Bruce Wayne wasn’t one to ask for favors. So when he showed up at Clark Kent’s apartment with a thirteen-year-old Dick Grayson in tow, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a scowl firmly in place, Clark knew something unusual was going on.

It was just past nine on a Friday evening, the Metropolis skyline glowing warm against the dusk. Lois was in the kitchen reheating takeout, pausing mid-stir when she heard the knock.

“Bruce?” Clark blinked, standing at the open door in sweats and a Daily Planet tee. “What are you doing here?”

Bruce didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He stepped inside, Dick following silently behind him—though his eyes immediately lit up when he spotted the city skyline from the window.

“I’ve got to leave town. Something… Wayne Enterprises related. Alfred’s coming with me—something delicate on the corporate side, not the cape-and-cowl kind,” Bruce said curtly. “But I can’t leave the kid alone in Gotham.”

Dick looked like he wanted to argue that, but one sideways glance from Bruce kept him quiet.

Clark raised a brow. “So you thought you’d drop him off with me?”

“I trust you,” Bruce said plainly, his tone sincere beneath the gravel. “Lois too. It’s just for a few days. He can sleep on the couch, or the guest room if you’ve got one. He won’t be any trouble.”

Clark glanced at the boy again—young, lean, with messy black hair and blue eyes too observant for his age. He stood with his arms crossed, posture slightly tense but clearly curious. Not the jittery, wide-eyed kind of kid most would expect. This was Robin, even if no one said it aloud.

Lois stepped out of the kitchen then, drying her hands. “Well, hey there,” she said, giving Dick a warm smile. “We were just about to eat. Hope you like Thai.”

Dick gave a small grin. “I’ve never had it. But I’m game.”

Bruce touched a hand briefly to Dick’s shoulder. “Stay sharp. Be respectful. And don’t climb the walls.”

“No promises,” Dick muttered with a smirk, earning a rare, faint smile from Bruce.

Clark chuckled, clapping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “We’ve got him. Go handle whatever billionaire emergency needs your attention.”

Bruce nodded once. “Thank you, Clark.”

And just like that, Gotham’s Dark Knight turned on his heel and vanished into the elevator, leaving his young ward in the care of the Man of Steel and a curious, kind-hearted reporter.