Chapter Text
**Author's Note: And here we are at the end! Thank you for everyone who has followed me up until now. What a ride. This story mutated so far beyond its original outline, but I'm pretty pleased with how it went, and it inspired more. If you liked this story, please follow me to Part II: Family of the Year...Because No One Else Entered the Contest. Chapter One is of it is up.**
Chapter 12
Clark Kent is a Dad
Clark had never been to Vegas. He’d only seen movies about shotgun weddings that had to be annulled in twenty-four hours. They’d landed in a private airport and a black, stretch limousine met them on the ground. Staff dressed like Secret Service loaded their overnight bags into the trunk and opened doors, referring to everyone—even the kids—as Mr. Wayne, Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent, and Mr. Pennyworth. The ride was strange. The limo had two rows of long seats, and then a back area with plush leather benches facing each other. Bruce and Clark sat on the front-facing one with Damian across from them. His ankle swelled on the plane. Alfred set the swollen joint in his lap, holding an ice pack to the injury. Tim was with Ma in the second row, looking like a prep school pirate, still in his khakis and collared shirt, while sporting a black eye patch beneath a pair of sunglasses and wearing thick blue mittens that made it difficult for him to scratch his eye. In the front, Jason was as far away from Clark and Bruce as possible, trying to maintain a mean and surly look that was completely negated by Robbie curled like a cat beside him with his head in his lap.
“Father, while I think this might be absolutely ludicrous…” Damian’s eyes sparkled, “it is also rather exhilarating. May I hold the rings?”
Clark’s head snapped to Bruce. The rings?
“Bruce, the—”
“I have them, Master Clark,” Alfred said. “Just relax, and yes, Master Damian, you may be the ring bearer.”
Bruce rubbed Clark’s back. “I’ve got everything worked out. You just be ready to say, ‘I do’ when it’s time.”
“You’re confident.” Clark leaned into Bruce.
“I’m Bruce Wayne,” said in the same tone he used when he declared, “I’m Batman.”
So, Clark believed him.
~*~
Getting their marriage license took all of fifteen minutes, and then, they were off to the Wedding Chapel. Ma was given the bride’s room and was being pampered by a makeup artist and had her choice of wearing the dress she had brought or choosing from a closet of gowns that could be quickly tailored on site. She had waved goodbye to Clark and skipped into a suite full of white flowers and champagne.
The groom’s suite was a good size, and accommodated Bruce, Clark, the boys, and Alfred. The clothes they’d brought were significantly finer than what the Chapel could provide, though Alfred spent extra time sprucing everyone’s collars and cuffs. Damian’s tux had to be adjusted for his swollen ankle and lack of a shoe on that foot and Tim was allowed to remove his mittens and pirate patch, though the sunglasses remained.
Jason sat on a white leather couch, grumpy, but not a black cloud as his brothers got ready around him. He wasn’t one for fuss and was through dressing before anyone else. He sipped from a bejeweled wedding edition can of soda he had gotten from the mini bar and crunched on trail mix. Clark cautiously made his way over, eyes asking Jason for permission before he sat next to him. Jason nodded after a moment and didn’t scoot to put distance between them.
“How are you feeling?” Clark asked.
Jason frowned. “I should ask you that. You’re the one about to star in your own reality show.”
Clark chuckled. He supposed he was about to go on stage. “I’m okay. Excited. Nervous because we haven’t had the best of luck lately.”
Jason hummed in agreement. “Never would have imagined you and Bruce getting hitched in Vegas.”
A truer statement had never been said. Clark studied Jason. His demeanor was easy, relaxed, different from how it had been in the limo. The atmosphere around him had changed. “You…um…still mad at us?”
Jason raised a brow. “Yeah, but I’m not about to f—mess up your wedding because of it. I don’t hate you. I can go back to being pissed about how unfair and overprotective you two are when we get home.”
Overprotective. “You—”
“Overprotective just tells me you love me, okay? I know that. But it’s stifling and infantilizing and I wanna stay cool and loose so I can clap for you when you walk down the aisle. So, let’s not talk about it, okay?”
Clark struggled to keep his mouth from flapping open as he stared at the boy. Jason took another sip of soda, then rolled his eyes as Robin approached. His black suit had a dark blue vest and matching tie that he was in the process of tugging off. He nearly plopped onto one of Jason’s thighs as he undid the top buttons of his shirt.
