Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

" Since we were kids, you always got me into trouble."

"I am the son of Batman, Heir to the Demon. I was never a kid."

-

Months ago.

   Jon didn't realize Gotham was this bad, crime never slept, and the government has turned their backs on the city time and time again. He's glad someone is doing something about it, but at the same time, the fact that the city even needs a man like Batman to protect it is tragic. He thought Superman and Batman were the coolest guys ever in his childish mind but it's different when you wear the uniforms, you get to see the painful reality of the man beneath the mask or what's left of him. Then you get to see how that man and his mask impact the people around him, how he'll drag you down just to lift the city back up. Batman used to be one of his favorite superheroes, but not anymore, not after he met Damian anyway. 

   Damian and Jon were very different, they bumped heads at first, sure, but when responsibility was needed, they were always able to do what had to be done.
   Not so much recently. Jon thought powers were the coolest thing ever but actually, they are extremely frustrating. When you think of Superman you don't think about his bright red underwear or cape, in the big picture it's his flight because when you can fly you can easily patrol over the whole world. Superman didn't protect just the City of Metropolis or the United States, he was a defender of the entire world. Although Jon was missing that final piece in his complex little puzzle.

   Jon ground his fingers over the palm of his hands, a little tick he did when he was deep in thought. He had this scrunched-up and constipated expression that was slowly starting to irritate Damian. Gotham's villains are tougher, twisted, and overall, more exhausting than anything he has to face in Metropolis.

 "Are you tired?" Damian asked.

   The words seemed to miss Jon, still deep in the far parts of his mind.

"Hey! Farm boy!" Damian shouted into his ears, startling Jon. 

"W-What?"

"I asked if you were tired," Damian rolls his eyes.

   Jon was tired but mostly he was tired of himself. Jon realized how long he'd been sitting there stuck with this faraway look on his face.

"Sorry, I'm a little tired but I'm mostly fine."

   Damian scoffs and scoots closer to the taller boy. Damian leaned toward Jon, curling his fingers over the edge of the building he and his friend were using as a resting place before they went home for the day.

"Spit it out," he demands.

"What?"

   This was the most frustrating part, Damian never understood why Jon even bothered to do this. If he wants to talk about something, then he should just do it. He didn't understand why Jon always insisted on biting his tongue instead of just speaking to Damian like he knew he wanted to.

“How long are you going to sit there with that dumb look on your face?”

   Jon’s eyes widened, and then they dropped. Damian was right.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… that lady back there… I couldn’t save her because I was too slow. If only I could fly…”

   Jon curled into himself, making himself feel physically smaller rather than mentally.

“How am I supposed to be Superman if I can’t even fly?” his tone was vapid.

“Jon-“

   Talking about it made all those feelings he was trying to fight off come to the forefront of his mind, only making him more annoyed with himself.

“It’s so frustrating! I’ve got every other power! Everything! The heat-vision, the strength - but I still can’t fly…”

   Damian is not good at this part, trying to comfort his friend seems impossible for him to do because the whole time he’s trying not to come off as indifferent. He thinks Jon is deserving of that emotional response to his feelings - it just sucks that it’s so hard for Damian to give it to him. It’s still a strangely nice feeling; knowing that Jon trusts him enough to share these things with him.

“Batman tells me that you simply  can’t save everyone, but you can  always  try and that’s what matters.”

Batman: what he spends every suffocating second of his life trying to be.

“That’s not fair,” Jon says, dryly.

“No, it’s not,” Damian exhales.

   They sit in silence for a little bit too long before Damian realizes he should probably break it. Damian feels a drop of water hit his hand, but he thinks nothing of it.
   Jon doesn’t want to speak, he’s too busy trying to fight in the war inside his mind. If he speaks now, he’ll only overshare and make Damian uncomfortable. Jon doesn't cry, he just sniffles a little like a mistreated puppy.

   Suddenly, it starts to downpour hard. Damian thought it was probably some disturbed meta-human altering the weather, that was the only excuse for how quickly it started to rain. The rain pierces through Robin's hood. He grunts, realizing that he doesn’t have anything to shield himself from the rain, and if they only went home sooner instead of pointlessly moping around then he wouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense.

   Superboy jumps to the rescue, he throws his cape over the both of them, forcing both of them into proximity with one another to hide from the rain.
   Jon makes direct eye contact with Damian under his cape with a dumbstruck look on his face.

“I was fine, thanks.”

   Damian’s cruelty snaps Jon back into reality. 

“You can still get sick.”

“I assure you I have a much higher tolerance for this type of thing than you think.”

“You’re still human.”

   That statement does more damage than Jon was expecting which was any at all. They both let their words hit the floor. Damian makes himself speak first so Jon won’t have to.

“tt.” Damian pulled away. “I’m not something that needs to be protected. I have never been, and I won’t reduce myself to that now.”

“… I didn’t mean it that way. I just don’t want to burden you in any way.”

   Damian sighed.

“You’re not dead weight just because you can’t fly… Well, that’s not the reason anyway.”

   Damian pulled Jon into the hug, letting the rain soak them. Damian is anything but a hugger, but he can allow it this one time, especially with the day that Jon’s had; he deserves it. They forgot about the storm forming above them for just a moment to allow themselves to savor each other’s embrace.

“You’re the best friend I could have asked for. I know this is uncomfortable for you, so I appreciate it.”

“It’s not so bad. Compared to you whining I’ll take this any day… Also, who said we were friends?”

“Sorry for assuming, I’ll take the little wins.”

   Damian takes a moment to think… Jon was always taller than him but was he always this much taller than him?

“Kent, you’re airborne.”

   Jon almost shoves Damian away to examine his feet which seemed to be floating inches off the ground. The expression on Jon’s face was more delightful to Damian than his flying.
   The pure joy and excitement made the moment they shared even more special.
   Jon was a giggling, spinning mess completely ignoring his body rotating and dangling over the traffic below because he was too caught up in the moment.

“Focus on staying upright, Kent.”

“Hahaha! This is awesome! I can’t wait to tell my dad,” Jon giggled.

“Kent! Balance yourself in the air!”

   Jon jolted; he didn’t comprehend what Damian was trying to tell him at first. He slowly got himself upright. Flying was the strangest feeling, like a high. It felt amazing.

“It’s a psychological thing, just focus on the direction you want to go, guide your mind there and then your body,” Damian explained.

   So his first instinct was to go straight to Damian.

   Jon did it right, a little bit too harsh, and gently crashed into the other but Damian was able to catch him, and when Damian fixed him in his arms, he felt something that only he could feel, he felt closer to Damian in a way that contrasts to something you should feel for a friend, it was so sudden he couldn't piece together exactly what it was, just that Damian didn't feel it as well. Damian took a step back, shattering his delusion.   

“How do you know so much about flying?” Jon asked.

“I used to be able to fly for like a couple of days.”

   Weird but at this point not surprising.

“Ready to go home, crybaby?” Damian says finally.

   Jon smiles.

-

   Damian flew on the back of the half-Kryptonian through the air of Gotham City. Of course, he was excitable at first due to his flight being recently triggered but after a while his exhaustion quickly crept in. He moved past the buildings and over the city lake, making a shortcut to the Wayne Manor. Without the natural loudness of a busy city, he was being lulled to sleep.
   He thought Damian was fast asleep on top of him, but it seems that couldn’t be true because Damian then cups Jon’s eyes with his hands, obscuring his vision. This pulls him out of his stupor, and he instinctively flips to eliminate his attacker, but the flip turns into a flail and he’s free falling into the water below.

   “What’d you do that for?!” Jon rubbed the water out of his eyes.

“Haha! You should see your face!” Damian burst out into laughter.

“That was dangerous, you could have got hurt!” Jon puffed his cheeks.

“Can’t you just see through my hands, idiot?”

“…” Jon was stumped.

   He was also embarrassed at first, but he realized that he’d never seen Damian laugh this outwardly before and he didn’t want to ruin it.

“You’re laughing…” he said.

   Damian was holding his gut trying to calm the laughter bursting out of him. Jon and Damian were drenched in nasty, cold Gotham water so overall the current situation sucked but Jon couldn’t stop his mouth from curling up at the ends while watching his friend enjoy his suffering.

“I promise to catch you when you fall from now on, okay?” Jon held out a hand to the other boy.

Damian yawned. “Whatever.”

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Chapter Text

   Damian couldn’t stand being by himself like this, being left alone in the Batcave with no one around, not even Batman to give him something to do. That was the sad part of being Robin - waiting around for orders was depressing. He began scrounging the bat computer for uncompleted missions or open patrol windows.
   There was nothing available.
   He tried calling Batman, but he was on some sort of Justice League mission, Grayson was on some Titans mission, and Drake was off the grid because recently he’s been wearing that stupid-looking red and black leather uniform.
  Then Jon just stopped showing up. Both Jon and Superman have gone missing recently and the Justice League has tried their hardest to keep people from realizing it. It’s been months since he’s seen him and it’s not like him to disappear like that. Oh well, that just makes him like the others.
   He thinks he may call the Young Justice League. They’ve been asking him about recruitment recently and he’s been assisting them in somewhat recent missions.

   Damian punched in the contacts for the Young Justice League into his utility gauntlet; it projected a hologram before him of a member under the alias of “Wonder Girl.” Her eyes widened and then this uncomfortable but almost sorry look dawned on her features.

“Hey, Robin. Look-“

   Damian cut her off.

“-Good news. I think it’s about time I share with you my expertise in your upcoming missions. How about it? I’m sure I could fit it into my busy schedule.”

