Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Would you care to buy a branch of the freshly cut lilacs?"

The question caught Bruce Wayne off guard just when he took pride in slipping out of the Metropolis held National Convention Center unseen. A fox like desire to vanish before some randomly passing journalist recognised one of the main Convention participants formed a polite rejection to a minor obstacle, but the words stilled and melted away on his lips like the lingering snow in the warmth of spring.

Usually, Bruce enjoyed all advantages his height offered, including overlording into submission the disagreeable parties. Here, the billionaire nearly had to tilt his chin up to face an earnest smile of a man not much older than twenty. The slanted sun rays cascaded onto the stranger's wavy hair and broad shoulders, and danced on the dark eyelashes. It looked like every fibre of his being was made of light. The enchanting, cornflower eyes peculiarly remained wide open out of a shadow on a very bright day.

The young man waited, holding out to Bruce an armful of flowers that rested in his embrace like the violet stars scooped up from the night sky. There was a pleasant ringing in the alpha's head and his mind drifted void of a single word.

"Oh... do you prefer the tulips then or some other spring flowers?" the smile playing on the perfectly sculpted lips turned to puzzlement since the customer wasn't leaving nor expressing a wish to buy a bouquet.

"I prefer lilacs..." Bruce issued dumbfounded, "or tulips." Or florists, his mind supplied.

Spooked by a bunch of an overly excited pups kicking a ball across the cobblestone road, a pack of pigeons rose into the air with the hoots of protest at having their ground occupied by so many people. The birds took refuge on the cornices of the nearby buildings. The pause was filled with music spilling out of a wide open window and laughter of the passers-by as the young man tried to make sense of his claim.

"I guess I cannot decide which flowers I like best either because each kind is beautiful in its own way. The tulips are lean and hold with grace the curved, elegant lines. The lilacs are like a friendly family. Each branch is keeping all the little stars together. Maybe you can choose based on how soon you need a bouquet? I have the lilacs with me. The tulips are at our shop not far from here and sometimes I sell them at the Garden Gate."

"Your description of the lilacs wins me over," Bruce thought about his family and a pup he had to leave in Gotham, not as perfect as he wished it to be, but he was trying hard. "I would like them as it's important to support the notion of cherishing your family," instinctively Bruce ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the young man. Not the fake smile reserved for pleasing the general public. This one appeared without effort prompted by the stranger's genuine disposition.

"What a beautiful reason! I think I'm going to favour the lilacs a little bit more after hearing it," the young man confessed with a hint of guilt like an older brother who could never pick which sibling they loved more.

Fascinated, Bruce watched the play of emotions on the fair face aglow upon hearing a touching sentiment. The alluring fragrance of the blooming flowers swam about them like a cloud and beneath it by stepping closer the alpha distinguished another scent that was making his head spin - that of an unbound omega.

On the other end of the square the crowd at the hub of activity began to thin as the convention members disentangled from the web of the quizzical questions and escaped.

"How many would you like?" the florist prompted timidly after another long lasting pause.

I want to hold what was held in your arms and find a fragile bond in doing so, Bruce thought. Then, maybe, some light might reach me as well.

"All of them!"

The prices drawn with a careful hand on a piece of paper taped to the basket's side were very fair. To his charging, Bruce discovered that he didn't have enough cash. Hence the petty robbers imagined that multi-billionaires stored their cash in a pocket instead of a bank, it was a fine joke that a luckless hunter of quick fortunes would have come up empty handed, not that the Gotham vigilante would have been caught out in the first place. Except, this gleeful sentiment at present put him in a ridiculous position.

"Are you a little short?" the florist sensed his discontent, not for the first time encountering such a problem.

"I suppose, I've overestimated how much I have with me."

"It's all right. We can make an exchange with what you have!"

"I could..."

"I can't possibly charge you so much after hearing your reason!"

There was a powerful conviction sealed into the exclamation Bruce couldn't argue with. He intended to ask whether the young man could wait while he retrieved the lacking amount from the nearest bank. There was something underneath the mild, friendly exterior that made it impossible to reject the offer without offending the florist.

"Thank you," Bruce conceded. "Will it be acceptable to place the payment into the basket?"

The omega was wearing a pouch around his waist where he stored the earnings, but his hands were filled with flowers.

"Yes."

Bruce knelt to leave the money on the neatly arranged red cloth. Once he was up, the alpha held out his arms to accept the flowers. This gesture wasn’t met half way. While the omega turned to track the buyer, he was facing Bruce slightly wrong and held the bouquet like he was waiting for it to be taken from him. There was something off about those beautiful eyes. When the florist stepped into the building's shade, his pupils hardly dilated.

Stricken, Bruce stared at the omega. Why hadn't he taken notice before of a white cane and a turned inward tag that he had mistaken for a seller permit? Most likely, because the florist had spoken so eloquently about the flowers like he could truly see them. That description was touch based, he realised.

"Your breathing changed. Are you all right?" the omega sensed his change of disposition.