“Do I have to be in the pictures?”
“You don’t want to be in the pictures?” Clark was taken aback. Everybody needed to be in the pictures. This was his and Bruce’s time capsule. “Why don’t you want to be in the pictures?” Robin liked pictures.
Robin groaned and dragged a hand over his face as he let his head loll back onto the couch.
“He thinks he looks like shit,” Jason said, ever-so-helpful, as he polished off his soda. “Can’t have evidence of that floating around.”
“Ja—” Clark cut himself off. They had a truce. Jason could say what he wanted right now, but “Robbie, you look fine!”
“I’ve got great big bags under my eyes, I’m white as a gadjo and my hair sucks.” The teenage drama was real. He shut his eyes and pretended to die.
Jason laughed and Robbie elbowed him in the side. “It’s not funny.”
Clark sighed, reaching over Jason to rest the back of his hand over Robbie’s warm forehead. Fever made him whine. “Have you taken anything?”
Robbie scowled at him. “Alfred gave me Tylenol a few minutes ago.”
Bless, Alfred. Hopefully, the pills would cure ‘teenage mood’ before they were summoned into the chapel.
“Are you not going to wear a tie?” Tim sauntered over. “Does that mean I don’t have to wear a tie? This one feels tight.”
“You don’t have to wear it, Tim,” Clark said.
“Careful where you put that thing, butt-eye. You touched it with your gross fingers.” Jason cringed as Tim removed his tie and made to lay it on the end table next to the couch.
“I haven’t touched my eye!”
Clark breathed slowly, in and out, as Jase and Robbie snickered at Tim taking offense. “Hey, guys, just make sure you’re ready in ten minutes. Chapel call will come sooner than you think. Tim, carry a handkerchief, Jason, no gum, Robbie, cough drops.”
Damian hobbled over, crutches under his armpits, tie perfect, hair gelled.
“And Damian, you have the rings?”
“Yes, Kent.” Damian frowned at Tim. “Where is your tie, Drake?”
Tim held it up and Damian flinched back. “Do not touch me with it.”
Jason and Robbie laughed again. Tim’s flushed and brandished the tie like a whip, making his brothers all shrink away.
“Watch it with that!”
Clark rose from the couch, fleeing from the temporary insanity that was having children all the while asking himself if he was actually insane for being sure that he wanted those children. Forever. He walked backwards to the dressing room Bruce and Alfred were still inside, watching his kids laugh and tease each other, and giggled, giddy. He was marrying his family today. He could be the legal father of Robin, Jason, and Tim by the end of the month if everything worked out right, and maybe, just maybe, Talia would grant him guardianship of Damian.
Clark knocked on the dressing room door. “Almost done?”
The door opened, and Bruce stood, perfect in a black tux and black bowtie with a lily boutonniere pinned to his lapel. A lily, because they were Clark’s favorite flower, and because the blue brought out the color in Bruce’s eyes. Clark’s breath stuttered at the beauty of his chosen partner, hardly aware that he had grabbed Bruce’s collar, pulling the man toward him.
“Ahem.” Alfred coughed slightly. He stood behind Bruce in a smart black tux. “I do believe you will have plenty of time for that soon. Do not wrinkle this tux before then.”
Clark released Bruce so that he could step aside and let Alfred pass.
“You look amazing,” Bruce told Clark, hungry eyes gobbling him up. “Perhaps, we should honeymoon right after, instead of heading back. I could reserve a suite and we could let your mother and the boys fly home with Alfred.”
They could do that, only Clark had work. Bruce had work. Their scheduled wedding and honeymoon vacation days weren’t for another month, and Clark wanted to take all those days then—unless Ma had gotten her hands on the honeymoon plans, too. Oh, Clark pushed those thoughts aside, not wanting a headache, not wanting to be mad at Ma. Just wanting to be happy and over-the-moon because he and Bruce were tying the proverbial knot. And— “Bruce, you made sure to get the streaming package, right? Because Lois—”
“The wedding will be streamed for Lois to join. She has the link. My secretary sent it to her, and Diana, and Barry, and Hal, and Oliver, and Dinah…”
Clark nodded at the rambling list. He’d made it for Bruce, who’d emailed it to his secretary who handled the nitty-gritty while Clark and Bruce worried about getting themselves packed and on a plane.
A knock came at the main door. A woman in a white business dress was admitted by Alfred. She held a clipboard and smiled with shiny white veneers.