“Robin, I’m sorry but the team is busy. There’s a high-level threat that recently entered Gotham and Metropolis and the team’s already on the move out. The recruitment window closed recently, I’m sorry…”

   Damian has been through this before and he can tell when someone is lying straight to his face, he’s not an idiot.

“You can be honest,” he says, coldly.

   Wonder Girl inhales.

“The team still thinks you’re too violent. The way you think still resembles that of an assassin and on the field, you still contemplate murder. I’m sorry but I agree too…

   Damian held his breath, feeling almost ashamed.

“I mean, if you got that under control then they’d surely reconsider,” she adds.

“I’ve heard enough,” Damian spits.

“Robin-“

   Damian cut the coms and went through his other contacts. There was one last person who was possibly not busy, someone he’d not talked to for a while: Maya Ducard.

   When he called her com line, he thought she wouldn’t pick up at first until the last ring when the hologram shot up.

“Hey, baby teeth,” she smiled.

“I need your advice.”

“Not even a ‘Hello, how are you?’ for your old friend…?”

   Damian stares.

“Fine, what is it?”

“Am I too… violent?”

“Are you too violent? Well, you’re not exactly the sweetest little bundle of hugs but I don’t think you’re all bad.”

“That’s not what I asked…”

   Although, did people think Damian was all bad? Just an annoying brat with murderous tendencies.

“Where’s this even coming from?”

“I was told I was too violent and if I wanted to be accepted as a Robin then I’d have to show some restraint.”

“Batman has a strict no-killing policy but assassin-to-assassin unlearning all that stuff is not easy.”

“Then what do I do?” he asks.

“Try to gain some sensitivity, unwavering hope… basic empathy? The basic things that make heroes: heroes.”

“That’s not my thing.”

“I know, What I’m trying to say is that maybe you should figure out who you are beyond being Robin?”

“How do I do that?” he asked, rhetorically.

“Don’t ask me. I’m Nobody. You have to find your own way to do it.”

   Damian clicks his tongue.

“Hey, you asked for my advice, and I’ve found myself beyond my father’s teachings and what he left for me, you taught me that and you should take your own advice.”

“tt.” Damian considered what she said which was more than he would typically do so it gave Maya hope.

“Is that all?” she asked.

   Damian nodded.

“It was good talking to you. Hope we get to talk like this another time. See you later, partner,” she aimed her finger to cut the coms.

“Wait!” Damian blurted.

   Maya does a double take.

“Do you know where Jon’s been?”

“No, I haven’t been able to track him for months.”

“…” Damian frowned.

“Is he okay?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Damian lied.

“Alright, see you at school then?”

   He hummed in agreement. She cut the coms for real this time. Damian felt a wave of despair wash over him. Being alone with his mind like this was turning into the grounds for self-loathing and depressing thoughts.

“Right, school… the last thing I’m worried about right now.”

   Damian wondered if he should somewhat consider what Maya said to him - though, going on a ‘spirit journey’ when he has a responsibility to the people of Gotham as a crime fighter, a responsibility to his father. He needs to prove to himself that he can be better than his father.

SCREEECH.

   Damian jumped. The bat computer sounded an alert, Damian had never been so relieved that something had gone wrong before.

Chapter Text

   Cassandra Cain threw herself past Damian to get access to the Bat Computer’s keyboard. Damian didn’t even realize she was there, whether she was trying to covert or not she still got past Damian effortlessly without being detected. Before Damian could snap at her Oracle was already speaking.

“Robin?” she sounded surprised.

“And Orphan,” to Damian’s current displeasure.

“At this point, I’ll take what I can get. Robin, we need your immediate assistance. We got a tip that Batman’s assassination is already in motion. You two seem to be the perfect candidates anyway; you understand how assassins work,” Oracle explained.

“I have no other choices for a partner?” Damian asked.

“She’s highly capable.” 

“And agreeable, I hope.”

   Damian looks back at Cassandra. Oracle was right, she was the quiet type with a look that made you feel like she was studying you. Not his worst team up though. Oracle was right, she was a good fighter, if she ws quiet then they couldn’t possibly argue.

“Did I mention highly capable?” you could hear the smile on Barbera’s face.

”Just be glad you have something more to do then to sit around and look lonely all day,” Cass added.

“I’m not lonely.” Damian stands, putting his hands on his hips and giving Cassandra a stern look.

“And fine, but I’m the one calling the shots, alright?”

   Cassandra looked unamused, to say the least.

“ Great! ” Damian smiled. “Oracle, send me the coordinates.”

-

   The coordinates took them to a chapel on the far side of Gotham, a place of worship now turned into a battlefield once Damian and Cassandra entered it. It’s scary how easily any place in Gotham could do this.
   The moment they broke through the stained-glass windows they were bombarded by assassins from every angle.
   Something about the violence made Damian feel right at home, like this was the type of atmosphere he needed, throwing limp bodies across the room and breaking noses. He could even recognize the assassins as people he trained when he was in the league. He used to be in these mobs and carry out assassinations with honor, now he was there to protect Batman while he carried out a mission, which was frustratingly counterintuitive when he wanted the mantle.

“They’re trying to hold us off. Cover me, I can-“

”And let you get the glory?!” Damian snarled.

”Don’t let your pride make you an idiot. I’m stronger than you and you know it,” Cassandra interjected.

   Back when he was an assassin most things made more sense to him, he didn’t have to live by an inconsistent moral code and make core decisions; his whole life was planned out for him. In the end, he was born to be an heir. He still finds himself trying to live up to a title but at least he understands the other more. Being Batman is so much more complicated  for him and yet just as important.

   The next assassin that jumped at his throat got the support kicked out from under them and thrown over Damian’s shoulder. Their sword dropped and clattered on the ground; Damian looked at it. How easy would it be to go back?

   He could throw all of this away, throw everyone away, and go back to his simpler life. All it took was one betrayal to run away from it all.
   He picked up the sword before him and he remembered how perfectly a blade fit in his hand. He grasped it and brought it to the assassin’s neck, their eyes pierced through their mask while they got a good look at Damian.

“Do it, it would be an honor,”  they beckoned weakly. He knew this guy… he trained him in the League, easily recognizable due to how lazy of a combatant he was.

   He raised the blade, screamed with great fury and before he could bring it down Cassandra kicked him, sending him flying into the choir of the Chapel. The attack winded him, he gasped for air and looked around him.

”What are you doing?!” Cass sighed. “Are you… okay?” she asked softly.

   Damian would be offended if he didn’t realize how right she was to do what she did. He lost himself for a moment and he needed the reality check. Damian stood and he was ready to shout back at Cassandra but when he got a widespread view of the Chapel, he realized a figure stood along the upper railings of the building, parched and comfortably watching their every move, he recognized them immediately, pulled out his grapple and went after them.
   They tried to make a hasty getaway, but Damian was already within kicking distance of them. He flung himself with the grapple and had them clawing at the floor to gain their balance once again.

“Hello, mother,” he spat.

   Her face curled up into a knowing grin.

“You almost made me proud back there. It seems you finally have gotten some sense in you,” Talia said.

“Enough games! This was your plan all along. My grandfather is not enough, you have to try and take my father’s life too?!”

“You think I’m behind this?” she laughs.

“Who else?!”

“You take up for your father in that way. Always expect the worst out of me then let it get the best of you.”

   Damian scoffed.

“… You’re not behind this… then who?” Damian demanded to know.

“It’s so much bigger than you think. Hush has got the league wrapped around his finger, him and a whole armada of villains the league can’t even begin to understand.”

   Damian looked confused. Who was ‘Hush’?

“I came to warn your father.”

“Mother-“ 

   Talia shushed him, she placed herself behind him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him like something precious.

“Mother, why did you make me this way? Why did you turn me into a weapon… and hide me from my father?” Damian’s voice shook.

“Take a look around. Look at this City, look at your father, look at  my father. This world is less than kind, Damian. When I raised you, I needed to know that you could protect yourself in this world filled with bloodshed in case everything blew over the way that it did that night.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Everything I have ever done for you was out of my love for you. I wish you saw that.”

   Damian’s throat felt tight.

“I want you back. I won’t let your father have you. Do you think your father does the same? All he cares about is his mission,” Talia swore.

   Talia pulled a blade out from her side and placed it gently in Damian’s hands. The blade was so old, it threw him back to when he was nine years old.

“Your first blade, remember? Remember who you are. Remember who you belong to.”

   Damian lost himself to the memories that flooded back into his mind, the parts of his memory he shut off once he became determined to become Robin. Then came convoluted emotion, conflict, and a sharp pain surging through his chest.

“I will find you again once you make the right choice,” Talia promised.

   In a twisted way, it was nice to see his mother. On the other hand, he was considering it, leaving these overwhelming sentiments behind and going back to his old ways, becoming the mindless weapon he once was, a weapon to be unsheathed and polished at his mother's will.
   All he has to do is make  one last  core decision.

“Damian?”

Chapter Text

   The symbol for Superman that can be found on the front of his suit means the world to Jon and his father, figuratively and literally, the “S” is a symbol for their family Coat of Arms - The House of El - it is Kryptonian for “hope” like the hope he still has that his dad is okay, the hope he has that his friend won't be mad at him, and the hope he has that he can find it in himself to understand what happened to the past few years of his life. His grandfather, Jor-El took him throughout space and promised to show him the inner workings of the universe but then he was sucked into some sort of wormhole, trapped on Earth-3, imprisoned in a volcano there for years till he escaped. While he was there Ultraman put him through trials that felt like torture.