"I'm fine. I was admiring..."

"The flowers?" The young man interpreted his loss for words as sensitivity for the aesthetics. "I can imagine that something with a scent so divine is breathtaking."

"It is. Undeniably," said Bruce as their hands touched when the flowers were delicately passed into his care. The alpha expected calloused palms, but the omega's skin was as soft as the child's. The young man continued facing him politely for several more minutes after their exchange.

"Would you like to ask me something else about the flowers? I've learned a lot about them lately, so I might be helpful. But, if I don't know I'm sure my mother will!"

Intelligent question... what Bruce wouldn't have given for one. For someone who took pride in having his wits sharp about him, he must have forgotten to pack them before he left Gotham.

"I heard people submerge lilacs in bathtubs to preserve them longer."

"No one I know does that," the florist laughed. "They have so much pollen. You'll never finish cleaning your bathtub and the water will be all sticky. Nor does it help much with keeping them fresh. A simple glass vase with a daily changed fresh water would be best."

"I'll avoid mixing lilacs and bathtubs then. Unless they're bath oil."

Silence washed over them anew like water and lasted long enough to draw a bath.

"I better go then," Bruce made a step back still looking at the florist.

"Thank you for stopping by. I hope the rest of your day passes wonderfully."

"I'm sure it will. I'll take good care of the flowers."

The florist remained still for a few minutes, facing the direction in which the alpha left and then picked up his cane and the basket.

Bruce did not get far. Wondering why he was hiding, the alpha moved to a spot next to a fountain of a feminine statue holding a pot, out of which poured a crystal stream. His instinct proved trustworthy because not a moment later a tall brunette called out to the omega with a friendly familiarity.

"Hey Smallville!"

The starting journalist already had a formidable reputation to be recognised. She strived to unveil none of the florist's secrets, however, because the omega smiled at her brilliantly, comfortably allowing no other than Lois Lane to claim his elbow and let her guide him.

"You got your stock sold out so fast."

"I did! Everyone was here, exactly as you told me! I guess I'll be able to have lunch at home and then I might come back to try my luck some more. Days like these make me hopeful we might have enough by the end of the summer for the operation.”

“You better!" the journalist poked his shoulder playfully like she was passing on the energy to help the florist move towards his goal. "Keep your chin up and never give up.”

“It’s a lot easier when you have help. Thank you for taking me to this crowded place. I wouldn't have been able to sell so much without your advice."

"Hey, I'm pretty sure it's your angelic smile that sells the flowers rather than my modest contribution. I had work at the convention and figured I could get the pleasure of your company while walking here."

"Still, I'd like to thank you by inviting you to have lunch with us," the enthusiasm about a simple lunch was contagious. "You're walking me back to the shop anyway," the florist added pleadingly enough to compete with a basketful of lost puppies.

"Ugh! I really got to run, but you and your mother's cooking can distract Saint Peter from guarding those gates."

"I'll take that as a yes! You're welcome to drop by to have lunch with us any day without a specific invitation. You're such a good friend."

"Ah, as such a good friend am I entitled to a few little secrets then?” the journalist claimed mischievously. The omega’s face was like an open book and it filled with worry at the cheery intonations. “Do tell, did you meet Mr Right today?"

"This again?" the florist chuckled, blushing at the direction her thoughts have taken. "Why are you so convinced that anyone would even pay attention to me?"

"Because you're standing in public view all day long, looking pretty. I can't believe no one would take notice of you! Everyone in this city must be crazy!”

Although he was normally cautious around her kin, Bruce felt a surge of sympathy for the feisty young woman who treated the florist with such a protective zeal, while the omega passionately denied her accusations on behalf of the citizens.

“So, not even a little bit of flirting?"

"I don't think so. I did have a very pleasant conversation with one gentleman, however. He loves flowers and bought almost half of the basket not long before you showed up."

"Oh really?" Lois shot a piercing look around like she fully expected to find that fine gentleman in their nearest vicinity, which urged the vigilante to bolt behind an urn. Buying half a basket of flowers surely didn't stem from a complete indifference.

Nearly getting caught snapped the dark knight back to reality. What was he doing following a pair of civilians? A fine article this would make, 'A corporate billionaire stalks a local florist with a handful of flowers after short changing him!' Maybe the journalist would spare her friend a disturbing attention. Nonetheless, not only was it foolhardy to follow them, but the Gotham vigilante was going to be late for a private meeting with one of his primary suspects. Over the past two months there was an inflow of the latest experimental weapon models into his city. The targets were too well organised to imitate random incidents for that to be true. The sources pointed to Metropolis, while nothing in this large city ever passed without an explicit permission signed by Lex Luthor. It was best to scout the ground first by meeting the man, who covertly ruled nearly an entire city, as Bruce Wayne and then Batman was going to act accordingly.

Shaking off the webs of sweet madness and with the last glance at the florist and his escort, the vigilante turned back towards the square where the chequered taxis were waiting to fly the passengers to any part of Metropolis.