It was time.
Oh Lord, it was time.
Clark felt light-headed and heavy at the same time. His stomach was full of butterflies and lead. He was going to sing and throw up. He wanted to jump up and down, and faint. Bruce’s warm hand squeezed his and instantly, Clark’s world fell back into place, nerves gone, vision focused, body electric with energy.
“Ready, Superman?”
“Always, Bats.”
They linked arms and followed their procession of children into the hallway where their wedding coordinator, Julia, gave them the rundown of what was to happen. Clark’s hands trembled as he listened. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he gazed at his family also listening, paying attention so that nothing would go wrong. They all wanted this—to officially become a unit. Ma stepped into the circle, beautiful in a blue gown that would have matched the boys’ ties if they’d chosen to wear them, her hair in an updo, her makeup light and fresh. She kissed Clark’s cheek and let Julia know that she would be walking Clark down the aisle, like Alfred would be walking Bruce. Robbie, Jason, and Tim would march in first, followed by Bruce and Alfred, then Clark and Ma, and then Damian last with the rings.
They just had to wait for the music to begin.
Clark heard the opening bars of—he gasped…The Never-ending Story. He gaped at Bruce who winked and blew a kiss. “See you at the end of the aisle, love.”
~*~
A skinny Elvis in a traditional, glitter encrusted, white onesie, officiated the ceremony much to Clark’s delight. Ma squeaked but bit her lip and stated in a firm voice that it was she who was giving away Clark Kent that day. Alfred gave away Bruce. Then, she and Alfred went to sit in their front seats to watch the ceremony unfold. Robbie, Jason, and Tim stood at Bruce’s side, Jason looking chill and easy-going, Robbie pale but beaming, and Tim dabbing his eyes with his handkerchief. The chapel was cozy, big enough for an audience of forty. The room was frosting-white with light wood trellises laced with fake vines and blue lilies. The wedding arch behind Elvis and all the powers vested in him was a wooden oval coated in plastic leaves and flowers. Soft candlelight cast a romantic glow on the setting. The camera streaming the event sat at the end of the snowy carpet runway that led up to the altar. A sound system, speakers nestled in the high corners of the room, played the sound of a babbling brook in the background.
Damian came down the aisle, managing to make walking on crutches look elegant. He passed the rings to Elvis, and moved to stand beside Tim.
Elvis asked if they wanted to say anything to each other, but Clark had no words. Bruce looked at him with dewy eyes and simply said, “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Clark breathed. He gazed past Bruce at the boys. “And you. We’re all getting married.”
And there were no rolling eyes or fake gags, just nods of agreement. This was about to be real. It was happening. Elvis gave a ring to Clark and to Bruce and had them recite after him.
“With this ring, I thee wed, and pledge you my love and devotion, now and forever. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Till death do us part.”
Clark heard himself saying the words but didn’t feel his lips forming them. He was disconnected from his body, floating above the ceremony, a spectator, as he slid the ring on Bruce’s ring finger. And then his beautiful Bruce told him the same, and carefully slid on the other ring, drawing Clark back into his body.
“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married spouses.”
And Clark was finally able to wrinkle Bruce’s tux as Elvis sang ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.’ Smaller arms wrapped around Clark’s waist and back. The boys had joined them, hugging. Clark released Bruce so that he could fully embrace his sons as well. He laughed at the tears in Bruce’s eyes and wondered if he had ones of his own. His face didn’t feel wet.
Bruce patted himself for a handkerchief, grunting at not finding one and reaching over, plucking the nearest hanky from a hand and dabbing at his eyes—“Bruce, no, that’s—!”
Tim stood, eyes wide, mouth in a perfect ‘O’, hand empty because Bruce held his handkerchief.
Clark covered his mouth with both hands as peals of laughter poured from him. Jason and Robbie howled with laughter, as Damian stared, aghast, and Tim froze in horror at Bruce who demanded a clean handkerchief and some water. Alfred sprang up to get them. Ma stood back, an odd smile on her face as she watched. Clark, concerned, turned to go to her, but Robbie chose that moment to choke on his laughter, coughing hard and doubling over. Clark jumped at the sudden eruption and patted Robbie’s back. Jason extracted a sparkly can of soda—why Jason?—from his tux pocket and got Robbie to drink until he calmed down.
