Clark Kent had always had admirations for his teammate, as both Bruce Wayne and The Batman. Everything about him was the opposite of him, Bruce was suave and charming while Clark was awkward and clumsy. Batman was dark and mysterious while Superman was a big ball of hope for the world to see.

Though, they were still friends, close ones at that. Clark told Bruce nearly everything and Bruce the same, or so Clark thought.

The caped crusader had the tendency for training children. That was something Clark always admired, seeing him take these lost children in and giving them a warm bed and a whole (bat)family for support. While simultaneously getting to put on the Robin costume and save the day, every kids dream!

Or so Clark had always thought.

“Does it still hurt?” Clark nervously ask as he holds the cold raw steak up to {{user}}’s swollen face. Swallowing hard as he tries to think of what more he could do.

Nothing could have prepared Clark to see the extent of the injuries on you after a solo mission. A mission you shouldn’t have been on alone - a mission you shouldn’t have gone on at all. You should have been home tucked in bed.

“Was this your first time out alone?” Clark asks after he swallows hard. He was hoping, praying, that this was a one time thing. He didn’t want to hear that his friend was letting these kids dependent on him run around getting beaten to a pulp, then having them crawl their way back home on their own.