The sensation is still so foreign. The strange cloying, desperate feeling of missing someone so badly that he can't think. It's been damn near four days of fighting and cleanup and meetings all compiled into one aggravatingly long week. 

Bruce just wants to go home. 

He wants to go home, kick off his shoes, take a shower, and hold his kid. He'd foolishly thought the yearning would go away after a couple of months, maybe a year at the most. It's been two years and he's having to bite his nails to get through a "mandatory" meeting set by his business manager. He can tell the poor man can feel irritation radiating off of Bruce, but there is only so much masking one man can take. 

He's just gotten off of a flight from California, a mission with the League taking days to resolve. It should've been run of the mill. No unidentified aliens, no robots, no superpowers, just a man with a grand scheme to attempt to take out some politicians. Yet, that'd somehow spilled over into almost half of a city collapsing in on itself. They had to help with distressed, wounded citizens and debris. They had to meet with the mayor and then they had to have a meeting amongst themselves. 

So, he's tired. Physically and mentally, he's exhausted. Yet, here he is watching Lucius Fox parade around technology that Bruce can't bring himself to find interesting. He could've had this glorified reunion over a video call, but he'd made the mistake of being in Gotham when the man rang him. Now, he was dragging his feet as he watched an upgraded version of his old drone buzz around his head. 

Clark's behind him, a smile plastered on his face, but Bruce knows that it must be clawing at him too. The expression is too rigid, a severe lack of warmth in his eyes as they follow the hunk of metal floating around the room. 

"Well, it was good seeing you again, Lucius." Clark seems to have ended the conversation without Bruce, shaking the man's hand before nudging Bruce to start inching towards the exit.

Lucius walks them out, talking them all the way to the door, but is kind enough to not linger as they climb into the car. 

Plopping down in the old, wooden rocking chair on Martha's back porch feels damn near euphoric. He could fall asleep here, Binny at his heels, as he basks in the sun, but he can't bring himself to miss out on the moment in front of him. The little excited giggles as Conner runs around "helping" Clark feed the animals. He waddles after his father, patiently waiting to help hold the bag of dog food as Clark pours it into the line of bowls. He's mastered balancing enough to not immediately tip over as the dogs come running, howling with laughter as they rush by him. His giggles only get louder as one puppy stops to check on him. He pulls himself up quickly, making sure he's by Daddy's side as they make their way over to the duck pond. 

The ducklings kindly accept the little bit of food that the boy can fit into his tiny palms as he feeds them. The adorable sight almost distracts Bruce from Clark. The huge grin on his face as he watches their son gently interact with the animals. The way his hair falls into his eyes as he squats down to watch. The tan he's gotten from working outside all summer, golden skin glistening with sweat as he swipes at his forehead. 

He wishes he could saunter over, listen as Clark does his little roll call, maybe sneak in a kiss, but he can feel the nausea from this morning lingering. 

They finish their task at the pond and start heading towards a seemingly random tree. Bruce watches as Conner skips after Clark, almost running into his leg as he comes to an abrupt halt next to the trunk. He guides his son over to the tree, talking to him as he places him in front of it. Bruce watches as he pulls something out of his pocket and makes a mark in the wood just above Conner's head. He's too young to understand the significance of it as he whips around to look at the mark, but he beams all the same. 

Bruce is so distracted by the display that he almost doesn't notice the puppy clumsily making its way up the stairs. He's not sure what he's expecting as the tiny golden retriever casually inches up next to him, but he'd never guess plopping down next to his feet. The dog seems perfectly content sitting next to him as if he'd beckoned it. Bruce thinks nothing of it for half of a second, completely fine with just accepting that he was going to have a second companion for the next couple of minutes. 

That is, until he sees his son and husband walking back to the porch after their afternoon adventure. He can already predict what's about to take place. He can see the moment Conner locks eyes with the little fur ball, speeding up his waddles as he tries to get onto the porch faster. He manages to get up the first step with the speed of an elderly man with a newly replaced metal hip. However, he eventually is successful in his quest as he toddles over to greet his friend. 

