-The first part of this that wasn't exported from More YJ Yrash-

-In which Superboy waits.-

"Where are we?" He asked, raising his eyes for the first time.

"Just stay here." Clark said, dropping the kid a couple feet onto the concrete. The kid stumbled backwards onto his behind, looking up at Clark with his uncomfortably quiet expression; he'd fought and screamed and bit for half the flight here, why go all limp and quiet?

"...You're coming back?" He asked, a concern in his voice revealing that either he knew he'd done wrong,  or he was trying to guilt Clark. Certainly the latter, there was no way he could try to kill a building of people and then understand and regret it not fifteen minutes later. Unless he was completely mentally unstable, in which case, Clark still wanted the kid away from his loved ones.

"Just sit here and wait." He said, trying to keep the rage from his voice. "Don't move. Don't follow me. Just sit there."

"You'll come get me?"

"I'll come get you if you don't move. I'll know." And as Clark flew off, he kept his sights trained on the boy as long as he was able.

"But--"

"Dick, no."

"Bruce, Please! You know I can handle this!" 

"It isn't a matter of if you can handle it, Dick."

"Than why?"

"You've had enough late nights this week; Alfred and I agree you should take it easy tonight." His foster father said across the table. He was long done with dinner and was swishing a cup of black coffee. 

"Yeah, but how am I supposed to get used to staying up every night if you make me take nights off?" The teen argued. "I have to prepare myself for an adulthood of crime-fighting y'know!" He stood sharply, pushing his chair back.

Alfred pushed it in again. "Finish your dinner first, Master Dick."

"I was going to..." He pouted. 

Alfred stood over him, supervising as the boy finished, and then sent him upstairs to change into his pyjamas.

Bruce finished his coffee and sighed, leaning forwards on his elbows. "I'm not sure he wants an adulthood fighting crime."

"You mean you don't want him to have an adulthood fighting crime." Alfred observed. 

"I don't know. I never planned on it being lifelong."

"Ah yes, all children must outgrow traumatic violence as they mature." Bruce frowned at the man's words, contemplating. "If it's any help, he'd be worse off without you at all."

"Alfred, I'm going to go get ready," Bruce said, rising. "Let Dick know I'll see him in the morning."

Alfred did so, and went about his nightly rounds: insuring the first three floors were secure before preparing to survey the lawns (or "romancing his tulips" as Dick called it).

Alfred opened one or the double doors and almost stepped out when he spotted a large figure sat on the stoop, hair and clothes deflated from the rain. With only a raised eyebrow to indicate his surprise, Alfred cleared his throat. The person turned, and Alfred instantly gained a slightly better grasp on the situation.

"May I ask what you are doing on the front steps?"

The figure, deciding he wasn't interesting-- or not relevant at least-- turned away, affixing his eyes on the dark sky again. "Superman's going to come back for me. He said to wait here."

"Do you know where you are?"

He shook his head. "Just to wait still."

"In the rain?"

"It wasn't raining when he told me." 

Alfred considered this. "And when did the guardian of Metropolis tell you to wait here?"

"I think at noon?" The boy shrugged. "He's going to come back. After work."

It was just past ten pm. "Please, come inside, sir."

"No!" The boy locked his shoulders in place, as if he thought Alfred would attempt to use force. "Superman said don't move."

"Well you can't very well sit out there and get soaked through."

"I can't go in. What if Superman comes back?" He stayed turned away, arms crossed.

Alfred had put much time and effort into domesticating his boys, and was not pleased with the willful disobedience of this stray. Still, if he'd tamed those two, he could tame this one just the same. "I am familiar: Master Superman has been in contact, he wants you to come inside." 

The boy's façade cracked somewhat and he released his arms, turning to face him. "Really?" He asked. "Superman said that?"

"I believe he was held up in his business and wished you to stay safe inside until he returns."

The boy stood, hesitantly. "He really said so?"

"Indeed, sir. Come inside and I'll bring Master Richard downstairs to entertain you."

The boy entered, head tilted back as he took in the manor. He staggered backwards in a circle, trying to see everything at once, and eventually succumbing to dizziness. 

"Master Dick."

"What's up, Alfred?"  The boy asked, crawling into his pyjama shirt. 

"There is a friend of yours downstairs."