Chapter Text

Batman contacted Alfred late when the lights that glimmered in the tanned hotel room windows have died out. While the data was important, its exchange was brief. Their lingering reluctance to turn off the comm stemmed from the weariness of broaching a personal subject until the scraping of bats in the background didn't become painful between the dwindling phrases.

“Dick is having trouble sleeping. He won’t confess, but your absence if hard on him.”

Bruce gripped the window frame tight, gazing from the room on the top floor into Metropolis darkness. It was an instinct to watch over the city from above even if it wasn't his.

"Is it..."

"It's always dangerous where I'm investigating," Bruce ground out. Through their invisible connection he sensed a twinge or worry followed by a barely concealed excitement. "But, I will have time for him during the day."

"I can bring him this Thursday evening. Friday is the Career Day."

Bruce turned off the comm unburdened. He could spend two full days with Dick before his adopted son returned to school. It remained unknown what kind of days they were going to be. Their trust was still fragile and the passing of the child's parents was too fresh. Maybe he made a mistake and Dick needed a normal family with the two loving parents. Yet, would that kind of family be able to understand his wounds? The vigilante doubted it as he firmly pulled the curtain shut to prevent the early morning sun from disturbing him and got ready for bed. In some broken way they were helping each other mend. What kind of family was best for Dick? Somehow, the soul piercing blue eyes weaved into his contemplation of family before dreams claimed his body.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Contrary to his better judgement, Bruce returned to the Convention Square the following day, while waiting to meet one of his Metropolis contacts in the evening, not had he a wish the vigilante couldn't have found something more constructive to occupy his time.

The florist was there. The omega returned with a bright hope that his luck would continue like the previous day. For a while, Bruce was content inconspicuously navigating the square without losing sight of his man once.

Studying him, Bruce soon judged the young man's nature far too trusting. The florist never checked how much the buyers were giving him, believing they would pay fairly. Such conviction was an unknown peculiarity the omega seemed to be getting away with. Gotham didn't forgive such naivety.

'What are you doing now?' the alpha thought with a twinge of a fond amusement as the florist scratched behind an ear a stray dog that hobbled over waggling its tail energetically and put its front paws onto the young man's leg.

The florist went up to a water fountain and placed his hands under the stream, correcting it to spill from the basin. With a happy yelp, the stray caught some of the liquid into its mouth and then put its back under a pleasant shower on a very warm day, not forgetting to wash his companion too as he shook his fur. The florist laughed at the cascade and said something to the animal before proceeding to the bench where he comfortably arranged his flower basket and a shoulder bag.

The dog put its front paws on the bench in agitation as the cloth was neatly arranged and onto it the florist placed a bottle of milk and a wrapped sandwich. A small sucking in the pit of his stomach reminded Bruce that he neglected supper and breakfast as the large clock atop of the main building showed time for lunch.

Joining in on the feast, two birds swooped down from a cornice. A white pigeon, and his mate coloured by light grey spots, landed onto the young man's head while the other occupied his shoulder as the florist scooped up the crumbs from his sandwich and offered it to the birds in the palm of his hand.

How did the omega grow up that tall when all his lunches were apparently fed to the begging squirrels, cats and the friendly pigeons? He really was going to be left without a morsel. The last consideration prompted the alpha to approach and call out to his observation subject.

"Excuse me..."

The young man startled. A dropped bottle of milk slipped through Bruce's fingers in spite of his best effort of catch it before it shattered against the cobblestones. The sandwich didn't reach the ground. Never missing an opportunity, the stray grabbed it mid air and with a growl at Bruce sprinted away because a nearby flock of birds looked ready to deprive him of a part of the meal.

"I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. We shared a conversation yesterday and I thought I would come by to say hello."

"Oh, I remember you," the omega quickly recovered from fright and smiled in recognition. "We talked about the best ways to preserve the lilacs."

"What are you doing!" Bruce exclaimed, dropping onto his knees to grab the florist's hands as the young man reached for the dangerously glimmering shards. The alpha's heart sped up at holding his hands. They were large and strong, yet so delicate, the fingers that held the flower stems and never damaged a petal.

"Often, there are pups playing around in this area. I don't believe the janitors will be cleaning up until the end of the day. I can't allow the pups to get hurt accidentally because of my clumsiness."

"That was due to my lack of tact rather than any fault on your part. I'll clean it up."

The alpha bought a newspaper from a nearby stand and painstakingly gathered the shards onto it. There was a light drumming in his chest where the heart was beating a bit quicker than usual. The florist could have cut himself badly collecting those shards in the blind without any gloves on. The omega looked anxious like he wanted to help and wasn't sure what to do with his hands, but Bruce was relentless in not asking. Once the hazard was taken care of and having placed his hands under the same water stream used by the florist earlier, Bruce came back to the bench.

"I truly do feel awful about depriving you of lunch," the alpha apologized again. "I'd like to make up for it."

"Don't feel bad. There wasn't much left of it anyway."