'Cause it suddenly dawns on Bruce that the puppy wasn't some random baby amongst the bunch lingering around the yard while their parents ate. This was the same puppy that had forgone the stampede to stand next to Conner as he giggled on the ground. 

Bruce watches Clark's eyes finally land on the dog and can practically see the idea forming in real time. His eyes make their way over to Bruce, but Bruce is already up and heading for the screen door. 

Clark toils over the proposal during dinner. Conner's got a fistful of spaghetti in one hand and a little, rounded baby fork in the other, brain trying its best to figure out the process and Clark thinks he has better odds. Bruce is so consumed in his food that Clark's not even sure he would've been able to get his attention if he tried.

He carries the plotting over to bathtime as he washes leftover spaghetti out of his son's hair. He thinks it'll be more effective if Conner is there, but it'll also serve as a distraction. Bruce couldn't seem to help himself when he was fresh off of a mission, eyes immediately gravitating to Conner and arms instinctively reaching out to scoop him up. 

So, Clark leaves him downstairs with Ma as he lures the man upstairs for a shower. Bruce is all droopy-eyed and boneless as he drags himself up one stair at a time, but he still pauses at the bathroom door to eye Clark, already suspicious before the man can open his mouth. 

"Hey, I know we've got a lot going on," He manages to get out before Bruce lets out a weary sigh, "but I think another puppy would be good for Conner."

"Clark-"

Clark doesn't allow the apparent objection to stop him. He at least needs to make his case, give Bruce something to think about. 

"He's an only child, Bruce, you know what that's like. I just think a dog, that'll grow up with him, would be good."

"Clark-"

"Not to mention that there are going to be times when we have to leave for a couple of days and-!"

Clark pauses, not because of the exasperated expression Bruce is aiming his way, but the quiet thumping sound. Earlier he'd thought it was one of the animals, but it was far too loud and far too close to be any of them. He searches around for the heartbeat, looking for the source as he ignores the exasperation slowly morphing into confusion. 

He can hear Ma, Conner, Binny, Bruce...

His eyes flick over to the man, cautiously stepping forward as he listens to the frail, little beat coming from his husband. It's almost masked by how steady and consistent Bruce's heart beats, but now that he can place it, he can't miss it. 

The confusion has been replaced with understanding as Clark slowly makes his way over, eyes on Bruce's stomach.

Clark should've noticed it sooner. Bruce has made an attempt over the last two years to not throw himself headfirst into danger, recklessly sacrifice himself for the good of others, but on the last mission he'd been even more reserved. He'd stepped back and allowed everyone else to do the heavy lifting while he handled doling out information to the group and working as a liaison. He wasn't trying to get a piece of the action and Clark had chalked it up to having someone waiting for him to come home. 

"I think we'll be at home a lot more than you think." Bruce timidly supplies. 

He can hear the quiet, unspoken panic building as Bruce waits for Clark to say something.

"Good, good." 

It's all Clark's mind can really come up with as he stupidly stares down at his husband's stomach. 

For some reason, in some part of his brain, he'd come to the conclusion that Conner was a one-off. He was a miracle that Clark had received from Bruce's curiosity. There wouldn't be another. Whether it was because the experience was too arduous or traumatizing or strange. Maybe Bruce would realize that being someone's father wasn't for him, especially the father of an alien. It was just something he tried so that he could understand it better. Clark had never contemplated a Baby #2. He hadn't created the space for it, hadn't wanted to get his hopes up. The revelation is so jarring that it takes Clark a minute to realize that Bruce is speaking.  

"I like the name Star."

"For the baby?" Clark asks, still partially dazed from the news. 

"For the puppy." Bruce says as if it's obvious.

"Yeah?" Clark distractedly hums.

Bruce's smile is sweet and sincere and honest. No hiding away. He wants Clark to see him, understand him, stay with him and Clark can't help but cling to the feeling as he's pulled closer. He could stay forever, just like this, in Bruce's orbit smiling like the first night he'd caught him on the balcony. Except there are no walls or facades to keep them from colliding, melting into one another. 

There is just Bruce and Clark and this happy, little life they'd accidentally created.