   Before all of this, Jon always thought Superman was so cool, he had to, the man who originated from another planet with amazing powers that surpassed almost the entire Justice League was the sworn protector of their planet. A child’s mind compartmentalizes that as a symbol of safety. Superman is more than just a symbol and he know that he knows that better than anyone because he grew up exclusively knowing that man as Clark Kent, his father. Then, Ultraman took that and twisted it, constantly testing him and that symbol of safety. He knew what Superman was or was supposed to be but who was Superboy?

   Right now, Superboy was flying through Gotham chasing the heartbeat of his best friend from yards away. After consulting his mother on his return to Earth, he got a tip from The Young Justice League that he was fighting inside an abandoned Chapel in the tail of Gotham. The League was fighting a villain under the name of “The Batman Who Laughs” who was creating an army - teamed up with twisted villains spanning through the multiverse. The stakes were high. Young Justice was keeping his army at bay while the Titans were currently dealing with Hush.
   By the rhythm of his heart, he could tell his friend was under a lot of stress, he could sense anxiety and maybe… fear.
   Possibly in danger so he picked up speed in the air.

   He wondered how Damian would react to Jon being years older now. It was inevitable that it was going to be weird.

Hey, Damian, it’s been months for you, but it’s been years for me because I was trapped and tortured in a wormhole and now, I’m thirteen years old and having an early essential crisis!

   On the other hand, he was excited to see Damian after however long it’s been for him. Everything he saw and experienced in Space with his grandfather he thought ‘I can’t wait to tell Damian about this!’ but… that quickly ended.

   His mother reacted fine; he knows it probably hurts her more than she allows herself to show. Missing years of your son's early development must be hard and confusing but she’s strong - stronger than he’ll ever be, that’s for sure.

   Then he saw Damian, kneeling on top of the Chapel. With an expression that is somewhat lost under his mask.

   He floats down and stands there behind a kneeling Robin.

“Damian?”

   Damian shoots up and clenches the handle of his sword, pointing it at Jon. It hurts that he didn’t even recognize him. 

“It’s me. It’s really me. Not a trick or disguise. … I’m sorry.”

   Jon didn’t mean to apologize, it just slipped out.

   Damian didn’t say anything, he felt excitement bubble up inside him, but it was squandered so quickly by shame and confusion. He didn’t want Jon to see him like this. Damian could see how Jon changed so much - learned how to grow without him, while he only knew how to change for the worse.

   Jon looked down at the blade still at his throat and a reluctant smile grew on his face.

“Everyone seems so different, so quickly too. I’m one to talk though, huh? I don’t think I was gone for long for you guys, but it feels like I missed a lot - Damian, can you put the sword down?” Jon swatted it but Damian brought it back full force, Jon barely jumped out of the strike.

   Something burned deeply in Damian’s chest. Jon thought he got this heartbeat down; he swore he sensed excitement there. Damian was excited but he felt betrayed.

“Damian, what’s wrong?”

   Damian was silent as he jumped up with a low attack and then a vertical slice, both of which Jon was able to deflect before he could get hit. Jon realized that Damian was attacking him before he realized he probably deserved it. He wasn’t scared of his friend, but he took offense to Damian trying to do such a thing. He knows that Damian doesn’t want to legitimately hurt him.

“Stop it! You know you can’t beat me!” Jon warned him.

“I don’t care!” Damian screamed.

   They fight, Jon is on full defense while Damian swats and slices at him. Damian doesn’t realize that he’s having a tantrum - children typically drop to the ground and flail their arms while they cry until they get what they want. It’s an unreasonable response to an incomprehensible situation. Damian doesn’t recognize he’s doing this because he’s never had one before. He’s not like a normal kid and he doesn’t remember the last time he’s even cried.

“Enough. I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

“You don’t know what I want! You can’t pretend to know me, you’re just like everyone else! You left me by myself!”

“I didn’t plan on that happening! I tried to get back to you as soon as possible. You were one of the first people I came straight to. I’m just as confused as you are, but can you be rational for one second? You’re not usually-”

“No, this is who I am. This is what I know. I only have one place to return to; the league of Assassins, when all is said and done.”

   Damian gets the upper hand, of course, Jon is holding back because he doesn’t want to lose his cool and accidentally strike Damian and hurt him. He came here to help him as well as see him. It’s not what Superboy would do. It’s not what a friend would do, and he knows Damian feels the same way.

“If anyone understands then it’s me. I grew up with you. You taught me how to do this; be a hero. Those are my roots, and I can’t erase that just as much as you can’t. I know you’ve done… things, you’ve hurt people but that isn’t who you are. I know somewhere inside that cold, distant exterior there’s a kid just like me. I do know who you are; You’re terrible at video games and y’know what? You’re mean -  and you have ten years of life you still haven’t gotten off your chest but before any of that you’re my best friend.”

   Jon dodged one last time and caught Damian’s blade in his hand. It trapped Damian there, rendering any further attacks useless. He struggled against Jon’s grip for a while, making little grunts in his struggle. He realized how pathetic he looked, felt, and was acting all that once and sunk to his knees.

   His breath shook, and he tilted his head up to look at Jon.

“It’s okay if you decide to hate me - I am the enemy - you should hate me.”

“You know I couldn’t hate you. Do you get that? Do you know why we’re so close? Because we share the same burden. One day we have to take up the World’s Finest mantles after we lose one of the most important people in our lives. Neither of us can stop that even if we want to so I'm destined to be by your side rather I like it or not. I can’t hate you because there’s no one else I’m happier to share that burden with.”

   Damian lets out a weak laugh, he’s acting like a kid, and he hates it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m trying to hurt you. I’m not used to feeling like this, Jon.”

“It’s okay. Damian, I forgive you for all you’ve done. I don’t know if that makes you feel any better, but I do.”

“I’ve tried fixing what I’ve done but nothing seems like enough. I’ve felt what it’s like to be the enemy and then the ally, but I still don’t know what it feels like to belong. I thought becoming Robin would make everything make sense but now I’m even more confused. I thought knowing I was meant to become Batman was going to make things simpler but it’s so suffocating. What am I supposed to do? I thought the good guys were supposed to be happy.”

   Jon is silent, trying to think of the right thing to say while he holds an extremely sharp blade in his left hand.

“I’m not sure. I have questions of my own as well so that means I don’t have any answers. How about for right now you forget about all that and just try to calm down?”

   They sit in silence for what feels like the most peaceful few minutes in Damian’s life. Damian braces himself to ask a question that he’s not sure if he’s going to like the answer to.

“Do you think I’m a good person?”

“... All I think is that you’re my best friend.” Jon smiles weakly. “... And I…  care about you,” he adds.

   Finally, Jon snaps the blade in his hand with ease, making that relic of Damian’s past shatter to the ground to be forgotten a little more easily.

“I’m sorry for all this. I just missed my friend,” Damian sounds like he feels better, Jon can hear it in his heartbeat too.

“Trust me, I know. I did as well.”

   Damian thought Jon came to save him, but he simply just came to see him.

“Damian, I- ugh!” Jon winces in pain.

“Jon, what is it?”

   His hand bleeds, and the sword somehow hurts him and cuts through his skin. Jon almost didn’t notice. He forgot what it was like to feel physical pain for a moment.

“Your friend has some demons he hasn’t faced, but don’t we all?” a voice says.

Chapter Text

   Jon winced and grasped his hand to stop the bleeding. Damian’s blade slashed right through his hand the moment he shattered it, he looked at the pieces, broken on the ground, and noticed a luminescent light bleeding off of them, then back to his hand to apply manageable pressure.

   Damian dropped to his knees to the other hero’s aid, “You’re hurt. How are you hurt?” he asked rhetorically. His swings were mere performance, none of it was meant or supposed to be able to harm Jon.

Your friend has some demons he hasn’t faced, but don’t we all?” a voice says.

   Damian shot up, ready for defense. A man backed into the shadows, surgical gauze covering his face as well as a basic trench coat to hide his figure. The man had a handgun clenched within his grip.

“Who the hell are you? Some C-Class criminal crawls out of another hole in Gotham?”

   Damian demanded to know the lunatic hiding in the shadows. The man wordlessly drew his gun to Damian’s head but hesitated before pulling the trigger.

   Jon convulsed, having an internal battle with himself, he felt a burning in his gut circling his veins like an untreated sickness. It took all his focus to fight the rage off, forcing him into a compromised position. 

   Damian paused, a crucial moment like this where it was life or death and he paused… feeling useless without anyone to save him. Jon was neutralized, Cassandra was nowhere to be found and Batman was a bad afterthought.

   The man stopped and dropped the gun. 

“It seems like no one is ever content with what they have. That weapon of yours was lined with anger-inducing red kryptonite before it was given to you. I could end it here, but it’d be more vital to have you suffer.”

   Hush pulled up the gun to his shoulders and aimed it carefully.

“Killing two birds with one stone.”

   Hush shot just past Jon’s ears, coercing him out of his deep concentration. The anger was set free, and Jon felt a rush before imploding on himself, throwing Damian in one direction. Two abnormally large beams flared in his eyes and ran across the chapel. The heat seared the architecture and made the building start crashing down on itself.

   Damian could smell something gross and metallic in his nose. He must have hit his head hard when he hit the floor but without thinking he already sprang into action. Blood ran from his forehead to his lip while he rushed to Jon to try and pick him up and drag him out of the building. The air was getting thick, and Damian couldn't stop coughing, the fire inside the building spread around him and soon enough Damian collapsed.