"Nonetheless. At the very least I could get you a drink, any drink," the alpha added just the right amount of playful arrogance to his words. "I happen to be very good at hunting down just about anything. Whatever it is, name it."

"Is that so? Why do I feel like believing you? I am very fond of the salted caramel mocaccinos."

"Is that all?"

"With a skinny coconut milk and whip! But, you won't able to get it."

"Is that a challenge?"

A reckless abandonment arose in a flash at the innocent provocation.

"The truck selling them across the square plays a certain melody and when it ends it's going to leave this area. The melody is about to end."

...

"Sir?"

There was a whirlwind in place where the alpha used to stand half a second ago. Bruce was probably breaking a human speed limit. Adrenaline drummed in his temples. The rush of wind, the alpha bent to his will and sped up even more. The omega had an outstanding hearing. Bruce distinguished the melody only coming closer to his target. The alpha leapt over a kissing couple on a bench. The girl's indignant squeak left far behind with the wind before her boyfriend took offence.

The last few notes died out and the engine ignited. The alpha bolted into a pedestrian arch, daring a shortcut. He intercepted the truck before it turned onto a larger road at the intersection. Ignoring the screeching breaks and the bulk halting an inch away, Bruce pacified the driver's angered gesticulation, by gesturing that he wanted to buy something.

It took effort to walk rather than run back without losing an armful of treats due to a shadow of concern that the florist may have taken him for a boast and left. Bruce was much relieved upon finding the handsome figure blanketed in the sunlight still waiting for him on the same bench, a few flowers less left in the woven basket. The alpha joined him, grinning ear to ear with a sense that catching the truck was his greatest accomplishment of the week.

"I had faith you could do it even if it seemed impossible," the omega claimed once Bruce presented his hard won trophies.

"I thought it would be a shame not to take advantage and neglect buying full lunch, given how I've missed it too. Unless you believe it to be too invasive, I'd be delighted to share your company."

"I'd like to have lunch with you!"

Bruce felt an impish delight when the florist squeezed his eyes shut in an unmasked pleasure after taking a sip and declaring the drink to be the best mocaccino.

"You're my hero!" the omega announced passionately. "What is your name?"

"Bruce."

"I'm Clark! It's a pleasure to find out your name at last! Oh...!" the florist covered up his mouth like he said a bit too much. "I'm sorry, I wondered after our conversation yesterday."

"I'm glad I've learned your name too."

It was a little detail, which left Bruce pierced by light in knowing Clark thought about him after they've parted.

"You have a pigeon feather in your hair."

The blue eyes widened.

"I do?!"

The omega ran a hand through his locks, missing the little speck.

"Here."

Bruce couldn't have explained a minor thrill in removing the feather when his fingers lightly brushed the dark locks.

"I suppose, I have no choice now but to get married within a year," the omega chuckled. "It's our neighbour, Mrs Williams. She believes in all sorts of omens. She also says that breaking the dishes is good luck."

"Do you believe it too?" Bruce concealed his intense disapproval for all that gibberish.

"Not really. I believe she just makes these things up to stay positive about the mishaps. I like her philosophy!"

"It doesn't seem very realistic to live by," Bruce pointed out.

"Oh, it's very realistic for me! It will be most useful right away because I'll probably stain my shirt or pants with this food," the florist said cheerfully, arranging the napkins to minimise the damage.

"Here."

Bruce helped arrange his share too on Clark's lap and chest, kicking himself for being so inconsiderate and not getting more. There was more touching as he guided the florist's hands to show him where everything was and describing the food laid out between them.

The florist adapted very quickly. He selected a spring roll and dunked it into a plum sauce, visibly enjoying every little bite. His foot dangled to a melody about spring playing in his mind. A thin trail of plum sauce stained his upper lip. Clark licked it away.

Bruce openly stared as a pink tongue removed the sticky trail from a finely shaped mouth. A forgotten, heavily gravy covered fry precariously dangled on his fork and with a satisfactory plop landed onto his thigh. Bruce growled. Alfred was going to hate the oily blob.

The florist giggled. Clark tried to suppress the laugher, which made it bubble up inside him and come out muffled.

"I'm sorry! You sound so annoyed. Have the chicken nuggets arisen from the plate and attacked you?"

"No, those were the French fries. It looks like you've gotten away clean, while I played the slob."

"You speak like it was a contest," Clark had to put his food down because he was openly laughing now.

"I may have underestimated your philosophy. Is there an omen that says if you drop a second fry onto your pants the person who does your laundry won't give you a stink eye for it?"

"I'm sure there is one declaring, should you say sorry very sweetly they wouldn't."

"I'd gladly raise a toast to the beauty of such easy forgiveness," Bruce mused, not withholding his doubt that he didn't believe in such easy ways.

"There is plenty of beauty in this world in various forms and colours surrounding us when you're willing to see it."

The vigilante was taken aback by the sheer conviction breaking through the decrepit and ugly that marred the world.

