doktorgirlfriend:

littlemissonewhoisall:

doktorgirlfriend:

When Jon is still tiny, godfather Bruce scores extra babysitting hours by lending Lois one of his grapple guns. Walking around with it in her bag makes her feel extra badass.

He taught her how to use it and got to keep Jon for a whole weekend.

Dear god, the idea of Lois with a grappling gun is TERRIFYING. 

Just imagine. You’re a CEO who’s been involved in some shady dealings, and they’ve come to light. You’ve spent the entire week dodging the press, and finally get a chance to relax in your office, safely behind three layers of security. 

As you make it to your office, you notice a slight draft. Huh, who left the window open, you wonder as you walk over to close it. You sink into your expensive office chair with a sigh. This week has been a nightmare. Sure, you may have payed off some politicians and stiffed some contractors, but you don’t think you deserve this kind of exhaustion. You’re a businessman, after all. Everyone does this, you were just the one with the bad luck to get caught.

Well, at least now you have some time to yourself. You yawn and start to doze off. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Paxton?” 

Your eyes shoot open. Who said that? Your vision focuses and there she is, hanging upside down from the ceiling. 

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“You gave her a grappling gun?”

Bruce barely glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to the infant he was shaking a set of plastic keys at. “Look, Jon. Who is that? Is that your daddy? Did he come to see you?”

“Actually, he came to ask Uncle Bruce why he and Mommy are conspiring to put Daddy in an early grave.” Clark held his arms out expectantly as Bruce gathered himself and Jon from the floor, inwardly sighing when Bruce stopped just short of his reach. “What?”

Bruce eyed his outstretched arms warily. “It’s Friday.”

“Yes…?”

“Lois said I could keep him until Sun-”

“Just give me my kid, Bruce.”

Bruce huffed his displeasure but did hand Jon over, and Clark could physically feel himself softening once his son was in his arms. Looking down at the bright-eyed, curly-haired little boy dressed in a Wonder Woman onesie and gnawing on a plastic key ring made it hard to remember why he was supposed to be annoyed with anyone.

Still…

“Seriously, Bruce? A grappling gun?” But he was smiling now, and it seemed to be enough to relax Bruce from his defensive posture.

“Yes?” One shoulder lifted in the barest shrug. “You already knew she had it.”

“I knew she carried it around sometimes, not that she knew how to use it.”

“She didn’t. Until I showed her. …That why I get to keep him until Sunday.”

Clark tore his eyes away from his son to fix his best friend with a look of resigned disbelief. “You traded grappling gun lessons for a weekend of babysitting.”

Bruce stared back at him impassively. “Yes.”

Clark let the silence stretch a few seconds before prompting, “Do I have to ask why?”

“Well, she didn’t seem interested in the Batarangs.”

“Bruce…”

“And there was no way I was letting her drive the Batmobile, so-”

“Bruce.”

Bruce gave him another few seconds of emotionless stare-down before his brow furrowed just slightly. “Dick’s at the shore with the Gordons this weekend.”

Clark suppressed another sigh, bouncing Jon a little in his arms. “You know, she would have let you watch him if you’d just told her you were gonna be bored and lonely. Hell,” he continued before Bruce could protest the very idea of sharing his feelings, “she probably would have said yes if all you did was ask.”

“Don’t swear in front of the kid.”

“She actually likes you, Bruce.”

“I know that,” Bruce insisted, stressing the verb in a way that told Clark he really wasn’t so confident. “We’ve known each other longer than you have.”

“Exactly.” But, wow, that was always weird to be reminded of. That Bruce and Lois had an entire history, relationship, and world that didn’t involve Clark at all or only tangentially at best. It didn’t bother him at all. It was just weird.

(And since that world was at least partially comprised of bizarre baby-bartering, it was probably one he was content not to be a part of.)

“You don’t have to be so…” Intimidated? No, not a good word to use. How about… “Hesitant about these kinds of things. And you don’t have to trade favors.” And it was maybe a little unfair when coupled with his next words, but Clark gave him the most beaming, disarming, sincere smile in his arsenal. “You’re family, B.”

Bruce’s eyes widened just a fraction of a fraction, his face warming with the beginnings of a flush before he caught himself and looked away, and yes, that had been completely unfair and uncalled for, but Clark didn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty.

“God,” Bruce muttered, glaring determinedly at the wall. “Fine.”