    With the last bit of strength, he heaved his body up and then collapsed again. This time when he tried to breathe in, the air was too thin, so it burned his lungs, finally, his vision went blurry. 

   That was the moment Damian thought it was all over him. He thought he was dead and as tragic as that would be for anyone, he only cared because that meant he couldn't have one more moment with Jon. A moment he could take with him into the darkness to know he was at least good to someone . 

- 

   Damian didn't die, of course. He didn't know if it was adrenaline, shock, or just pure spite that kept him alive but when he woke up, he found himself in a dimly lit room, a room he could recognize from the obnoxious decor but regardless of it all felt extremely comfortable after resting for as long as he had. It was Jon’s room.

   Jon spent the last two hours by Damian’s side. He had recovered quickly once the rays of the yellow sun hit him. He didn't know if it was creepy or not but for the first thirty minutes, he was listening to Damian’s heartbeat alone then it turned into using his X-ray vision to watch Damian’s body function, heart pump his blood and lungs breathe air in and out. Regardless of it being somewhat bizarre, it was comforting to know that he was healthy.

   Once Damian woke, he instinctively took in his surroundings. His body was tightly bandaged up but there was some sort of fabric sheet wrapped around him, he quickly realized this was Jon’s cape. He unraveled himself and sat up.

“You’re awake!” Jon didn't mean to make that sound as pathetic and enthusiastic as it did.

“What time is it?” Damian asked.

“A little past midnight. be careful, you’re still not fully healed,” Jon reminded him.

   Regardless of the circumstances, it pissed Jon off to know he was the reason Damian was hurt. He doesn't know why he blames that on himself but it's just how his brain works.

   Damian sucked in through his teeth, clenched the bedsheets in his fist. He threw the cape to the side and refused to face Jon, almost as a way to avoid intimacy.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Damian finally spoke.

“You have been sleeping for a while now.”

“I meant with the mission,” Damian corrected.

   Jon gave a sharp exhale before sitting up himself. He started into a dark corner inside the room and explained everything to Damian.

   “Hush was sent to kill both of us as a way to make Batman feel great despair and make it easier for him to fall into madness at the hands of The Batman Who laughs.”

“How did we survive?” 

“Orphan carefully took care of Hush. She carried us out of the building. Shortly after I recovered, and we mended your wounds together. I didn't know if Wayne Manor was compromised so I took you to a place I knew was safe; my house.”

   Damian clicked his tongue. Jon paused at this then continued.

“They planned to make any Batman throughout the universe go insane so they could use them to make an army, but the League pulled through.”

“I heard enough,” Damian tried to pull himself off the bed, but his body shook, and he collapsed back onto it.

“You’re still healing! What's the rush?”

“I failed my mission,” he clenched his teeth.

“The day has been saved. Why are you upset?” 

“I'm a natural-born winner! I was passed out through most of that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jon asked softly.

   Damian sighed.

“Because we can!” Jon almost sounded like a kid again.

   Damian didn't believe a word he was saying, Jon couldn't understand why… maybe he was going about it wrong, so he eased his voice and spoke again.

“Damian, I promise, I'm here for you.”

“I don't believe your promises anymore, Kent.”

“What does that mean?”

   Damian didn't respond, just checked his bandages and searched for his clothes and equipment.

“Here,” Jon set a phone down beside him. 

“If you won't talk to me then maybe you'll talk to someone else. As long as you get out of this it doesn't matter the means. At the very least you should call your family to let them know you’re okay.”

   Jon stood up and stretched, he went to leave the room.

“I'll go get some gauze. It's time to change your bandages,” Jon stops, “When I come back, I hope you’ll be ready to talk.”

   Jon leaves with that. 
   Damian stares down at the phone beside him.

   Jon walks through the kitchen past a tired Lois Lane who read him like a bad report the moment he walked out of the room. 

   Jon snatched the torn roll of gauze out of his bathroom cabinet like a thief and walked back through the kitchen.

“Did he finally wake up?”

“Yep,” Jon dragged out his words, his legs thumped against the floor with little enthusiasm to go back to his room.

“Ah, stop right there,” his mom demanded.

   He slowly turned to her.

“Come on, sit with me.”

   Jon plopped down at the kitchen table.

“It's going to be just you and me around here for who knows how long, so we got to be a team for a while.”

   Jon gave her a half smile and played with the gauze while he listened to her speak.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Damian just keeps brushing me off-” 

“No, you always put others first. I asked you what’s wrong,” she interrupted him.

“… I screwed up and I broke a promise and I feel really bad about it. I was supposed to protect someone and then I couldn't-”

“You know you can't save everyone all the time, right?” She stopped him.

“You don't understand.”

“I know more than you think,” she fired back.

“Who am I if I can't save the people I care about?!” he shouted.

“You’re human.” 

   Lois said like it was easy and it stung.

“Your dad is Superman because of the human things that link him to this planet. Not just because of his abilities. His love for the earth, for his home, and his family is what makes him Superman.”

   Jon looked lost trying to understand what his mother was trying to express.

"I knew this would be hard on you. I was always the one that worried about the pressure it would put on you, but your father was so numb to it he brushed it off himself then you disappeared and came back, and I can tell you're feeling worse than ever before… Your father wasn't even born to be Superman unlike you so I know you've spent so much time trying to be something that must be so confusing to you both."

   Jon's smile faded; he was bracing himself to listen to the rest of his mother's words.

"So, when you ask me who you are, if you can't save the people you care about then you're like me; human. When the days come when you can't be a hero than be human and when the days come when you can't save the people you care about then please, think about saving yourself. You still have a home and people you can go to, that's more important than anything."

   Jon slouched down in his seat and let his eyes drag away from the conversation as he thought of his troubles throughout the week but his mind just found his way back to Damian.

"Thanks, mom. I just wish he would talk to me..."

"He'll come around when he's ready. If you're as good as a friend as you are a son then I'm sure he will, but you should know that if some people don't want to be helped, then you can't help them..."

"If he's as much like me as I think he is then I'm sure deep down he does want help..." Jon let a smile unapologetically crawl up onto his face. 

   She nodded and took a sip of hot tea. She hopes one day all of this will get easier for all of them but for the time being she had prioritize her son.

   It looked as if Jon's body suddenly recoiled. He stood up from his seat and slowly slipped away from the table.

"I need to go check on him and make sure he's okay. Thanks again, Mom."

"Try not to stay up too late, kid!" she sighed. There's a part of being a parent where you just have to hope they take your words into consideration themselves as they run out into the world and all Lois needed to do now is sit and wait.

   Jon lets himself stop listening to Damian's heartbeat for a couple minutes and suddenly he can sense that Damian's made an escape and is already three buildings down the street.

Chapter Text

   Damian stared at the phone beside him for a good five minutes after Jon left the room. He didn’t know who to call. He didn’t exactly want to hear his father’s voice in the state he was in, and he didn’t want to bother Hawke or Maya, but he did know of one person that might be able to help him out.
   But if he calls that person that means he truly accepts defeat and he admits he can’t do this alone, that shows emotion and he’s been taught emotions are weakness.

   To be Batman means to have control over your mind and your body as well as the city. Damian was caught up in a pattern of obsessive behaviors instilled in him at an early age and they only made him follow his father who was too blinded by his affection - though, it’s hard to see the affection - and made them pretend to be Nightwing, Spoiler, Red Hood or Robin… but his father; Bruce Wayne is not pretending. To that man the mask is not Batman, it’s Bruce Wayne. He’s… not pretending.

   So, let Damian this one time pretend he’s nothing but a boy who wants to call his brother for advice. Let himself pretend he needs help if he can’t admit that to himself. Let him call Dick Grayson.

   When Dick looked down at his phone, he didn't recognize the caller ID. He put it to his ear and expected some villain or gangster calling from a fake number because they wanted payback on Nightwing.
   That could be seen as normal, at least for him. Getting a call from his younger brother was a first for sure.

“Hello?” Dick voiced.

“Grayson…” Damian sounded humiliated.

“Damian?! Bruce has been looking for you! Are you alright?! Are you in  danger?!” Dick was ready to throw on his Nightwing uniform.

“Calm down. I’m fine, idiot.”

   That sounded more like Damian. The way Damian sounded when he first spoke made Dick think he’d lost a long battle.

“Oh. My bad. Well, I’m glad you called. What’s up?” 

“…” 

    Come on, Damian. He’s been overthinking for the past few days. This is supposed to be the easy part.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Oh? Of course.” 

“From what you know… do you think I have what it takes to become Batman?”

“… That's a difficult question.”

“You’re horrible at this,” Damian rolled his eyes.

   To be fair, Damian wasn't an easy patient. It wasn't the first time he'd helped a Robin, but it was the first time the person needing help was Damian.

“Well, first I have to ask if that's what you want.”

“That doesn't matter-”

“It does more than you probably realize.”

“I was born to do this. Whether I like it or not being Batman is in my blood and I’m the one meant to take up the mantle.”

“It doesn't have to work like that.”

“What other way is there?”

“Batman is for the family, anyone can put on the suit when it's necessary but becoming Batman is like… something you run after but suddenly you see you're heading for a cliff, and in the freefall, you get to think and realize it's not worth it.”

   Dick sighs.

“Bruce is a complicated man. He's got a lot of demons and I tried to help him - I did but he can't help himself. All of the Robins tried to pull him out of the dark places he got himself into, but we just can't be that person for him.”

   Damian clenched Jon’s phone in his hands.

