Bruce pushed through the labor and delivery ward entrance, past three doctors, two nurses, and straight into their room. His hair was ruffled from the helicopter, down to his vest and shirtsleeves with three buttons popped.
Clark stood, relief pouring through him as Bruce stepped up to the bed, ignoring him completely.
“Lois,” Bruce said, nearly a purr. He stooped, kissing her on the cheek. “You look radiant, as always.”
“Fuck you, Bruce,” Lois gasped. She was flushed and drenched in sweat, a perfect opposite of Bruce’s overly-polished appearance. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Flying to Metropolis as fast as I could,” Bruce said, depositing his suit coat over one of the linoleum hospital chairs. He knocked his shoulder into Clark’s, an affable smile tugging at his lips. “What did I miss?”
It took a moment for Clark to realize that Bruce was asking him. He blinked, hearing Lois’ elevated heartbeat thundering in his ears.
“She, um, refused the epidural,” Clark said, trying not to stumble over the words. “The doctor said she was -- that she was about six centimeters dilated.”
Bruce nodded. He’d started rolling up his sleeves as Clark spoke, pinning them above his elbows. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”
It was Brucie’s voice, but when Clark looked up, Batman’s eyes were staring back at him, sharp as ever.
“Keep your chin up,” Bruce told him quietly, somewhere in between the two. “This is just getting started.”
Clark swallowed, forcing his chin back up. Bruce slipped over to the other side of Lois’ hospital bed, reaching for her hand.
“I’m a much better squeeze toy than Clark,” Bruce murmured, quietly unfolding her nails from her reddened, bleeding palm. “Go ahead. Do your worst.”
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