Work Text:
Dick isn’t exactly sure what led him to Bruce’s room. Throughout the time he has been living with the man, Dick has formed a habit of seeking out Bruce whenever he has nothing else to be doing. Whether he needs help or advice, is simply bored, or even just wants to annoy Bruce in the way he knows doesn’t actually bother him, Dick always seems to gravitate towards the man.
So, when his feet start leading him down the hall to Bruce’s bedroom late one night, he doesn’t think too hard about why.
There is a soft light coming out from the crack of Bruce’s door, so Dick knows the man is awake. Not surprising considering Bruce hasn’t had a regular sleep schedule in the whole time Dick has known him. But when he pushes the door open, he isn’t greeted by the usual sight of Bruce hunched over piles of paperwork, or typing away at a computer.
Instead, Bruce is just sitting there. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows propped up on his knees and head bowed.
Perhaps most surprisingly, his head doesn’t turn at the sound of someone entering the room and Dick gets the distinct impression that Bruce has no idea someone has entered at all.
Dick is walking around to the side of Bruce’s bed when the man’s head finally pops up. And, oh. That’s why Bruce is acting strangely. The evidence is falling down his face right in front of Dicks eyes.
Tears.
Bruce Wayne is crying alone in his room.
When he sees Dick, he is quick to swipe a hand over his face, smearing the tear tracks. His expression neutralizes from something raw to the calm face he usually exhibits. But Dick knows what he saw. There is still red around Bruces eyes and wet spots on his cheeks.
“Hey Chum, shouldn’t you be asleep?” Bruce asked, and his voice is rough which confirms Dicks suspicions.
“You’re crying,” Dick said simply.
“I’m fine,” Bruce says quietly.
“You always say that”. Dick climbs up onto the bed and sits next to Bruce. “Y’know it’s okay if sometimes you’re not fine. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me anyways?”
Bruce sighs the way he always does when Dick uses his own words against him, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around Dicks shoulders. He props his head on top of Dicks and plants a kiss in his hair.
Dick whispers something under his breath, too quiet for Bruce to hear.
“What was that, son?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing I just had something in my throat,” Dick lies.
Bruce’s eyebrows draw together in suspicion, but he lets it go, content to hug his son close. They sit like that for a minute, Bruce’s heart melting at his son’s efforts to comfort him. Dicks small hand rubs up and down on Bruce’s back softly.
Bruce is just about to send Dick back to bed when the moment is interrupted by a tap on the window.
Father and sons’ heads turn in sync to look at the newcomer, one of them suspiciously less surprised by the sight of Clark Kent hovering outside.
Bruce casts a knowing look at his son before he gets up to let Clark in. His sons whispering from earlier suddenly makes sense, but he has no time to remind Dick that he can’t just call for Clark whenever he wants, no matter if the man would show up every time anyways.
Bruce opens the window, ignoring the sheepish expression on Clark’s face as he floats into the room, and quickly turns away when he sees it shift into concern as Clark processes Bruce’s red-rimmed eyes and dried tear tracks.
“Hey Bruce. Sorry if I am interrupting something. A little birdie told me you could use some company,” Clark says, his concern bleeding into his tone.
“Actually,” Dick chimes in before Bruce can. “You’re not interrupting at all. In fact, I should head to bed, but Bruce here shouldn’t be left alone right now. You don’t mind keeping him company, do you?” Dick says while hopping off the bed and walking backwards towards the door to the hall.
“Of course not,” Clark says, a small smile tugging at his face, helplessly amused by the way Bruce has been forced out of his melancholy isolation by his well-intentioned son.
Bruce has sat back down on his bed and is glaring silently at his son who is halfway out the door.
“Thanks, Uncle Clark,” Dick says with a mischievous smirk, and shuts the door leaving Bruce to deal with his unexpected guest.
After Dick is gone, Bruce sighs and turns to face Clark who is standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce says quietly, his exhaustion showing in his voice. “I’ve told him not to call for you unless it is an emergency, but God knows he only listens to me when he wants to.”
“I don’t mind,” Clark says simply. “I will always come if either of you call for me. Emergency or not. No matter what,” Clark says. And he says it so earnestly, so painfully sincere that Bruce has to break eye contact.
He is sitting almost exactly how he was when Dick found him, elbows on his knees, head hanging low, making his hair drop in front of his face. It’s because of this that he doesn’t see Clark move closer until he feels a weight settle beside him.