All the while, Elvis kept crooning. “Some things, you know, are meant to be.”
And they truly were.
Clark giggled as Bruce wet a handkerchief and tried to disinfect his eyeballs, while Tim apologized, Damian scoffed, Jason and Robin shared a soda and kept laughing, and Alfred… Alfred went to talk to Ma and they held hands, Ma’s eyes twinkling at Clark as she smiled at him. Clark winked and blew a kiss, then joined Jason and Robbie in laughter.
Brimming with happiness, and bubbling over with joy, Clark felt complete.
The itchy threat of pink eye, a singing Elvis and cackling teenagers had made Clark’s time capsule wedding one of the best memories he had.
And it was all being recorded. Clark laughed harder, knowing that he had the instant Bruce realized he’d wiped his eyes with Tim’s handkerchief digitally immortalized—and Lois had seen—because Clark knew she wouldn’t miss watching his wedding for the world. He caught the unheated ire of Bruce’s weak glare in his direction. His husband couldn’t hold the scowl, letting it dissolve into a leer that set Clark’s heart ablaze with a passion he couldn’t act on until they could get back into that dressing room and lock the door.
He settled for hugging his giggling boys again and turning them all to look directly at the camera. “Everybody say ‘hello’ to Lois!”
Clarks almost fell over at Bruce’s horrified expression. Bruce had forgotten about the camera. All the boys were cracking up now—even Damian—and Ma and Alfred joined the party.
Clark huffed through his mirth and choked out, “Say ‘hello’ on three. One, two…”
“Hello, Lois!”
You lose, universe. Best. Day. Ever.
~*~
The flight to Gotham was interesting.
Tim sat in the first row of the small jet with Alfred and Ma, back in his eyepatch, sunglasses and mittens, looking pouty and remorseful as Damian complained of itchy eyes and was put in a new pair of mittens produced from Ma’s big purse. Bruce, wearing sunglasses to mask his reddening eyes, sat in the back of the plane with Clark…nursing teenagers with hangovers.
Alfred had been the one to inspect Jason’s fancy soda cans after he and Robin had become endlessly silly during the reception. The soda had been Coca Cola…Jack Daniels Coca Cola, decorated for weddings in such a way that the Jack Daniel’s logo was hidden beneath hot glued pearls and rhinestones. Bruce lodged a complaint after Jason threw up on his shoes. Clark shook his head, because the universe was trying to make a comeback, but it couldn’t win. Not with him wearing Bruce’s ring and Bruce wearing his.
Alfred had the marriage certificate in his belongings and had the document duplicated and sent to Bruce’s lawyers. They were safe, and official, and—
“I’m gonna throw up again.”
Clark held the airsick bag for Jason as he filled it.
—and parents.
Bruce, holding a bag under Robbie, as he rubbed the teen’s back, grinned at Clark, and mouthed, “I love you.”
Clark smiled. “Love you, too.”
“It is all your fault I am infected, Drake! You owe it to me to remove the sock from over my splint and to scratch my foot!”
“It’s not my fault you forgot to wash your hands, and touched your face after—”
Clark honestly enjoyed the chaos. It was life. His life. Jason retched again, and Clark stroked his back, humming The Never-ending Story.
His and Bruce’s story.
~*~
The urgent message came in the form of Diana and Oliver meeting them at the airport. Bruce and Clark sent Ma, Alfred and the kids home without them, while they traveled through the nearest Zeta Tube system with Diana and Oliver to Mount Justice.
Guilty young heroes dug their toes into the ground and tried to appear busy and not listening as Clark and Bruce were taken to the briefing room where the rest of the League waited with someone new. Clark frowned at the hooded figure in white. The person was tall and muscular, but something about their frame hinted that they weren’t finished growing yet—a teenager, then. A new partner for someone?
“What’s this about?” Bruce asked. “We do have…important affairs that need to be sorted.”
“Yes, congratulations are at hand!” Hal said with laugh and an awkward cough at the pointed looks from everyone else. Hal, Diana, J’onn, Oliver, Barry, and even Arthur sat at the long table with Bruce and Clark standing on the other side, like people on trial.
“Should we take our seats?” Clark asked, motioning to the empty chairs reserved for Superman and Batman.
“Um, no,” J’onn said. “Barry, maybe you should…”
Barry blurred, moving from his seat to stand next to Clark. “So, our partners went a little rogue and investigated a facility without consent and made a discovery.”