“You earned your right to be Robin, I wholeheartedly believe that, but you still have a right to your own life - a childhood to live out still… and knowing where you came from, as well as being an older brother figure in your life I selfishly still want you to see it through before it’s over.”

“So… the thing that I always thought made me, me… isn't really me?” Damian asks.

“Happens more often than you think.”

“So, you don’t think I have what it takes to become Batman?”

“Honestly, no. Y’know why? Because when things got intense and confusing… you stopped and you called me,” Dick said with a smile.

“…”

   He has to abandon everything he once knew and relearn what it means to live to obtain a modicum of happiness. 
   So, being Robin, being an assassin, AND being Batman is all wrong and Damian has to reinvent and rebuild who he is from the ground up? No, he refuses.

“Hello?” Dick says but Damian is silent and without thinking Damian hangs up the phone and puts it back on Jon's bed.

   Of course, he refuses. It’s not who he is or has ever been, it’s not in his blood or brain chemistry. It’s just not possible. The easiest thing to do is deny, it's not what Robin would do but its what Damian’s only option is.

   Dick is right, he could never be Batman. Batman knows how to sacrifice everything for the sake of his mission but in the past few days, all Damian has done is fail. He's failed everyone; his mission, his father, his mother, his best friend, and now himself.

   He's climbing out of Jon’s window and slinging himself over buildings in Metropolis before he knows it. He stops when a guttural pain flips in his chest and it's dulling the finesse, he needs to use his grapple gun. He only got a couple of buildings down when his heart was pounding to his chest, and he sat down on top of some low-rise. 

    What is that feeling? 

   It's a crushing feeling like the silence is too loud but the world is too quiet… 

    Loneliness.

   Seems like this will be the most Batman thing he’ll do all night.

“Do you really not want to talk that bad?”

   He knows that annoying high-pitched voice anywhere.

“You should just leave me alone.”

   Damian can’t face Jon in the state he’s in. He doesn’t want to drag him into his mess. Jon might feel responsible for it but it’s not true. It’s for Damian to deal with this mess he got himself in, to pull Jon down with him would be inconsiderate, it’s better one than two.

“... I won’t. I won’t leave you like this. I’m sorry but I refuse to go anywhere… I don’t want you to be alone,” Jon sat down beside Damian.

“Think you can save me too now?” Damian scoffs.

“I’m terrified of having to save you. I’m terrified of the future and what’s to come… if only you saw the things I did when I was gone… but right now, I know I owe you an apology.”

   Damian knows that an apology wouldn’t be enough but… it would still be nice.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that and not telling you. I didn’t tell anyone - I thought I was strong enough and responsible enough to do that on my own and I wasn’t. I spent years stuck in a prison of unbearable heat, constantly beaten by a grieving man with the same abilities as my father but he twisted it and turned it into something ugly… and then my mother… that’s been hard on me, to say the least, I’m trying to remember what it's supposed to mean to talk to her now. I don’t know what I’m going to do when my dad comes back…”

    Oh, god. Damian was so blinded by his rage or self-pity, that he completely ignored what Jon was going through. He’s supposed to be there for him when no one else is. He’s the one who abandoned his friend but still Jon wants to be his friend… he still wants to be there for him no matter how many times he pushes the other away. Damian claws at his arm and looks at Jon with a shocked expression that got lost in Robin's mask.

“The moments I got to myself where I could clear my head and cope, I thought about my father and my mother and then I thought about you. I thought about how much I missed you and wanted to tell you about everything I saw and experienced, but you didn’t react well… but you have a right to be upset with me. I’m sorry-”

“-You shouldn’t be the one apologizing! All I did was drive you away and then I always tried to find the right response, that must have been so confusing to you - no wonder you think I don’t care…” Damian almost curled himself up in a ball.

“No. I understand that this must be difficult for you as well. It’s not all about me and I get that now.” Jon’s mom was right.

   Jon being gone for as long as he did put a strain on their relationship. Damian always had trouble believing people wouldn’t leave him. Jon was supposed to be the person who stayed by his side and when he didn't, how could he trust anyone else? Jason, Dick, his father? He so easily accepted that he was just an afterthought to all of them. Family was always foreign to him like an ill-fitting suit.

“It’s not all about me either. Having this job and being in these cities… you start to feel so small but the small things matter as well. What you went through was awful. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone…”

   Jon lost part of his childhood to spending time alone in a volcano being tortured and abused by people who looked exactly like his parents. He can’t see his family coat of arms the same ever again, it’s not a cool symbol of hope; it’s how you use it when you wear it that matters. He knows who he is and that can’t be tested. He knows he’s Jon before he’s Superboy. Jon looked different now too, his hair was a bit longer, his super suit had redder in its patterns, he was taller frustratingly so and his jawline was a little sharper, enough to have to adjust the method in which it was drawn…

“What about you? What happened while I was gone?”

   A shaky breath fell out of Damian.

“I wanted to be Batman so bad. I wanted to prove to myself I could do this alone like him, but I lost myself in that… I don’t think that’s me anymore.”

   He realized that violence was not the right environment for him now. He needs to be somewhere he feels safe with someone he can trust for a while. He needs to take a break from it even if it’s the only thing he’s ever known, it doesn’t mean he can’t be more than that.

“What do you want to be? The Robin thing is temporary, right?” Jon asks.

“I don’t know. I’m not super like you. Without this outfit, I’m just a assassin or some kid. I wish I had that… I could understand my purpose because it’s an inherent part of me.”

“Being half-Kryptonian is not what makes me a hero. Being human is what gave me a sense of Justice and empathy. That is what makes me a hero.”

“I know. It’s just at least then I’d know for sure what I was destined to do; it’d simply be a part of me. I guess in a way I always felt… less than everyone - especially you. You can save twice as many people as I can… effortlessly too.”

“Don’t. I still find myself looking up to heroes like you. You’re the strongest person I know. No powers and you’re still just as skilled and incredible-”

“Woah, I’m not incredible…” Damian scratched his head.

“You are! You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known and the greatest hero too… and the best friend I have. No matter who wears that outfit and no matter what kid Bruce Wayne picks up next, that will always stay the same.”

   Damian was not prepared to hear that. Another weird feeling washed over him, but it was nothing like the one before. This one felt good.
   Damian bordered his mask with his thumb and took it off his eyes. Damian looked back and Jon and he was hit with a weird feeling as well, but he knew exactly what it was. The same type of thing he kept feeling years ago when he was around Damian. He doesn’t know how long he can go on with tolerating it. He hates that he can tell Damian doesn’t feel it as well. It’s so frustrating how Damian doesn’t feel it too - these moments where his heart jumps out of his chest and Damian is completely ignorant.

“It’s funny… I got exactly what I wanted but at what cost? I acted exactly like my dad these past few days… and I hated it… I hated it.”

   Jon is silent. He has a bizarre expression on his face like he wants to ask Damian for something or take something from him. In reality, Jon didn’t get to see Damian’s eyes often, and seeing them now is pathetically choking him up. His eyes were gorgeous to him, he knew he shouldn’t feel this way for another boy, but he couldn’t help it. He really liked Damian; he was a good friend, but he still feels like that’s not good enough for him. That was when Jon decided to be selfish. He’s been away from Damian for too long to let himself have to put up with this any longer.

“What’s wrong…?” Damian asks.

   Jon’s eyes kept darting between Dsmian’s eyes and his lips, by then Damian realized too late - Jon scooted forward and… kissed Damian. He pressed their lips together and Damian’s eyes shot wide open. Jon held Damian’s head like it was so precious… like he could finally keep it safe there in his hands.
   When Jon pulled back, he saw Damian sitting there distraught.

“Now I’m even more confused.”

“Please, Damian! Please tell me you feel that too,” Jon begged. He might have messed up and undid everything they had established because he decided to leap.

“You kissed me… Why’d you do that?”

“That has to be obvious at this point!” Jon said that a little too loud.

   Damian doesn’t understand what it is that Jon wants from him. He wished Jon told him first before he could know if he could give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry… It’s alright if you don’t feel the same… I guess I do like you… uh… more than I probably should and if you want to forget about this then I understand,” It hurt Jon so much to say this but keeping Damian as a friend was more important.

“How could I forget about this!?”

   That feeling came back, a twisted, hazy feeling deep in his gut that keeps washing through him every time Jon makes direct eye contact with him now. He didn’t understand any of them even though he was a detective, but even a normal child could still use context clues and realize what it was. Damian had spent his whole life pushing his feelings aside and keeping people at arm's length. Every insult made it easier to interact without becoming closer. Every time he boasted about himself, it was just to make him feel more important than he knew was. He had always used logic and reason to deal with any situation but why is Jon an exception to this? Why is Jon the only one who can get this reaction out of him?
   He knows why now, and it makes him cover his face and scream into his hands.

“What are you doing to me?” Damian asks. “Why can’t I find a reasonable explanation for this?” 

   There’s no words to describe this feeling.

“ I don’t think there’s anything logical about the way either of us feel about each other... You’re arrogant and sometimes flat-out cruel but I still like you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

   But what about Jonathan Kent made Damian Wayne feel so weak?

“I know, what you are going to do with me?” Jon laughs.

“If you still couldn’t fly, I’d shove you off this building.”

   Jon doesn’t feel stressed out anymore but with Damian acting as defensive as he is now that means he may not be alone on this.

“How long did you feel like this?” Damian questions.

“I think I realized years ago when just hugging you made me feel like I was floating,” Admitting that was extremely embarrassing for Jon but he’s happy he said it regardless. “Is it okay with you?” 

