A/N: Yaaaaaaayy, another finished one-shot! :D

Couldn't decide whether to put this under Young Justice or Batman... But I suppose it works either way, right? XP And I haven't posted anything for Young Justice in awhile, and I was thinking the Daddybats would fit a bit better into this fandom :)

Just a random fluffy plot bunny from my midnight thoughts!

Enjoy the adorable-ness!

(Anyone else having trouble putting images on Image Manager? It's driving me crazy.)

Mission briefings. Gotta love 'em.

The Man of Steel resisted the urge to sigh as he mentally prepared himself for the next hour of boredom as he explained (in exact, perfect, Bat-quality detail) every little thing that happened (read as "could have done better") on the major trafficking bust covered by the Justice League over the past week. A bust that a certain Dark Knight had decided, for some important reason which probably included hell freezing over, he hadn't been needed for.

While it was slightly relieving to perform a mission without a giant bat breathing down his neck, it still unnerved Clark to no end. He couldn't imagine anything ever coming between the Bat and his mission. And he really wanted to know what that something was.

Which is (partly) why he was currently planted in a video conference with the Batman (he'd drawn the short straw) to, as previously stated, convince the cynical man why the League is, in fact, competent enough to successfully perform a bust without Batman's...invaluable help.

And maybe he was being a bit overdramatic. He blamed the two hour flight across the Atlantic.

Clark was jerked out of his thoughts at the sight of two glaring white holes boring holes into his soul.

"Well?" Batman snapped.

"Oh," the Kryptonian coughed, realizing he'd been quiet for quite some time. He cleared his throat roughly. "Right. Sorry."

Before his thoughts could wander again, he launched into his report. With long, Bat-unaccompanied missions, his reports tended to be twice as long, and inclusive of both an audio and follow-up written version. His eight hours were officially shot.

It was barely two minutes, however, when the man on the other end shifted, his eyes flicking imperceptibly behind his lenses to look at something out of the reporter's vision.

"Is something wrong?" Clark asked immediately, noticing the movement.

"No," Batman said immediately. "Continue."

But for the next few minutes, the vigilante's mind seemed to be elsewhere. Despite the impassive features, Superman knew the Bat well enough to tell something was bothering him.

This, in addition to Batman skipping out on the mission he'd been working for months...

Suddenly concerned, Superman opened his mouth to question his teammate once more when: "B-Batman," came a hesitant, whispering voice somewhere off camera.

The lenses of Batman's cowl shifted again as he glanced in the direction of the new voice. "Give me a moment, Superman," he rumbled, standing up and sweeping out of lens range.

Superman blinked. Batman never ever put him on hold when it involved a mission. Proving his theory that something serious must be going on at the Bat's end of things. Frowning in slight worry, he tuned into the speakers with his superhearing, gently turning the volume up a notch—just in case. He was just grateful Bruce hadn't put his side on Mute.

"Robin," Batman said quietly, his voice only audible to Kryptonian ears through the camera.

Superman started slightly in surprise. Robin... With a gape, he recalled last week's Justice League meeting, remembered the shock and horror written on every Leaguer's face at the discovery that Batman had taken on a child as a partner to help fight crime in Gotham.

Superman trusted Batman's judgement. He really did. The man was a master detective and tactician, and his skills and knowledge had proven invaluable in the never ending fight against evil.

But as much as Clark hated to admit it, he had trouble rectifying his friend's latest decision of indoctrinating a child into the horrors of crime fighting. That, coupled with Batman's harsh and unforgiving attitude, didn't exactly make him the best candidate as a parent.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind in a fraction of a second, leaving him time to catch the next words from the speakers.

"B-Bruce," the young voice sniffed again, clogged with barely concealed tears. "I-I'm sorry t-to interrupt, b-but..."

"Nightmare?" Bruce asked softly.

Superman blinked again at the unusually gentle tone. The Bat almost sounded...compassionate.

The child must have nodded, as a small sigh was heard from the other man. "All right. Go wait upstairs and—"

"N-no!" the boy stammered. "I mean: May I stay with you?"

There was a short silence.

"Please?" he begged. "I promise I'll be quiet. I just...can't... I don't want to..." He seemed unable to complete his sentence.

"Okay," the Bat interrupted. "You can stay on the condition that you are absolutely silent. Go get your mask."

"Yes, Bruce." So much relief was held in those two little words, Clark's heart melted a little. The pitter patter of bare feet was heard as the boy scurried off through the cave, presumably to retrieve his mask as a well-known shadow swept back into the viewing screen.

"Continue," Bruce ordered, and Clark was almost relieved at the familiar "no nonsense" voice coming from his friend. Nice Bruce was something he was utterly and frighteningly inexperienced with.

However, the break didn't last long.

Without warning, a ball of blue flannel flipped into Batman's lap, extricating a small, surprised grunt as a mess of raven hair pressed against the exposed part of his face.

"Got my mask," the flannel mumbled into the stoic chin.

The Bat hummed in acknowledgement.