Dick frowned. "Barbara?"

"No, a friend from your little hero team."

"...Wally?"

"Perhaps you should just come downstairs and see."

"But no one else on the team knows my ID." Dick replied, trailing after him. 

"I don't believe he is here of his own volition." Alfred lead his youngest boy down to the foyer. "Master Richard will entertain you while I fetch Master Bruce from his office."

Dick gaped, frozen at the sight of Superboy, drenched with rain, sitting on the chair beside the door. "What-- Who--"

"Master Superman wished that we shelter him until the forces of evil let up somewhat." Alfred explained, shooting him with a warning look, as if Dick didn't already know to keep it low-key.

"Oh." Dick said, not sure how to greet someone who's 'birth' he'd both witnessed and assisted in. "Hey, I'm Dick, how's it going."

"He said you're name was Master Richard."

"Oh, uh, Master is the title for a boy or unmarried man, and Dick is a nickname for Richard."

Superboy thought for several long seconds. "Like how Wally is short for Wallace?"

"Yeah. Something like that." He smiled, almost proud if he wasn't so confused. "So, superboy, ever been to Gotham?

"No."

"Well, you aren't seeing much of it, but it's a good city. Gets a bad rep nationally, but it's a pretty nice place. You get used to the villains..." He chuckled to himself.

"Robin deals with the villains." Superboy said immediately. "And Batman."

"Familiar with the crusaders, huh?"

He nodded quickly. "Robin's my friend."

"Really?" He asked. "wow. He's something of a local celebrity."

"A guest, Alfred?" Bruce paused on the hall from the grandfather clock, hit with a wave of familiarity. He didn't need the figure to turn around, but it gave sad confirmation. The boy was soaked to the bone, a towel draped over his shoulders, looking like a puppy left tied up outside in the rain.

Dick stood next to the boy, already in his pyjamas. He followed the clone's eyeline. "Bruce!"

"Dick, go start the kettle."

"But--"

"Dick." the boy huffed and left, hanging behind in hopes of overhearing something. Now that he and Alfred were alone with the boy, he introduced himself. "Bruce Wayne, can I ask what you're doing here?"

If Clark outed their identities he had hell coming,

"Master Superboy was apparently dropped off on the stoop around noon." Alfred, discontent that the boy simply left the towel over his shoulders, took the liberty of patting down Superboy's torso and arms with it. "I assumed that Master Superman is otherwise employed." 

Clark was dead; abandoning the boy on his doorstep and not even calling in a 'need a babysitter tonight, can't parent my abomination-child right now'. 

"Alright, superboy. I will have to go out tonight, but Superman is a... friend of mine. Alfred and Dick will take care of you." 

"You're friends with superman?" The boy asked, raising his eyes. 

"You could say we go back a while..." He wasn't batman at the moment, and found that the safe walls of cold distanced advice no longer there. Still, he tried not to be too affectionate, Superboy didn't know that they knew each other, he couldn't give it away. At least, that was his justification. "Alfred, I trust you will supply our guest with anything he needs."

"Of course, sir." Alfred wrapped the towel around Superboy's head and began scrunching his hair dry. Superboy didn't seem to like this, pulling away and shaking the water out like a dog.

"B, what did you want me to do with the kettle?" Dick asked, rounding the corner. 

"Fix yourself and our guest something to drink. I'm sure he'll appreciate the company."

"Does this mean I can stay up?"

Always the opportunist... Bruce sighed. "Alfred, make sure they're in bed before twelve." He turned back to address their visitor. "I'll just make a call before I do out. Please, make yourself at home."

Bruce started to the cave. Any concerns he had about the boy's stability, he trusted Alfred to keep an eye on things. Making sure his sound-cancelling precautions were in place, he dialed Clark.

"What's this?" He asked, taking the cup.

"Hot Chocolate, sir."

Superboy frowned. "Chocolate but... hot?"

"It's a drink you make out of chocolate and hot milk n' stuff." The boy, Dick, told him, blowing on his cup. "Try it."

He mimicked the motion, blowing gently on his own cup. Dick and the old man exchanged mutterings, which he didn't bother listening to. He gently sipped at his hot chocolate and choked, spilling down his shirt, finding the drink much too hot for consumption. He blew once more, wondering if he would ever be gifted with his ice breath. He looked up. "When's superman coming back?"