“I’ve never tolerated someone for so long. I didn’t think I’d let anyone get this close.”

   Jon knows that it may not seem like it but that must have been embarrassing for Damian to admit to.

“It’s cold out here, how about we finish this inside?”

   Jon stood and held out a hand to Damian which he took. They made their way back through Jon’s apartment and through his little room window. They were due for a long talk, and he thinks they’re now ready for that. Maybe, Dick was right. He was in a freefall and for a moment he thought he'd hit the ground, but he didn't. He was still falling and maybe this time Jon could catch like he once promised.

Chapter Text

   The worst was almost over, all they needed to do was talk. The problem can’t always be solved by swinging your sword or kneeing some criminal in the face this time.
   Damian entered Jon’s room once again, standing in the middle of the room like he was misplaced. 

“You should change out of your clothes, they’re all dirty from the mission,” Jon suggested.

   Damian nodded and pulled off the straps of his gear, placing them on the bedside table. Damian undid the buckles on his vest, then he pulled the hem of his bloodstained shirt barely over his shoulders before he shivered from the pain surging through his body in little waves. 

“Ah, let me help you with that, you're still healing,” Jon was hastily to Damian’s assistance.

   Jon pulled the shirt up and over Damian’s head, and undressing his best friend alone in his room was extremely awkward especially since this was the best friend, he had a crush on, and that best friend now knows about said crush. 

“You can borrow one of my shirts, but they might not fit you too well…” Jon offers.

“Yeah, thanks,” the words crawl out of the back of Damian’s throat.

   Jon fancies a shirt he won't miss from his middle drawer, he brings it to Damian who insists he should put it on himself, he does even though the burns and bruises on his body punish him in the process. 

“Did I hurt you badly?” Jon’s voice is weak.

“It was my fault, but it doesn't matter now because I’ve put that behind me. In fact, I'm thinking about putting all of that behind me.”

“What do you mean?” 

   If the goal is to become Batman, then he's been going about it all wrong. Batman sprouted from Bruce Wayne’s childhood being taken from him, Batman does what he does to keep the same thing from happening to others.

   Batman had some time to be a kid.

   Superman had some time to be a kid.

   Even Superboy had his time.

   What about Damian?

“I was the Heir to the Demon, trained to be a weapon since birth, then I was Robin and, in the future, I’ll be Batman. I think I want a break from that. I wanna see what it's like to just be Damian for a while,” the former Robin sat himself down on the bed behind him.

“I think that would be good for you,” after what they've been through in the past few days hearing that Damian wanted to take a break from danger was a relief.

“I don't know where to start though…”

“I could help you!”

“I don't want to ask too much of you. You've already done so much for me.”

“I want to! Please, Damian?”

“It's a bit more complicated than that. I want to figure myself out… I think this might be something I need to do alone.”

“I’m not saying I have to. I’m saying you don’t have to be alone. It’s not like I’ll be there to distract you. I’ll be there to guide you… I’ll be there to catch you when you fall, just like I promised,” Jon caringly placed his hand over Damian’s to show compassion.

“Are you saying this because you like me, Kent?”

“Huh?! Ah, n- no…” Jon felt a heat burn in his face like he was firing up his heat vision but not for a fight, to wear the fact that he'd impulsively confessed his lifelong crush like a moron right on his cheeks.

“Remember when I said that we’re friends because of the burdens we share? I don't think that's true. We’re friends because we're able to give each other exactly what we need. I want to be there to help you the way I should have. I want to be by your side when you end up finding yourself, not in your way…” Jon squeezes his hand.

   Damian wordlessly lays down at the end of Jon’s bed. 

“Does that mean you accept?”

“No, it just means I’m sleeping here,” Damian says matter-of-factly.

   Damian doesn't want to right his wrongs by stringing Jon along, but he doesn't want to do this all alone. Batman’s first step to becoming Batman wasn’t defeating his first criminal, or learning how to fight, it wasn't even wearing the suit or using the name… it was asking for help.
   Batman refuses to do that anymore nowadays but perhaps, that could be the seed this all could spout from, the differing factor that could differentiate Damian from his father, and possibly make him something better in the future.

“I think I'm willing to accept your terms, Kent.”

   Jon couldn't stop the grin on his face from forming. He stretches and hits his pillow with a sigh. With Damian beside him, it was reminiscent of their days as children spending the nights having sleepovers.

“But… about you saying you like me…”

   Jon’s eyes pop open, those words make him hold his breath.

“I can't accept that…” Damian finishes.

   Jon’s stomach sinks, and his lip quivers as his voice shakes; “Wait, you can't, or you won't?”

“I'm not right for you and I know it.”

   Damian’s refusal to admit he has any feelings is starting to get under Jon’s skin.

“Are you serious?!”

“I am. I can't give you what you need and I’m willing to admit that,” he says coldly.

   Jon sits up and pulls on Damian’s shirt in protest.

“What are you trying to say?” It may have been Jon deluding himself, but he still held a little hope that Damian felt the same way.

“I’m saying that I can’t love you like I know you deserve!” he shouted. 

   Jon jumped up, pushed Damian’s back entirely onto the bed, and held him there in that position.

“Say it! Say it to my face. Tell me you don’t feel the same. I don’t want to hear what you can’t or shouldn’t feel. Tell me exactly how you feel,” Jon could hear Damian’s heart pounding, it couldn’t all be in his head.

   Damian gasped. He held his tongue, not wanting to twist the knife in the belly of the beast so he said nothing even though he wanted to scream how he felt.

“I know you’re more than capable. Nowadays, I don’t look up to Superman anyway, not with everything I’ve been through… I look up to you. I know you hold love in your heart for the people you care about, and you strive to please them even at your own expense,” Jon was ready to cry…

“If you want to start anew like you say you do then the first step is admitting it.”

“Tt,” Damian clicked his tongue. Jon was right, this is the moment he stops racking his brain over promises made to him by others but instead, he should make a promise to himself to become a better person.

“Listen closely and listen well because I’m not going say this again tonight…” Damian whispered.

“I love you more than anything else in this obnoxious and painstakingly exhausting world,” Damian said it like he would a curse word.

   Jon’s eyes widened as he looked back into Damian’s which were shining green like freshly cut kryptonite.

“Say it again,” he greedily ordered.

“I just said I wasn’t going to say it again!” 

   Jon smiled like he won a long exhausting video game. He crashed down beside Damian while letting out a long-exaggerated sigh.

“I will say that… I do want you by my side and I want to explore what I feel more with you. I know that nothing has ever really belonged to me - my name, my title, my mantle, and almost my entire life but I know these feelings I have for you are something that can’t be taken from me. I guess that makes some part of me happy.”

   Jon turned his head to listen, cheeks glowing red.
   Damian turned back around, embarrassed at the things he’s nauseatingly let out of his mouth.

“Love has never meant much to me… I’m not good at it and I don’t know if I can give you the proper emotional responses when you need them or how to properly show affection… it’s foreign to me so I won’t know if I’m doing anything right…”

   Damian suddenly feels two affable arms wrap around the sides of Damian’s body, giving him the type of warm and shameless embrace, he's not received many times before. It makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck, his ears burn red from the sound of the sweetest proposal being told to him.

“Then don't worry about it and leave all the hard work to me,” Jon whispered. 

   It was pure like when a mother gives birth to her son and smiles down upon him, loving him though he's not done a single thing but crying, but loving him for simply being. It made Damian want to cry and he would if that moment wasn't the last time he did. Jon was exactly what Damian needed. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly about Jon made Damian want to entirely surrender himself to him.

   How does his hugs have the ability to dispel everything he loathes about himself?

“Is it alright if we're both boys?” Each syllable said so cold and anxious.

“Agh- uhm… I don't know but I know how I feel about you and that's good enough for me right now,” Jon said.

   Flying felt like this. Like the instant before a kiss, a warm embrace, or a leap off a building. Falling in love with Damian felt like flying, he was willing to take these leaps for him, or who else would?
   Damian’s relieved Jon wasn't stuck in that wormhole for much longer or he wouldn't know how he'd cope. He couldn't grieve for his best friend on top of everything.

    Jon understood why his dad put so much into his Job, though he felt neglected at times. No matter if it was Ultraman or Manchester Black or whatever— it didn't matter; Jon knew who he was regardless of his mantle constantly holding him back.
   As for Damian, he had a long path to follow. The horrible things he had done, the people he hurt… the guilt he felt was immense and it didn't purify him from the things he had done but that emotion; remorse, that was the mark of something strong enough to keep him on the right path, that was good enough for now.

“Goodnight, Kent- I mean… Jon,” It felt weird, but he wanted to get used to it. “And by the way, wish me luck because you have the most jarring snores ever - like straight out of 80s horror film…” Jon teases.

”I do not snore!”

“You absolutely do…”

“No way, that's just your stupid super hearing making everything louder than it is!” Damian argued.

“Ah-” Jon was offended, then burst out in unapologetic, loud laughter in the middle of the night.

   Damian joined him, and together they laughed for three minutes like the kids they once were and wish to give another chance at becoming… then Jon said.

“Goodnight, Dami.”

Chapter Text

   When Damian finally awoke, he let out a sigh, not one of exhaustion but one of annoyance at how people in Metropolis and Smallville take peaceful rest for granted. This was the best sleep Damian ever got in his entire life, cozied next to someone he could trust in a place where he felt safe. He slept far past noon, but he already permitted himself to be lazy. Jon slept next to him; limbs sprawled out to his side. Damian looked around to see a disastrous collage of Superman and Baseball merchandise - the bright red and blues as well as the sun burning his retina. He nudged Jon once, then repeatedly until he let out a choking noise and accusingly looked up at Damian.