“Bruce,” Clark starts.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bruce cuts him off.
“Okay,” Clark says easily.
Bruce’s hands come up, and he presses his palms against his closed eyes. Clark can see the tension in his body, and it makes his heart ache. Not wanting to press but needing to offer Bruce some form of comfort, Clark starts tracing soft patterns on Bruce’s back. He feels the exact moment Bruce begins trembling. Clark’s hand slides up to Bruce’s shoulder and pulls him closer.
For a second, Bruce resists, body rigid, but after a moment the tension runs out of his body and he lets himself sag against Clark, head resting on Clark’s shoulder. Bruce drops his hands away from his face and tucks his face against Clark, hiding the tears that have begun to fall again.
“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Clark says gently. “We don’t have to talk about it, just let me be here for you.” He picks up one of Bruce’s hands and laces their fingers together. His other hand goes to Bruce’s hair, and he starts running his fingers between the strands soothingly.
Bruce couldn’t pull away if he wanted to, and he really didn’t want to. Luckily, Clark seems to be in no hurry to leave. In fact, he sits there and holds Bruce like there is nowhere else he would rather be. Like he isn’t the most powerful man in world and probably wishing he could spend his time helping someone else. Someone more deserving. Someone who wasn’t pathetic and weak and-
“I can hear you beating yourself up for this,” Clark says, and Bruce has to remind himself that Clark can’t actually read minds. “You’re not weak for needing this, Bruce. And you don’t have to deny yourself comfort. I’m not going anywhere so you don’t need to force yourself to keep it together. Everyone breaks every now and then, and you just have to let the people close to you hold you when you fall apart. And trust they will still be there when it's time to put the pieces back together.”
Bruce’s breath hitches, overwhelmed by Clark’s words. His tears have started to soak through Clark’s shirt and Clark only holds Bruce tighter.
Voice muffled by Clark’s shirt, Bruce whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“Shh. Bruce, sweetheart, no. You do not need to be sorry about this.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Bruce is interrupted by another round of tears, “break down like this”.
“No no, Bruce. I want to be here for this. For you. You think I just want to be around you when you’re at your best?” Clark asks.
Bruce’s silence speaks for him.
“I want to be with you always. When you are being brilliant and solving cases that would have driven anyone else insane. When you are with Dick, raising the best kid I know. And when you are so sad you can’t do anything but cry”.
Bruce has to make a conscious effort to keep breathing, pure disbelief filling his mind, telling him there’s no way he can have this. That all this love could possibly be directed at him.
“I want you. Always,” Clark repeats, knowing the message didn’t sink in the first time.
Bruce isn’t even thinking when he crawls into Clark’s lap, pressing their chests together and smushing his face into Clark’s neck. He didn’t decide to move, he just knew he needed to be closer. Needed to press himself as close as possible to Clark because Clark is saying these impossibly sweet things and if Bruce is going to listen to them then he needs to hold on to something, preferably the soft, cuddly alien sitting next to him.
Clark’s hands come around Bruce immediately, one settling on the back of Bruce’s neck and the other rubbing the small of his back. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hold you”.
Bruce tries to press himself even closer, both craving and trying to run from the affection in Clark’s voice.
After a while of Clark holding Bruce as he weeps, Clark begins to shift. Bruce's fingers dig into Clark’s shirt before he forces himself to let go. Clark feels the tension come back to Bruce's body and starts to soothe him again. “It’s okay, Bruce. I told you, I’m not going anywhere. I was only going to lie down to make us more comfortable. You need rest.”
Clark’s hand rubs small circles into Bruce’s back until he feels the tension drain out again. Only after Bruce has relaxed, Clark shifts again and lays them both down with Bruce still pressed against his chest. Clark pulls Bruce’s blanket over both of them and then wraps his arms back around Bruce. Bruce’s tears are coming slower now, the exhaustion taking over.
“You can let yourself sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Clark whispers.
Bruce has no energy to argue, and he is already halfway asleep before he knows it. Clark’s fingers running through his hair and gently massaging his scalp certainly aren’t helping. Clark presses a kiss into Bruce’s hair and Bruce fully lets go, eyes drifting shut.
His ear is over Clark’s heart, and he lets the steady beat lull him to sleep, endlessly grateful for the man beneath him.