"Yes. There is," Bruce agreed, watching stray sunlight capture the life and vibrancy shining in his companion's eyes, and engraving this instance into his memory.

"Some things are so beautiful, you can hardly breathe."

Chapter Text

The Blooming Creek Park, chosen for their walk with Dick's approval, had truly earned its name. Bright but not too heat exhausting, the May sun poured over the pink and yellow tree crowns and slipped onto the shaded paths. The air hummed with bees colliding in midair only to resume their madly rush from one blossom to another.

Awed by the area's brightness, so different from Gotham and in a sense exposing, Dick kept close to his father, clutching a kite in one hand. The other kept bumping into Bruce's free arm until it tentatively slipped into his hold.

The pair glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes and Bruce squeezed his son's hand ever so slightly. The gesture reassured the child who began studying the surroundings, gradually easing into smiling back at the couples who snuck out of school for lunch and mothers with kids, passing them by. Some visitors held tulips, which reminded Bruce of the florist. He wandered what Clark was doing. The lovely weather gathered plenty of people at the park, even during a work day.

Eventually assured that his father wasn't going to disappear, Dick released him on the verge of a green area in favour of unfolding the kite. The bird-like toy was laughing at its young owner's attempts to uplift it. A mild wind lazily elevated it above the ground only to drop it. Too stubborn to surrender, Dick broke into his fastest run. His cheeks turned red and hair stuck up sweaty. The valiant effort paid off as the toy was caught by a fresh stream and rushed towards the sun. Grinning ear to ear and laughing, Dick waved to Bruce in triumph, completely forgetting to watch where he was going.

"Watch out!"

The warning stuck in his throat. Bruce covered half of the field in a few leaps. There was a fairly steep slope leading to the river bank. The child's foot sunk into emptiness. The released kite spun out of control into the nearest tree branches. The vigilante's heart dropped into his stomach when his son disappeared from view.

"Hi there, little guy. I got you!"

That voice! Bruce nearly toppled down the slope too, throwing his arm out to regain balance on the very edge. Dick was held safe in the arms of...

"Clark!"

The florist was sitting on a blanket unfolded on the slope when Dick rolled into him. The ever present basket was next to them almost empty of tulips. Aside from a smudge across his cheek and a few grass blades stuck in his hair, the child was fine.

"Bruce?"

The florist passed the offspring to the concerned parent. Feeling like his legs were about to give out, Bruce took a seat on the ground to count Dick's limbs and bruises. The youngster was startled by the fall, but otherwise fine. He snuggled into Bruce's arms readily when the comfort was offered.

"Thank you for catching him. This could have ended with a sprain." Bruce didn't add with a twisted neck. He was quite a miserable excuse for a parent, letting his son fall like that within an hour of watching him. "This is Dick."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Clark greeted the child brightly. "It was nice of you to drop in like this."

Realising he wasn't in trouble, Dick returned a friendship inviting smile.

"Why do you have a stick like that?" he pointed at the white cane. "It doesn't look strong enough to defend against robbers."

A displeased warning by his father came laced with a chuckle since Clark didn't take offence.

"Why would anyone want to rob me?"

Dick stared at him like the florist was from another planet.

"The stick is used to check the ground in front of you as you walk. It's not for fighting," Bruce explained. "Clark needs it because he cannot see."

"Oh..." Dick's face fell. "Does it hurt?"

"Not at all. Sometimes I have headaches. Doctors say it's a positive sign of a possible healing. I would need an operation to prompt the recovery."

Like any child who didn't like the medical personnel much, Dick made a face. "I hope your doctor will be nice and you won't see him often."

"Thank you, pup. Why don't you two take a seat beside me on the blanket. The grass is fresh and can easily stain. I can scoot."

"Ok!"

Since Dick accepted for both of them, eager not to get in trouble over getting messy, Bruce moved them beside the omega. The blanket wasn't very big. It had enough room for the three of them to sit fairly close to each other. Dick was out of breath. A long break was in order. That aside, the alpha was interested in sharing a conversation with the florist.

"How did you know we were sitting next to you if you can't see?" Dick asked.

"Your voices weren't coming from above, so I thought you're sitting down. As for judging the distance, everyone has personal space. They can feel if someone is right next to them. I sensed you were only a couple of steps away by the blanket. Also, it was unlikely that Bruce would move far after I placed you into his arms."

"Oh, I get it."

"Your questions are observant," there was unmistakable fondness as the omega spoke, rather than fake complimenting aimed to suck up to the parent by targeting their child. "How old are you?"

"Almost nine!"

"You're practically all grown up," speaking brought memories, still vivid, like the coarse hair scraping against his palm, a steady rise and fall of a side as the animal breathed. "At your age I used to help my father and our neighbours tend animals at the farms in Kansas."

While Dick had little appreciation for doctors, he surely had all the delight in the world when it came to animals. His expression brightened, followed by an outpour of questions. What's their favourite food? Do you have elephants? What about birds?