Dick and the older man looked at each other, expressions shifting in miniscule, unreadable ways. "...Later. You want some leftovers?" Dick offered. "I don't know if you've eaten today."

"Ms. Lois gave me sandwiches." Superboy said, not knowing what leftovers were.

"Oh, you've met ms. Lane, have you?" The younger boy smiled. "Wonderful woman; wonderful. Could lighten up on the domination, but no-- she is a wonderful woman."

"Sit still." The aging man told him, dishcloth in hand. He began dabbing at the spill on Superboy's shirt. 

Superboy didn't know what to say, so he sipped his drink again. It was slightly cooler now, enough that he could taste the milk, and a deep taste of chocolate. It was sweet, he thought he liked it. 

Clark kept ignoring his calls. he might have blocked him. Bruce pressed on the main comm channel. "Superman." Nothing. "Unless you answer your cell phone, you'll have to explain yourself here." Still nothing. "Don't make me hunt you down at work tomorrow. Answer your phone."

"Wait, what does he need to explain himself for?" Someone asked.

"Bats, take your personal drama off the general channel, this is for emergencies, you know that."

"This is important, but Superman won't reply to me. This is an emergency." As if on que, his phone rang. "That should be him calling. Bruce left the channel and picked up. "Willing to discuss now?"

"What are you playing at with that stunt in the league channel?" Clark's voice chastised.

"You don't understand, Clark; you left a child on my doorstep, you don't have the right to be upset by me hounding you down."

"It's better for him." Clark said. "It's better for everyone! He tried to destroy my floor at the planet, he attacked my peers."

"So you dropped him off at my house with my family?" Bruce asked icily. "Better that he attack Dick?"

"I didn't say that." Clark snapped. "You're better with kids, and he hates me. It's better."

"Does he hate you? Because he sat outside in the rain for ten hours waiting for you to come back. Alfred had to tell him that you wanted us to bring him inside." Bruce scowled. "Why would you tell him to wait for you? If you don't want to engage with him, why lead him on? Why would you bother getting his hopes up?"

"It was the only way to get him to let go, and to keep him from causing trouble."

"He isn't old enough to understand this! Despite everything, he trusts you to have his interests at heart. He insists to sit outside in the rain, just in case you come back, to prove that he's loyal.

The kryptonian was quiet for several long seconds. "Bruce, I didn't consent to his existence, I didn't want him, I can't take care of him, I'm worried he's going to hurt my loved ones.  You have to understand"

"Usually I would understand. Though I can't change the way you feel, you can't argue that it isn't your responsibility to care for him. You're superman, do you claim to defend all of earth except for one child? Do you not think that showing superboy affection might be the only way to stop him from resenting humanity? Would it be better to take care of a child, or to neglect them and let them grow up to turn on morality?"

Alfred guided the boy back to the guest room.

"When is he going to come back?" He asked. 

"Soon enough, I'm sure." Alfred said. "Come, now. He wouldn't want you staying up." It was the same line he used to tell Dick when he tried to wait up for his guardian.

"But when?" He stared at the guest room window. The child had been changed out of his filthy, long unwashed, clothes and dressed in a hardly-used pyjama set (Bruce hadn't had any sort of sleep schedule in almost two decades, sleeping in whatever he had on when he collapsed). At least not the clothes were being used by someone who needed them. Superboy was probably the most taken care of he'd ever been: treating left overs like they were the best food he'd ever touched, he was wearing new clothes, Dick had even made the boy use his face wash, insisting that he wasn't allowed to sleep without cleansing and exfoliating.

"Go to sleep."

"Do you--" The boy quickly looked down, shutting up. 

"Do I?"

He shook his head, scolding himself. "No! Superman didn't like it when I slept upright."

Alfred considered this. "Would you prefer to sleep upright?"

The boy shook his head. 

"Well, I suppose it shouldn't be a problem. But I don't think anyone would mind if you were to sleep in the wardrobe."

"I don't need to. I'll stay on the bed, but I'm not going to sleep."

"So long as you try to rest, master superboy."

And as Alfred glided down the hallway to check that Dick was asleep, he couldn't help the feeling of vindication as he heard the guestroom's wardrobe creaking shut.