The ball moved, a young, slightly flushed face appearing under the ruffled black locks. A tiny domino mask covered the—cue x-Ray vision—sparkling blue eyes, dried tear tracks tracing down his cheeks when he came face-to-face with Superman.

A star struck look chased away the previously fearful expression upon the child's face, an excited gasp echoing through the speakers. "Superman," Robin breathed, his voice filled with the awe common in Clark's young fans.

The white lenses shifted as the child blinked, his back straightening as an enormous grin stretched over his face.

"Superman!" he crowed again. "Oh my gosh, this is so cool!" Quivering, Robin looked up at his mentor, excitement and energy practically radiating from him in waves. "Batman, it's Superman! You're talking to Superman!"

Batman grunted shortly. Superman fought back a smirk as he recognized the familiar lens twitch that meant the Bat was annoyed.

"Yes, I'm talking to Superman," the new guardian said patiently.

Eyes practically glowing behind the domino mask, the child's attention focused back on the screen. "What's it like to fly?" he asked, voice hushed in awe. "Is it anything like a trapeze? Are you ever afraid that you might fall down?"

"Uh," Superman said helpfully.

"Robin," Batman warned.

"Can you breathe underwater? Have you ever met an alien besides yourself? Why is kryptonite green? Does that mean you're allergic to emeralds, too?"

"Robin," Batman reprimanded again.

But the boy seemed unaware of his mentor as the questions shot from his mouth like bullets. The sheer number of them was starting to make Clark's head spin.

"How many people have you saved? Do you think you could beat Flash in a foot race? Why don't you wear a mask? Aren't you afraid of your identity being exposed? Ooh, have you ever accidentally broken something that you didn't mean to?"

"Do you need to wait upstairs?" Batman asked quietly.

The small white lenses widened in terror, tiny fingers snatching tightly at the black fabric around the Bat's shoulders. "No!"

"Then calm down," Batman ordered.

It was like night and day as the boy sank gracefully back down, prying his hands from the computer counsel he'd been clutching in his excitement, and curling silently up against Bruce's armored chest.

There was a beat of silence.

"Well?" Batman grumbled.

"Uh...right," Superman stammered, trying to sift through his spinning thoughts as the child shifted, yawning adorably as he cuddled up against any criminal's nightmare. "So, we decided that their hideout might be somewhere by the dry docks..."

And so it went.

It was really hard to stay on track as Robin wriggled and squirmed in the big bad bat's lap, pulling at the cape trapped under the Batman's rear. After several minutes of wiggling, Bruce finally adjusted his position just enough for the child to successfully pull the cape from its confines. Sighing contentedly, Robin snuggled into Batman's chest, wrapping the thick Kevlar around him like a security blanket and burying his face at the man's neck.

Almost as an afterthought, Bruce reached up his hand to clutch the back of the boy's head, his fingers gently carding through the raven hair as his new ward hummed in pleasure from the touch.

It was all Superman could do not to ogle at the sight. He didn't even know the Batman was even capable of being gentle, let alone showing outright affection.

What Clark wouldn't give for a camera right now. And maybe a good pinch. Slowly, so as his movements wouldn't be betrayed on the screen, he typed a few commands into the computer, saving this video conversation onto a separate hard drive. It never hurt to be prepared, seeing as the Bat was fond of deleting potentially aura compromising security files from the JLA computer.

The amount of trust and lack of fear the boy showed of his new mentor was almost mind boggling. This was Batman. The wraith that haunted the dreams of thousands of villains everywhere, the one whose very name was spoken in a hushed whisper as if it would invoke his fiery wrath. And he'd earned the affections of a bright child who was clearly completely comfortable hanging around in the shadows.

Shining his little light into the darkness.

He stumbled briefly in his report at the sudden revelation. Batman's slightly (slightly) less grumpy attitude, the lessening of the ever present crease between his eyebrows, the not-as-deep scowl...

This kid was turning the Bat's life around; for better, not for worse.

A sudden swell of affection and awe rose within him toward the child that could burrow his way into the heart of the Bat. Maybe his friend wasn't too far gone after all.

All too soon (despite his subtle attempts at stalling and the potential addition of unnecessary embellishment), his report was finished.

Batman grunted quietly. "Keep me posted," he murmured, all hints of a growl gone in his low tone as the lad in his arms snored ever so lightly.

Freeing one hand from around the boy, he reached froward, presumably to end the transmission, when a small hand grasped the black glove. "But Mr. Superman hasn't answered my questions yet," Robin sighed, still half asleep.

"He'll answer them another time," Bruce assured him, carefully extricating his wrist from the fumbling little fingers. "Right now, you need to go to bed."

"M'kay..."

A long suppressed grin spread across Clark's features as the screen blacked out, leaving the parting image of a small boy dwarfed in the giant Bat's arms, a tiny smile gracing the angelic features as tiny hands wound around Bruce's cape in a death grip.

He decided to give his friend the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this whole kid partner thing wasn't such a bad idea after all.