The inquiries were only interrupted by an ice cream cart alerting all park children with a ringing bell. Succumbing to Dick's pleading eyes, Bruce climbed out of their nest to grab three cones. It was difficult to tell who was more excited by the threat, his son or Clark. The pair gleefully crunched down the waffle cones, doing their best to capture the occasional strawberry droplets sliding down the ice cream.

Bruce nursed his chocolate cone, doing his best to avoid adding to the mess, questioning why he bought the sweets for himself too. It had to be the fun-contagious company. Dick left a sticky handprint on the omega's shirt, while a large droplet from Clark's ice cream plopped onto the child's nose.

While there was a worried nudge that Dick usually was a lot more reserved with him, Bruce was pleased to find the child coming out of his shell. There was much he could have learned from Clark. It was a wander how someone who couldn't see was able to discern a child's essence to easily and reach out.

"What's your favourite colour?" eventually carried away by all the tales Dick asked and guiltily clammed a hand over his mouth. "Um... sorry," the pup mumbled. "I forgot."

"I'm not upset," to show that everything was fine the florist tapped his back. "It's a nice question because I actually have one. I wasn't born blind. When I was a baby I had sight. While I was too young to preserve clear memories of the events or objects, one thing I remember well is the sky. My parents were scientists who spent a lot of time travelling. This is why I still have memories of looking up at the beautiful blue expanse and it remains my favourite colour."

A piece of puzzle fell into place why the omega fascinated him so. For the child, the florist edited a tragic truth of how he had lost his sight. It became evident that Clark had experienced hardship and sorrow. They hadn't broken or embittered him. Bruce had always been attracted to strength. Here, it blazed under the mild mannered surface.

This day his energy presented itself in the form of keeping up with a lively child. Clark showed great delight in entertaining the youngster. All the excitement eventually tired Dick. Wedged between two adults, he dropped off for a nap.

The adults stopped talking too. Listening to the birds chirp in the branches and water splash against the bank pebbles, they sat side by side. Rather than watching the sky deepen from aquamarine to darker blue in the distance, Bruce caught himself looking at the omega once more. Plain put, Clark was handsome. The strong facial lines and stubbornly set chin were softened by a sea of azure in his eyes and an unruly curl in these circumstances playfully dropped across his forehead.

"Clark."

The omega's attention instantly turned to him. Why did he call out without a single request in mind? Maybe Bruce only wanted the florist to look his way.

"I would like to retrieve our kite from a tree. Can I trouble you to watch Dick meanwhile?"

"No trouble at all!" The smile meeting his request was blinding like the omega was honoured. "You're ok with trusting me with your son? Some people would be reserved in leaving their pup with me."

"I trust you will take care of him and Dick likes you a lot."

Shoving aside a pang of anger at some narrow minds, Bruce reached out to gather the omega's hand in reassurance. The touch instilled the necessary confidence reflected in the blue eyes that were always so sincere.

Clark listened to the alpha's footsteps, very light for a large man, as Bruce climbed up the slope. He was determined ensure the child was as comfortable as possible. It was tempting to hug the little form curled up next to his hip. But, Dick wasn't his pup. It would have been proper to ask for permission first. The omega reclined as well, placing his arm around the child without touching him. Bruce had to be nearby. With the youngster sleeping under his wing, the florist did his best to attune to the slightest movement, curious how the quest to get the kite off the tree was progressing.

The first twinge of alarm came from a violent jerk, followed by a whimper. As the adult called out to him gently, Dick threw out his arm, accidentally hitting the omega. The distressed mumbling and whimpers intensified. The child's breathing changed like he was witnessing something awful.

"Shhh... pup... It's all right. You're safe with me."

Unable to enter the world where the child was stricken by frightful dreams, Clark gathered the trashing form against his chest. Whispering reassurances, he rubbed the pup's tummy. The omega's kind voice eventually broke through the nightmare's veil and calmed the child. With a last heartbreaking sniff, Dick snuggled deeper into his caretaker's arms.

Worrying what could have frightened such a sweet pup, Clark held him protectively. Unlike some youngsters who made fun of the blind omega, Dick showed compassion. Connecting with a pup who had such a good heart came naturally. His every instinct whispered to hold close and ward the young one from any distress.

Clark felt quite guilty that Dick became upset in his care when he heard the alpha's footsteps.

"You son cried in his sleep," he informed Bruce immediately as the alpha took a seat next to them and their shoulders touched. "I'm sorry."

When the omega moved to pass the child to him, Bruce stopped him, unwilling to accidentally wake the pup who looked comfortable snuggled in the florist's arms even if the tip of his nose was pink from crying.

"It wasn't your fault." Bruce didn't like bringing up the past pain, more so when it mirrored the dark in him far too closely, but he couldn't have allowed Clark to assume the blame. "He's been having nightmares since his parents' death."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

The confession didn't raise an irritably exaggerated expression of sympathy, pity or morbid curiosity. There was a minor movement when Clark pressed the sleeping child a little bit closer to his chest.

