark blinked and the look swiftly disappeared. Bruce's eyes remainedl fixed on his, mouth slightly agape.

The elevator finally dinged opened and Bruce merely glanced at it in utter confusion. He was clearly lost, unprepared, and even though he looked as if he wanted to say something, it was as if he were glued to that spot on the hallway carpet.

So, Clark shrugged, used to his silence, and took a few steps backwards. "I'll leave the door opened if you change your mind." He was halfway down the hallway when he heard the patter of Bruce's Ralph Laurent shoes following and it was a few seconds later when he appeared by his side, face carefully blank. The squeaking of their shoes filled the quietness.

"His hair…" Bruce cleared his throat. "It's longer."

"He's growing it out."

"Ah...he looks skinnier. I know without Alfred…I mean, should I…should I say" –

"He's your son, Bruce." They had reached his door and lingered by the entrance. "I'm sure he'd love it if you said anything."

The billionaire nodded and Clark recognized the calculating look tucked into his furrowed eyebrows. He wore the same look before making a particularly difficult move during a game of chess. "Clark, I…thank you." Bruce glanced at him. "Brothers. I don't think I've been a very good one."

Clark chuckled, nudging his arm before stepping inside. "Yeah, well, let's just say I call top bunk and leave it at that."