Clark beamed even brighter, unable to resist pressing just a little more. “Okay…?”

“Okay! Yes, fine. Stop smiling.”

“Not happening.” He did, however, tone his grin down to emotionally manageable levels for Bruce and turned its powers to Jon for a moment, chuckling. “But seriously, B. A grappling gun?”

“Why not?” Bruce shrugged again. He was still staring at the wall, but his glare had relaxed. “Seems to make her happy.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Her job’s already dangerous.”

“So why add to it?”

“It’d only really be adding to it if she were bad at it. But she’s pretty good.”

“Pretty good?”

“She could stand a little more upper body strength if she really wanted to master it.” Something like… not quite fear, but maybe apprehension flickered in Bruce’s eyes, and he looked quickly back to Clark. “You can tell her that.”

Clark’s grin turned mischievous, and a singsong note snuck into his voice. “You’re afraid of her…”

“Of course I’m afraid of her. I’m smart.”

Clark gave a half-shrug and nod combo. “Granted. But still, I’m not-”

“Listen, Clark…” Bruce cut him off, his shoulders and mouth sagging in the way that signaled he was resigning himself to open and clear communication. “I know I don’t have to remind you, but Lois can take care of herself.”

Clark stopped himself before he could open his mouth, holding Jon a little closer and letting Bruce continue.

“I know she… I know we’re all fragile… squishy little humans you can’t help but want to brood over like a hen on a nest. Yes, I know I’m one to talk, shut up. But we’ve been watching out for ourselves a long time before you showed up. We’re happy to… We’re grateful that you’re here to help. But you don’t have to hold our hands the whole way.”

Clark once again let a measured silence pass. Then he tilted his head to the side. “Are you saying you want to hold hands, Bruce?”

Bruce looked the least impressed Clark had ever seen him. “We were having a moment.”

“I know.”

“You ruined it.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Not enough to stop grinning entirely, but he did incline his head concedingly. “You’re right, though.” Lois had already said as much earlier. (Again, weird.) “But I’m always going to worry.”

“Fine, worry. Obviously. God knows I’ve called Dick three times already today, and the most risky thing he’s doing is eating amusement part hot dogs.” Bruce’s gaze flicked to the phone sitting on the couch, and Clark suspected he would have made more than three calls if he hadn’t been distracted by Jon. “Just maybe not so much that you barge into my house in the middle of the day in full uniform.”

Jon chose that moment to pat at the “S” on Clark’s chest, giggling, and Clark passed a sheepishly glance between them. “Noted.”

“Good.”

“But for the record, you’ve got negative room to be talking about barging into people’s homes in full uniform at any time of the day.”

“Also, noted.”

“Also, good.”

Bruce dropped his eyes to the tiny, babbling child in Clark’s arms and smiled for the first time since Clark got there. “Besides, Kansas, Lois might actually be safer this way.”

“How do you figure?”

“Now she’s got a way to save herself when she’s pushed off a building for the… What is it now? The twenty-eighth time?”

“Twenty-seventh,” Clark said with a sigh then blinked. “That… is true. She’s really annoyed by that.”

“So I’ve heard. And…” Bruce’s smirk was practically gleeful. “Think of how this broadens our combined horizons for inconveniencing Luthor.”

“That is a… very good point.” Clark nodded slowly, gaze drifting upward. “Perry, too. He was so pi-” His eyes darted down to Jon. “Ticked off today.”

“I bet.”

“And Steve moped for three hours about how he didn’t get to have a grapple gun…” Clark shook his head, meeting Bruce’s gaze again when a defeated laugh. “Okay, I give. You’re right. This is a win-win.”

Bruce smiled with false modesty, his tilted head and open-palmed shrug clearly saying, “Yes, of course I’m right, Clark. Thanks for joining us.”

“Yeah, yeah, Batman’s right, and Superman’s wrong. Film at 11.”

“Technically, Batman and Lois are right, and-”

“Do you want the kid back or not?”

“Yes, please.” Bruce shut his mouth and held his arms out to receive Jon, who started making grabbing motions with his tiny hands once he saw who he was being handed off to and gurgled happy nonsense once settled against Bruce’s shoulder, patting at his face with the plastic keys.

“What?” Bruce asked in response to Clark’s raised eyebrow, and this time his smirk was positively shit-eating. “Aliens love me.”