"Have you adopted him then?"

"I have."

"Good!"

Warm lips with a taste of sunlight playing on them fleetingly touched a spot along his cheekbone.

"I'm sorry for this spontaneous gesture. It's just that I immeasurably admire those kind enough to open their heart and home to children. Your son is precious."

"I know," Bruce answered, meaning to add how the gesture was most welcome. There was a transient impulse in following the honeydew breath and disallowing those lips to make the distance between them anew, held back because their pursuit meant more than a display Bruce Wayne's persona was capable of. "There is nothing to apologize for."

Chapter Text

It was fresh, early and the water droplets still lingered on the petals when the flower shop windows that faced away from the street opened wide. They released a whiff of pancakes and jam, as well as a voice ringing with excitement to accompany the chirping birds.

".... Dick must have asked a million questions about the animals. Do you think Bruce would be ok if we invited them for a few days to our place? The cardinals' singing is amazing. I'm sure a playful pup would enjoy it!"

"Why don't you invite Bruce for a cup of coffee to discuss it?" Martha suggested, exchanging a twinkling look with their guest.

Lois rolled her eyes dramatically. She had more than an earful about this wonderful Bruce being so very good at this and oh so very smart about that.

"Yes, Clark. I'm -very- curious to meet your brilliant, heroic and have you asked whether he's eligible alpha," the journalist all but sing-sang.

Clark choked and covered his face with his hand, coughing and reaching for the water longer than strictly necessary.

"Will you be able to drop me off at the square today?" he asked once the coughing fit passed, but Lois hadn't let him off the hook yet.

"Why don't we ask Bruce whether he can escort you? He seems to end up at your workplace all the time."

"Bruce is very busy. He was spending time with his son, not really with me, and it was a coincidence that we visited the same place."

The omega collected his plate and went over to the sink to wash it. Picking up on a defensive note, Lois briefly dropped the teasing. She waited until they were on the way and Clark was buckled into a car seat next to her before asking.

"Come on, Smallville. You don't want to know at all whether he likes you or not?"

"Maybe a little bit?" Clark squirmed in his seat before confessing. He was leaning closer to the window where the sunlight could warn his face like it had the power to illumine the truth. "I wouldn't want to mistake what I want for what he wants. He's always so proper."

The more Clark was seeing, the more he liked the alpha. A doubt nagged why someone this perfect would be interested in a plain country boy.

"Hey," Lois' voice cut in sharp, intercepting self-doubt, but she didn't openly call him out on it. "You're not exactly an expert in figuring out when someone is flirting with you." The motion changed to irregular bumps as the vehicle entered the Square where it came to a halt. Her hand came to rest atop of his when Clark reached to unbuckle the seatbelt.
"Don't let anything in that over-considerate brain of yours assume that you aren't good enough for a relationship, else some of your friends might begin dropping hints how courting you requires a far more direct approach."

"Thanks," Clark chuckled, getting out of the car. "You always know how to give a direct enough kick to spin someone into the right direction."

"Don't you forget it."

Characteristic of Lois taking off, there was the tires screech against the road. It left Clark alone with his flowers and doubts. He hadn't long to dwell on a near confession in the car when a pain filled yelp nearby alarmed the florist. Heading in the direction of distress, Clark distinguished a few teenage voices and recognised a group he had met before during the school hours. Every incident had been accompanied by broken windows or overturned trash cans.

"Excuse me," the florist called out after another yelp followed by abrupt laughter, "harassing animals is cruel."

The reprimand prompted movement and a mocking identification, 'it's the cripple' as the pack assessed their adversary unimpressed.

"Can't you see it's all in good fun?" one of the teens ventured, receiving supportive snickers. His voice came from the side like the omega was being surrounded. "The mutt didn't tell you, did it, that it's being harassed."

"There's no need to speak to convey the pain. Release the dog, please."

Clark made a decisive step towards the spot where he thought the animal was being restrained and got caught by an outstretched leg. His knee ramming into the cobblestones raised a sickening sensation in his stomach. The dropped basket was kicked out of his reach and the scattered flowers were gleefully stomped on. Such short lived triumph ended abruptly. A menacing voice belonging to some unearthly creature crept into the small circle, paralyzing each person.

"Where have I heard a story about one little shit who went to the Juvenile Detention on the charges of assault and property damage. There, his throat got bitten by a rabid bunkmate. The wound got infected and rotted long past his very miserable death."

Even though he wasn't the target of such a grim foreboding, Clark thought the voice to be quite terrifying. "Surely," it growled, "this situation wouldn't be recurring because everyone who should be at school right now wouldn't be found dead outside it today or in the future.

The last bit acted as a release trigger because the teens sprinted away like they've escaped an oppressive power trapping them. The freed dog also chose to run for his life. Rather envious of those who could make a break for it, Clark scrambled up to better face whoever it was that came to his aid, terrifying as they were. The effort was strenuous as his knee didn't wish to bend. The omega nearly jumped out of his skin when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Clark?"