“Which facility?” Batman’s growl caught Clark by surprise. Bruce’s sunglasses obscured his face, protecting his identity from the newcomer, but that voice told anyone who didn’t know Batman was in the building.
“Project Cadmus.”
Clark frowned. “What’s that?”
“It’s a research center, just outside of Metropolis.” Barry fidgeted. “They specialize in genetic engineering and…um, cloning.”
“And what was discovered?” Bruce pressed.
Clark’s heart sped up at the apprehensive looks he was receiving from the other Leaguers. Barry was definitely nervous, and the new sidekick’s heart was hammering. Clark smelled sweat and…and something else. Something familiar.
“Well…” Barry started but was interrupted by the sidekick stepping forward.
“Hey, not yet—” Hal tried to stop the kid, but the boy came around the table.
He threw back the hood of what looked to be an overlarge white robe and unzipped the front of a white jumpsuit to reveal…
…the El family crest.
Blue eyes that mirrored his own met his.
“What…” Clark stepped back as the boy with his face glared at him.
Barry sighed. “Half of his DNA is yours, Clark, which makes him…”
“My son.”
For the second time that day, Clark was light-headed.
His son.
“B-Bruce?” Clark tore his gaze from the boy’s—from his son’s, to find his fia—no, his husband’s.
Batman was gone, superseded by Bruce again. A dazed Bruce who moved closer to Clark, standing in solidarity as he said, “I’ll tell Alfred to air out another room in the family wing.”
Family.
Clark swallowed, nodding. Looking back at…at his son as the boy seemed to drink him in, as well. “Do you—do you have a name?”
The boy shook his head.
“Okay, we’ll work on that,” Clark said slowly. He didn’t know if he should touch the boy, or smile at him. Hadn’t a clue on what to say to assure him. “I’m… My real name is Clark, and this is my husband, and you’ll meet the rest of the family soon. If… Can we take him? Did you call us here to take him?”
“Clark…” Barry was grimacing.
The rest of the League still looked apprehensive.
“What? What is it now?” Clark asked, stomach doing a backflip. Were there more children?
“The other half of his DNA…”
“The mother?” Clark asked. “Who is she?”
“He,” Diana corrected, and Clark blinked.
His DNA was combined with that of another man’s? He looked at Bruce again, hoping he didn’t feel betrayed. Though Clark had had nothing to do with anything, it just felt wrong.
“The other donor is…Lex Luthor.”
The world went gray and white as the universe won the final round.
Clark had offspring with Lex Luthor.
Two sets of blue eyes swam in Clark’s refocusing vision.
One pair belonged to Bruce.
The other pair belonged to his son…with Lex Luthor.
Clark groaned and covered his eyes.
Clark Kent is Superman
Clark Kent is married.
Clark Kent is a dad with Bruce Wayne…and Lex Luthor.
He laughed and batted away the hands reaching down to help him up, wanting to stay prone as he fully savored the chaos that was life. His life.
“Are you humming The Never-ending Story?” Bruce asked.
“I’m humming our story,” Clark murmured and opened his eyes, smiling at Bruce…and his son. “Let’s go home.”
His son looked uncertain but stood as Bruce helped Clark to his feet.
“You really want to take me home with you?” the boy asked.
Clark didn’t hesitate to touch him this time, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder, holding on as the boy stiffened then relaxed. “Where else would I take family?”
“Family,” the boy echoed.
“Let me call Alfred first,” Bruce said.
“And let me give you a rundown on what you should expect at home,” Clark said, gazing at the eyes of the Leaguers studying them in open curiosity. “Maybe alone.” He gestured to Bruce that he was going to take the boy out of the room, and Bruce nodded, already on his cell phone.
As Clark walked the boy from the debriefing room, he heard Barry ask, “Before you put that call through, Bruce, what’s up with your eyes?”
Clark bit back a chuckle as he patted his son’s shoulder and began to talk. “That man back there is your stepdad, and he’s going to be the stepdad of the year. But if you want, he could be your real dad, too. It’s been a crazy day for us, but I’m sure not as crazy as yours. If you’re comfortable, tell me your story, and I’ll tell you ours.”
THE END…for now.
**Author's Note: Once again, thank you all so much for seeing this through to the end. I never intended for this story to take so long to write, or for there to be a sequel. But there is! I'd love it if you all decided to continue on with me. Take care!**