Chapter Text
“Bruce, why do you have a cow in the cave?”
Bruce sighs. It’s been a long week.
“Damien saved her.” Bruce says, back to scanning the surveillance footage. He knows Tim has breached his private lab of kryptonite variants for god-knows-what reason but the boy will continue to evade him until he has proof, and probably still after that.
“What kind of a stall is this?” Clark asks from where they’ve stashed the cow.
“We threw something together.” Bruce says. “We weren’t exactly prepared.”
“You, unprepared?” Clark tosses his curl, hands on his hips, smile wry. “Never.”
Bruce looks away before he does something stupid.
“I’ve got it under control,” he says. “Everthing will be sourced. Bedding, food, milking tools.” The cave smells vaguely of cow shit.
Clark gives him a look.
“She’s a beef cow,” he says, “and she doesn’t have a calf. There’s nothing to milk.”
“Don’t call her a beef cow in Damien’s earshot.”
“It’s the type of cow she is.”
“Where are you going to put her?”
“We can let her graze on the lawn.”
“Your lawn?” Clark squawks. “Your flawless manicured Wayne Manor front lawn? First, the pesticides will kill her, and second, Alfred will kill you after he sees what she’s done to it.”
“We can take her to the park?” Bruce says weakly. Clark just looks at him.
“You know nothing about cow care, do you?”
“I can research.” Bruce says.
“You do that.” Clark says. “I’m taking the cow.”
oOo
Damien fusses, whines, and also attempts to access the kryptonite lab, but finally he acquiescences under the condition of weekly visits and the promise of a future Wayne Family Farm and Sanctuary once he’s learned enough about animal care.
Until then, Bruce drives him out once a week.
“I can fly him.” Clark says. “It would take me ten minutes.”
It’s the practical option. Logical. Batman doesn’t have the time for a weekly one hour flight and two hour drive. Bruce leans back in the porch rocking chair and eats his pie.
“I’m his father.” Bruce replies, scraping up the glistening apple. “He’s my responsibility. Besides.” He picks at a bit of straw that has clung to his pants. “I enjoy the drive.”
He watches Damien, who stands sternfaced and serious as Jon introduces him to his favorite chickens.
Clark gives him a look. “You don’t enjoy any ride that doesn’t go 80 or above. Thank God Afred drives you around.”
“I’m one of the best drivers in the multiverse.” Bruce says.
“Yeah, when you’re trying to catch a clown. I haven’t met a traffic law you didn’t break.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Bruce smiles slyly. “Breaking hearts is my specialty.”
“Har dee har har.” Clark says. He walks away to teach Damien how to collect eggs, Jon interrupting every other word to regale them with tales of being pecked and chased.
Bruce watches him go, feeling suddenly bereft on the porch with his pie. He looks down, shoves in another bite. Sweet and warm and perfect.
Martha always did make the best things.