His heart overturned. Its motion without slowing down began to race with a different vigour. "Rao, Bruce! Are you the world's greatest actor I know nothing about? I didn't recognise you. After your speech, I expected to be dragged off to prison, innocence aside." Clark was happy to assign a tremor to fright when a supportive arm settled around his waist and he was pressed tight to the alpha's side.

"Rao?" As usual, instead of getting an answer he was fired a question at by Bruce. "Is that some agricultural deity in your hometown?"

"It's a random exclamation whenever I'm exasperated." Clark was tempted to poke Bruce in the ribs when the alpha snorted.

"Your vocabulary transcends human race."

"And your distraction skills are formidable."

Clark hardly noticed that he was led to a bench until he was sitting down with Bruce kneeling in front of him. The alpha's hold on the injured limb brought no unnecessary pain as he assessed the bruise.

"I don't think there's a crack, but the swelling is setting in," as he spoke, the probing stopped and a silky cloth covered Clark's knee. "This should stall the bleeding until we find proper bandages."

Alpha's fingers brushed sensitive skin at the back of the knee as he secured the handkerchief. The touch didn't linger and Bruce consciously stepped away to gather the ruined items all the while keeping all his attention on Clark. "I'm sorry, the flowers are damaged and so is the basket," he informed the florist. Firm on returning Clark home safely, the alpha was prompt in conjuring a ride.

"It's not necessary to go into so much trouble," the omega uttered, while the front seat was arranged as comfortably as possible and he was tucked into it. "The bruise isn't a big deal. I'm rather used to them." He fiddled with his shirt's sleeve, quite shy that he was monopolising the alpha's important time with something this minor.

Wondering if the bleeding lessened, Clark touched his knee. His fingers got coated in the warm substance that soaked through the handkerchief. Shame. He didn't want to worry his mother. Used to a number of scrapes her boy had acquired more often than an average active kid, Martha normally maintained a calm demeanour that extinguished any excessive desire to cry, while offering an exemplary care and affection to her loved ones. Underneath this lay great concern Clark always wanted to spare her from.

It would have been better to let her meet Bruce under the happier circumstances. As much as Clark was convinced that he had the best mother in the world, the realisation made him nervous, although, the omega believed that she and Bruce were going to respect each other. It was going to be fine. Bruce was his friend, even if he was bringing home a single alpha. It's not like he was introducing his mate.

Quite sure he was going to elicit some ungainly squeak if he tried to say something, Clark fell silent as the taxi stopped in front of their flower shop and Bruce stepped out to open the door for him. Clark heard the drumming of the little droplets against the leaves, a part of the regular morning activity when Martha sprinkled the plants, and a scree of the turning tap, cutting off the water.

"You must be Martha Kent. I'm sorry for bringing your son back not in the best shape. We've had an unpleasant conversation with a group of disrespectful teenagers who ended up promptly returned to school."

The alpha's hand came to rest on Clark's back, mutely asking if he was all right.

"I suppose my son, once more, saw it fit to take upon himself in resolving the plight of the weak and defenceless," Martha's voice came with a hint of concern and not a minor margin of pride. Aside from the desire to see her son perfectly safe, she had absolute trust in Clark that he would do the right thing. "Anyone else can hardly be held responsible for his course of action. Granted, a good try to secure his well being would earn an appreciation from his mother."

"It's always rewarding being able to support such a fine quality and an honour to earn mother's praise."

"You must be Bruce then. You're all Clark speaks about these days."

"I talked about Dick too," finding his voice at last, Clark intervened urgently, least some of his phrases got quoted.

"So he has. As one concerned parent to another, I must add that raising a boy can be highly rewarding if troublesome."

"I teach Dick as much as possible to handle himself formidably in any situation."

"It won't lessen your worry, no matter how much he learns. But, his achievements will surely make you proud and secure in the future. Did you know that Clark is studying to become a journalist? The program is taking him longer to complete, however, his scores are the highest. The College Administration Board offered him a scholarship every year. All the way back at school when Clark's friends came to visit us, they teased him the Boy Genius."

"I've been wondering if we could..." Clark attempted to intervene.

"Please do carry on enlightening me, Mrs Kent, given that your son is far too modest to mention his achievements.

Bruce and Martha spoke like they knew something invisible, an intangible link that passed through Clark and bound them. Amidst the discussion, he was led inside and seated on the couch. Martha immediately found a formidable medkit. A little too well maintained and found too quickly, she thought with a brief twinge in her heart. All the while, the way their guest remained by Clark's side was sweet like the alpha was guarding him.

"I simply must honour a guest, who would stand by my son, with a strong cup of coffee," she offered.

During a short pause as the alpha considered the invitation, Clark held his breath not without an inward smile at how accurately his mother perceived that Bruce would like coffee more than tea. As much as he wasn't able to control well an unexpected bout of shyness, he really wanted Bruce to accept. The response came a notch stiff, but it made Clark happy.

"Thank you. I accept readily."