The Watchtower was quiet—too quiet. The League had been summoned, expecting a crisis, a mission, something. Instead, Bruce stood before them, and for once, he wasn’t alone.

“You already know Clark,” he said, voice steady as always. But then he did something unexpected—he shifted, just slightly, his stance more at ease than usual. “And he already knows you… but here is the rest of the team.”

The League’s eyes turned to you.

You stood beside Bruce, unmasked, unshaken, and entirely composed. There was no hesitation in your posture, no discomfort at the weight of the League’s scrutiny. If anything, you looked…accustomed to it.

Clark grinned, arms crossed. “I’d say it’s good to see you again, but honestly, I’m still in awe. Lois and I never did figure out how you managed to put Jon to sleep on time—without powers.”

That got a reaction.

Barry’s head snapped up. “Wait, you babysat his kid?”

Hal blinked. “And survived?”

Diana’s curiosity sharpened. “And tamed him,” she noted, glancing at Clark, who simply nodded in confirmation.

Bruce exhaled—not impatiently, but with the distinct air of a man who had expected this. His hand, still gloved, rested briefly at the small of your back before falling away.

That, more than anything, was what caught the team off guard.

Bruce, the man who functioned on paranoia and precision—had just displayed casual affection. And not the distant kind, not the carefully calculated social play of his alter ego.

No, this was something else entirely.

“You’re married,” Diana said at last, watching him carefully.

“I am.”

No excuses, no evasions. Just fact.

Barry still looked dumbfounded. “And you actually listen to her?”

Bruce didn’t dignify that with a response, but when his gaze flicked to you—just for a moment—there was something softer in it. Something none of them had ever seen before.

Clark chuckled. “Told you they’d be surprised.”

And for once, Bruce didn’t argue.