“I expected you to be gone when I awoke,” Jon teased.

“You think too little of me.”

   Jon turned onto his side and forced his eyes open. He hugged the pillow just below his head and watched Damian sit on the edge of the bed.

“Sleep well?”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever slept that well…” Damian admits.

“Nights can be very quiet here but mornings not so much,” Jon banters.

   Damian didn’t understand how you could feel so safe in the hold of someone else’s arms while you admitted your body to a completely vulnerable state. You could almost get used to it - he wanted to. He wished every day could be like this, he could pray for it; out loud at that. So, I decided to say it out loud in hopes that putting it out into the world would make it come true.

“I wonder if every day could stay like this… I wish it could,” Jon could barely hear him.

“Maybe it can,” It sounded almost like a question.

   Damian turned around to fully face Jon lying beside him. No longer afraid of such intimacy. It can be embarrassing to put yourself in these situations but if you commit any action, then you should be ready for the consequences.

“How can it? I can’t… stay here… with you.”

“Not here but maybe…” Jon took a deep breath in. “There’s room for you in Smallville. I’m sure my grandparents wouldn’t mind the company at all.”

   It sounded like one of Jon’s typically bad ideas; the ones he would spit out right before jumping face-first into a pit of assassins or aliens armed with high-tech weapons during a mission. He wanted to think such a nice thing could be possible for him. He let out an agitated sigh which made Jon stumble over his words a bit but the more he spoke the more sense it all made to the both of them.

“Every day we could treat the crops and care for the animals. Both the mornings and nights could be peaceful. Memories of that Smallville farm make me happy like nothing else and if I could share that with you then I’m sure I can have that happiness back.”

“It’s not-”

“Don’t say it’s impossible. I know you. Anything is possible when you’re Damian Wayne, right? You’re awesome like that. This is the same kid who learned how to drive at what? Eight? I still remember all I’ve learned from you — but I taught you how to have fun, I can do it all again,” Jon’s voice became scratchy, he was anxious he may have overstepped boundaries, but Damian’s reaction surprised him.

“So stupid- Fine,” Damian growled.

   Jon smirked. His features died there on his face when he read Damian’s body language and could tell something was troubling him.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Damian said instinctively.

   Jon rolled his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me. I can hear it in your heartbeat.”

“Y’know, I’m starting to hate that you can do that?” The question was entirely rhetorical. “It’s two things. I’m a little nervous about what my family will think about this…”

“The plan?”

“Us.”

“I understand. I know likely they wouldn’t care but it still can be scary… Do we have to tell them?” Jon scratched his head.

“I think we should. I’d feel guilty about hiding it from them… they’ll find out anyway if we did try to hide it.”

“So, we tell them?”

   Damian nodded. “Do you… want me to be there?”

“Actually, I think I would like that.”

   Jon smiled, lifted his body off the bed, and sat close beside Damian to ask.
“What was the other thing?” Jon questioned, remembering Damian said, ‘two things.’

“I still want to fight crime. I do genuinely want to be a hero. I know a break would do me good but what do I do if I want to go back to that?”

“You could establish a new mantle - one of your own,” Jon states.

   Damian tosses his head to the right, then to the left to unjumble the thoughts stuck inside his head.
“I suppose I could. It’s been done before… What about you?” 

“Me? Well, maybe the same but I may not be around as consistently as I want because I’m still going to keep being Superman until my father comes back… if he comes back…”

“Don’t say that.”

   Damian can feel Jon pulling away from him. It was deprecating to think about how his dad could be truly gone. He had no idea how he’d begin to cope, he’s not ready to become Superman, not yet, and perhaps not at all if he was given the choice. He held on to hope he was only being dramatic but there was no way of knowing for sure that he was. Then to think about the things he saw when was gone…
   Damian put his hand over Jon’s, he was never good at comforting people… the first time he was meant to comfort Jon, he reacted badly and threw him to the side like trash, now it could be different.
   This time he promised he’d try.

“You should know better than anyone that when you’re in difficult situations like your father is right now the thing that keeps you going is the people you care about. Wherever he is and whatever he is fighting - he’s fighting because of you, to see you again. So don’t lose hope now because you wanna be a crybaby,” Damian felt hopeless for a moment due to his words not reaching Jon and making him feel better than just annoyed Jon would put him in this situation and then flat out ignore what he had to say like that.

“Or I’ll have to beat the hope out of you, idiot!”

    Jon burst into laughter immediately. It didn’t matter what Damian said to him. The fact that he was there with him in these moments was enough. He didn’t have Damian around for so long, he forgot how much he missed this about him. He didn’t need to try and be so compassionate, Jon liked that Damian was as ‘prickly’ as he was, and he didn’t want Damian to feel like he had to change when he liked Damian the way he always was. That’s why he was laughing.

   Though Damian may have misunderstood, he was just relieved Jon wasn’t upset anymore. As Jon fell back against the bed, Damian let out a sigh.

“Oh, man. You should have seen your face.” It wasn’t a joke; he was genuinely sad but Damian getting pissed so quickly was priceless. “But for real, thank you for that, Damian. It’s comforting to know that we’re in this together.”

“... in this together…? That’s right. We are.”

   Promises like this can be easily brushed over but they won’t be taken advantage of this time.

  -

   Jon & Damian scurried around the room, carrying clothes to and fro while trying to deduce what would be decent enough for Damian to wear for something like this. They were both a little apprehensive when it came to having such a talk with Jon’s mother while Damian sported Jon’s clothes on his body.
   Eventually, Damian decided on an old shirt with space-orientated designs on the front and stars splashed on the back, not like those Galaxy shirts you can find in any mall, the one he found seemed more scientific or Superman merchandise, primarily a deep blue with the symbol embroidered on the chest; Damian concluded picking the Superman shirt would be for the best.

“Are you ready?” Damian asked.

   Jon nodded then shouted into the other room for his mother. He gave Damian a look while he practically buried his hand into the other boys.
   She entered the room with just blissful curiosity till Jon emitted the words; “Mom, I- We have something we want to tell you…”

“Oh? Oh!” Once she saw their hands knitted together, she realized what was happening, but she made the conscious decision to collect herself and be patient with them. “So, you two made up?”

“No- Well, yes but that’s not what I called you in here for…”

   Lois puts both her arms behind her back like she would if she thought she was getting in trouble with her boss.

“Damian and I talked, and we came to an understanding that… the feelings that we have for one another… may be more than friends and we wanted to see that through… together,” if the situation wasn't awkward enough, Jon’s eyes kept flickering between Lois and Damian. 

“… Right,” Lois relaxingly pressed up against the bedroom door.

“You knew…?” Jon asked, feeling like the moment was becoming anti-climactic.

“Well, no. Not exactly.” Lois corrects.  “It’s just that all you’ve really been talking about is Damian and well, Jon, you only have one friend-“

“I have more than one friend!” Jon interrupts.

“I believe you, it's just the fact that you let yourself get so emotional whenever Damian is involved, also, the fact I had to call his father last night and inform him that his son was spending the night though neither of you asked… I just didn't think much of any of it. I had an idea, but I knew you'd come to me if you felt the time was right.”

“So, you don't care that we’re both…?” Jon didn't finish.

   Lois scoffed. “Sweetheart, remember when I told you how hard it can be knowing what you and your father do but also knowing you have no way to help?”

   Jon nodded.

“So, If I couldn't be the hero of your story, why would I want to be the villain?”

   Jon felt a little dense when his mother told him this but still relieved, he's so grateful his mother is who she is and raised him the way she did and he's going to be forever grateful, no matter what. 
   Damian just chuckled beside him and nudged him slightly by the shoulder.

“Does that mean I can go? I should get back to my own family.”

“Of course, kiddo, go ahead,” Lois stepped away from the door so Damian could slip out.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Damian then shut the door.

   Jon was still fixed on the edge of the bed, Lois turned back to him and let out a sharp breath. 

“I trust you; I do. Damian on the other hand… he hasn't seen any life…” Lois said.

“He does right by me, and he will always try to. He gave me his word.”

   There's a part about being someone's kid where you hope the adult will consider your words and understand that you are mature enough to make your own decisions because they consider you to be or expect you to become your own person too. It may be two different worlds but sometimes people are more alike than they ever thought.

- 

   He could have gotten Jon to fly him, but he liked the long Taxi ride and walk back to the Manor, it gave him time to think about whether this was what he truly wanted to do with his life for the time being or if he was just embarrassing himself. The truth is that he did want to see it through. Once Damian had gotten to the Manor his feet were dragging like he’d been walking on hot coal. No one was inside so he assumed either everyone was in the Batcave or around the city, he could tell no one was inside because it was uncharacteristically quiet, the only one having greeted him was Titus, their dog. The soundlessness of the manor could be an endearing trait but it becomes off-putting at times, like at nights when the family fights or experiences a loss to where the hallways, corridors, and empty rooms become consumed by darkness and then become drawn out - losing its usual hospitality during the day to which you can’t tell if the walls around you were supposed to be a home or a hiding place but always one or the other.

   The Manor was a comforting place then, but he’s got his mind set on associating home with another place. Damian entered the Batcave, at first glance, it could look like it goes on forever, the air is damp as well as cold and if Batman could afford to build each device, vehicle, and suit that inhabits it then surely he could afford air conditioning of some sort… he can but he likes it this way; dark, cold, and with an endless appearance to make the average person anxious.
   He quickly scanned for Dick, Tim, or Jason but hopefully Dick. He eventually found his eldest brother sitting behind a desk covered in vials of chemicals and various chemistry books.
   Dick grinned at first, then his face dropped once he took in Damian’s entire domestic look, in every sense of the word, wearing a shirt he would never stoop low enough to wear and bandages enveloping his arms.

“Damian! You alright?” his eyes scanned the other.

“I’m fine. Is Father or Pennyworth here?”

“He’s on the other side of the cave, either on the batcomputer or near the armory. Alfred is on one of the higher decks with Cass. Are you looking to speak to them?

“I want to speak to you first,” he corrected.

“... What’s up?”

   Jon was right, this part was always a little frightening. He wished Jon was here with him like he was for him to make this easier but also because he missed him in a morbidly humiliating way.

“I wanted to tell you that me and Jon… got personal. I’ve decided to step away for a while, from the manor and the mantle. Thank you for all you’ve done for me, but I want to try and take it from here.”

   Dick was surprised, to say the least, he thought Jon and Damian were just good friends and nothing more, can’t believe within all that time that he was gone, this became of Damian but at the same time he was proud.

“Personal? I see…”

   Damian overcompensated thinking Dick didn’t understand what he meant and continued to spout.

“I don’t know how to explain it… it’s like I know I’m not always a good friend, or nice to be around all the time but he makes me feel like even then I can fall back on the fact that someone still loves me- ugh! I don’t know how to explain it!”

“I think I get the point,” Dick snickered and waved his hand in protest.

“I don’t care about being a good hero as much anymore… I just want to be a good person.”

   Dick tilted his head to the side in hopes it would help the right words pour out of it.

“If the mission is to become more lenient then I think Jon is the perfect person for that… for you, I mean. He brings the good out of you that a lot of people like to ignore. I support it… thanks for telling me.”

“Thank you, Grayson… I mean… Dick,” It did not come out naturally and Damian wished he could take it back, though he already said it, so he had to commit to it. Dick was unsettled by it as well, but the effort made him feel good.

“But do me a favor and keep this under wraps, I want to maintain a modicum of privacy. I’m going to talk to… Pennyworth and Father,” Damian refused to try it again.

   Alfred was right where Dick said he was, helping Cassandra train. Alfred wasn’t helping her train hands-on due to age not permitted from doing anything overtly physically taxing. He held up a tray of drinks and snacks and was there if she needed anything. The scene looked almost nostalgic for some reason.
   He accompanied Alfred on the sidelines.

“Master Damian? You’ve come back.”

“Not permanently. I’m planning on going away for a while, you may not see me around often,” he explained.

“You brought bad news for me as well.”

“It’s not bad news - well, it doesn’t have to be. You’ve all done a lot for me, and I’ve never given anything to you in return but a headache. I’m leaving so I don’t take that type of thing for granted anymore.”

“You undermining yourself?” Alfred says it’s never been thought of before.

‘You have no idea, old man.”

   Damian huffed while Alfred scoffed as they watched Cassandra throw quick stabs followed by a feint, then ending with a strike to a worn-out punching bag. Damian thinks back to his mission - the one he most recently failed. Damian reflects on how profoundly Cassandra acted compared to him. He’s truly envious sometimes, if there’s anyone, he’d be fine losing the mantle to… it’d be her.

“Actually, now that I think about it. Can you do one last thing for me?” Damian inquired.

“Yes, Master Damian.”

“Relay a message to Drake. Tell him I respect him as Robin, always have, at least enough to feel inferior. I know he wants the mantle so tell him if he doesn’t wear the cowl, I’ll do it for him and make him feel the same.”

“Of course, Master Damian. Consider it done.”

”Good luck, weirdo,” Cass whispered.

   There was one last person to visit before he called it a day: his father. Bruce Wayne practically looked like he was growing out of his chair, flipping through case files. Damian leaned against the desk, Bruce beside him hardly giving him a passing look.

"Welcome back, Damian."

"I've come to ask something of you," Damian stood still like he was trained to. Sweat claiming it placed on his palms, he averted his gaze and said: "I have news."

"Your mission was unsuccessful. The assassins did find their way in, but I had that already taken care of."

"It's not that," It's just like Bruce to keep their conversations at a minimal length, using the least words as possible. "There's something else -- can you talk to me like my father for one second?"

   Bruce didn't expect such a tone, Damian was already infuriated by having to do this, but he assessed his behavior and faced Damian. Bruce then looked Damian up and down to analyze his body language although it was done mostly subconsciously.

"It's Jon. You and Jon, I should say."

"How'd you know?"

"You're overcompensating for your emotions but that was one of the less obvious clues."

   One night Bruce came into Damian's room to pack up his things, while shuffling through books and notebooks he had he found a sketchbook already open containing multiple sketches of Jon. This happened when Jon disappeared. It was almost a dead giveaway, but Bruce kept it in the back of his mind.

"So, you don't care?"

"It's not that I don't care, I do care. I care that you understand the weight behind this choice. I'm not here to make choices for you, I'm here for when you decide to make one of your own. As long as you think this is right and if it makes you happy... does it?"

"It does... I- Jon makes me really happy," he admits.

"I gave you the role of Robin to keep you from being a villain. I feared you didn't care about anyone but yourself, I'm almost relieved."

"Tt," Damian was finally eased that it didn't go how he'd initially thought it would. "Is it alright if I step away?"

"Where will you be going?"

"Smallville. A farm in Smallville."

"I think I know the one you're talking about. I'll update your case file now. Just make sure you go to school."

   Damian huffed.

"I don't make you go to school because I think you need education. I do it for the social aspect, you should interact with more kids your age. It's important."

"You're alright with the idea?"

"If you're attempting to gain a childhood, it's fine by me. As long as you plan on eventually coming back."

   Damian nodded. He stretched, the passing days exhausting beginning to sink its teeth in. "I'm getting a snack, taking a bath, and going to bed. Long car rides make me sleepy."

"Damian. One more thing," Bruce said. "You don't have to try to make me happy, I am happy because... you are my son."

   To think the man, he was obsessed with living up to, compared shoe sizes with, and admired for so long would be so sappy sometimes. It's good to ultimately have that weight off of your shoulders, it's not something even super strength can hold. It feels like something is grinding under his skin like this burning at his feet to his chest, Damian hopes that feeling is the mark of new beginnings.

-

“Am I late?” Damian asks, the air catching in his throat.

“No, I just got here myself,” Jon tugged on his hat.

   They planned an outing together. Well, it was half-planned, they didn’t put a pin in what they wanted to do during the outing, only a few ideas floating around.
   Jon wore a sweater vest, a hat as an accessory to keep the sun out of his face. Damian wore a three-piece suit.
   It was the day after, Damian didn’t get enough sleep, trying to figure out what would be right to wear and driving Alfred insane in the morning before he rushed over.
   Jon had a similar experience when he accidentally used super strength to rip one of his favorite jeans, ruining them.

“I brought something for you,” Damian grinned.

“Oh?”

   Damian pulled out a bouquet, of hydrangea, freesia, and bluebells all tired together. They were beautifully taken care of. Jon’s mouth gaped while Damian placed the bouquet between them. 

“They match your eyes… I’m… trying.”

   Jon held them, eyes dilated and a smile growing on his face. 

“I love them. Thank you! They smell…” Jon drew in the air through his nose and felt the pollen scratch against it. He sneezed, submerging the flowers in solid ice. He looked up and saw Damian shooting him the coldest look.

“Uh… they match your eyes,” Jon giggled, each giggle more terrified than the one before.

   Damian swatted the flowers out of his hand and grabbed his wrist, whisking him along the tree-lined street.

“Wait, where are we even going?”

“I was thinking perhaps an aquarium, I’ve always been interested in marine life. I also hear there is a fair around here.”

“How about we go to the fair today and go to the aquarium next time.”

“Next time. Alright.”

   Damian suddenly stopped, turning to look up at the taller boy. Thinking something was wrong, he listened to his heartbeat, to find it having sped up.

“Can I ask you something?” the former robin questioned.

“Anything.” 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Ah- Here? Now?”

   People could see, not that it mattered, Jon would never refuse a kiss even if others were around. He couldn't understand Damian’s boldness though he didn’t want to offend.

“We didn’t do it right the first time. I want to try again.”

   He lifted himself on his tippy toes to meet his height. Pulling his face down into his lips, his fingers went straight to Jon’s hair, playing with it for his amusement. Jon’s eyes widen but he melts into the kiss. Jon’s hands find Damian’s hips and he pulls them close till they can feel each other’s chest rise and fall. Jon’s head spins when Damian presses his lips harder against Jon’s to satiate his desires, pulling himself up to have more. He seeks the taste of him, to remember it, wishing he could take it and keep it with him at all times.
   It’s frustrating how this was the easiest part.
   It deepens until Damian’s satisfied, pulling their lips away with a soft pop. Putting both his feet firmly on the ground he turns with bitterness.

“What’s wrong?” Jon runs after Damian as he tries to escape.

“That was undignified.”

“What?! Then why did you do it?” Jon tugs at Damian’s sleeve to try and stop him.

“A stupid reason… I just wanted to kiss you.”

   There's that burning again. As the heat leaves his face he can feel a grinding under his skin, it’s reminiscent of an aching you’d get in your legs as a kid. Getting fevers with a cold rag planted on your forehead. Bruising up your knee and crying irrationally at the pain. It almost hurts but that feeling must mean something good; it must mean that the way they suffered before means they can live peacefully in the future.

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